BABY DADDY (29 page)

“What are we doing today?” he asks. ‘We’ is a term I have yet to get used to. I’ve always gone solo in most things that I did. Having someone with me, even as mundane as eating breakfast together takes some getting used to.

And I don’t want to get used to him too much.

He’s been a constant fixture in my studio the
past days,
too and I’m really impressed with how he has charmed all of my people. He told me he wanted to help and I really felt bad leaving him in the apartment by himself all day while I was at work, so I allowed him to come down to the studio everyday.

He feels right at home in my work place.

NINETEEN

___________________________________________________________

25 CONTROVERSIAL QUOTES FROM THE STYLE EMPRESS

On her outspokenness:

“I’ve always been quiet and shy.

A thinker more than a talker. Even today.

See, you’re taking notes of my bullshit.

I don’t believe in saying too much. I say very little

but I make sure they weigh more than me.”

Stella Rhodes

____________________________________________

I APPROACH RAIDEN.
He’s busy conferring with Guy, who’s going to do my runway. Guy has been working on this for the past two months. It’s a huge undertaking. StellaR shows are always an extravaganza.

“Hey, guys, how’s it going?”

“Hey.” Raiden greets me with a kiss on the cheek.

I freeze up a bit, embarrassed. I told him not to do this in front of my employees and the contractors and most especially my colleagues in the business but he doesn’t listen. I need to be more emphatic about it.

But then again, after almost a month of having him live with me, sleeping with him every night, waking up with him in the morning, my rules have become flexible. How can they not loosen up when he makes me feel like a queen everyday?

Guy smiles at me. “Hey, Stella.”

“Look, baby, Guy is so brilliant.” Raiden gestures to the scale model Guy’s team has presented to me. “Your set is going to be the best.”

Guy smiles. He’s one of New York’s top set designers and has an incredible resume that includes Broadway shows and movies. He has done most of my runways in the past two years.

“It had better, “ I tell Guy teasingly. “I know Riccardo and Karl are going to come up with something jaw-dropping for Givenchy and Chanel. Juancho, who’s coming to New York under his own label told me the other day he’s going to make everyone pay attention. I believe him. But StellaR won’t be outshined.”

“Actually, Raiden perfected it. He added some details which I think will do wonders to the set,” Guy says modestly.

“Nah, bro, you’re the genius here. I did nothing but suggest a few things. Your concept is solid. It’s the perfect backdrop for Ella’s designs. I can’t wait to see this built.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Well, guys, I need to be somewhere,” I chime in.

“Where are you going?” Raiden asks.

“I’ll talk to you later, Guy,” I say and steer Raiden away. “I have a meeting with several fashion editors then a dinner date later.”

His brows draw together. “Date? With who?”

“With Julia Winter.”

“Who is she?”

“The high priestess of fashion in New York.”

“I thought you’re it?”

“I’m the Empress of Style,” I snicker at myself.

“Can I come?”

He’s been deliberately going against my wishes lately, asking me to visit places with him, trying to charm me to break my rules. It’s becoming harder to resist him everyday.

“No.”

He looks disappointed.

“This is a business meeting. I told you this is a very busy time for me. I’m meeting with fashion editors, stylists, event planners, suppliers, marketing people, etcetera, etcetera.”

He sighs. “Okay. I’ll just wait for you. What time will you be home?”

“I’m not sure. Don’t wait up for me, okay?”

Rowann enters the studio. He taps his watch. “Ready?”

I nod.

Rowann smiles at Raiden. “Hey.”

Raiden walks past Rowann, clapping him on the shoulder. “Take care of her,” he says and exits the studio.

Rowann follows him with an appreciative look.

I sigh. My chest aches. I have to fight it harder everyday, the urge to throw caution to the wind and just say “fuck it, I don’t care what they’d say!” But Fashion Week is so close and I can’t afford to risk my reputation at this point.

“Trouble?” Rowann asks, real concern written on his face.

“No. Let’s go.”

I stare out into the skyline
of downtown Manhattan, fighting the melancholy that’s trying to overpower my resolve.

It’s almost eleven in the evening now and Ella hasn’t come home yet. I avoided sending her any messages from my phone. She never answers them anyway. She seems to hate that.

No PDA. I’m still struggling with that. I feel like the dirtiest secret in New York. Being Ella’s boyfriend seems more illicit and scandalous than the circumstances surrounding my birth.

I’m trying my best to understand her. My plan was simple.

Love her unconditionally. Show it openly.

Is there anything better than that? I thought most women would think they hit the lottery jackpot with that.

Apparently not this one.

I pretended to agree to her ridiculous rules. I was confident I could turn things around, steer our relationship towards a better direction. I was hoping I could melt her defenses, make her take the risks with me.

Mother is right. Ella is different. The women I’ve met in the past have come from privileged lives and most were born with it. But they’re nothing like Ella. Ella’s vast wealth is self-made. She’s a woman who knows what she wants, who leads her life pretty much like a man of means does— strong, capable, decisive.

She doesn’t need me. Really, in the grand scheme of things, she doesn’t.

It’s hard not to feel worthless when you’re not needed, especially by the woman you’re crazy about. It takes a stronger man with less ego to be with her.

Now, are you strong enough?

I’m trying. I’m really trying to adjust to her lifestyle, but it’s harder than I first thought. She doesn’t meet me halfway. I don’t exist in the map of her life except as a sperm donor. That’s the bitter truth.

