Dark Perception: The Corde Noire Series (16 page)

Melinda took in a shaky breath.
“Nothing like a little added pressure, Nathan.”

He eyed Bob in the driver’s seat.
“I’ll text you when we’re ready to go, Bob, but I don’t plan on
staying too long.”

“
I’ll be standing by
outside, Mr. Cole.”

“
No, Bob. Go and get a bite
to eat while we’re at the party. I don’t want you waiting
around.”

Bob glanced back at Nathan and Melinda
in the rearview mirror. “Thank you, Mr. Cole.”

Melinda turned to the luxurious homes
outside her window. As their car began to slow, she spotted a
three-story mansion just up ahead with a mass of cars assembled out
front.

Built on piers, the house seemed more
appropriate for a beach resort than the streets of New Orleans. The
façade resembled an antebellum mansion, with white Corinthian
columns that rose from the first floor to the second. Classic
french doors and windows were along the first floor gallery, with
smaller windows on the second story. Double winding steps from the
ground up to the first floor entrance gave the home a flair of
Southern ambiance, but the collection of tall palm trees planted on
either side of the stairways almost made one feel as if they were
in the middle of the Caribbean.

A curved driveway had a short line of
cars dropping off guests, while attendants in black stood by and
waited for their keys. Melinda watched as the formally attired men
and women sashayed beneath the high piers of the home and headed
toward the back garden.

“
Mrs. Becnel rebuilt her
home fifteen feet off the ground to avoid any future storm surges
from the lake,” Nathan explained behind her. “She’s old New
Orleans. Born and raised in the Garden District, educated at
Dominican College, and was queen of the Rex parade in 1970. She
married Lawrence Becnel, a wealthy investment broker, right after
her first husband died in a boating accident. Becnel died several
years ago, leaving Denise a small empire to run. She only has one
son, who apparently stays away from the family business of making
money.”

Melinda noted the long gowns of the
women and hoped hers looked just as elegant. “How do you know so
much about her?”

“
Research,” he answered. “I
always do research on people I’m interested in.”

She turned to him. “Just like you did
research on me.”

The car came to a stop in the middle
of the driveway.

“
You were different,” he
stated, reaching for the door.

An attendant opened the door for
Melinda. When she stepped from the car, she waited for Nathan to
come around to her side.

“
How was I different?” she
inquired, taking his arm.

Nathan’s eyes scanned the slow-moving
guests around them heading to the rear of the home. “You’re not an
investor, or politician, or someone I can’t trust. Individuals like
that I do extensive research on to protect myself. I didn’t need
any protection from you … at least I thought I didn’t.”

Melinda caught sight of his pained
smile as they made their way beneath the house. “Do you need
protection from me now?”

He stopped in the shadows, his face
hidden from view. “Of all the people gathered at this party
tonight, you’re the one I’m most afraid of.”

Melinda tightened her grip on his arm.
“Why, because I can read your thoughts?”

“
No, because you’re always
in them.”

For her, it was that perfect moment,
when doubt was replaced by certainty. She knew it was no longer a
question of if they would be together, but when.

He rested his hand over hers and then
dipped his head to the party. “Let’s get this over
with.”

When they emerged from the darkness
beneath the house, a symphony of lights, strains of Scott Joplin,
and scents of roasting meat greeted them. The rear of the home had
been decorated to resemble a tropical paradise. There were palm
trees filled with colorful lights, squawking macaws, buffet tables
that resembled canoes, and bamboo-covered bars serving tall glasses
of exotic drinks filled with paper umbrellas and spears of
fruit.

Melinda took in the wait staff
outfitted in grass skirts and leis alongside the expensive designer
gowns and tuxedos of the guests. At one end of the bricked patio
was a whole pig roasting over an open fire. At the other, a jazz
quartet in Hawaiian shirts was striking up a familiar Louis
Armstrong classic.

“
Not quite what comes to
mind when you think of a formal cocktail party,” Nathan mumbled
beside her.

