Chapter Thirteen
Rosa barely contained her gasp of awe when the elevator doors opened to an ornately decorated foyer.
Jeremy led her out with a hand on the small of her back. If not, she might have still been inside when the doors slid shut.
It was like stepping into a picture straight out of Chicago’s Architectural Digest magazine. White marble floors gleamed, leading into a formal living room lined with glass windows overlooking what appeared to be a sizable outdoor patio. Several dainty, more than likely antique hutches held beautiful statues and delicate vases with fresh flowers. The high ceilings were elaborately accented with intricate crown molding, perfectly framing large pieces of beautiful artwork.
A middle-aged woman dressed in black slacks and a white button-down with a grey cardigan stood off to the side. She greeted them with a polite smile. “Good afternoon, Mr. Taylor.”
“Hello, Mrs. Davis, it’s nice to see you again. This is Rosa Fernandez.” Jeremy shrugged out of his coat and handed it to the maid.
“Hello, miss.”
Rosa blinked, still taken aback by the wealth surrounding her, feeling uncomfortably like she’d entered a museum. “Oh, hello. Please, call me Rosa.”
“Here, let me help you.” Jeremy moved behind her, reaching to slide her jacket off her shoulders.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“Is my mom around?” he asked, as the maid took Rosa’s jacket from him. “She should be expecting us.”
“Yes, she’s in the library with Ms. Millward. If you’ll excuse me, I will let them know you’ve arrived.”
“Wait!”
Rosa jumped at his blunt command. Mrs. Davis, who had turned toward a hallway off to the right, looked surprised as well.
“I’m sorry, did you say Ms. Millward?” Jeremy asked, his tone making his displeasure evident.
“She and her father arrived about an hour ago,” Mrs. Davis answered. “Mr. Millward and Mr. Taylor have been in the study ever since.”
The frown puckering his brow confirmed Rosa’s guess that he wasn’t too happy about the news that his parents had extra company.
She wasn’t too happy about the full house herself. Jeremy had told her his dad had wound up going into the office, so she’d only be meeting his mom today. She’d been happy about that reprieve.
Obviously there’d been a change in plans though.
Her anxiety ratcheted up. If she’d thought meeting Laura Taylor might be intimidating, Jeremy’s dad, tough lawyer for Chicago’s elite, would be worse.
Rosa took a backward step, coming to halt when she felt Jeremy’s hand on the small of her back.
“Thank you, Mrs. Davis. I appreciate the heads-up. We’ll be waiting in the living room.”
The moment the maid started down the hall, Jeremy moved to stand facing Rosa. He grasped her hands, his expression conciliatory.
“I had no idea Cecile and her dad would be here.”
Cecile.
It took a moment for the name to register with Rosa’s memory. Cecile Millward had been Jeremy’s plus-one at Yazmine’s wedding. The statuesque, aloof blonde who’d ditched him because she’d felt it more important to be seen at some charity event.
If her dad was Harold Millward, Cecile had been more than a simple wedding date or an ex with whom Jeremy had decided to remain friends. Harold was Sherman’s law partner, the other half of Taylor & Millward, Chicago’s top litigation boutique firm. The two lawyers’ careers were intertwined; rarely did you hear about one without mention of the other. The same could be said about their families.
Lilí loved skimming the society pages. Oohing and aahing over some fancy benefit or soiree. Pointing out pictures of a designer dress or a cool pair of heels neither one of them could afford. Since Yaz had introduced them to Jeremy several years ago, Lilí had really keyed in to any mention of his family and the people they were often seen with. That’s why Cecile had seemed familiar to Rosa the night of the wedding. She simply hadn’t been able to put two and two together until now.
“Rosa? What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?”
Jeremy’s concern pulled Rosa out of her thoughts.
He tucked her hair behind her ear, ducking down to make eye contact with her.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She leaned away from his touch, fighting her rising anxiety. “Can we sit down somewhere?”
“Sure, come on.” He led her into the formal living room, past another ornate antique hutch, this one displaying what looked like a collection of Fabergé eggs, to a deep green brocade–covered sofa with dark wood accents. It was more decorative than comfortable, its stiff cushions definitely not conducive to napping like the couch at her house, but it would do.