Love is infinite. Your own words, dude. You gonna eat them now?

I sigh and give the night a toast. I down the wine, hoping it will wash away these negative feelings.

No. Not giving up on my Ella.

Never.

I board the elevator going up
to my apartment with a heavy heart.

It wasn’t really a business meeting but a catching-up get-together. Julia, a former creative director of Vogue and now a reputed fashion critic for several newspapers invited ten of her closest friends in the industry for dinner at her husband’s restaurant on Fifth Ave. Julia’s husband, a renowned French chef prepared a sumptuous meal.

It was a casual affair. All the others brought their husbands and partners, except me. I didn’t have the guts to bring my 25-year old boyfriend and have him mingle with fortyish women and their fiftyish husbands. He would be slaughtered like a lamb.

Really now? Is that the real reason or you were afraid they’d turn on you and ask for the juicy deets? Like how often do you get banged by your very young, very virile boytoy?

I cringe inwardly, but it’s true. My friends talk about their husbands and their sex lives casually. I don’t think I could have shared anything about me and Raiden. That’s for my benefit.

But then again, you also wouldn’t be able to answer if they asked who he is , what he does for a living and does he make a million a month.

That, too. I don’t want to say things about him without compromising him in public. I cannot make up things about him. That’s for his benefit.

But nonetheless, I feel really guilty for lying.

Raiden is such a romantic, always suggesting places we can go to, places he assured me were exclusive and private, but I’ve rejected all his invitations. He doesn’t seem to get it fully, that I’m pretty famous in New York and a paparazzi magnet. Or maybe he’s testing the waters, too, daring to expose himself little by little to the world. And as the days went by, my rules felt absurd and unfair to him considering what he has brought into my life in such a short time.

I’m so confused about us. Not that I want to define in detail what we have, but I’m not comfortable with the gray areas either. I don’t know what to think anymore. All I know is I’m not ready for all this.

He’s changing me. First, my creative direction. Then what?

He’s taking over my life. Opening all my doors. Throwing away the keys. Setting all my demons free to hurt me again when it took me years to contain them under a tight lid of iron will forged by cold, bitter tears and a badly mangled heart that refused to be defeated.

I’m most scared about that.

I’m scared. Period.

Yeah—

Yes, I’m a coward. A big, fat coward. Okay? Pun intended.

Okay…I’m not gonna argue.

The metal doors open and I alight into the foyer. He’s there, sitting on the sofa, waiting for me. Smiling at me. I was fully expecting him to give me the cold shoulder but not my Raiden.

He stands up from the sofa. “Hey, babe.”

I summon my doors to close.

He walks over to me. “Tired?”

I simply nod.

He picks me up, his quick solution to all of my tiredness.

I’m lying in his arms, supported by his strength.

He walks into the apartment, kissing my hair.

“I’ll make you feel better.”

My doors remain open, my demons dancing wildly.

We shower together,
as is our routine now the past weeks.

He lathers a sponge and washes my body gently. I’m already used to this. He pampers me and I can’t bear the thought of another woman enjoying his attention like this. Oh yes, I have come to this.

After the shower, we dry ourselves and he carries me to bed. We’ve already started the foreplay in the bathroom and by the time we hit the sheets, we’re already primed for the age-old dance.

He’s very hard and I want to feel him inside me, pound away the guilt and fears that are killing me. His palms mold the curve of my hips then move over the gentle swell of my belly.

“I want to see this grow with my baby,” he tells me, his eyes, intense.

My core clenches in further arousal. Those are his magic words to get me in high sensual gear, ‘making me pregnant’.

But I need to hear more. I don’t want to…but God, I do.

Yes, I’m afraid of what will people say about us. I’m scared of the paparazzi. I’m scared of our whirling, rapidly progressing relationship whose future looks as obscure as the smog that blankets New York City every day. I’m afraid of what I will give up to let him fully into my life. And I’m afraid that when I’ve fully let him in, he won’t stay, after all.

But now…I want to know.

“Why do you want to have a baby with me?” I finally ask him again. I now want the gray areas defined. I’ve asked him this before but I want to hear more. I need to hear his real reasons.

“Men become fathers in their teens. I’m hardly a teenager.”

“Don’t evade my question.”

He sighs and glides his hands on my belly more gently.

“Because I want to have a connection with you. Something that cannot be broken. We met unexpectedly…and I was not prepared….of what I would feel for you…And I can’t explain it, Ella. But I know this is special, as I’ve never felt this way for a woman before, enough to want to be the father of her child…and I want this feeling to stay inside me, to grow…and I want to be with you long enough to make it grow inside you, too. Am I making sense?”

He’s looking at me earnestly and I have no words for his heartfelt declaration but a nod.

“I already felt something for you before I learned of your intention. I was shocked when I learned of it. But thinking about it now, I would have wanted the same anyway, if it was the only way for you to let me into your life. I can start from there. I can work from there.”

I grasp his hands, linking our fingers together. I wanted to hear something but not this much!

“And…” He pauses and bows his head.

“And…” I gently prod.

“I lied to you. I was lonely, Ella. Very lonely. I’ve never been around children, you know? I think I came into this world as an adult. No, I don’t blame my parents for anything. They did all they could to raise me well, to protect me. Growing in that island surrounded by comfort and security was an extreme privilege and it was my choice to remain there for certain reasons that were important to me. I’ve learned to live with that choice.”

He inhales deeply, as if to relieve his chest. My heart is hurting from hearing him describe his childhood.