Chapter Eleven
Mila
True Colors
“So, you’re seeing him again tonight,” Claire says, not exactly as a question. “What’s on the agenda this time, sex before dinner, or after?”
“Maybe both,” I say, knowing my attitude will just get on her nerves. I face the mirror and place the sparkling necklace Derric gave me around my neck. It’s gorgeous, the setting made of white gold and three teardrop-shaped sapphire pendants in the front. It’s the most exquisite and expensive thing I’ve ever worn, and I still feel undeserving of it, but I know he’ll want to see me in it.
“Don’t you think you’re overdoing it?”
“What, the necklace?”
“No, I mean you hanging out with golden boy, and screwing 24/7,” she says, perching her slim rump on the bathroom counter next to the mirror. “You’re with him all day ‘working’.” She air quotes. “And then going out at night, too. Has he made any kind of commitment? Is he taking responsibility for the baby? Making plans for the future?”
I straighten and admire the necklace in the mirror, swiveling left and right. Brilliant sparks flash as the light reflects off the stones and the gleaming metal. “He needs time, Claire. He’s under a lot of pressure at work, trying to get ROO-TV off the ground in time for the launch. He has priorities.”
‘Priorities?” She gapes. “I should think legitimizing his offspring would be a priority.”
I turn to face her. “He’s a very high-profile businessman. I can’t ask him to drop everything and focus on me. We didn’t plan this, you know. It just happened.”
“That’s no excuse,” Claire says, shaking her head. “I just worry about you, Mils, and the toll it’s taking on you and our studio.”
“What do you mean? Derric’s given us a fifty-k contract. The studio’s never been in better financial shape.”
“I know that, and it’s great but, what about you? From what you say you’ve been going at it like rabbits. Are you sure it’s good for the baby? And what happens when the network launches? Will he go back to Australia? Leave you holding the bag... in this case, a diaper bag?”
“We haven’t discussed it yet.”
“Well, you’d better discuss it, and soon. I say this not just because you’re my business partner, Mils, but because you’re my best friend, too; we’re practically sisters. This isn’t what I want for you—to end up a single mom, taken in by false promises and left high and dry.”
“That won’t happen, Claire. Everything will be fine. We just need time to get to know each other first before jumping into anything permanent.”
Claire harrumphs and folds her arms across her ample chest. “Those sound like his words, coming out of your mouth. He’s either into you, or he’s not. It’s not a complicated choice, Mila.”
I look at my friend, not knowing what I can say to her that will put her at ease. We’ve always looked out for each other, had each other’s backs, and now is no different. I know she doesn’t want to see me hurt, but I can’t help wondering if there’s something else at play here. “You’re not... jealous... are you? Of Derric and me?”
Claire looks aghast and drops her arms to her sides. “Oh, Mils, how could you think that? No, no... jealous? No! I just want you to be happy. Does he make you happy? Honestly?”
I reach over and take her hands in mine. “Yes, Claire. Deliriously happy. Honest.”
Claire holds my gaze for a moment, then smiles and gives a satisfied nod. “Okay then. Where are you going tonight?”
“We’re going to see The Lion King, finally! I’ve wanted to see it for so long, and it’s been sold out almost every night, but I managed to get tickets. They were expensive, but they’ll be worth it.”
“C’mon, you’re dating a billionaire. Who cares what they cost?” She laughs. “I better let you finish getting ready.” With that, she slips off the countertop and exits the bathroom, leaving me in peace, more or less. What she doesn’t know is that I paid for the tickets with our company money. Derric was so busy at the station, I just decided to take care of it myself. I didn’t want to bother him about it, and he’d just bought me this fabulous piece of jewelry. I wanted an occasion to show it off.
I hadn’t lied to Claire, but I hadn’t exactly told the truth, either. Was I dating a billionaire? Sort of. Since the day we rented that cheesy room a month ago, where I told him the news, we’d been out together a lot—to movies, to dinner, and some sports matches. Other times we just stayed in at his place because he often worked late. I didn’t mind—since his place is a gargantuan 2500 square foot penthouse that I’m certain visiting royalty would envy. But everything revolves around his schedule, not mine.
What Claire did nail on the head was sex. We do have a lot of sex. A lot. Some might say an obscene amount, but it is fantastic every time. We can’t seem to get enough of each other. And she is right about something else. His words are coming out of my mouth.
There is no plan for the future. He never seems to have time to talk about it.
“Everything’s fine, I’ll support you no matter what,” he always says. “We’re still almost strangers to each other. I just want us to get to know each other better first. Rushing into things can backfire.”
Funny he didn’t seem to have the same reservations when we were in Sydney.