“I’m sorry for the welcome wagon that seems to have assembled,” Jeremy said, sitting down next to her.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m thinking it can’t be as bad as when you had to deal with Tía Dolores.”
She hoped so, anyway.
Jeremy chuckled wryly. “She does know how to keep a guy on his toes. Understandably, when it comes to you girls. She’s called me to check up on you every day since she and Pablo left for Puerto Rico.”
“No way!”
“Yep.”
Dios mío, que vergüenza. The embarrassment had Rosa covering her face with a hand. “I had no idea.”
“Hey, I get it. I’ve been worried about you, too.” Jeremy grasped her wrist, gently pulling her hand down to the cushion between them. He held on to it, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Had she been the one staying with you, I would have done the same.”
The tap-tap-tap of heels on the marble floor echoed from the foyer connecting the living room with the wings off to the right and left of the penthouse.
“Listen, Mom knows about the baby. I’m sure she told Sherman. But I asked them to keep it under wraps until you’re ready, so I’m fairly certain Cecile and her dad don’t know. Okay?”
“Thank you,” Rosa murmured.
At least she didn’t have to worry about the socialite having another reason to look down her nose at her. Cecile hadn’t been the friendliest at Yazmine’s wedding. No telling how Cecile would react to Rosa showing up here, on what the other woman probably considered her own turf.
“Sweetheart, I’m happy you were able to make it today.”
Laura Taylor floated into the living room on a pair of conservative heels, her tall, slim figure casually stylish in navy fitted pants and a cream turtleneck sweater. Dark blond hair the same color as Jeremy’s was slicked back in a tight chignon any of Yazmine’s dance students would admire. A simple pair of gold and diamond studs accented her ears, and a diamond pendant hung from a delicate gold chain.
His mom’s simple, understated elegance and friendly welcoming smile reminded Rosa of Jeremy.
“Rosa, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you.” Laura extended her hand in greeting at the same time Rosa instinctively opened her arms for a hug.
There was a brief moment of awkwardness as Rosa regrouped and stuck out her hand and Laura leaned in for the hug. They ended up with clasped hands squashed between them as they gave each other a one-arm embrace.
Mortified, Rosa drew back, a heated blush seeping into her face. “I appreciate the invitation, Mrs. Taylor.”
“Please, call me Laura.”
Rosa bobbed her head in response, then turned to the younger woman who had entered with Jeremy’s mother. “Hello, Cecile. It’s nice to see you again.”
The socialite tilted her head in greeting, the highlights in her blond bob catching the light cast by the pair of intricate chandeliers dangling from the high ceilings. A short-sleeved fuchsia sweater dress hit Cecile mid-thigh, hugging her model-slim curves. The pair of black leather over-the-knee boots gave her a trendy, chic vibe that had Rosa tugging at the waist of her plain cable-knit sweater and resisting the urge to frown down at her sensible black skirt and flat-heeled faux suede boots.
This wasn’t a competition. Not as far as she was concerned.
Jeremy hugged both women hello. Rosa was unable to help noticing the way Cecile pressed her cheek to Jeremy’s, her hand remaining on his forearm slightly longer than necessary.
“This is a surprise. I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Jeremy said to Cecile.
“A good surprise, I trust.”
Dios mío, Rosa hadn’t remembered Cecile’s voice having that sultry undertone. Apparently neither Jeremy nor his mom, who smiled at Cecile’s compliment-seeking remark, seemed to notice. Mrs. Taylor laughed softly, gesturing toward the brocade-covered couch and matching wing chairs.
“Why don’t we sit down? I imagine Sherman and Harold will be done in the office and join us shortly. Apparently there’s some type of glitch with Sherman’s laptop or a file he tried to send.” She waved a hand over her shoulder toward the left wing of the penthouse, where no doubt the office was located.
Jeremy cupped Rosa’s elbow and led her back to the couch, leaving his mom and Cecile to take the wing chairs.
“Should you maybe go see if you can help?” Rosa asked him. He was, after all, an IT specialist.
