All I Want Is You (Kimani Romance) (9 page)

Monica reached over and felt his forehead. “Good. The patient seems to be stabilized. You’re no longer in danger of freezing and your temperature should soon return to normal.”

“With you around I don’t think it will ever be normal,” he said with another long sigh.

Monica waited for the sound of his even breathing, a sign that he was asleep, then gathered her clothes and slipped out of his room.

M
onica woke up early the next morning and made a big breakfast of cinnamon waffles with eggs, bacon and a fruit salad to keep her mind from thinking about last night. Their night together had been explosive, risky and wonderful. It had taken her hours to get to sleep that night and when she finally did, she did so with a smile. But now it was morning and she wasn’t sure what she would say to him.

“I thought you might like seeing one of Crystalline’s designs,” Nadine said, coming into the kitchen with a magazine folded to a specific page.

“I’ve seen them.”

Nadine dismissed her statement and placed the magazine on the counter. “I bet you haven’t seen this.”

Monica turned and nearly choked. It was a close-up picture of her—as Venus—dressed in a green silk kimono and emerging from the water with a large pen
dant draped around her neck. One sleeve hung loosely off her shoulder as she stared straight into the camera in a seductive pose. Fortunately, Nadine didn’t seem to sense her surprise and continued talking. “This was one of her happiest moments. She was over the moon when Venus wore her necklace.”

“Venus wore what?” JD asked, coming into the kitchen. “Mmm…something smells good.”

“Cinnamon waffles,” Monica said, trying to divert his attention when he went over to look at the magazine.

“Good. I hope you’re making enough.”

Nadine tapped the picture. “I was just showing Monica one of your mother’s greatest accomplishments.”

JD looked at the picture, but Monica couldn’t guess whether he was studying the jewelry or the woman.

“Most of it’s probably airbrushed,” Monica said, unnerved by his interest.

“I heard that Venus was all real,” JD said. “Definitely looks like it. Shame she’s disappeared.”

“Probably still mourning her husband’s death,” Nadine said. “I understand. When I lost my Walter it was hard. But I’m sure it’s even harder for her.”

“How come?”

“Rumor has it that Delong Price was her creator and the only reason she existed.”

Monica held back a groan. Was that what people thought? They thought that she was nothing without Delong? That he’d created her as he did his sculptures and paintings? She wanted to tell them that she’d also had a hand in her success. That it wasn’t just luck or her husband, but hard work and strategy that had helped her
reach the top of her field. She’d created Venus, too. But she knew she couldn’t defend herself, so she snatched the magazine and closed it. “Breakfast is ready. Let’s eat,” she said, eager to change the subject.

To her annoyance, Nadine refused to let it go. As they sat at the breakfast table she said, “You dated her once, didn’t you, JD?”

“Dated who?” JD asked, scooping up some fruit salad.

“Venus.”

“You think I dated Venus? No way. I don’t date models.”

“Venus was more than just a model,” Monica said, unable to keep silent.

Nadine nodded as she poured syrup on her cinnamon waffles “She’s right. Venus was an icon. And don’t play dumb. You’ve dated models before.”

JD shook his head. “No, I haven’t and I don’t. It’s a rule of mine.”

“Why?” Monica asked.

“They’re not my type.”

“What about that one from South Africa?” Nadine interjected. “You were seeing her.”

He nodded. “But I wasn’t dating her.”

“What were you doing with her then?” He grinned.

Nadine shook her head. “You naughty boy.”

His grin grew.

“You should behave.” She sent Monica a nervous glance. “You’re giving Monica the wrong impression of you.”

JD sent Monica a significant look. “I doubt it. I think Monica knows me pretty well by now.”

Monica narrowed her eyes but didn’t reply. If he mentioned last night in front of Nadine, she would hurt him. Badly.

“Isn’t that right?” he continued with a smile, as if daring her to challenge him, then took a bite of the waffle.

Nadine set her drink down. “Don’t tease her.”

“I’d never do that,” JD said then placed his hand on Monica’s lap.

She lifted a knife in warning; he only slid his hand farther down.

Nadine sighed with joy. “This house feels so wonderful again with you two in it. You bring a special energy.”

