Chapter Thirteen
Monique glanced at the screen. Wow.
“Got some good news?” her roommate Erin asked from the kitchen.
Monique blinked and glanced at her red-haired roommate. She had come back to the apartment to grab some things, and also to get ready for the fancy party Zaine was taking her to. Supposedly a big event for some exclusive architects’ association.
And now, as she had checked her email after she’d dressed up, her heart stopped, only to resume beating at an Olympian’s pace.
“I got a really good score on my English test. Like, really amazing,” she said.
Erin poured herself some green tea. “Congrats. That’s great.”
Mrs. Sandoval had been right. Nothing was stopping her from sending the test’s electronic results with the resume and cover letter she had already saved in her email inbox. With her qualifications, she had a good shot at landing the job of her dreams in Senegal and making a real difference in that part of the world.
She scrolled the mouse over the results and then closed her laptop and put it in her room. Her stomach dropped to the floor like she’d just received bad news instead of the news she’d been waiting for. Crap. Crap, crap.
Monique smoothed her hand over the cobalt dress Zaine had bought her for tonight’s event. He’d had the sense to remove the price tag, but a quick survey online showed her this Valentino cost enough for her to pay her share of rent for months. She sucked in a breath. The gown embraced her curves in an elegant way, without showing too much. The V cut between the valley of her breasts reached down enough to make it sexy and not vulgar. The fabric felt luxurious, expensive, and decadent.
She knew the price of this dress—and knew the price of their relationship. Whether they had discussed it upfront or not didn’t matter. Didn’t make it any easier. She’d never started an affair in her life with the idea it’d end. Sure, not being gullible, she believed most good things came to an end anyway. But she never pursued a new romance with a set date for it to end. And now she’d anticipate the date by applying for the position.
Do I have to? Can’t I enjoy a few more weeks with Zaine?
She had tried so hard not to label her feelings for him, even to herself. Now, it became obvious in the last few weeks she’d fallen for him—truly and madly. Foolishly. What if he never saw her as someone other than a booty call? Sure, he’d stuck up for her in Hawaii, when his friends dissed her. But he still had accepted to work with his former wife on a big project.
Ashley could take him one step further, career-wise. She was the one with the fancy degree, amazing job, and connections. The bigwigs from the board, and even Lara, didn’t care if Ashley was rotten inside. They just wanted her polished exterior with nice, American blue blood credentials.
The doorbell startled her. She grabbed the black clutch and exited her bedroom, then rushed to the door and opened it, her blood still thrumming in her veins.
“Whoa,” he said, and she shared the sentiment.
Black-tie Zaine magically shredded her worries away, and her nipples perked up. Why should she tell him anything about her high score right away? She had time to make the decision of whether to apply early or not. Besides, he looked good enough to eat and they were about to attend a swanky party together. Why kill the vibe?
Enjoy, said a little voice inside her. He kissed her cheek, and all the way to his car and while he opened the door of the limo she chanted the mantra internally. Enjoy.
Why hyperventilate? He’d never once told her he wanted commitment. Putain, he was still legally committed to another woman. From what she gathered, they’d started the proceedings, but because of their lack of urgency when Ashley had left, it wouldn’t be resolved overnight. Guys like that usually preferred to live up their bachelorhood before delving into something more serious. Though, to be fair, Zaine wasn’t like every other guy she’d met.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
You. “This must be a really fancy event. I’ve never been in a limo before,” she said. No kidding. The inside of the stretch vehicle was opulent: buttery leather seats, a mini-bar, and even a small plasma TV in the corner.
“Then we need to make your first time a memorable one,” he said, and pulled her into his lap.
She nudged the side of his chest. “I thought this event meant a lot. Creased clothes and fancy parties don’t go together.”
Unfazed, he hiked up her dress, and every inch of her skin prickled in excitement. She touched his broad shoulders, her hand splayed against his hard body. “No. You and I go together.”
His words sent a crazy heat to her stomach, and for a moment, she could take on the world. Nothing would be impossible, and she felt invincible…they were invincible. Together.
Zaine pulled her G-string to the side and thrust three fingers into her pussy. She writhed against him, rocking her hips into his hand relentlessly. He flicked her clit with his thumb while his other two fingers curled into her soaked folds. She kissed him, hoping to translate the urgency roaring in her body. “Yes.”
He thrust his fingers deeper into her, and she humped them, moaning. Soon, she trembled on top of him, with bolts of pleasure riding her from top to bottom.
“Don’t go back to France,” he said, his voice shaky. “Stay with me.”
“Yes,” she said a bit too quickly, his words still swimming in her head.
“Yes?” He parted her pussy lips, and she lifted her thighs.
“Yes.” She hissed out when he plunged inside her, stretching her flesh.
He nipped her jaw and she melted, her shoulders sagging. Sweat slicked her forehead, the scent of her arousal filling the air. He’d asked her to stay. And I agreed.