Melinda examined the gray, blow-up
sharks floating in the oval swimming pool in the middle of the
patio. “Is this usual for these affairs?”

“
Hardly. I think our Mrs.
Becnel may be a bit more eccentric than I was led to believe.” He
motioned to one of the bamboo-covered bars. “Let’s get a drink and
find our hostess, so you can work your magic.”

At the bar, Melinda settled on soda
water, not wanting any alcohol to blunt her ability. Nathan ordered
a scotch and soda, and adamantly refused the bartender’s attempt to
give him a rum punch stuffed with an oversized paper
umbrella.

They had not even stepped away from
the bar when a short, bald man, chomping on an unlit cigar, came
toward Nathan.

“
You here to court Denise
for that Market Street deal, aren’t ya?” the man grumbled, eyeing
Nathan through his thick-lensed, black glasses.

“
Shouldn’t you be hiding
from the IRS?” Nathan shook the man’s hand.

“
It’s the FBI, and they’re
probably somewhere ‘round here tonight.”

Nathan waved his hand to Melinda.
“Melinda Harris, meet Carl Bordonaro.”

Melinda’s mouth almost dropped when
she heard the man’s name. “Are you … I mean, the Carl Bordonaro
from the newspapers?”

He removed the cigar from his mouth.
“Yeah, but don’t believe nothin’ you read about me. It’s all
lies.”

“
No, the truth is
invariably worse than what the newspapers print about Carl,” Nathan
joked.

“
There’re a lot worse
things than that, Nate, and you know it.” Carl veered his brown
eyes to Melinda. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss
Harris.”

Instantly, Melinda was enveloped by
the energy from the short man, but there were no visions about the
individual she knew to be New Orleans’ most notorious mafia figure
clouding her mind. What she received were feelings. Determination
and an extreme sense of cunning accompanied Carl Bordonaro, but
there was an element of fairness blended in. He was very good to
his friends and very protective of them; she could sense
it.

“
Sal Cuccina has his eyes
on that Market Street property. He might not take too kindly to you
beatin’ him to the punch,” Carl said, nodding to Nathan.

Nathan peered down at the drink in his
hand. “What do you think Sal might do if I did beat him to the
punch?”

“
Might make it real hard
for you to get permits with the city. He has a lot of friends in
City Hall who owe him. I might have a solution to this
problem.”

Nathan tensed and cleared his throat.
“I’m sure we wouldn’t be having this conversation unless there
already was a solution.”

Carl returned the unlit cigar to the
corner of his mouth. “You’re a smart businessman, Nate. I knew you
would be receptive to my solution.”

“
What is your solution,
Carl?”

“
Sal’s got a brother who
runs a cement company on the West bank. Maybe if Sal thought you
would set up contracts with his brother for pourin’ your cement
during the construction, he might not mind so much losin’ the
Market Street property. He might also be willin’ to forgive and
forget your past indiscretions. You know who I’m talkin’
‘bout.”

Nathan scowled. “Yes, I remember. I’m
surprised Sal is willing to forget about that. Considering
everything that happened between us when—”

“
Is that a pompous piece of
shit starting trouble?” a grating voice intruded.

Melinda pivoted to the source of the
sound. Tall, wiry, and with a thick head of short gray hair, the
older woman was wearing a fitted dark blue gown with a brilliantly
beaded red macaw down the front of her wide skirt. Her face was
long and her cheekbones delicately curved beneath her creamy white
skin.

“
Ah, there she is,” Carl
announced. “Our hostess.”

“
What are you up to, Carl?
And don’t lie to me. I’ve known you since you ran numbers out of Ed
Dugin’s bar on Decatur. I can always tell when you’re
lying.”

Carl Bordonaro roared with laughter.
His entire body shook with delight as he removed his glasses and
wiped a tear away from his right eye. “Damn, Denise, you were a
Grade A pain in the ass back then. Still are. Can’t understand what
Doug ever saw in you. The only good thing you two ever did together
was give me my godson, Jimmy.”