“Yes, real special,” JD said then squeezed Monica’s thigh. He removed his hand before she could prick him with her knife. He took it from her.

“What is it about women and knives?”

“You should know.”

Nadine introduced a new topic and they resumed breakfast in ease and good humor. JD clapped his hands together once he was done and said, “So, Gran, where would you like me to take you today?”

“I just want to sit and read and then take a nap, but there’s something you two can do for me.”

“Okay,” he said with some hesitation.

“I want you to go to the craft fair and buy me three things—a guitar stand, a rocking chair and a handmade knotted rug, and I want you to set them in the family room.”

JD frowned. “We can wait until after your nap and you can come with us. I know how much you like to shop.”

Nadine shook her head. “I want you to buy them for me as a gift.”

Monica’s voice cracked with a shade of panic. “But I can’t—”

“No problem,” JD interrupted with a shrug. “We’ll do it.” He left to get his wallet and keys.

Monica started to follow, but Nadine grabbed her hand. “When you get him to tell you what his initials mean you’ll break through his wall.”

“I doubt I’ll ever get him to share those kinds of secrets with me, and I can’t—”

“Try,” Nadine said with a strange urgency. “Please.”

Monica nodded her head.

“And don’t worry about me. I have Baxter to keep me company.”

“I can’t go,” Monica said when JD returned. Nadine had gone to lie down in her bedroom. “Why not?”

Monica wrung her hands like a nervous child. “I just can’t.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t do well in crowds.”

JD grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

“I’m serious.”

His grin faded. “So am I.” He took her hand. “You have nothing to be afraid of. Come on.”

Monica still held back. “But JD, I—”

“Is it a phobia?”

“No. It’s just that crowds make me nervous.”

He lowered his voice. “I’ll keep you close the whole time. You have nothing to fear. Trust me. Okay?”

Monica swallowed and nodded her head. For a moment she wanted to tell him everything. Why she was hiding. Why she avoided people. Why she couldn’t be seen. But she just nodded and pushed down her anxiety. He was right. She had nothing to worry about. Nobody knew her and no one would be paying attention to her. She was sure Anton couldn’t find her here. She took a deep breath. “I’m fine.”

“Of course, it would help if you told me what—or rather, who—you were afraid of.”

“No personal questions, remember?”

He sighed. “Yes. Let’s go. It shouldn’t take us too long to find what Gran wants.”

It took them over two hours. The fair buzzed with numerous stalls boasting a wide assortment of vendors trying to sell their wares. In addition to the regular handcrafted items there were those unusual items like old maps and crystal chandeliers that got the attention of shoppers and other onlookers. One vendor was selling a set of coasters made out of pieces of bark, which interested Monica, until she overheard him describe using cow dung to hold the items together and then shellacking them.

And there was the woman who crocheted every item in her stall from earrings and necklaces to thong panties.

“Things have definitely changed,” JD said, looking at a bright red set. He glanced at Monica with renewed interest.

She shook her head. “Don’t even think about it.”

“How about the purple one?”

“No.”

He laughed and rested his arms around her shoulders. “Worth a try.” They walked at a leisurely pace through the crush of people, the loud voices and scent of spicy seafood and sweet candy floss.

Monica felt on edge. As Venus she could make crowds part and make men mute. She knew her beauty was both powerful and dangerous. But as Monica she wasn’t sure how to handle herself. She wanted to blend in with the crowd, but that was impossible with JD. Not because of anything he did, but because of the type of man he was. His confident, magnetic presence drew stares from women, men and children. Twice she tried to distance herself, offering to look for one item while he searched for another, but he stayed stubbornly by her side.

“You might leave me alone in bed,” he said at her second attempt to sneak away, “but you’re not leaving me alone here.”

“You were sleeping soundly.”

“Because I dreamed of waking up to you.”

“That won’t happen.”

“Why not?”

“That’s just the way it has to be. I like sleeping in my own bed by myself. It’s just a preference.”

