Craving HIM (Serving HIM Vol. 7) (18 page)

I almost told him to tell whoever was they could come out here, but then it occurred to be that it might be Mitchell Pence. A private room. The perfect place to kill him.

The man led me inside and down a couple of winding corridors. We stopped at a door watched by his older, better-dressed twin. Not because they actually looked alike. They both had the same, implacable, blank expression and the big, bulky muscles. But the new guy wore a better suit and when he smiled at me, it looked authentic.

Looked.

It wasn’t.

More security, and I didn't think this one worked for the country club.

As Suit One left, I studied Suit Two.

“I’m here.” I didn’t point out that I didn’t care for being summoned. It would serve no purpose. But I knew one thing—this wasn't Pence. He didn’t have the cashflow for the kind of man who stood there barring the door.

Without speaking, he stepped aside and opened the door, allowing me to enter. Tension climbed up the back of my neck as I walked into the room. The door closed discreetly behind me and I looked around.

JC Woodrow stood at the window.

Shit.

He look to be lost in thought, or maybe just really interested in the picnic. Either way, I didn't want to know. I slid my hands into my pocket. I wished it would've been Pence. I’d been looking forward to pummeling him and I was definitely feeling the urge to hit something even more now.

I had absolutely no desire to talk to my biological father.

“It’s called a picnic,” I said bluntly. “And I’m pretty sure you weren’t on the list of guests, but if you’d wanted to come, you should have just asked for an invitation. I think you know the woman hosting it.”

He didn’t turn to face me right away. I stayed where I was, staring at him as he continued to look outside.

Play all the power games you want, asshole, I thought. I’m pretty good at them myself.

If he really wanted to try to mess with me, I was more than happy to let him.

Finally, he turned.

It was like looking into a bizarre warp of the future. That would be my face in thirty-some years. With a lot less Botox. His doctor was good, but I could still see the faint tightness and a telling smoothness in JC's cheeks.

“I must say, I was very surprised when I saw your face and the pictures along with the articles done about Cecily and her long lost son.” He paused and then asked, “Did you do a DNA test?”

“Is it any concern of yours?”

He shrugged. The movement looked out of place on him as he stood there, stern and unyielding. He seriously needed to yank the stick out of his ass.

“I’d heard that you two had connected and I would've assumed both of you would have wanted to be sure. I know who you are, Dominic. You’ve made quite the name for yourself in the business world and you don’t strike me as a fool. I would have wanted to be sure, if I were in your shoes.”

“Like father, like son?” I jabbed at him and saw the flicker of anger in his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ve already figured out that I might look like you, but I take after my mother in all the ways that count.”

He smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt. “Dominic, I’ve already explained many times that I never had an affair with her. She was young and troubled and confused.”

“Uh-huh.” I bared my teeth at him in a mockery of a smile. “You’re right. I look nothing like you did thirty years ago. Must've been why every news story has mentioned it. Again, why is any of this your concern?”

“You stand there and make it clear you think you’re my son.” He waved a hand through the air, brushing the idea away. “But you’re not. And since you haven't asked to have a DNA test done—”

“I did.” I cut him off. “With her. Because she mattered. You?”

I took a few steps closer and watched the caution slip into his eyes. I might've looked like him, but I had a couple inches and quite a bit more muscle than he did. He should've spent less time schmoozing and more time at the gym.

“Frankly, you don’t matter.”

Red washed crossed his features, but it was gone in a blink.

“Look, Dominic…I hate that we’re getting off on the wrong foot here.” He gave me his charming, politician’s smile. The kind that didn't even come close to reaching his eyes. “I just want to know if you have any intentions.”

“Intentions.” I said it slowly as if I wasn’t familiar with the word. I nodded after a moment and then said, “Sure. I have intentions. I’m setting up a charity for woman who had their children abducted—particularly babies. I want to do what I can to make sure nobody suffers like Cecily did. I’m setting up a separate arm of that charity that will focus on human trafficking.” I paused and then added, “That’s the PC term for modern-day slavery, you know. When people are just sold like something at the damn store.”

He stared at me, hard.

“We’re not yet accepting donations, but if you want to write out a check for all the grief you caused, Cecily would be happy to take it.”

“I have a hard time believing that's what this is about. Money for some charity.” His voice was stiff.

“I thought you said you knew who I was.” I laughed and then leaned in, said softly, “My net worth would absolutely crush yours. I don’t need your money. But if you’re looking for a way to solve your guilt for how you seduced a nineteen year-old girl?” I shrugged. “Helping the other women who are in the same position she was in might be a good way to start.”

“I understand why you might feel slighted. You’ve read her book, I imagine.” JC gave me a sympathetic smile and if I hadn't been a cynical son of a bitch, I might have bought into it.

But my cynicism went all the way down to the bone. That was, in a large part, thanks to my other father.

“Any number of people have read that book and assumed it was all true. I’m still dealing with my lawyer about her…lies.” He sighed sadly. “But we’ll likely let it go. I don’t want to shine any more attention on her sad stories. But you deserve to know the truth. Cecily was a troubled teenager. Yes, I did know her. Her father was a friend of mine. She often threw herself at me, but she was a child. One with problems. I felt sorry for her, nothing more.” He shook his head and the expression on his face was the perfect example of sympathetic pity. “I’m sorry, but you are not my son.”

My hands curled into fist. Oh, he wanted to go there, did he? He could say what he wanted about me, but I'd be damned if I let him drag her name through the mud.