She opened her mouth to take it back, but the look of joy he flashed her sent her insides into a crazy spiral. Shit. She was all about honesty and keeping it real, but as she parted her lips, she hesitated. The truth burned at the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it. Maybe later she’d have a chance to talk things through.
Groaning, he lowered the top of her dress so her breasts bounced free, full and heavy. “When I picked this dress for you, I imagined taking it off.”
“So you had this all planned out?” Including asking me to stay? No, a voice inside her alerted. He couldn’t have possibly planned it.
“In my mind, we were in my house. However, as it turns out whenever you’re involved, everything is fast. Crazy. Vibrant. I can’t stop any of it.”
He cupped her breasts with his right hand as the other made torturous invisible patterns on her nipple. Her blood throbbed in her veins, hot liquid passion flowing through her. She threw her head back, arching her chest to him, offering herself. Soon, he lapped at her nipple, and she mellowed. “You’re the sexiest fucking woman who’s ever walked the earth.”
His voice seemed to waver. While his tone remained grave, she picked up on a slight apprehension, as if he were squeezing those words from his lungs. As if saying them removed him from whatever comfort zone he’d parked himself in for the past few weeks.
Maybe he felt the weight of his proposal.
He sucked her breast, playing vigorously with the other one. She loved the sensation of having his tongue and fingers in her simultaneously. “Yes.”
God, she loved him…and what if there was a way they could work this out? After all, her preliminary contract would be for a year in Senegal. Would he wait for her? Would he visit her, or would the reality of a much different and dire lifestyle send him running to the hills? Besides, he wanted to have a family, he’d told her once. Waiting at least a year to even get to that point wouldn’t suit him.
What if it did?
What good would the right plan do if he didn’t have the right person?
He lowered his hand, fumbling in her underwear, and flicked her clit. Each time he riled up her sensitive bud, he thrust into her harder, and she rode him faster. “God, yes, baby…come for me,” he said, his voice throaty and sexy as hell.
She let go, let go of her worries and second-guessing, and gave in to the maddening emotion filling her insides. As waves of pleasure claimed her, she clenched him, hugging him close, never wanting to let go of him.
Maybe she wouldn’t have to…
When the limo stopped in front of the exclusive venue, her heart skittered. The driver quickly opened the door for her, and Zaine stretched out his hand. A long burgundy carpet extended to the entrance, where photographers snapped pictures and a couple of hostesses greeted the arriving guests.
“Wait,” she said, and squeezed his hand. The remains of the limo quickie dissipated, and old insecurities crawled back. She had nothing in common with all those glitzy people, and once they learned of her occupation, they’d either give her a condescending glance or ignore her altogether.
“Are you sure you want me in there with you?” she said, remembering the fiasco she’d witnessed at Lara’s party back in Hawaii. Of course she hadn’t told him a word about it, but that didn’t mean she’d just take it in stride.
“Of course. This is the architect association’s annual party. Means a lot to me, but so do you. And guess what? Tonight, I get the best of both worlds,” he said, and kissed her cheek. “C’mon.”
How could she resist? Her knees weakened, like a part deep inside her had turned into goo. She sucked in a breath and took his hand in hers. This wasn’t like her mother being treated like a second-class citizen, even though she had been the first wife. No matter what, she’d face this and whatever obstacles the night threw at her. And what better way to do it than holding his large, strong hand?
…
During dinner, Zaine had tried to hide the happiness swelling in his chest, without much luck. He’d asked her to stay—impulsively, sure, but it made all the sense in the world. He needed more time with her to explore their connection, without the looming date of her departure. Besides, if she wanted to help others, he could think of a couple of charities in the area she could get involved in.
“Zaine?” she called him. “You were right, this is fun,” she said, and brought the napkin to her mouth.
“I’m glad you think so,” he said.
“I need to go to the ladies’ room,” she said, and he stood and pulled her chair. She sent him one of those megawatt smiles that did things to his insides. Even after they had just had sex in the limo…it was something else.
She sauntered in the direction of the restrooms, and after contemplating her round ass and the way she swayed between guests and tables, he sat down again. The other couples at the table were engaged in a lively discussion about some politician’s extramarital affair gone public. He took a sip of his scotch, opting out of the drama.
“Zaine,” said Ashley.
He glanced up. Ashley flashed him an apologetic look, and before he responded, she pulled the chair and sat next to him.
“Hi, Ashley,” he said, straightening his shoulders, his voice casual. He’d met her once in person and exchanged a few emails over the past two weeks to talk about preliminary ideas for the hospital project. Since she’d really start her work after the buildings were done, he wouldn’t need to work closely with her, but he decided to reach out as a sign of goodwill and to get rid of any bad blood between them. He’d also sent her the divorce papers for her to sign.
She hadn’t, and he’d pondered on asking his lawyer to take care of the problem. He hadn’t been in a hurry at first, because they dealt with sharing their assets in such a smooth manner. Now he wanted to move on from that chapter of his life.
“I saw you arrive with Monique, so I’ll be quick,” she said, her voice surprisingly nice.
