Authors: Sophia Knightly
“Claudia, go with your husband and work things out,” Paolo ordered, giving her a look that left no room for arguments.
“I don’t want to leave Mikey.”
“Mikey will be fine with me. I can feed him as well as anyone. There is milk in the refrigerator. Señora Fuentes saw to that.” He winked. “I promise not to make cappuccinos while you’re gone. Relax and take your time. You owe it to your husband to listen to what he has to say,” Paolo said firmly. “Now quit stalling and go!”
Claudia braced her fists on her hips and faced Paolo belligerently. “Just whose side are you on anyway?”
Looking from Bobby’s blistering blue eyes to Claudia’s blazing black ones, Paolo drew a long-suffering breath. “Mikey’s,” he said, kissing his little nephew’s forehead.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Claudia could not and would not look at Bobby. She was too furious. Her stomach churned as she rode next to him in the silent car. Neither said a word until they arrived at the hotel.
Bobby grabbed her hand and tugged her along through the hotel lobby. His big hand held hers firmly during the elevator ride—as if he never wanted to let her go. When they reached the suite, he slid the hotel card key in the door and turned to stare at Claudia with intense blue eyes. “I love you and I am not going to risk losing you over a damn job.” He opened the door and led her inside.
Claudia gasped when they entered and she saw Bobby’s parents seated on the sofa in the sitting area separate from the bedroom.
“What the
hell
are you doing here?” Bobby demanded, his face livid. “Why have you been tormenting my wife?”
Claudia’s eyes bugged out at his confrontational tone, but he had every reason to be furious. As soon as the Woodbridges had found out their son had eloped with a Latina, they had disowned him without bothering to meet her and then had tried to force Bobby to get an annulment. When he had refused, his parents had cut him out of their lives. After that, Bobby cut off all ties with them, too, even refusing to show Claudia their picture or talk about them. Small miracle, their pit bull lawyer wasn’t there, Claudia thought, remembering how much Bobby disliked him.
“Don’t be insolent,” his father thundered, looking like a volcano about to erupt. Mr. Woodbridge’s thick gray hair was cropped short and framed a scowling, deeply tanned face. Piercing blue eyes zeroed in on his son. “Your mother and I are here to talk some sense into you,” he said, ignoring Claudia.
Bobby bristled with resentment. “Don’t dismiss my wife, the mother of my son. Claudia is the love of my life.” He wrapped a protective arm around her slouched shoulders. “When you mess with her, you mess with me.”
It was intoxicating to witness her strong husband stand up to his intimidating parents. Beside him, Claudia felt sheltered, treasured—and empowered. Bobby’s declaration of love nearly moved her to tears and gave her back her gumption. She was not about to break down in front of his parents. She straightened to her full five feet seven inches and looked his parents square in the eyes—first Mr. Woodbridge and then Mrs. Woodbridge.
“Bobby is the love of my life too,” Claudia said in a strong, clear voice.
Mrs. Woodbridge rose to stand beside her husband. Claudia noticed the woman’s perfectly manicured hands were trembling. “If you love your wife so much, why did you leave her alone when she was pregnant?” she asked Bobby, disapproval turning her lips downward. “Dad and I thought you had decided to end the marriage when we heard you disappeared.”
“I did not disappear! I went away to earn money fast, since you and Dad are blocking my inheritance from Poppa,” Bobby retorted, referring to his deceased grandfather’s trust that his parents controlled until he turned thirty-five.
“We’re doing it to protect you, son,” Mr. Woodbridge said in an even tone. “How do you know your wife is not a gold digger? The Woodbridge name spells money.”
“Claudia is
not
a gold digger,” Bobby countered, the veins in his neck bulging with wrath.
“Then why did she trap you into marriage by getting pregnant?” Mrs. Woodbridge challenged.
“
¡Por Dios!
I got pregnant
after
we were married!” Claudia cried, fury exploding inside her like a stick of dynamite. “I don’t come from a humble family, Mrs. Woodbridge. I do not need or want your money. I married Bobby because I love him! In Argentina, the name Woodbridge means
puente de madera—
a bridge made of wood. It means nothing more. I didn’t know Bobby was wealthy when I fell in love with him.”
“Apologize to Claudia right now or I’ll never set foot in your house again. I mean it,” Bobby warned, giving them a baleful look.
