Mr. Wright & Mr. Wrong: A BWWM Romance (22 page)

B
rooklyn was glowing
as she wandered around Paris later that day. She was familiar enough with using a subway system that it was easy to figure out Paris’, the only hitch being her lack of French. Naturally, her first stop was the Eiffel Tower. It was crowded with tourists, but when she got to the top and saw all of Paris spread out before her, it was worth it.

In elementary school she had taken a field trip to the top of the Empire State Building. The view at the top of the Tower reminded her of that, though with different scenery. Up here by herself she had time to reflect on her current situation.

A little over a month ago she had no idea who Alex Wright was. Unlike her father, she had very little interest in New York Society, no matter what race they were. Now here she was in Paris with the son of one of the most famous—infamous, if she were being honest—New Yorkers. She looked out at the view of the Seine River. What a crazy world.

Throughout the day she did all the typical tourist things, all the while thinking about seeing Alex again that night. She had a Nutella crepe, which she found to be a bit too sickly sweet for her tastes. She visited the Louvre, which was astonishingly huge, and incredibly awe-inspiring, especially with her being an artist at heart. Incapable of seeing the entire thing in one day, she finally made her way through to the
Mona Lisa
and was surprised to see how small it was, especially as viewed behind the throng of tourists that were crowding it. In fact, she found her attention diverted to the practically floor to ceiling painting it was juxtaposed across from,
The Wedding Feast at Cana.

By evening she was exhausted, but the thought of sitting alone in the apartment waiting for Alex to get there sounded pathetic. Instead she took advantage of one of Paris’ many sidewalk cafes and scandalized the owner by ordering a beer instead of a glass of wine. She sat outside to people watch.

It was springtime in Paris and she was in a short sleeved black romper with large white flowers patterned on it. It had a wrap top and shorts high enough to show off her long, brown legs in the white Keds she wore. Her thick head of curls was up in a high ponytail off her neck.

After her first beer, she ordered a salad and decided to fit in by paring it with a glass of wine, much to the owner’s approval. An older gentleman with a cane sat in one of the few empty seats near her and she was pleased when he asked her something in French. Based on the number of people of various colors in this city she’d seen speaking the local language she shouldn’t have been surprised. Apparently she fit in better than she thought.

“Sorry, I don’t speak French,” she said with an apologetic smile.

“Ah, American?” he smiled with delight.

She nodded.

“And how long have you been here?” he asked in his accented English.

“Really only today,” she laughed. “But I’ve seen so much.”

“Ah, but Paris at night?” he kissed the fingers of one hand to finish the statement. “Are you here alone?”

She gave him a wary glance. He had to be older than her father. Was he hitting on her? Luckily she had an answer. “I’m with my boyfriend. He’s working right now.”

“Lucky man,” he winked with a smile. “The Eiffel Tower, you’ve seen, no?”

She nodded. Her answer hadn’t slowed him down.

“At night it lights up. Lovers lie there and make love. Is tradition.” He gave her a knowing smile indicating that it would be a shame for her not to partake in that particular tradition.

They chatted a bit more after that until Brooklyn finished her wine and salad and said her goodbyes. The conversation had given her an idea.

* * *

A
lex didn’t get back
to the apartment until around 10:30. Brooklyn was working on her laptop creating yet another new art piece that would never be sold. Paris had been inspiring and she sat at the little table on the balcony using it as her muse. The diversity in this city was on par with New York and she loved it.

She heard the door open and a few minutes later he approached her.

“Hey gorgeous,” he said looking at her with a smile.

“Hey yourself,” she said getting out of her chair to put her arms around his neck and kiss him.

“What are you working on?” he asked, looking down at the screen on her laptop.

“Just some art,” she said idly. “I enjoy it.”

“Let me see,” he said, peering down to get a closer look.

She watched as he scrolled through her album of work. She wasn’t shy about her pieces. She knew they were good. Her instructors in school had told her as much. It was just impossible to make any kind of living at it.

“This is really good stuff, Brooklyn,” he said. “You should really work on getting this stuff out there.”

She smiled down at him. Alex may know the night club scene but he had no idea how brutally competitive the art world was. She scratched his head as she looked at the darkened city over his shoulder while he scrolled through her computer. The sun had set only about an hour ago. She thought back to her idea for tonight.

“Are you tired?” she asked.

He popped his head back up. “I was until I saw you.”

“If you are, we can just stay in, but I met this man today”—she saw his face darken with jealousy—“a very
old
man,” she elaborated with a smile, “and he told me about how the Eiffel Tower lights up every night as people ‘make love’” on the lawn underneath it.

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, but yes, it does light up and it’s beautiful. Did you want to see it?”

“Can we?” she said with an eager smile, wrapping her arms around him for effect. “I bought some wine and cheese and bread. We can make a date out of it.”

“Sounds perfect,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.