I take a last appraisal of my appearance in the mirror. Derric said he’d be working late again tonight, so I’m going to meet him at his place and leave for the theater from there. My deep blue, scoop-necked cocktail dress sets off the sapphires perfectly, and for this occasion, my explosion of curls is tamed with jeweled barrettes. I chuckle at the thought that if I wore it loose, my mane would look just like Simba’s.
I turn a three-sixty to check for stray hairs and lint on my dress and find none, but compulsively stroke my hands across my abdomen. I’m not showing yet, and I wonder how much longer I will be able to wear stylish, slim-fitting clothes and be seen on the town with my dashing billionaire. Will he still want me on his arm when I’m big as a house? Will he even still be here? He says he’ll support me; I have to believe he means more than just financially.
I take a taxi to Derric’s apartment tower. Because the doors open directly into his suite, I have to swipe a card key in the elevator panel in order to access the top floor. The cab zooms upward then slows as we reach the penthouse level. I’m excited about this evening, and I can’t help but smile as I get ready to step out of the elevator.
I’m already moving forward as the polished steel doors begin to part, and I can’t stop myself from stumbling over something that’s fallen crosswise right in front of the doors. A frightened shriek leaves my throat as I go down, arms outstretched to break my fall, and land awkwardly on the cold marble tiles. I’m not hurt, but a fall is never a good thing, especially for a pregnant woman.
I look around, confused by the mess all around me. What the hell happened here? Was it a break-in? How does that happen thirty floors in the air? The item I’ve just tripped over is a metal floor lamp lying on its side, its glass globes smashed on the tiles. The dining chairs are overturned, and the wall-mounted flat screen has a nasty, spider-web crack across its dark surface. I rise carefully to my feet and hear Derric’s voice from the other room, uttering a string of curses so profane I think my hair might go straight. I’ve never heard him say such things.
I move toward the open doorway to peer inside, and narrowly miss getting struck by an object flying past. It smashes into the corner in pieces. At my gasp of surprise, Derric whirls around and sees me. He’s breathing hard from exertion, and a look of rage darkens his handsome features.
“What are you doing here?” he half-shouts.
I recoil from his harsh tone. “It’s just me, Derric,” I say, my voice reduced to a timid squeak. I glance nervously around the bedroom, which is also in disarray; the bedsheets in knots and clothing and papers scattered everywhere. “What on earth is going on here?”
“You should call before coming over,” he snaps, snatching a couple of shirts from the floor and tossing them on the bed. “I’m in the middle of something.”
I can see that. “But... you said to meet you here... We’re going to the theater tonight, remember?”
He looks at me curiously, still scowling. “Theater?”
“Yes, theater... The Lion King,” I say, growing worried at his foul mood and trashed surroundings. “Are we still going?”
“Shit,” he swears, raking both hands through his hair and taking a few paces back and forth. He stops and faces me, his expression softer but still owly. “I’m sorry. I forgot. We’ll have to go another time.”
“Another time? But... I’ve been trying to get these tickets forever,” I start to say. This isn’t like him to just blow off something we’ve planned. Clearly, something is very wrong. “Are you alright?” I ask warily. “This isn’t like you, Derric. What’s happened? Why is everything in such a state?”
“It doesn’t concern you,” he grumbles out, scooping up some loose file folders from the floor and pitching them onto a desk next to his open laptop. “You’d better go. I’m up to my arsehole in alligators.”
“And this is how you handle it? By going ballistic and throwing shit around? I tripped and fell over a lamp coming in here, just so you know.”
He looks up at me, his blue eyes wide. “Aw, fuck... I’m sorry. You alright? The baby...”
“We’re fine, but clearly you’re not,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve never seen you like this, Derric. You’re scaring me.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Mila, this isn’t about you. I’ve got a shit-ton of work to do. Can’t you see that? I gotta blow off a little steam sometimes.”
“A little steam? The place looks like a bomb hit it.” Is this some dark side of him I don’t know about? I take a step backward, confused and frightened of this angry man who doesn’t resemble the Derric I know. I’ve heard the story too many times about men who are all sunshine and sweetness in the beginning and then turn into abusive bastards when the doors are closed. I don’t want to believe that could be Derric. “What happens when you need to blow off a little steam with a newborn in the room?” I ask.
We stare at each other, suspended in this unpleasant, awkward standoff until his cell phone breaks the silence. He reaches for it and checks the display.
“I have to take this,” he says, his voice stiff. “It’s an important business call.” He glances toward the door. “Would you mind?”
He wants me to leave? My mouth drops open in disbelief. An important call? More important than discussing our child? My heart shrinking, I retreat from the room and retrace my steps through the mangled mess of his living room. Maybe Claire was right after all. His priorities really are fucked-up.