He tenderly caressed her cheek with his finger. “My Cinderella girl. The clock strikes midnight and you disappear.” He halted. “I see some rocking chairs,” he said and led her to the vendor’s stand before she could protest. JD’s acceptance of her behavior made her feel
more relaxed. She thought he might try to persuade her or get angry, but he’d done neither. She felt her uneasiness dissipate. Everyone else fell away and she focused on him. She liked being with him, being in his presence. She felt safe and cherished.

Monica took a deep breath and wiggled her shoulders, feeling all tension go. She could be ordinary. No one would stop her for a photograph or an autograph. No one gawked or stared. She helped JD select a rocker and then they rewarded themselves with baked pretzels and hot mustard.

It would have been the perfect afternoon, if she hadn’t seen them.

M
onica stopped in front of a row of hand-painted porcelain dolls lined up in glass compartments. Their wide, sightless eyes stared back at her. That’s what Anton had called them: his dolls. He’d kept them like a collection, and for over three months she’d been part of it…

“Careful, you’re still a little groggy,” a deep, cultured male voice had said.

Monica held her head to keep the room from spinning. She remembered eating dinner with her husband’s friend Anton Stevens—a man she’d never really liked but tolerated. He’d come over to her house to console her and she’d let him in, although his visit was unexpected. Most of her staff was gone because she’d given them a holiday. She didn’t want anyone around. Her personal chef had left her food to reheat, but she didn’t have an appetite for anything.

But Anton arrived on her doorstep and persuaded her
to dine with him by saying that he was worried about her and that she shouldn’t be alone. She accepted his invitation because she was eager for the company of someone who knew Delong as well as she did. Since she couldn’t get support from her sister, Anton seemed the next-best thing. He had been a big supporter of Delong’s work and a friend for many years. He’d never married but lived an active lifestyle, although she never saw him with a woman.

She’d once suspected he was gay, but Delong had laughed at the idea and said that Anton just liked to keep his private life private. He wasn’t in the closet. Unlike other men, he never tried to flirt with her and kept her at arm’s length. She didn’t care because he was older and Delong’s friend, not hers. But that night he was a welcome presence. He had a sumptuous meal delivered and they ate on the balcony. She remembered the taste of sautéed potatoes and crisp asparagus spears, but that was all.

Now her mind felt fuzzy, her throat dry and her mouth pasty. She squinted at the unfamiliar gilded room around her. She slowly sat up and saw she was on a large, ornate bed with a canopy. “Where am I?”

“With me,” Anton said from the foot of the bed. “Where you’re meant to be.”

She wasn’t in the mood for riddles. “Please take me home.”

“You are home.”

Monica sat up straighter. “Stop playing games, Anton. I’m tired and I want to go home.”

“You are home,” he said in the same cool tone. “You’re staying with me from now on.”

Monica swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood. “No, I’m not.” She walked toward the door and promptly fell on the ground. She turned and saw her ankle gripped in a pair of leg irons attached to a post.

Anton stood over her. “I had to take some precautions to make sure you don’t try to do anything foolish like run away. If you behave yourself, we’ll remove them.” He held out his hand to help her up.

She glared at him and stood on her own. “You can’t keep me here.”

Her anger didn’t faze him. “Change is always an adjustment, but you’ll get used to it.”

“I’m not staying here.”

He touched her face; she yanked back. “I always love breaking in the feisty ones.” He seized her throat and his voice turned hard. “You can’t escape from me.” He released her and smiled. “But you won’t be the first to try,” he said then left.

It was a joke. It had to be. He couldn’t think he could keep her here. But Delong did have some odd friends with strange eccentricities. Perhaps Anton felt a need to protect her because she was on her own. Some feared she might even contemplate suicide because Delong had made up so much of her world. But he didn’t need to worry. She didn’t need to be kept here and watched. She’d let him know that and then everything would be fine.

She waited for him to return, but he didn’t. Not that night anyway. Instead a woman in a stylish West African wrap dress scurried into the room. Her braided hair was swept to the top of her head, and her eyes were large and brown. She had a large scar down one side of
her face and on her neck, but that didn’t hide the fact that she’d once been beautiful.

“Could you get Anton for me?” Monica asked the woman.

She shook her head.

“Can you tell me where I am?”