Twenty minutes later they had found a spot on the crowded lawn to look up at the tower. After eating a bit of bread and cheese and drinking quite a bit of the wine, Alex had his head in her lap while she sat up, leaning back on one hand. She scratched her fingers through his thick hair while she looked at the people around her.

“Mmm,” he sighed, “this is nice. Remind me to take you on all my working trips. I can’t think of a better way to end the day.”

She smiled down at him. It was a nice idea but it made her think. Her work and life were in New York. Even though a significant portion of her job was done over her stupid headset, she seriously doubted
Douglas & Foster
would let her do it all the way from Paris, or wherever Alex was headed to next.

A while later the sparkling light show began as twinkling lights lit up the tower like a Christmas tree in Broadway, making it sparkle in the night.

“Oh, Alex. It’s beautiful,” she sighed, smiling up at it. She didn’t hear a response and she looked down to find him asleep in her lap. She let him be, knowing he’d had a full day. She at least had been able to take a nap. Instead she continued stroking his head as she finished the wine and watched the show continue for five minutes. They weren’t “making love,” but his head in her lap felt nice and comfortable, like they were that “old married couple” she had been worried about.

It was perfect.

* * *

T
hey had made
their way back to the apartment and fallen asleep. Brooklyn woke up in the wee hours of the morning, her internal clock still a bit off. She wrapped her naked body in a silk kimono and stood out on the balcony to watch the city before it woke up.

It was still quite dark and would be for a couple of hours. The lights of the Eiffel Tower were off now, but the moon was still bright as it settled closer to the earth. She looked out at the city as it slept, enjoying the cool air ruffling underneath her robe.

“Sorry I missed the show last night,” she heard Alex say as he came in close behind her. “Same time tonight?” he murmured into her head as he pressed his body against hers.

“It’s a date,” she said, turning around in his embrace. He had thrown on a pair of pajama bottoms and she admired his chiseled chest, tracing a finger along the tattoo on his shoulder.

“The city is nice like this,” he mused, looking out past her. “Almost, as though anything is possible.”

His hands came up to the tie holding her kimono in place. One hand tugged at an end and it loosened, falling and bringing the two sides sliding open after it.

“Anything?” she asked, giving him a seductive smile.

“Anything,” he murmured, slipping his hands across her stomach and around her waist causing the robe to open completely, exposing her naked body to the night air.

Brooklyn’s nipples hardened instantly and she bit her lip watching his eyes roam over her body in the moonlight. Alex’s hands glided up the curve of her waist to cup a breast with one hand. The thumb and index finger rolled the tiny, dark nub around between them, making her moan.

“Let’s take this back to the bedroom,” he whispered.

She nodded and followed him in letting the kimono slip off her shoulders as she approached the bed. She lay down on her side while Alex slipped his bottoms off. He stretched out on the bed next to her on his side. She moved closer to press her body into his, draping one leg around his thigh. His hand went around her neck as he brought her in to kiss her, French style.

It was a natural progression as she intertwined her body into his, sloping one arm around him and pushing him on his back. She slipped one hand between them, to guide him inside of her. Her thighs came up as she opened herself to him, feeling him go deeper and deeper as they made love to Paris’s awakening.

As the sun blinked an eye to the city, their cries could be heard through the open window as they came in unison.

L
ondon couldn’t believe
what she was hearing.

“In retrospect, I owe your firm an apology, and a thank you for bringing this situation to our attention,” Representative Davis said, with a guilty, but ingratiating grin on his face.

Her father and brother were more than happy to return the smiles. London wasn’t.

It was Monday, a full week since she had first brought the scandals to his attention. Now he was finally coming clean—or cleaning house. This time it was Davis and a few upper level members of his staff sitting in the conference room…save for one.

Dion Davis had arrived at the firm, hat in hand, to reveal that Clayton Moore was the individual who had been coordinating with the treasurer of the Summer Lunch Program fund, to transfer money to certain wealthy individuals who had lost their shirts with Siverion. Paperwork had been tampered with to make it look like the Summer Lunch Program fund had been invested with Siverion and simply suffered a case of bad luck, along with everyone else unfortunate enough to invest with them. Naturally, they had no idea of the names of the wealthy individuals that money had been transferred to.

“Obviously, I had no idea what Clayton was up to. And to think, I made him my Senior Legislative Assistant.” Representative Davis shook his head with regret.

It was almost believable.

He was quick to recover. “But at least now we can work on dealing with this issue. Obviously he’s been fired, but we need to work on distancing ourselves from this…situation. The Summer Lunch Program is a big issue in Harlem, really all of New York. There are plenty of kids who aren’t getting fed because school is out. This program was supposed to help. I can’t have potential voters thinking I had anything to do with stealing funds from it.”

“I completely understand, Dion,” her father said, nodding his head. This time the representative didn’t bother correcting the familiar form of address. “The first step is to put out a statement. Right now this thing is still under wraps, so we have the potential to get ahead of it and control the media. It’s good you came to us as soon as you found out.”

After a whole week of stalling, and circling the wagons, London thought to herself.

