BABY DADDY (10 page)

In just six damn hours!

Unbelievable!

I don’t know what I’m feeling but it’s certainly not pleasant.

I’m debating between joining them but I see them talking animatedly, as if they know each other pretty well. Ella frequently touches the man’s arm and she’s laughing with him.

My insides are twisting in a bad way as I watch them from my truck. I’ve been discreetly following them from a distance for hours now, something I’ve never done before. I feel like a criminal.

I wonder who’s the guy she’s with. And do I really want to find out? What do I care? We had consensual sex last night. Except for the baby part, which was not consensual at all, it was a mutually gratifying experience. I should leave it at that.

I should go. Leave her alone.

I sigh harshly.

I know I can’t. Not yet.

Not until I’ve talked to her.

I sigh again.

This is going to be a long day.

Tom and I were ravenous
after our tour so we decided to dine early. We entered the restaurant at six in the evening.

We’re sitting at the deck with the perfect view of the setting sun and he’s telling me a funny story about his photoshoot with a legendary rock star and my mind is wandering elsewhere.

The beautiful sunset is reminding me too much of yesterday’s sunset.

I sigh discreetly, fighting the melancholy invading me and try to pretend to listen and get amused.

Tom is a wonderful guy. Divorced with two kids who are in his custody. He’s a good-looking man, decent and accomplished in his own right. He’s nowhere near the level of my wealth but in the industry we both revolve in, his name is as big and as respected as mine. To me, that’s the real meaning of success. The respect your peers accord you is more valuable than the money you make out of it.

I can tell from the looks he’s been giving me the whole afternoon, he just realized that I might be a potential stepmother for his children. Now, I’ve no problem with that, at all. I can be a mother to as many stepchildren as long as I love their father. Plus, if I’m not able to conceive, I’d have two instant children. How lovely would that be?

Very lovely.

Maybe, when we get back home, I’d date this guy, build a relationship with him. Maybe it’s time to lay low from my career for a year and give my personal life some attention.

Maybe.

I sigh again, wondering what he’s doing right now. Is he somewhere in the bar strip flirting with younger women? Going to bed with them later tonight?

Did he spare me a single thought the whole day? I hope he did, at least once, because I’ve been thinking about him all day.

And what difference would it make?

Nothing. Am I not allowed to at least think about him?

“Are you okay?”

I blink at Tom. “Sorry?”

He smiles at me, understanding in his eyes. “You were so far away.”

I smile at him apologetically. “I think I’m just tired from the tour. That was wonderful, by the way.”

“Yes. We should do it again. I’m staying the week. I fly out next Monday.”

I know it’s an invitation to spend the rest of the week with him and explore possibilities.

Why not?

I should give this a try. See if it blossoms into something else.

“I’d love to. Where are you billeted?”

“At The Palazzo.”

“Oh, crowded.”

“I had no choice. Client sponsored.”

“I’m at the boring Astoria.”

“Lunch tomorrow?”

I shrug. “Okay. I got nothing better to do on a boring Wednesday.”

“We’ll look for fun places to go. Lots of sights to visit around the island. I’m particularly interested to see Punto Fiamma.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s the highest point in the island and rumor has it that it’s a gallery.”

“A gallery?”

“An open gallery of some of the most magnificent rock and metal sculptures and installation art you’ll ever see. There are several giant sculptures scattered along the strip but I heard they’re nothing compared to what’s in Punto Fiamma.”

“Who’s the artist?”

“They say this island is actually the home of Akiko Hara and her house is located in Punto Fiamma.”

That got me really excited.

Akiko Hara happens to be one of my great influences, if not the greatest. I worship the woman! She was a highly acclaimed artist, the toast of New York back in the eighties and nineties for her shockingly gritty artistic performances. She has staged shows at the MoMA many times, at the Empire State Building, at the Statue of Liberty, at the Grand Canyon, at the Eiffel Tower, on the sand dunes of Sahara, on the Great Wall of China and was on the cover of Time once. Then she suddenly vanished from the scene and hasn’t been heard of since. Her mysterious disappearance remains an enigma to this day.

However, she left a legacy in the form of an extensive body of work caught on videos that are periodically shown at the MoMA and other prestigious art museums all over the world. Akiko Hara is one of the most enduring icons of modern art and her influence is seen in the works of many artists in today’s generation, including me.

“And where did you get this info?”

“When I was in France a few years back covering the Cannes, I spoke to this old art curator who used to work at the Louvre and he had many interesting stories about European royalty he’d met. This story circulated in Europe maybe two decades ago and many believe it’s true but they’re like Voldemort who cannot be named for fear of getting slapped with a royal lawsuit. So, don’t tell anybody and it didn’t come from me,” he teases me.

“Is it about Akiko?” I hate gossip and the rags, especially if they’re talking about my perpetual love for XL clothes, but if it concerns my long-time idol, I’d gobble it like my favorite pasta. Oh, this is so juicy! “What happened to her?”

“Take this. The old man claimed that King Pierre and Akiko were lovers.”

I gasp, my eyes growing like saucers. “King Pierre?! Of Monte Franco?!” I exclaim.

“Shhh.”

“Whaaaat?!” I whisper, still shocked. “I haven’t heard of this rumor ever and I’m Akiko’s biggest fan! I can’t believe I missed this!”

Tom shrugs. “You know, royalty gossip.”

I grin. “Incredible and uber-juicy! Deets, please!”