“
Doug wanted you be James’s
godfather, not me, Carl.” She looked to Nathan. “Doug was my first
husband and grew up with Carl. He was the love of my life,” she
explained with a fleeting smile.

Melinda noticed the way the woman’s
eyes disappeared beneath her cheekbones when she smiled. When her
smile fell away, her small, hazel eyes turned to
Melinda.

“
You’re not Nathan Cole’s
usual type.” The woman’s abrasive voice ruffled Melinda. “You’re
not another decorator, I hope.”

Nathan’s face dropped as he gestured
to Melinda. “Denise, I would like you to meet Melinda Harris, my
assistant.”

“
She’s too pretty to be an
assistant.” Denise inspected Melinda up and down. “What exactly
does she assist you with, Nathan?”

Then a barrage of pictures hit
Melinda’s mind. She saw Denise Becnel sitting at a table with a
circle of men around her. These were men she was directing, giving
orders to, but off to the side was another man, one who didn’t
listen to her. The face was blurry at first, but then the man’s
small, hazel eyes came into focus.

Melinda’s hand flew to her
mouth.

Denise was perplexed by Melinda’s
reaction. “You all right, dearie?”

“
I’m fine, Mrs.
Becnel.”

Denise Becnel gave her a resplendent
smile and then her cool gaze swerved to Carl Bordonaro. “You want
to tell me why you’re throwing Sal in Nathan’s face?”

“
Just havin’ a chat with
our boy here about options,” Carl replied.

“
Are these Sal’s options or
yours?” Denise pressed.

Nathan directed a worried countenance
to the guests surrounding them. “Perhaps the three of us should
talk in private.” He nodded to Melinda. “Why don’t you get
something to eat?”

“
You can’t leave such a
pretty woman alone at a party, Nathan,” Denise scolded. “You don’t
know what kind of deadbeats might try to steal her away from you.
We can’t have that happening … again.” Denise grinned at Nathan and
then cast her attention across the patio. “I have just the person
to keep her company while we talk business.” She waved to someone
by the bar.

A tall man made his way toward their
group. His effortless saunter looked familiar to Melinda, and as he
drew near, she became mesmerized by the grace of his movements.
Suddenly, Melinda was reminded of music.

“
Nathan, I’d like you to
meet my son, James,” Denise articulated as Jack Deron came up to
her side.

“
Jack!” Nathan gaped at
Denise. “He’s your son?” He shifted his focus to Melinda. “Did you
know about this?” he demanded in an icy tone.

Melinda stood silently gawking at
Jack. She was angry; no, she was furious that he had kept something
like this from her. But as she stared at him in his elegant tuxedo,
her anger retreated and a whole new feeling began to stir in the
pit of her stomach. He was no longer the gangly man seemingly
doomed to an eternity of slacker chic. With his perpetually
disheveled hair neatly combed back, his five o’clock shadow gone,
and his hazel eyes aglow, Melinda was surprised to discover that
her Jack was, in actuality, a devastatingly handsome
man.

“
I never told her about my
mother, Nathan,” Jack declared, never taking his eyes off Melinda’s
dress. “I didn’t want her to know about my family.”

Melinda’s anger quickly resurfaced.
“You worthless bastard! You lied to me!”

“
I take it you two know
each other,” Carl commented with a smirk.

“
I didn’t lie, Maddie. I
just kept the truth from you.”

“
For three years!” she
shouted.

“
Melinda, keep your voice
down,” Nathan advised.

Carl frowned at Nathan. “I thought you
said she worked for you. So how does she know Jimmy?”

“
Carl, don’t call him that.
You know I hate that name,” Denise chided as she took in the guests
staring curiously at their small group. “James, perhaps you and
Melinda should go into the house and discuss this.”

“
Mother, stop calling me
James.” He reached for Melinda’s elbow. “Let’s go inside,
Maddie.”