Authors: Pamela Yaye
“Men like Rafael Morretti can't be trusted.”
Anger bubbled inside her, but she didn't lose her temper. “Rafael doesn't have ties to the Mafia or any other criminal organization. His ex-girlfriend started that rumor to get back at him for dumping her, and I know for a fact that it isn't true.”
“Is that so?”
“Rafael is a man of character and integrity, and as by-the-book as they come. He's never even had a parking ticket, for goodness' sake!”
“Open your eyes,” Mr. St. Clair exclaimed through clenched teeth. “He's using you.”
“Using me? That's ludicrous. What for?”
“Isn't it obvious? Surely you can't be
that
dumb.”
His words were a slap to the face, a painful, crushing blow Paris never saw coming. Her feelings were hurt, but she concealed her emotions. Questions stormed her mind, one after another. Was Rafael right? Was it time she put her foot down and regained control of her life?
“I won't stand by and let you soil my good name by dating
that
man.”
“Dad, lower your voice,” she whispered, glancing at the open door. “You're yelling.”
“Of course I'm yelling! You're running around town with a shady businessman!”
Paris felt a scowl twist her lips. She loved her father dearly, even when he was being unreasonable, but she'd had enough of his insults for one day. Thanks to Rafael she was happier than she'd been in years, and for the first time in her life she didn't care what her dad thought.
“Cancel,” Mr. St. Clair demanded. “I mean it, Paris. Get out there and do it right now, or you're going to see a real ugly side to me.”
In that moment, Paris realized everything Kennedy had ever said about their father was true. He wanted to control her, like a puppet, and was determined to run every aspect of her life. Paris knew then, with all certainty, that if she didn't stand up to him things would never change.
“This conversation is over,” she said calmly, ignoring the nervous quaver in her voice. “I don't need nor want your advice, and I'd appreciate if you kept your opinions to yourself.”
“Watch your tone. I am your father and you will respect me.”
“Respect goes both ways.” Paris picked up her purse. “Dad, I love you, and I appreciate all the sacrifices you've made for me, but I won't let you run my life anymore.”
“Who the hell do you think you're talking to? This is my
businessâ”
“And this is
my
life,” she retorted. “I decide who to date, not you.”
Then Paris did something she'd never done before. She snatched her blazer off the coatrack and walked out on her father.
Chapter 16
“T
hat's the last time I take
you
to see the Backstreet Boys,” Rafael teased, playfully wiggling his eyebrows. “You screamed so loud during the concert I
still
can't hear in my left ear!”
“I know you're not talking,” she quipped. “You were singing and dancing, too. Don't even try to deny it, because I recorded you on my cell phone!”
Laughing, they clinked wineglasses and shared a sweet kiss.
Cheers exploded inside the Champagne Lounge. The restaurant had the ambience of a high-end nightclub, and the enchanting music, sultry lights and vintage decor made the establishment a hit among the over-thirty crowd. Decorated in copper and ivory hues, the two-story building was the epitome of class and sophistication. The atmosphere in the bar was cheerful, the food was exceptional and the aromas wafting out of the kitchen were intoxicating.
Paris grooved to the R and B song the live band was playing, rocking her shoulders and hips to the beat of the soulful music. The Champagne Lounge was her favorite place to relax at the end of a long workday, and although her argument with her father earlier was still heavy on her mind, she was having a great time with Rafael. They were sitting side by side in their cozy leather booth, holding hands and sharing kisses.
This is heaven,
she thought, snuggling up to her handsome date
. What more could a girl want?
“Do you want to get your picture taken with the Backstreet Boys?” Rafael asked.
From their corner booth, Paris could see a long line of attractive women waiting outside the VIP area. She marveled at how giddy and excited they seemed. “I'm a fan, not a groupie,” she said. “I'm fine right here with you, thank you very much.”
He pressed his lips to her cheek. “Good answer.”
Paris giggled when Rafael nuzzled his face against her neck. He was full of surprises, both in and out of the bedroom, and she was eagerly looking forward to returning to his place. Her heart overflowed with happiness when he kissed her, and desire warmed her skin as his hands caressed her legs. Instinctively, she arched her body toward him, moving in close. “I had an amazing time tonight,” she said, gazing deep into his eyes. “Thanks for taking me to see my all-time favorite boy band. It was a wonderful surprise.”
“I wish you didn't have to go back to Atlanta.” Rafael took her hand in his and gently caressed her fingertips. “Are you sure you can't stick around a few more days?”
“I can't. I've already extended my trip once. If I miss Kennedy and Anthony's anniversary bash next weekend they'll never forgive me.”
“Can I be your date? I don't know if you've noticed, but I clean up pretty good.”