“They allegedly met when Akiko was invited by Princess Antoinette on her birthday. Antoinette was a huge fan of Akiko’s. The king indulged his eldest daughter’s love for the theatrical arts. The queen was already very sick at that time.”

“They had an affair?”

“A brief one that allegedly left Akiko pregnant.”

“Oh my god, I can’t take this! And here I thought all along he loved Queen Katherine until his death. They have such wonderful, beautiful children and grandchildren. The Darcy sisters are my valued clients and even Princess Antoinette. I regularly make couture gowns for them.”

“Well, he sure did, I think, in his own way. The Queen died on the same year he had an affair but he didn’t see Akiko again until after the Queen’s third death anniversary. He and Akiko never went out in the open, so as not to tarnish the memory of the Queen, but it’s said that they’d been inseparable until his death. King Pierre became a total recluse after his wife’s death, leaving his monarchial duties in Monte Franco for Princess Antoinette to exercise. He’s been holing up somewhere with Akiko apparently. Maybe here in this very island.”

I sigh. “Wow, that’s some fairy tale of the most scandalous kind.”

He chuckles. “Yeah.”

King Pierre, the youngest and most celebrated European monarch in the 50s married Katherine Kline, the United States 2-time Olympic gold medalist in figure skating. Theirs was a modern day fairy tale that has endured decades after the Queen’s death from Lymphoma.

“But if this comes out, people will be disappointed and hate Akiko. Queen Katherine is revered all over the world.”

“Yeah, but everybody deserves a second wind at love, right? Nobody deserves to be alone and lonely in our old age, even royalty.”

Oh boy, he’s looking at me earnestly and I know he’s blowing the ‘second wind’ in my direction now.

“Do you believe it’s true?” I try to focus on the gossip. I’m not prepared to think of second winds yet when the memory of my first lover is still very fresh. It wasn’t a second wind. It was a cyclone that blew me away. My muff is still very much hung up on him, not to mention my ovaries.

“If we see Akiko here, I might be inclined to believe. Look at this place. Only someone as loaded as THAT particular monarch can afford to buy an island in the Far East and turn it into another Monte Franco.”

“So, how do we get to Punto Fiamma?”

“I don’t know. They say that place is for the super VIPs only. Access is invitational.”

My face falls in disappointment. “That’s not fair. Art is meant to be seen and appreciated by everyone who’s interested.”

“They say Akiko remains a recluse in deference to King Pierre’s family. It’s been speculated that Punto Fiamma is actually King Pierre’s real resting place.”

I pout. “Too bad we’re not VVIPs to the Viscontis.”

We board one of the numerous
little shuttles roaming around the shoreline, always ready to take guests anywhere in the strip.

We reach my hotel, the Astoria.

I love this hotel. The interior is oozing understated elegance courtesy of Hermes, one of the brands I personally patronize. I purposely avoided the hotels with casinos because I knew some of my high-profile European clients might be there and I didn’t want anybody recognizing me. I’d surely have been invited to join them for drinks and dinners and my baby project would have taken a backseat.

But I can do that now that my baby project went bust. Might as well take care of marketing while I’m here. But truthfully, I just don’t have the energy. After last night, I’m a depleted tank. Not physically but mentally and emotionally.

Tom walks me up to the threshold of the lobby and takes my hands in his.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I nod and smile. “Thank you.”

He hesitates for a bit then he bends his head and gently brushes his lips on mine.

Oh god, please, let the butterflies flap wildly. I need them to run riot in my tummy now. Right now!

“Good night, Ella.”

“Good night, Tom.”

I watch him walk down the portico steps and board the shuttle again.

I sigh. Not a single butterfly moved.

I turn around and enter the lobby.

The moment I step in, I see him.

It was hard to watch them
together all day. It was even harder to witness them kiss. Violence is an alien emotion to me but I finally knew how it felt.

If the fucker went up with her to her suite, I would have committed the very first scandal in the island’s history by beating the crap out of a guest. My mother would have rained a shitstorm on my ass I’ll never hear the end of it.

“Raiden.”

I itch to touch her now but I quell the urgency. I’m so relieved she didn’t invite the guy to her suite. “Did you enjoy the day?” I ask her with the resentment I can’t hide. I’ve been stewing in the background all evening, berating myself for the stupidity of my actions.

She evades my question. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Talk? What is there to talk about?”

I swallow. I want to question my sanity for the nth time but her mere presence obliterated my rationality. “About last night.”

She walks past me. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” She heads for the elevator.

I catch up with her.

“Ella.”

“I’m tired, Raiden.”

She punches the up button.

The lift opens and she gets in. I get in, too.

“What are you doing?”

I punch the number of her floor. I had all afternoon to bleed Riley of all the information I wanted about her.

“We’ll talk in your suite.”

“No!” she gasps in alarm.

I hate the guard in her eyes, the coldness in her voice. Yesterday, she was warm and welcoming and she was all mine. “I thought you’d be happy to see me again.”

She crosses her arms on her chest in a defensive stance. “What is it you wanted to say? Say it now, then leave.”

Okay, if that’s the way she wants it.

“Were you a virgin last night?” I go bluntly.

Her jaw drops. Then she flushes and looks away. “I’m not—“

“I saw the blood stains on the sheets this morning.”

She doesn’t answer and just closes her eyes tightly.

Bingo.

I sigh deeply. I can’t believe this.

“So, let me get this straight. You were a virgin last night and you wanted to get pregnant with my child on the first day we met. You sure dumped some major shit on me in one go.”