Chapter Five
Senna tried not to be insulted that Marco walked several steps ahead of her as they headed downstairs. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it would have been nice to feel like she had a partner, an ally, before meeting his mother.
Ezmerelda Medina was not a public figure like her sons. She lived a quiet life in the Catalan countryside. She and Massimo vacationed in Italy and Switzerland, and while she was home, she dabbled in charity work and socialized with the European elite. But during Senna’s time at Medina Enterprises, she had overheard enough idle chatter to know that it was the quietly determined Ezme who ran the Medina family, and earning her displeasure meant provoking a small but mighty warrior.
Mila stuck by her side on the stairs by the main hall; Marco was already halfway down. Mila spoke in dulcet tones. “If she is curt with you, don’t take it personally. Marco has always been the golden boy in this family, and my parents had plans for him.”
“Had? You make it sound like his life is over. We had an unintended pregnancy. I don’t see how that wrecks Marco’s life.”
“To you, me, it doesn’t. But they are…old-fashioned.”
Perfect. Always nice to know that the person you are about to meet thinks you ruined her son’s life. Great first impression.
“Does Massimo ever come to dinner with the family?”
“Sometimes, but not typically. My father is a proud man, and his body isn’t as strong as it once was. He doesn’t like looking weak or feeble.” Mila’s quiet voice trembled with emotion. “It’s hard seeing him like this.”
“I’m sorry, Mila.” She knew what it was like to see someone you love in steep decline. It was obvious Mila was close to her father. Being the only girl in a gaggle of boys must have caused the two to forge a tight bond. Senna couldn’t know what it would feel like to have a strong father figure. She didn’t even know what her own father looked like.
“Thank you. You’ll meet him soon.” Mila’s charming grin returned to her face as she turned to look down at the people gathered at the bottom of the stairs. “Smile, it’s showtime.”
Senna felt the blood leaving her face, and she clutched the banister willing herself not to fall. Damn these ridiculous shoes. She heard the hush fall over the small group as she took the last couple of steps. Marco was already down the stairs and was headed for the bar at the end of the foyer, making her feel utterly inconsequential. Even with Mila next to her, she’d never felt so alone in her life.
Marco had brought her here, to his home. This wasn’t her idea, it was his. She was doing him a favor. And now he was abandoning her? Her feet halted on the last step and, if Mila hadn’t linked arms, she probably would have headed right back up to her room with a quick stop in Max’s nursery to relieve Madame Marchande of her nanny duties for the night.
“Come, they don’t bite. Promise,” Mila whispered.
“Mila, I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Of course you can. You look stunning. You’ll have the men eating out of your hand with the way your ass looks in that skirt. And the million-dollar earrings you’re wearing make you look like one of us.” Senna’s free hand flew to her ear remembering the delicate earrings Mila had picked out for her to wear. A million dollars?
…
Several partygoers turned to appraise her, and some possessed eyes the same honey-brown hue as Marco’s and Max’s. Mila made family introductions. Senna remembered their brother, Medina Enterprises’ CFO, Marcellus, from her time as an intern. He was alongside a pretty brunette named Vivica, whom Senna recognized from the marketing department back in Miami. She waved to another of Marco’s brothers, Matteo. She had shared breakfast with the ruggedly handsome helicopter pilot. His stories of dropping food and medicine into the war torn areas around the globe were riveting.
She fell into easy conversation with everyone, even though there was a palpable apprehension in the room. Besides family it seemed that a select group of friends and acquaintances had been invited to dine with them that evening. Mila force-fed her a glass of wine to help her relax. “Women in Europe drink wine all the time while breastfeeding. A few sips won’t hurt. I already asked Madame Marchande, and she agreed.” Mila was now the resident expert on designer clothes and breastfeeding. How convenient.
But Senna didn’t fight her too hard. She’d never been a drinker. Working in a bar surrounded by drunk people doing stupid things had cured her of any desire to imbibe. But, she had to admit, having a few sips of liquid courage certainly loosened her up.
With one ear she listened to Vivica and Mila discussing the upcoming ski season in Switzerland while she scanned the impressive room. That was one topic she could safely say she knew nothing about. Not a lot of skiing opportunities in south Florida. Her eyes landed on Marco, still at the bar, cradling a full tumbler.
But Marco wasn’t alone. He was speaking with a tall blond woman who had her back toward the room. She glowed with a deep tan showcased by the bright white cocktail dress that hugged her trim figure. They were only inches apart. Whatever they were discussing was obviously a private conversation.