Jeremy shook his head abruptly, exchanging an uncomfortable look with his mother.
Strange.
“Are you . . . sure?” Rosa tried again. The idea that she could help one of her sisters and not do so wasn’t something she’d ever entertained.
“I don’t really get involved with anything pertaining to the law firm,” Jeremy explained. Rosa’s surprise must have registered on her face because he went on. “They have an IT specialist. I’m sure he’s working on it for them.”
“Actually—”
“Jeremy decided ages ago,” Cecile said, at the same time Laura had started to speak, “when we were in college together, that he would go his own way professionally. Right, J?”
J?
Rosa had never heard anyone call him by that nickname. Then again, she wasn’t privy to his inner circle of friends like Cecile no doubt was.
He nodded, but Rosa caught his uncomfortable gulp. Noticed the tense flutter of his fingers against the cushion between them. Something was off here; she just didn’t know what.
“Personally, I find his independent streak admirable. Attractive, really. It’s part of what draws us to each other.”
Cecile’s blatantly flirtatious remark seemed to surprise Jeremy and his mom as much as it did Rosa. An awkward silence filled the room. Cecile crossed her long legs, a satisfied expression on her artfully made-up face.
Over the years, Rosa had been forced to wait for her turn in the bathroom while Yaz took forever doing her makeup. The experience had taught her that a flawless “natural look” like Cecile’s took effort, and more products than Rosa cared to deal with. She was fine with her fifteen minute routine.
Rosa knew what the other woman was doing, staking her claim.
Yazmine would have laughed at Cecile’s gall.
Lilí would have thrown it back at her, in spades.
Rosa found herself falling on old habits, accepting the rudeness without standing up to it. She despised herself for doing so, but as a visitor in the Taylors’ museum-esque home, no way would she risk offending someone who apparently was more than just the “old friend” Jeremy had described Cecile as on the night of the wedding.
Jeremy cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Yes, well, that was a while ago, Cecile. But I, uh, appreciate your vote of confidence in my career choice.”
He angled on the couch toward Rosa, away from his former love interest. But was it former?
Rosa had a sinking feeling that if you asked Cecile, she’d say things between her and Jeremy weren’t finished.
“My younger brother, Michael, has taken the legal baton Sherman wanted to pass along to both of us,” Jeremy told her. “He’ll join the firm when he finishes law school and passes the bar.”
It hit Rosa that despite the amount of time they’d spent together last spring, not to mention this past week at her house, Jeremy hadn’t revealed much about his family life. Oh, he’d mentioned generalities like how he’d missed them when he lived in New York. He’d shared a few stories about his close relationship with his mom and memories of clowning around with his younger brother, but he had rarely mentioned his connection with Sherman. He praised Sherman as a good father, but Rosa had no idea what type of relationship they shared.
Could there be some problem or rift between the two of them she wasn’t aware of?
For someone who’d been unbelievably close with her dad, she found the idea incredibly sad.
“I’m more the black sheep of the family,” Jeremy added.
“You are not!” Laura’s grey eyes flashed with dismay.
“It’s a joke, Mom.” Jeremy waved off her concern, but Rosa didn’t.
Jeremy might say he was kidding. The satisfied smirk on Cecile’s bowed lips might imply she agreed with him. But one result of Rosa’s keen infatuation for Jeremy was that she had gotten pretty skilled at reading his expressions, clueing her into his moods.
For instance, she knew that when the right side of his mouth turned down the slightest bit, he was annoyed. When the edges of his eyes crinkled, or one of his brows twitched in a slight quirk, his laugh was about to roll from his chest.
When the pupils of his eyes flared, his desire sparked and he wanted to kiss her. Which she usually didn’t mind.
Or, like now, when the muscles in his jaw flexed, his anger or frustration simmered and he fought to not let it boil over.
But which was it now. Anger? Or frustration? And why?
Somewhere in the penthouse, a door opened and two male voices could be heard talking.
Laura rose from the wing chair. Her mouth trembled as if she wanted to say something, but she hesitated.
“Drop it, Mom,” Jeremy grumbled. “It’s all good.”