“We can always do a DNA test, if that’s the line you’re drawing.” I shrugged lazily. “Honestly, I don’t give a fuck, but if you insist…”

Sweat began to form along his brow and I could see the nerves jumping in his eyes. In a blink, his face was back to the same, calm, concerned façade.

But I knew what I’d seen.

The prick had come here thinking he could intimidate me. Fat chance of that.

“I’ll tell you what. Because I’ve got better things to do then talk to you, I’m going to tell you the truth. I don’t want anything from you. Not your acknowledgement. Not your lies. I don’t even want to waste whatever bits of hair or body fluid would be required for the testing.” I raked him over with a look, letting my disgust show. “I don’t even want your name anywhere near my foundation.”

A muscle in his cheek started to pulse and this time, when he spoke, he didn’t bother to fake any concern. In a tight voice, he said, “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that.”

He didn’t look happy though. He looked pissed.

And I was glad.

Chapter 16

Aleena

It was too early. I cracked one eye open to look out the window and saw the pounding rain. For a moment, I entertained the idea of lounging in bed half the morning, doing nothing but reading and drinking coffee.

Unfortunately, as understanding as my boss was, I did have work to get done. A lot of it. I hit the lights on the night stand, then immediately wished I hadn't.

My head was pounding.

I thought back to the past few nights. After the Fourth of July party, Dominic had been brooding and grim, even more so than usual. He’d sketched out what had happened between his father and I’d gotten us both a drink.

His mood hadn’t improved over the weekend, so chances were the worry inside me was adding to the headache. It could have been the rain, too. It was coming down in sheets outside the bedroom window.

A long hot shower helped the headache, but I still felt off.

I’d already finished up the antibiotics for my ear infection and the last thing I wanted was to go see the doctor again. It was probably just a bug, but I was practically dragging as I headed out of the bedroom.

Dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, I made my way downstairs and shambled into the kitchen. The smell of coffee was like a drug and I smiled my gratitude at the sight of Francisco, standing there with a cup waiting for me.

“Nobody makes coffee like you do. Gracias.”

Cisco grinned at me. “Hey, I’m Italian. It should be
gratzi
.”

I made a face at him and took a sip of the steaming brew as I leaned against the counter.

He crouched back down in front of the counter, his eyes on my face. “You’re not looking like you feel well, Aleena.” He put away a few more things and then rose to face me again.

A couple bags of groceries still remained on the counter and I told myself I should help. I usually did. But I didn’t have the energy today. Cisco was Dominic’s personal chef and he took care of all the grocery shopping as well as meal prep and weekly menus.

He also like to fuss over me. Said I reminded him of his younger sister.

“I’m fine.” Listless, I shrugged and looked outside. “Like I said, I’m just tired. The rain isn’t helping.”

“Sit.” He pointed at the island. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

I didn’t bother arguing. I was starving. Maybe I just needed something to eat.

It didn’t take him long and after just a few minutes, I was digging into a ham and cheese omelette.

“Do you have any requests for this week?” Cisco asked, washing up the dishes he’d used.

“Chicken and dumplings.” It popped out of my mouth without me even realizing I wanted it. It sounded really good.

Cisco gave me an odd look. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine.” Huffing out a little breath, I polished off the omelette and reached for my coffee.

He let it go and we spent the next little bit going over the weekly menu, which included chicken and dumplings. That done, I grabbed some water and saluted him before locking myself in my office.

It was just me, the rain and my laptop now.

***

I lost track of time. It’s easy to do when you’re juggling multiple projects. The phone rang, startling me and making me aware of three things simultaneously. My neck was stiff, I had to pee like crazy, and the rain had stopped.

The phone rang again as I rose. It could go to the machine.

I needed to use the restroom and get some food.

Stretching my arms overhead, I tuned out the automated greeting from the machine, the usual words inviting the caller to leave a message. The caller did just that and the sound of his voice had me freezing.

Practically leaping for the desk, I started to grab the phone, but thought better of it. I hit the button to record and it caught him mid-sentence.

“Remember,” he was saying. “You only got a couple days if you don’t want all your dirty little secrets to go viral, and I mean in a big way.”

He recited a number and hung up.

Shaking, I glared at the phone as though I could reach through it and wring Mitchell Pence's neck.

Dominic was making himself sick with guilt. This nightmare with the videos was the last thing he needed with everything he was dealing with. The new foundation, his birth mother, JC Woodrow, and of course Jacqueline. She rarely called, but I knew he was talking to her and that was just one more thing for him to have to deal with.

The flashing number on the machine was hypnotic and I replayed the message over and over again in my head.

“I’ve had enough of this shit.”

I saved the message to the hard drive and then cleared it from the machine.

Dominic was doing enough.

Pence was a piece of shit and a coward. I’d dealt with worse. It was time for me to do things.

***

The bodega Mitchell had me meet him at wasn’t even a hole in the wall. More like a dent. It also completely and utterly lacked charm, personality...cleanliness.

He sat at his table and gestured toward the counter. “Grab a cup.”

“I’ll pass.” I felt better than I had earlier, but I wasn’t about to risk botulism or anything else that could be lurking in this filthy place. There was still coffee stains and rings from previous matrons on the tables and food on the floor. I wondered if a call to the health department would be a good idea. “Couldn't you have found a Starbucks or something?”

I settled on the edge of the chair and looked around one more time. Other than the sullen man behind the counter, Pence and I were the only ones there.