The woman turned her head slightly, and Senna recognized her classically beautiful features and icy-gray gaze. What’s Brynn doing here? She knew Brynn worked at Medina Enterprises and attended functions with Marco back in Miami. But seeing her in this setting, in Marco’s family home, made her uneasy. She was like a bright red chess piece on a classic black and white chessboard. She didn’t quite fit, and her presence unnerved Senna.
“Don’t you agree, Senna?” Vivica had obviously asked her a question and was now expecting a response.
“Of course.” She said, her gaze still focused on the beautiful blonde who had Marco’s singular attention. “Excuse me, please.”
She felt drawn to the two of them. Their body language suggested a close relationship, but even from across the room she could see agitation in the firm set of Marco’s jaw. It didn’t look like their conversation was completely pleasant.
Approaching them Senna heard only a fragment of what Brynn was saying.
“…the florist is being completely unreasonable…”
Senna stopped a couple of feet from where they stood, hoping that the reason for Brynn’s presence would be immediately obvious. Marco cleared his throat, a guilty gesture that put Senna even more on edge.
Brynn turned and trained her searching gaze on Senna. “Senna. How nice to see you.”
Brynn leaned in and bestowed Senna an air kiss on both cheeks. The universal sign of greeting amongst the upper classes was something she was trying to get used to.
“Hello, Brynn. It’s nice to see you again. I didn’t know you would be here.” She directed her comment more to Marco than Brynn. Marco just avoided Senna’s gaze and took a deep interest in the contents of his glass.
Brynn laughed. “My family has ties with the Medinas that go back a long time. I’m always around for important family events. Like meeting Max. I don’t think I’ve had a chance to congratulate you directly.”
Senna couldn’t help but smile at the mention of her son all wrapped up for the night with Madame Marchande keeping watch. “Thank you. I hope you’ll get to meet him soon. But it was a long flight, and he’s sleeping.”
“Another time, then, I’m sure.” Brynn smiled and Senna half expected rays of sunshine to come streaming out of her mouth. Brains, beauty, rich. Senna was feeling smaller by the minute.
At Medina Enterprises, Brynn had a reputation for being standoffish. But Senna had always seen it for what it was—ambition and drive. Here in a more intimate setting she seemed warmer, more open. Brynn was the full package, and Senna couldn’t help but feel like a dressed-up country mouse in the presence of a beloved princess.
Before she had a chance to respond Marco wrapped his arm around Senna’s waist protectively, leaving his hand to rest on the small of her back. He propelled her toward the archway on the far side of the mammoth foyer. “Come, Senna.”
“See you at dinner.” The blonde beauty waved good-bye as Marco spirited Senna into the hallway and toward the library.
…
They reached the library at the end of the hallway, and he steered her inside, closing the substantial double doors behind them.
Marco saw her take in the stately room, her eyes wandering up and down the floor-to-ceiling bookcases, the large wingback chairs, even the massive square map table laden with modern and antique reference books. Opposite the entrance stood massive doors inlaid with delicate ironwork and thick glass that led to a private garden.
He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I should have told you Brynn would be here tonight.”
“I didn’t realize you two were so close. I mean, I know you saw her socially. Is she your girlfriend?” There was a bite in her words.
“My relationship with Brynn is complicated.”
“Is that code for we sleep together occasionally? I thought you had a rule of not fraternizing with the employees.” Senna smiled like she was telling a joke, but he couldn’t mistake the underlying accusatory tone in her voice.
“Brynn’s family has always been close to mine. Our fathers are best friends. It was always their wish to see us…together.”
Marco knew he had to be completely honest with Senna. She was going to find out eventually, and he wanted it to be from his lips.
“Actually, you could say Brynn and I have an…arrangement.” There was no way to make this easy. “We’re getting married.” He willed more scotch to magically appear in his tumbler, but the empty glass mocked him instead. Marco tried to interpret the look on Senna’s face. It was shock and maybe just a tinge of hurt.
Marco sighed. “When we were young, our fathers decided we would marry and unite our two families. It’s an old-fashioned notion, but it’s what’s done in my family. Marriages for the firstborn son have always been arranged. Following tradition is expected.”
“So the whole time I was working with you in Miami, you two were engaged?” This time her biting tone was hard to miss.
“Yes. Well, no. Not like that.”
“It’s a yes or no question, Marco.”
“I don’t love Brynn. And I know she doesn’t love me. Our arrangement is for business only. It’s like a contract to fulfill. I’ve made no attempt to hide my pursuit of other women. Brynn has always been free to see who she chose to as well. Hell, we could practically be brother and sister.”
“So now I’m here with Max as…what? The other woman? The one who slept with another woman’s fiancé? The one who got knocked up?”