Rosa glanced from him to his mom, ignoring Cecile, who seemed to have set off this underlying tension. Whatever the root cause of it might be. Forget Rosa’s nervousness about meeting Jeremy’s parents for the first time, or the fear of them thinking she might not be good enough for their oldest son. There was more going on here and apparently she was the only one in the dark about it.
Her discomfort grew as Rosa found herself doubting Jeremy, certain he was keeping something from her. Something his “old family friend/flame” and pot-stirrer Cecile was privy to.
“Before I forget—” Cecile propped an elbow on her armrest and leaned toward Jeremy. “Sharon and Morgan have two extra box seat tickets to the ballet on Thursday. I told them I’d see if you were free. How about it? Dinner and drinks beforehand. The four us, like old times.”
The bold woman actually reached out to put her manicured hand on Jeremy’s knee.
Rosa wanted to smack Cecile’s grubby paw away, stake her own claim on Jeremy. Only, she didn’t have a right to do that. Not really.
She may have thought they were growing closer over the course of this past week. Now she wasn’t so sure. Not with whatever secrets he was keeping from her.
“I don’t think so, Cecile. Rosa and I already have plans. You guys have fun.” Jeremy pushed up off the couch, and Cecile’s hand dropped away. He combed his fingers through his hair, leaving it mussed. Something Rosa had mostly seen him do when agitated.
Cecile shot Rosa a brittle smile. “Another time, maybe.”
“Hello, beautiful. Sorry to keep everyone waiting.” Sherman Taylor entered the room with gusto, his vibrant personality like a visible force. One arm outstretched, he curved it around Laura’s shoulders, bringing her closer to him so he could kiss her temple.
Jeremy must have gotten his height from his mom because even in her low heels Laura stood even with Sherman, both maybe five-foot-ten or so. Sherman’s brown hair was peppered with grey, but with the long sleeves of his button-down shirt rolled up and his crisp grey slacks, it was evident he was fit for his age.
Behind him trailed a shorter, slightly paunchy older man, his cheeks had large jowls that spread with joy when he spotted his daughter.
Rosa and Cecile stood at the same time, the other woman moving to her father’s side.
“Jeremy, good to see you, son,” Sherman greeted him.
“You, too, Dad. Harold, it’s been a while.”
The men shook hands while exchanging pleasantries.
Rosa tried to catch any sign of discomfort between Jeremy and his dad, but she came up empty. Sherman appeared happy Jeremy was here. Jeremy showed no signs of his earlier frustration.
She could almost convince herself that she’d misinterpreted everything. Only, the tiny V marring the area between Laura’s thin brows hinted at the woman’s lingering worry.
“And this young lady must be Rosa.”
This time, Rosa knew to hold out her hand, forgoing the hug that was second nature to her and her family.
“You have a beautiful home, Mr. Taylor. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He winked at her, a habit Jeremy had evidently inherited from his dad. “When the weather is nicer and we can enjoy a meal out on the terrace, you’ll have to come for dinner.”
“I’d like that, thank you.” She could see why Sherman was known for swaying juries. The intensity of his gaze zeroed in on her and made her feel like she was the most important person in the room.
Jeremy stepped closer to place a hand on the small of her back. She angled her head to look at him, catching the barely discernible question in his deep blue eyes.
Before she could consider what he might be trying to ask her, Sherman was introducing her to Harold Millward.
Right away, it became apparent that while his physical appearance could mistakenly lead you to think him soft, Harold Millward’s quick wit matched Sherman’s. Explaining how the two men had, together, built Taylor & Millward into the most sought-after boutique law firm in the Midwest.
“We’re going to head out now,” Mr. Millward said after their colorful discussion about the must-see sunset view and the don’t-miss gatherings often held on the Taylors’ terrace. “I promised my gorgeous daughter an early dinner treat, and I don’t like to disappoint her.” He held out a crooked elbow, and Cecile slid her arm through it. “Looking forward to the holiday party Wednesday night.”
“Oh yes, Rosa, I’m sure Jeremy’s mentioned it. We hope you can join us.” Laura held out her hands in welcome to Rosa, who had no idea what party they referred to.