“Oh, I noticed,” she said, in a singsong voice. “And so did every woman in here. You caused quite a stir when you entered the restaurant, Mr. Morretti.”
“That's because
you
were on my arm.”
Paris laughed. “Aren't you going to Miami to visit your family?”
“Yes, and I want you to come with me.”
Shocked and confused by his words, she gave him a blank look.
“We can spend a week with my family in the Magic City, then head to Atlanta for your sister's anniversary party. Sound like a plan?”
“Meeting your family is a big step,” she reluctantly said.
“I know, but I'm ready to take things to the next level, and I hope you are, too.”
“Aren't you worried about giving your mom and dad the wrong impression?”
“Paris, my parents know all about you.”
His words stole her breath. “They do?”
“Yeah, I spilled the beans last weekend when they drove in from New York.” He brushed an errant strand of hair away from her face and wore an impish smile. “My father Google searched you on his cell and was impressed with your bio on the Excel Construction website.”
A smile claimed her lips. Paris was proud of what she'd accomplished at her father's company. Although being a senior executive wasn't her dream job, she always strived to do her best.
“My mother thinks you're a beautiful, accomplished woman, and I have to agree,” Rafael said.
“Did your mom like Cicely? Were they close?” Paris blurted out.
“They never met.”
“But you guys dated for almost a year.”
Rafael shrugged a shoulder. “I know, but we were never that serious.”
Questions rose in her thoughts, rousing her curiosity. Paris started to speak, but lost her train of thought when she spotted a familiar face at the bar. It was a man from her past, someone she hadn't seen in years, and he was staring at her with a cold, fixed regard. A violent shiver tore through her body.
Oh, no, what is
he
doing here? And why is he giving me the evil eye?
Guilt was a tricky emotion. Paris had done nothing wrong, but she felt guilty for sitting with Rafael in the Champagne Lounge. The waiter arrived, asking if she wanted another strawberry mojito, but Paris didn't speak. Memories of sobbing mourners, a gray casket and an inconsolable widow invaded her thoughts. A bitter taste filled her mouth, one so thick and acrid, she felt sick to her stomach. It hurt to breathe, to swallow, and all she could think about was that fateful night in January, three years earlier.
* * *
“Baby, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.”
Rafael took her hand. His question was met with silence. He heard Paris sniffle, then saw her eyes cloud with tears. He struggled to make sense of how their intimate conversation had taken such a drastic turn for the worse. Following the route of her gaze, he scrutinized the dark-skinned man in the striped shirt and black pants. He looked smooth, like the kind of brother who could talk himself out of any situation. Though a scantily dressed woman hung from his arm, his eyes were on Paris, sharper than laser beams, and a sneer twisted his lips.
“I have to get out of here. Can we go now? Please?”
“Sure, let me just pay the tab.”
Rafael took out his wallet, dropped five hundred dollars on the table and stood. Offering his hand, he helped Paris to her feet and then led her through the crowded dining area. They walked out of the restaurant and past the long line of people waiting behind the red velvet rope.
“It's a gorgeous night,” he said, holding her close to his side. “Let's walk down First Street. I have something to show you.”
They strode down the block, past high-end department stores, five-star hotels and luxury apartment buildings. Rafael was lost in his own troubling thoughts. He wanted to ask Paris about the gentleman back at the bar, but sensed it was not the right time. Her eyes were sad and she seemed as if she were in another world. Very unlike her. One of the things Rafael loved most about Paris was her zest for life and her ability to laugh at any situation. He hated to see her upset.
They stopped in front of a vacant store with a For Rent sign in the window. Rafael took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He flipped on the lights and led Paris inside. The air held the faint scent of perfume, and the gleaming, hardwood floors were so clean Rafael could see his reflection. The store was bright and spacious, bursting with possibility, and the vibrant cranberry walls were eye-catching.
“This is a great real estate investment, and since my cousin Dante owns the building I know he'll give you a fair price.”
“Me?” Her eyes widened. “I'm not interested in buying commercial property.”
“Yes, you are. You're going to open a full-service beauty salon called Beauty by Paris St. Clair, and it's going to be a hit.” Rafael spread his hands in front of him to paint the picture. “I can see it now. Customers lined up around the block, women eating biscotti and sipping merlot in the waiting area and old school jams playing on the stereo.”
Paris laughed. “I know that's right!”
“The property has been vacant for several months, and my cousin is desperate to get it off his hands,” he explained. “If you'd like I could set up a meeting with Dante later this week.”
“But this is a long way from home.”
“Would you relocate for love?”
Her eyes darted away from his face, wandered aimlessly around the vacant store. The tone of her voice concerned him. Paris sounded unlike herself, quiet and emotional, as if she was going to burst into tears at any moment.