Mr. Woodbridge backed down. “All right, there’s no sense in us killing each other with accusations. We’re here to make peace, not to fight with you.”
“Then why were you trying to take our baby away?” Claudia asked, blinking back her stinging tears.
“We were worried that our grandson was in jeopardy,” Mrs. Woodbridge said.
“What do you mean?” Claudia asked.
“We found out that the Cuban lady who babysits your son is a dangerous political fanatic.”
“A dangerous political fanatic—Señora Fuentes?” Claudia repeated incredulously. “That’s impossible. She has been like a mother to me since I arrived in Miami.”
“Which is more than she can say for you, Mother,” Bobby said with biting sarcasm.
“That may be the case, but the Cuban lady is constantly stirring things up with subversive letters to the
Miami Herald
!” Mrs. Woodbridge replied, looking upset.
“Oh, come on! That is ridiculous. Señora Fuentes is a good woman,” Bobby said.
“You know her?” Mrs. Woodbridge’s Botoxed eyes widened as she stared at him, flabbergasted.
“Of course. Who do you think kicked my ass and got me down here yesterday? It was Señora Fuentes!” Bobby replied angrily. “Did you run a background check on the poor woman?” His eyes blazed with outrage. “And who found me? A private eye? Or was it Max Weintraub and his viperous cronies?”
“Never mind,” Mr. Woodbridge blustered with a guilty look. “Your mother and I are here because we want to be a part of our grandson’s life.”
“You certainly have a weird way of going about it,” Claudia observed, sick at heart that she and Mikey had come between Bobby and his parents. As their only son, Bobby had to feel disheartened over the rift between them, but he had never said so, probably to keep Claudia from feeling like the culprit. It was all so unnecessary. Why couldn’t the Woodbridges just be normal, loving parents? She wanted Mikey to have grandparents to love and spoil him just as hers had done when she was growing up.
Mrs. Woodbridge looked close to tears as she gave a mournful sigh. She reached out to touch Claudia’s hand. “It’s obvious our son loves you or he wouldn’t be defending you so fiercely. Bobby is our only son and we don’t want to lose him.”
“Why would you worry about that?” Claudia took Mrs. Woodbridge’s icy hand in hers and looked into her tear-blurred eyes. “I would like nothing better than for all of us to get along, Mrs. Woodbridge. My family in Argentina is very close and loving. That is what I am used to. I would have loved to share Mikey with you. You are his grandmother. I miss my mother so much it hurts,” Claudia said, tears wetting her face.
“I’m sorry, Claudia.” Mrs. Woodbridge instantly closed the space between them and pulled Claudia into her skinny arms. She exhaled a shuddering breath as she released her. “My husband and I did a bad thing by judging you so wrongfully. Please forgive us.” Genuinely distraught and defeated, her eyes welled up as she turned to Bobby. “Dad and I miss you, honey! Please, please forgive us,” she pleaded. “Can we put all this behind us and start anew?”
“I forgive you,” Claudia said, wanting Bobby to make peace with his parents. She gave him a look filled with love and encouragement. In spite of all the mean things they had done, she felt sorry for his parents.
Bobby exhaled his breath with a loud gust of exasperation. “If Claudia is big enough to forgive you after the hell you’ve put her through, I suppose I can do the same,” he said after a long, awkward pause.
“Thank you!” Mrs. Woodbridge pulled Bobby’s rigid body close to hers in a tight hug, her jeweled hands running up and down her son’s back. Claudia’s heart clenched at the sight of Bobby towering over his petite mother, all brawn and muscles, allowing her to pet him as if he were her prodigal son come back to her.
Mr. Woodbridge cleared his throat forcefully. “I guess we’d better get going and leave the young folks alone.”
“Yes, please go. We can hash this out later. My wife and I need some private time. We have celebrating to do,” Bobby said, nodding to a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket.
“I understand.” Mrs. Woodbridge smiled. She grabbed her Chanel bag and followed her husband out the door. “Call us when you’re ready to talk.”
Alone at last, Bobby pulled Claudia in his arms and held her tightly against his broad chest. Beneath her ear, his heart pounded like a locomotive. “I am never leaving you again.”
She pulled back and searched his striking blue eyes. “You promise?”
“Yes. I am going to get out of the contract.” He pulled her in for a ravenous kiss.
When she came up for air, Claudia asked, “What about the yacht chartering business?”