“No one looks at you like that.” But even as he spoke the words, he knew they were lies. That was exactly how those gathered here for dinner tonight would see Senna.
Senna snorted a laugh. “Thanks for warning me.”
Marco was silent. Go ahead. Drop the next bombshell.
“We’re scheduled to marry in a few weeks.”
Marco watched as her face morphed from confusion into resolve. Did he detect a flicker of disappointment as well? “Congratulations.” She choked out.
She took a step back. “So Max not only gained a father in the last twenty-four hours, but a future stepmother as well. I need a few minutes to digest this.”
Then Senna’s head cocked to the side.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were arranged to marry someone when I was in your office? Or when we were on the plane? Or actually any time before right now?” Her arms crossed in front of her. She looked annoyed, which made him annoyed.
“We had other more pressing matters to discuss, Senna. I think you can agree we’ve packed a lot into the past day. Forgive me for waiting until now to tell you.”
“It just would have been nice to not be the only one in the dark.”
Why does she look so alluring when she’s pouting? The flush in her cheeks, the way her crossed arms and cocked hip emphasized those exquisite curves.
They were silent for a moment. Would it always be this adversarial with Senna? Or would they be able to work through their issues and find common ground? Of course, the common ground was already right in front of them, wasn’t he? His name was Max. Maximillian Marco Medina to be exact.
“You gave Max my name, my first and my last. If you were so angry with me, why did you do that? You thought I had abandoned you.”
“You did abandon me, Marco. In more ways than one. But Max deserves to know who his father is. Putting you on the birth certificate, giving him your name, at least on paper, makes sure he has that knowledge. I figured what he chooses to do with it, well, that’s up to him.”
“I’ll always be there for him, Senna. I’ll always be in his life.” I want to be in yours, too. The thought flitted through his mind and was gone as quickly as it came. But it was the truth. God, it was the truth.
She nodded and looked away, not meeting his gaze. “Good. I want that for him. I never knew my father. I don’t know his name, and he never came looking for me. So I’m sorry if I’m a little sensitive on the abandonment issue.”
“Senna, I didn’t know.”
“I don’t advertise it. Who wants the world to know their father wanted nothing to do with them? That he had so little regard for your mother that he couldn’t even be bothered to tell her his last name. I’m over it. But I’m glad Max will never have to know how painful that is.”
It dawned on Marco that he could be accused of the same thing. Even though he hadn’t intended to, he, too, had abandoned her at a vulnerable time. If he hadn’t rushed home to be with his father, things would be different.
“I’m sorry you had to go through everything alone.”
“Thank you but…”
“What? Talk to me.”
“I realize now you didn’t know I was pregnant. I can wrap my head around how that could happen. But if I’m being honest, it’s about more than that. I mean…we spent the night together, and I don’t do that with just anyone.” Her voice quieted to almost a whisper. “It meant something to me. I couldn’t understand how you just disappeared. I never expected any grand commitment. But I have to know. All that time you were away, did you ever think about calling me? Sending me an email?”
“Of course I did—”
She laughed then, a hollow, painful sound. “Then why didn’t you?”
“My father was deeply ill. Is still deeply ill. I had no time—”
“I know. And I’m not taking away from that. But you and I both know it’s not about what you have time for. It’s what you make time for.”
Her words cut him deeply. But there were no words to convince her how he’d thought of her every day, not when she was right. He hadn’t called.
He couldn’t hold back; he had to touch her. He reached up and ran the back of his hand slowly across the bare skin of her shoulder. So soft. So smooth. “But you left that night, princesa. I couldn’t have meant that much to you.”
He remembered waking up early that morning, as the sun began to peek over the horizon and illuminate the sky. He had reached for Senna and found a cold, empty spot where her soft and sated form had been.
When he’d wandered back down to his office dressed in his wrinkled tuxedo shirt with the scent of Senna’s skin still fresh on his body and driving him mad with want, he discovered the terrible news. Voicemails, emails, even handwritten notes waited for him. Everyone had tried to tell him that his father had suffered a massive stroke and wasn’t expected to live.
The next few hours and days had gone by in a haze. He and his brothers had immediately taken the private jet home. Brynn had insisted on accompanying them, and the terrifying thoughts of reaching Girona only to discover his father had passed rendered him unable to argue with her. The memories of his evening with Senna were pushed to the back of his memory simply because he had to focus on his family. Not because he didn’t want her.
“Wait a minute, Marco, I don’t think that’s entirely fair. You were my boss. The person who had taken an interest in my fledgling career. You also were the zillionaire who slept with a different woman every night. How was I supposed to know if I was special or just another notch on the doorway of the private rooftop balcony? I left because I was overwhelmed. Not because I didn’t want to wake up in your arms.”