“Before New Year's Eve we hadn't seen each other in fifteen years.”
“I know,” he conceded, nodding his head. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”
“I'm scared of rushing things. We haven't been dating longâ”
Rafael stepped forward, until they were face-to-face, and cradled her cheeks in his palms. “But I've loved you for years,” he whispered, desperate to get through to her. “You are and always will be the only woman for me, and nothing will ever change that.”
He kissed the corners of her lips, allowing his hands to stroke and caress her soft, warm flesh. “I'm ready to commit to you Paris...mind, body and soul.”
“I need more time....”
“How much? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not getting any younger.”
A laugh fell from her lips. “Your biological clock is keeping you up at night, too, huh?”
Rafael cracked up.
There
was the woman he knew and loved. He enveloped her in a hug and kissed her forehead. Paris had all the qualities he was looking for in a partner. He wanted to be the only man who made her smile, the only man she kissed and loved. Deep in his heart he felt that his old college sweetheart was the woman he was destined to marry.
“What happened back at the Champagne Lounge?” he asked, his curiosity finally getting the best of him. “Why were you so upset?”
Paris left the comfort of his warm arms and wandered over to the front window. She stared outside into the darkness, and when she spoke her voice sounded hollow, lifeless. “I saw someone from my past who brought back bitter memories.”
“Was the guy at the bar an old lover?”
“God, no,” she said, shaking her head. “He's my ex-boyfriend's brother.”
Rafael walked over to the window. He didn't want to upset her, but he needed to know the truth about her past relationship. And more important, if she was still in love with her ex-boyfriend. Rafael knew Paris would never intentionally hurt himânot like the cold, calculating women he'd dated in the pastâbut he'd been burned before and was determined to be smart this time around. Her birthday was fast approaching but Rafael wanted to get everything out in the open before he popped the question. “Are you and your ex-boyfriend still close?” he asked, trying to sound calm, despite his nerves.
“He died three years ago in a motorcycle accident.”
Rafael rested a hand on her shoulder. He wanted to take her in his arms, to kiss the track of her tears, but sensed she needed a private moment with her thoughts. “I'm sorry for your loss.”
“The first few months after Winston passed were tough, but thanks to the support of my family and friends I'm in a much better place now.”
“What was he like? Was he good to you?”
Paris appeared hesitant. “Winston was a fun, spontaneous guy who lived life to the fullest,” she said, wearing a sad smile. “Everyone loved him and thought we made a great couple. Three months into our whirlwind courtship our relationship turned into a nightmare.”
Intrigued, Rafael felt his curiosity stir. “What happened?”
“I found out Winston wasn't the man I thought he was. Not by a long shot.”
Paris took a deep breath. As her confession unfolded, tears welled up in her eyes. “Two days after Winston's motorcycle accident, I discovered he wasn't the affluent, well-connected attorney he appeared to be. He wasn't a Princeton graduate, and he was ten years older than me, not five. He was living a double life that I knew nothing about, but that wasn't the worst of it.”
Paris hugged her arms to her body. “At the funeral, I found out Winston was married. His wife gave the eulogy, and when she called him her one true love I burst into tears....”
Rafael took her in his arms and tenderly caressed her.
“I shouldn't have been so trusting. I should have checked him out.”
“Paris, you did nothing wrong.”
“But I picked him. I willfully chose to be with him,” she argued, her words a breathless whisper. “What does that say about me as a person? What does that say about my character?”
Rafael gave a solemn nod. “I questioned my judgment after Cicely betrayed me, too. I was embarrassed and felt like an ass for getting played for a fool.”
“I know just how you feel.” Paris raised her eyes to his face and spoke in a quiet voice. “How did you overcome her betrayal? How did you learn to forgive yourself and move on?”
“My brothers sat me down and talked some sense into me.”
He chuckled at the memory of his kid brothers barging into his Georgetown home and sitting him down at the kitchen table. “They encouraged me to focus on the future, not the past, and reminded me of my value and self-worth,” he said, his tone strong and unwavering. “What they said hit home. Having their support made a world of difference, and once I stopped beating myself up, it was easy to forgive myself and move on.”
Paris sniffed, absently twisting the diamond ring on her left hand.
“Did your ex-boyfriend give you that ring?”
“No,” she said. “I bought it a couple years ago when I was in France on business.”
“To keep the opposite sex from getting too close, right?”
“No, I just love Cartier diamonds,” she said with a smile.
“That's a lie and you know it, Paris.”
His gaze zoomed in on her, held her in its seductive grasp. Paris sucked in a mouthful of air, and Rafael saw that she was shaking.
“Paris, you'll never have to worry about me betraying you.”