At least she didn’t call Monique names this time. He kept his spine locked in place, prepared for whatever she had to tell him, not fully disarmed yet. “What’s up?”
“This isn’t the best time or place, but I always seem to wait for the best time then it’s too late,” she said, a touch of sadness gleaming in her eyes. She reached for his hand on the table and squeezed it.
He glanced down at her hand on top of his, uncomfortable. Quickly, he removed his and placed it on his lap. “What’s wrong?” he said, thankful the group around them were engrossed in their lively political chat and didn’t seem to hear what they were talking about.
Tears brimmed at her eyelids, and she looked away for a second before darting her gaze back at him. “I can’t bring myself to sign the divorce papers. I’m sorry.”
He swallowed, an uneasy sensation settling in his gut. He much preferred Ashley being the type-A, controlling perfectionist than this toned-down, more emotional version. “Ashley, why not? You wanted the separation. You left our house,” he said, hesitating to call it a home.
She wiped the single tear streaming down her cheek. “I know,” she said in a small voice. “Can’t people make mistakes? That was mine. When I thought you could have cheated on me while we were together, I was so upset. Upset for days and I didn’t know why. Sure, my female ego was bruised, but it was more than that. I couldn’t see you moving forward because, well, it didn’t feel right. Us being apart doesn’t feel right.”
He thrust his fingers into his hair, feeling his pulse throbbing in his throat. Shit. Despite her petty ways recently, he didn’t want to hurt her. They’d tried. “You know…it’s unfair of me to say you left. We both jumped ship long before you called it. You just called it.” And for that, I thank you. He sighed with relief, pleased at sharing the guilt.
She put her purse on the table and retrieved a cell phone. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but I have to do what’s best.”
“What do you mean?”
She opened the camera app and scrolled through pictures until she found a grainy black-and-white image and showed it to him. “I’m pregnant.”
Pregnant?
Shock punched him in the gut. He rubbed his eyes, hoping he’d misheard her or the whole thing never happened and this was some weird dream. But no, when he looked up, she was still there, her eyes filled with anticipation. She edged a couple of inches closer to him.
He dropped his gaze to the phone she held, with the outline of a baby greeting him. “May I?” he asked, and she handed it to him.
He touched the screen to enlarge the picture, and found her name on the bottom of the sonogram picture. She wasn’t lying. The last time they’d had sex had been about two months prior, days before she left the house. A last attempt at reviving their nonexistent sex life.
A lump of frustration lodged in his throat, and he tried to swallow it, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
This was all wrong.
“I know it’s a lot to process…and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I’ve been thinking about it, and when I saw you with Monique tonight I realized it’s becoming serious between you two if you’re bringing her to this type of event. You had to know or I wouldn’t forgive myself,” she said softly.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Guilt lanced his chest and he reached for his collar, wondering if he’d done it too tightly. Because he wasn’t elated to hear about becoming a father, like he would have been if she had told him months ago. Or if the mother happened to be Monique. A heavy weight sat on his chest. “When did you find out?”
“Some time ago. I’m at eight weeks, give or take a few days,” she said. “I didn’t know, at first, if I’d keep it. That’s why I didn’t say anything. I needed time to think. Then, I really warmed up to the idea and now I can’t picture myself not having this baby.”
His temples throbbed and he rubbed his forehead, wishing to will away the frustration. “Ashley—”
She stood, caressing her stomach. She wore a beaded, ruffled gown so it was hard to see the size of her belly, particularly because Ashley had always been so slim. “The doctor said the first pregnancy takes a while to show. You can come with me to the next appointment.”
Zaine stared at her in silence, drawing a long breath, afraid he’d say the wrong thing. If she thought he didn’t know what she was doing, she was wrong. He sighed. Could he really divorce her now when a baby was involved? But he didn’t love her.
He loved…Monique.
The realization pounded his already throbbing temples with a vengeance. To think that a few minutes earlier he’d abstained from joining the group talking about a politician’s affair because he didn’t want to waste time with any drama. Well, now his life had become a soap opera. Within a short time he’d learned he was going to be a father and he couldn’t live without the woman who happened to be the one not carrying his baby. Shit.
Ashley squeezed his shoulder. “It’s a lot to take in. I’ll let you go, because I don’t want to be here when Monique returns. Think about it. You can’t throw away four years together, and the chance to raise a baby, because of a fling.”
He gritted his teeth. “She’s not just a fling.” She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.
She tilted her head to the side, looking at him in a condescending way like he had no idea what he was talking about. “I understand. I’ll give you time to think about what you want to do. I’ll call you again in a couple of days.” She gave his shoulder a tighter squeeze. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He clasped the tumbler and took it to his mouth without delay. He drank a generous amount, the liquid burning down his throat. When he glanced to the other side, he found Monique walking his way. She strode closer, her spine locked in place. She’d probably seen him talking to Ashley and noticed the expression on his face. Probably knew he’d gotten bad news.
He stood before she reached him. “We have to talk,” he said.