Senna seemed embarrassed by her own admission and stepped out of his reach. His fingertips throbbed with the heat from her shoulders. She turned away and put her hands on the massive map table to steady herself. The dim light in the room did nothing to mask her physical assets. Her face was still luminous, even though her expression was laced with emotion. Her dress accentuated her ripe curves and the slit of her skirt teased him by exposing luscious swaths of creamy thigh then hiding them again.
It didn’t matter that they were arguing, no woman had ever made him stir and harden the way she did. He wanted her with a deep physical ache that could be eased only by taking her to his bed. But it wasn’t the time for that now. It may never be the time for that.
“You were and always will be special, Senna. You have to know that.” A hint of a smile played on her stunning features, and then it was gone.
He walked over to where she was standing with an involuntary need to be closer to her. She faced him, and the vulnerability etched into her features made him long to take her in his arms and kiss her until she was breathless.
“Please,” she implored, her hands finding their way to a resting spot on his chest. He didn’t know if he could resist her much longer. “The past is, well, the past. We have a son, and we need to look ahead. We don’t have to be best friends or even friendly acquaintances if you don’t want to. But you have to promise me, whatever happens, you’ll always be there for Max. And I don’t mean by sending a check once in a while. Promise me you’ll be a father, a dad. That you’ll take him to a baseball game. Or you’ll take him to the beach and look for starfish together. Promise me you’ll just be a presence in his life. He deserves that.”
He swallowed hard. “Always, princesa. I promise.”
They stood that way for what seemed like a long while, neither speaking, just being close with each other and processing the intimacy between them. He wanted to kiss her. He needed to kiss her. It was all flooding back, all the memories that had been locked away so he could focus on his father and ensure that Medina Enterprises would endure. That his family would endure.
He’d forgotten how her essence had a way of seeping into the marrow of his bones. How hard it was to keep his hands off her while working together. She was honest, pure. No guile. She demanded nothing of him directly, but his body begged to obey hers.
Without thinking, Marco reached up to cup her face, lifting her chin closer to his. He brought her lips to his, and she did nothing to resist. They came together slowly at first; he brushed his lips with hers, tasting, teasing. But he couldn’t hold back, and their kiss intensified. Her arms snaked around his neck and held his head firmly in place. His hands moved lower until they rested low on her hips right above the curve of her behind. He brought her hips closer, eliminating the space between them.
His tongue found its way into her mouth, gently exploring every crevice. She moaned softly under his ministrations, and he was hard and throbbing almost instantly.
How could he have forgotten the sweetness of her lips, the softness of her skin, the silky feel of her tresses as his hands wandered up and down her back? He wanted to sneak out onto the grounds, forgetting about everyone else, and spirit her away to the gentle rolling hills by the nearby lake and spend all night making up for lost time.
But the sharp, quick clicks of tiny feet meant a stolen night with Senna was not to be.
The library doors flew open, and in came his mother. “Marco? Are you in here?”
Pulling away from Senna’s heat was a Herculean task. She looked confused.
“There you are, mio, it’s time to take our seats. Oh, you are not alone.”
“Hello, Mother. I haven’t yet had the opportunity to introduce you. This is Senna Callas. Senna, this is my mother, Ezmerelda Medina.”
She turned slowly to face Senna directly as she stood only mere inches from Marco’s side. But Ezme didn’t make any movement toward her. Marco wasn’t surprised. His mother was an expert in the game of setting the rules of any engagement, and, by standing there, she was asserting herself as the person in the room with the most power, almost daring Senna to make her feel differently. Senna approached his mother with an outstretched arm. “It’s nice to meet you, Señora Medina.”
His mother leaned in and kissed Senna’s cheeks by way of greeting. Marco knew that Ezme lived an insulated life. Her social circles were tight and difficult to breach, so meeting new people and being welcoming was not her forte. But he was glad she was at least making an effort.
“Hello. Welcome to Girona.” Ezme’s voice was warm but guarded. “I’m very much looking forward to meeting my grandson.”
Marco watched Senna’s smile gently falter. Again setting the rules, the hierarchy. In essence, Max was important; Senna was secondary.
Ezme took Marco’s arm. “Marco, come. I had Laurent set up tables in the wine garden. We’ll eat outside. It’s a lovely evening. Please join us, Sara.”
“It’s Senna,” Marco corrected her. He turned to find Senna walking quickly toward the double doors. She opened one of them.
“After you, Señora Medina.” Senna glared at him as he approached the door.
His mother patted his arm. “It’s always nice when a girl knows how to be helpful.”
Marco heard Senna slam the library doors behind them.