The woman shook her head again then pressed her fingers against her lips.

“You can’t talk at all?”

She nodded.

Monica sighed. She would have to find someone else to get her questions answered. The tiny woman moisturized Monica’s skin and then helped her into a new dress. Just as quickly as she’d entered the room, she left, and Monica sat on the bed and waited. Moments later two men showed up with guns.

“Stand up,” one said while the other marched toward her. He unlatched her leg irons and gently shoved her forward. “Go.”

The sight of the guns changed everything. Anton was more than eccentric—he was dangerous and he wasn’t a man she could trust. She wouldn’t be able to reason with him. She had to escape him.

Monica left the room sandwiched between the two guards. As she strolled down the long hallway, she could tell by the height of the walls that it was an enormous structure, but she didn’t let that deter her. When she saw a window, she knew what she had to do. She’d taken a self-defense course after a gang had assaulted Delong and her as they were walking from a gala event in an attempt to kidnap her. She’d gotten free from them, terrified and shaken and determined not to feel
that helpless again. She’d learned to shoot and to fight. She would put those fighting skills to use now.

Monica pretended to trip, which startled the guard behind her, giving her enough time to jab him in the neck with her elbow. The other guard spun around and she kneed him, grabbed his gun and butted him with it then ran to the window. It was locked. She raced down the hall just as one of the guards sounded an alarm. She couldn’t find an exit. One hall led to another and then another, like a labyrinth.

She ran down one way and reached a wall.

“Venus, there’s no need for this.”

She spun around and saw Anton with five guards behind him.

“You might as well kill me now.”

“Why would I want to do that? I adore you.”

“Where am I?”

“You’re home.” He made a gesture with his hand and the guards rushed her. She tried to fight them off, but they anticipated her every move. She felt a needle prick and then nothing.

Monica woke in the same gilded room hours later. She was kept there for the next several days. Except for the silent woman who helped change her outfits and brought her food, she didn’t see anyone else. Monica had to escape. She suspected they were putting something in her food to keep her drowsy, so she ate only the raw vegetables and dumped the rest, and soon her mind became clear. Whenever the guards or the mystery woman were around, she pretended to be docile and quiet so they wouldn’t suspect anything.

After another week she was released from her soli
tude and allowed to eat in the main dining hall. It was an elaborate ballroom with gold table settings, silk furnishings and marble pillars. There she saw sixteen other beautiful women, from all parts of the world, some who seemed listless and uninterested in their surroundings.

Anton sat at the head of the long table. Monica sat down, trying not to look too alert, and quickly learned that they were not allowed to talk to each other. She stared down at her food.

“Don’t have an appetite, Venus?”

She couldn’t let him suspect that she had every reason to be suspicious. She took a large spoonful.

“Good. Eat up, my darlings.”

Venus kept her head lowered throughout dinner and then she was led back to her room. For the next month she followed the rules and was given more privileges. She was allowed to sit out in the garden with another woman from Korea. The guardians, as she’d learned to call them, were always close by, but as long as they walked slowly and didn’t talk too long, “the dolls” were allowed to converse with each other.

She caught the other woman’s eye and the woman pretended to tie her shoe while Monica studied a flower.

“How long have you been here?” she asked her.

“Six months, but I’m luckier than some. I’m a side project.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m just here for his pleasure. He’s involved in the sex trade and sells women like produce. He keeps the ones he wants for his private entertainment. The ones he really wants to control he keeps sedated. Some get
addicted, I’m told. He just got rid of a huge shipment, which is why there are only sixteen of us.”

So that explained some of the women and others who couldn’t seem to keep still and seemed jittery and anxious. Fortunately, she had avoided that fate. “We have to find a way out.”

“There isn’t one. No one has ever escaped. One woman tried to escape and broke her nose and several bones in her face when she fell into one of the many traps found on the estate. They found her, and a week later she disappeared. Another girl took a knife to her face and other parts of her body, hoping that if she disfigured herself he wouldn’t want her and would let her go. He took her somewhere, and she came back so terrified she hasn’t said a word since and is forced to take care of us.”