“We can’t do that anymore. A yacht is no place for a newborn,” he said decisively. “I made enough money for us to find a nice place to live and get settled in with Mikey. Then we can talk about our next business venture.” He hugged her tightly. “Whatever we decide, we’ll do it as a team. No more separation.”
Claudia let out a joyous whoop and threw her arms around his strong neck. She hopped up and wrapped her legs around his lean waist, clutching his neck eagerly. Bobby’s hands supported her hips as he headed to the bedroom, lavishing kisses all over her face and neck.
“Hurry! We only have a little time left before your greedy son will be howling for milk.”
“Bambi, we have a lifetime of loving ahead of us,” Bobby vowed, his voice rough-edged with need as he deposited her on the bed.
Claudia pulled her white tank top over her head and unclasped her bra, releasing her breasts to his ardent gaze. “Come,
mi amor
.” She crooked her finger at him with a sultry smile. “Let’s start now…”
Bobby did not need more encouragement. In a flash, he was on her like a starved man.
“It’s my turn with Aunt Willow,” Tiffany declared, flouncing into Willow’s new private room in the early afternoon with two large shopping bags. “No fair, Mic. You’ve had her all day while I’ve been with Aunt Magda.”
“How is she?” Michaela asked. Dr. Jackson had released Magda in the morning, but he wanted to keep Willow in the hospital until her blood pressure returned to normal because it was still very low.
“She was in good spirits and even went shopping with me,” Tiffany said.
“Sounds like Magda is back to normal,” Aunt Willow said. “I hope she stays home tonight and rests.”
“I think she will. She finally agreed to spend the night at Mom’s,” Tiffany said.
“Good to hear it.” Aunt Willow looked vastly relieved. “Now that you’re here, Tiffany, maybe we should discuss Michaela’s show.”
Tiffany brought them up to date on everything, including the number of guys who were lined up with free tickets for
The Pleasure Palate
. “So, everything’s pretty much set,” Tiffany said. “The only thing missing is confirmation that our contestant will be there.”
“Oh dear, I need to email my final choice,” Aunt Willow fretted. “I had planned on doing it last night after getting home, but I ended up here instead.”
“Please don’t worry about my show, Aunt Willow. You just concentrate on feeling better.” The last thing Michaela wanted was for her ailing aunt to have worries while laid up in the hospital.
“I can get in touch with the contestant. What’s his name?” Tiffany asked.
“Hugo St. Paul. His email is [email protected],” Aunt Willow said.
Michaela didn’t like the sound of it. “Really? That’s kind of odd.”
“What does hurly burly mean?” Tiffany asked.
“Hurly burly means a lot of commotion. But Hugo may be playing around with it because he claims he is burly,” Aunt Willow replied.
“I guess we’ll find out when he shows up.” Michaela turned her attention to the shopping bags. “What did you bring, Tiff?”
“Reinforcements for our auntie,” Tiffany said gaily. Her ability to bring cheer into any situation pleased Michaela, and Willow too, from the delighted look on her aunt’s face.
Michaela sat beside Willow in an armchair by the window watching Tiffany unload everything and run around the room decorating. By the time she finished, Willow’s room looked like Martha Stewart had slept there. Dr. Jackson had been right on when he had warned Tiff that the hospital was not a hotel, because she had gotten carried away as usual. Her little sister was generous to a fault and unfortunately, that often landed her in a financial mess, overextended on her credit cards. Michaela had had to bail her a few times. She glanced around the room in dismay. Every corner was brimming with a collection of art books,
National Geographic
magazines, Lindt chocolates, scented luxury candles and even a big stuffed parrot.
Looking a bit overwhelmed, Aunt Willow smiled. “Thank you, luv. Michaela also brought me a beautiful orchid and a stash of white pear tea. Both of you have turned this room into a groovy pad.”
“It’s our pleasure.” Michaela smiled at Aunt Willow’s amusing choice of words.
“I’m touched that you’re both here and I know you love me, but you deserve to enjoy your Saturday off,” Aunt Willow said firmly. “So scoot out to the warm sunshine.”
“But we want to be with you,” Tiffany objected. “We can’t leave you alone with Dr. Killjoy.”
Aunt Willow burst out laughing. “I hardly think he’s going to put the moves on me. Besides, I need my beauty rest. Manny is coming by tonight,” she said with a coy smile.
“Ooh, listen to her. Manny’s coming,” Tiffany mimicked in a low, seductive voice.