“Exactly,” said Dion, nodding his head in agreement. “I’ve done a lot for this community, and they need to be reminded of that. You just make sure I come out of this smelling like roses,” he warned Frank Jefferson.

“Of course, Dion. We’ll be working on this all week long. By Friday your numbers will be higher than ever.”

“As usual, I’m counting on this firm to do what it does best, help me get elected!”

There was an appreciative ripple of laughter around the room. London continued to frown.

“Well, I’ve got other meetings to attend to today. A candidate’s work is never done.” he gave a politician’s smile, as he got up from his seat. “You just let me know what you need from me. I’ve instructed Sean here,” he pointed to his Chief of Staff, “That you are priority number one. Anything you need, he’s there for you.”

He shook each of the Jefferson’s hands as he passed on his way out of the room. When he got to London he stopped.

“I finally heard about the break up. It looks like you dodged a bullet there,” he said with a smile, covering her hand with his in a way she was no longer quite comfortable with. “I always knew you were too good for him.”

All London could do was give a tight lipped smile in return, hoping her lack of response would get him out the door quicker.

She was no fan of Clayton’s, obviously, but everything about this mess was shady as hell.

* * *

“
Y
ou aren’t really buying
this are you, Daddy?” London asked, once the three of them were alone.

“It doesn’t matter whether I buy it or not, London,” her dad sighed, obviously agreeing with her. “He’s our client and we have to work with what he gives us.”

“Even if it’s obviously a lie?” she pressed.

“Now we don’t know that for a fact, London,” he countered. “We’re obviously not getting the whole truth here, but we still have an obligation to represent Dion to the best of our abilities.”

“Okay fine. Let’s start with the obvious holes here,” she said. “How would Clayton even have those kinds of connections in the first place? Do we even know who these people were he supposedly helped?”

“He’s a top level staff member of a state representative. It’s not too farfetched that he could accomplish this,” he said, pacing the room, already in spin mode. “As for these people he helped, well we both know that’s not going to come to light any time soon. People like that make it a point to never get thrown under the bus with the fall guy.”

“So you at least admit that Clayton is a patsy here?” she said.

“Since when are you so keen on having Clayton’s back anyway, London?” Cleveland chimed in. “I’d think
you
of all people would be working with this narrative.”

“It’s one thing to hate the guy, Cleve,” she responded. “It’s another to completely pervert justice. Are we really doing anyone any good by letting this go down this way? Are the kids going to get their money back? Are the guys who stole it going to jail? All this does is make one innocent man look guilty.”

“The only one who should be our concern is Dion Davis,” her dad warned her. “You’re a lawyer London. This is what we do.”

She looked at him with disbelief.

He softened his tone. “Now, I’m not going to encourage this Clayton Moore scenario. We also have an obligation to not, as you say, ‘pervert justice’,” he conceded. “We’ll focus on Davis’s innocence in all this, which,” he gave his daughter another warning look, “as far as we know is still true.”

London would give him at least that much. It was extremely difficult to think that Dion Davis had no clue about what was going on right underneath his nose, but until she had proof, she had to work with what he gave her.

“Now, let’s get to work writing that statement. I want it to focus on Dion’s innocence, not Clayton’s guilt, just in case he manages to finagle his way out of the noose.”

* * *

I
t was late
by the time she left the firm. They’d spent all day creating a press release and tapping into all the media outlets, gathering resources to spin this situation in the best light possible. She’d done what she could for Clayton. Despite her, still quite sore, feelings toward him, he didn’t deserve this.

“London.”

She spun around with fright. “Clayton!” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

He looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept all weekend. There were bags under his eyes and stubble on his chin. He looked so retched she almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“You’ve got to fix this,” he pleaded. “You know I couldn’t do something like what they’re accusing me of.”

She felt a guilty pang in her heart. Then she got over it. It wasn’t just that this man had broken her heart. She had obligations…no matter how much she despised them.

“Clayton, I shouldn’t even be talking to you. You know this,” she warned.

“You’re going to hide behind your ethics?” he cried.

“Representative Davis is my client, not you.”

“So you’re going to let him fuck me over?” he asked.

She gave him some solace. “If it helps, we’re trying to keep you out of it as much as possible.”

“Gee thanks,” he snapped. “My career, possibly my freedom, is at risk and you are trying to keep me out of it as much as possible. That makes me feel better.”

Her jaw tightened as she kept herself calm. She could only imagine the strain he was under right now, and how resentful she would feel under similar circumstances.

“Clayton, if you’re innocent, find the proof,” she urged. “It’s out there, just look for it. I can’t help you.” She turned to walk away, already having said too much.

“Just like that? All because I broke up with you?” he sneered behind her.

She spun back around. “This has nothing to do with us, and you know it!” she spat. “Making this personal doesn’t help you, Clayton. Stop sniveling and fight for yourself!”

He just stared at her with contempt. She turned away, having nothing left to say.