“You mean Lola?” Monica asked, astonished, referring to the quiet woman who dressed her.

“Yes. It’s hopeless. No one knows we’re here because he chooses women either estranged from their families or alone. Oh, no. A guard is getting suspicious.” The woman stood and walked away.

Monica gripped her fist. Death was worth the risk. It was a better choice than being a prisoner. She tried to connect with the others, but her talk of escape frightened them and soon everyone avoided her. So most days she wandered the compound alone and becoming more discouraged. All of that changed the night Felicia Hightower was brought to the compound.

Monica was walking past Anton’s “market room,” where he entertained mostly men and showed off his collection. She hadn’t been shown off yet but had over
heard from others what the experience was like. He also received new women there. Today was one of those days.

Felicia was a petite woman, about five feet, a breathtaking beauty with a short-cropped afro and a figure most women would starve for and most men would lust after. Her smooth ebony skin, turned-up nose and rosebud lips were made complete by a pair of large almond-shaped eyes, expertly outlined with a blue liner. Monica found herself unable to stop staring at the young woman sitting stubbornly erect on a wicker stool as one of the guardians attached her, by a leg chain, to a nearby post.

Her face was tear-stained but did not hide a sense of determination. From what Monica could see there seemed to be a small bruise on the side of her face. This fact was confirmed when she overheard Anton berating one of the guardians.

“I gave strict orders. My merchandise is always to be delivered untouched.”

“She tried to escape and I had to…”

“You had to what?”

The guardian fell silent.

“Get rid of her. I don’t want damaged goods. You will not receive payment until she is replaced.”

“Yes, sir.”

Monica ducked out of sight when the guardian led the new arrival to the holding room. Monica’s heart skipped a beat. Get rid of her? Monica knew she could not sit by and do nothing. Felicia would be her means of escape.

That night she called on the strength of her ancestor who Monica felt inhabited her.

Her great-great-grandmother had been abducted from her tribe at an early age. She did not remember being taken, but as she grew, she knew she was not like the others. While the members of her tribe had dark-tanned skin, with thick coarse hair and broad features, she was light-skinned, with fine black hair. Her fine features made her a focus of envy and lust, and to prevent her from being stolen, she was forced to stay hidden from sight. Like Monica, she was not allowed to do what other children did.

While she watched the other girls work all day getting water, helping clean the hides and gathering wood for the fire, she was taught how to make baskets, pottery and jewelry. As she grew, her great-great-grandmother developed her skills and became known for her expertly crafted jewelry, which was eventually displayed in prominent museums, including the renowned Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of the American Indian. And while creating jewelry, she had learned about compounds and poisons. This knowledge became useful when an enemy tribe threatened to take their land and steal all the women and children.

With the agreement of the chief, her great-great-grandmother helped come up with a compound that they put into the enemy tribe’s drinking water. And while the men slept, they were slaughtered. The women and children, as was the case during warfare, were then taken captive by her tribe.

The carnage had frightened her great-great-grandmother, and she’d stayed away from poisons after that. But everything changed when her eldest
daughter needed to escape her abusive husband. She created a compound that left him sexually ineffective, and he left her in shame. She then taught her daughters the power of specific plants, just in case they needed them. “Respect the land, for she protects you,” she liked to say. “And she’ll save you like no man can.” As Monica thought, an idea grew in her mind.

“You’re a brave woman,” she said to Lola the next day.

“And I need you to do a brave thing for me.” She slipped her a list. “Get these items. I don’t care how, but I need them by tonight.”

Lola took the list and nodded. After dinner Monica returned to her room and found the items tucked under her pillow. She had one part of her plan down; now, on to the next. That night she crept into the holding room and whispered to Felicia, “I need you to trust me.” She slipped the packet under the door. “In two minutes I want you to scream then swallow the contents of this packet and stuff the empty packet in your bra.”

“But—”

“There’s no time to explain. I want to save your life.”
And mine.

“Okay,” Felicia said with the determination Monica had first seen in her.

Monica hid behind a large broad-leaved plant and waited. Felicia did as told, and the alarm sounded and two guardians rushed into the room.

One swore. “She’s dead.”

“What do you mean?”