“We’ve both been so busy, I hadn’t even thought about the firm’s annual party,” Jeremy said. “We might, um, have to take a rain check, right?”
He turned to Rosa for confirmation.
Anger sparked in her. She didn’t appreciate feeling like a pawn in some game she didn’t even know she was playing.
Confused, refusing to lie, she answered with a half-hearted shrug.
Disappointment flashed in Laura’s eyes.
Sherman’s mouth thinned the tiniest bit.
“Well, hopefully things work out and you can make it,” Harold answered. “We’ll be off now. Sherman, we’ll need to have Henderson take a look at your laptop, maybe poke around the ones in the office. Something’s off. Or, hell, have Jeremy give it a look over. The kid’s got more computer degrees than most folks we know. Probably even more than Henderson.”
Jeremy’s hand flexed, his fingers pressing into Rosa’s back.
“I don’t mind giving it a try,” he replied, his lazy tone contrary to the tension Rosa sensed in him.
“There you go.” Harold gestured at Jeremy. “What good is it having a son who turns down law school and winds up an IT whiz if you don’t take advantage of his skills?”
Jeremy’s shoulders stiffened. Rosa cut a quick glance at Laura Taylor and could swear the woman’s pale skin had blanched a shade lighter.
Despite the friendly smiles on everyone’s faces, a strained undercurrent vibrated in the air, snapping at Rosa’s already stressed nerves.
“That’s okay, son. I won’t bother you about it.” Sherman pshawed, brushing off Harold’s idea. “Henderson can take care of everything tomorrow.”
“I’m sure he can.” Jeremy’s stiff response didn’t seem to bother anyone else. But it certainly confused her.
Dios mío, the subtext she couldn’t grasp made Rosa’s head spin with questions.
Laura offered to walk Harold and Cecile to the door. Thankfully Sherman joined the group, leaving Rosa and Jeremy alone in the living room.
As soon as they were out of sight, Jeremy sank onto the couch with a muffled groan. He gripped his thighs, his pale skin tone in stark contrast to his black jeans.
An inexplicable pain shadowed his blue eyes, twisted his lips in a grimace.
Confused, Rosa battled with anger and betrayal. Jeremy should have given her a heads-up about whatever everyone else was dancing around here.
At the same time, seeing him hurting like this tugged at her heart. She cared for him too much not to want to ease whatever caused his pain.
“I’m so sorry about this,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.
“It’s okay.” Rosa laid a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to apologize.”
He hung his head, shaking it from side to side. “God, Rosa, you’re too good. Even when you’re dropped in the middle of someone else’s family drama, you don’t complain. And you should. Hell, I would!”
“Hey!” She joined him on the couch, slipping her hand from his shoulder to wrap around his back to offer comfort. “I’m not saying you don’t have some explaining to do. But right now, I feel like you could use a hug more than I need answers.”
Jeremy pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around.”
“Uh-uh, if we’re doing this—whatever ‘this’ is—it’s fifty-fifty. I won’t accept anything else.”
They stared deeply into each other’s eyes and she caught the flare of his pupils. She knew what was coming and, despite his parents in the nearby foyer, she let her eyes flutter closed.
His lips brushed against hers in a kiss so feather soft she could almost think she’d dreamt it.
He held her face with both palms as he kissed her again. And again.
Little nips that teased her. Enticed her desire. Leaving her wanting more.
The elevator doors dinged, signaling its arrival. Goodbyes could be heard from the foyer.
Jeremy pulled back with a muttered groan.
Rosa’s eyes fluttered open, meeting the chagrined smile in his baby blues.
“Look, my mom knows you haven’t been feeling well. Us coming today was tentative, based on how you were doing. Would you mind if we kept this short, then headed home?”
Home.
She liked the sound of that.
Oh, make no mistake about it. They had a major conversation ahead of them. Rosa the quiet dormouse was no longer in residence at casa Fernandez.
Jeremy might think she was okay being kept in the dark and walking into his parents’ intimidating home without a clue that there might be a drop of bad blood.
If so, her handsome housemate was going to have to think again.