Regency Romance: A Duchess in Disguise (Historical 19th Century Victorian Romance) (Duke Fantasy Billionaire Romance) (41 page)

“I introduced you to Mary tonight,” Anthony argued.

“She’s your cook.”

“Well look, I was going to ask you… I always take some time off around now, and I spend a week at this cabin in Colorado. Great place. I like to ski. Do you ski?”

“I’ve never tried,” Aisha said truthfully.

“Well, I can teach you. Will you come with me?”

Aisha grinned and reached over, using one finger to pull the blindfold down. “Okay,” she said when he looked
to
her.

4

Three weeks after he asked her to go, Aisha was boarding a private plane, on her way to Colorado. After landing at the Denver airport, they were driven three hours away to
a remote
and
snow-covered
mountain. There was a small town at the foot of the small jagged peak, and up the
side,
a bit was Anthony’s private cabin. It wasn’t a cabin like Aisha had ever seen. It was huge, with two
stories
and a wrap around porch, all made of logs. The inside
was furnished
as extravagantly as the outside would make it seem. They spent days on the mountain, skiing, and when Aisha didn’t take to that, sledding. Their meals
were prepared
by Mary, who was staying down in the nearby town, but came up every morning and cooked a quick lunch and a more substantial dinner.

On their fourth night, after steamy sex, when they both lay panting and shining in the soft moonlight, Anthony looked over
to
her. “You’re still mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“You think I’m hiding you.”

“I don’t,” Aisha said, but that was a lie.

“I just… I didn’t want people to know… I thought that’s what you wanted. You’re good at your job, and you can make it on your own merits. That
’s what I thought
you wanted.”

“I do,” Aisha said, and then she sighed. “But I
really
like you. I don’t
want
to be your secret.”

Anthony smiled. “Then you won’t be.”

Aisha had something else weighing on her mind, and she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. “I’m pregnant,” she said.

Anthony looked
at
her for a long while, without speaking. When he did his voice was tight, and didn’t betray a single thought. “It’s mine?”

A fury rose up in Aisha. “
Of course
it is!” she snapped, and then she rose from the bed, still nude and sweaty.

“I’m sorry, I was just making sure!”

“How many women are you fucking
besides
me?”

“No one!” Anthony claimed, holding his hands up. “It came out wrong.”

“I’m going to
go take
a shower,” Aisha said, and she left the bedroom. That night it was awkward and tense, and neither she nor Anthony seemed keen on arguing further, so they stayed quiet. In the morning Aisha rose first, going downstairs and making coffee. She had just poured herself a big mug when there was a pounding on the cabin's door.

When she went
to the door,
she could see a woman standing there in
a heavy
coat and a fur hat. She looked familiar, and as Aisha pulled the door
open,
she realized it was the tall white woman who had stormed into Anthony’s office that
first
week.

“You slut!” the woman said as she came in, and her hand went across Aisha’s face in a stunning slap.

“Stop
it,
Kathleen,” a voice called, and both women turned to see Anthony coming down the stairs.

“Who is this bitch?” Aisha asked him, ready to fight.

“Bitch?” the white woman asked. “I’m his wife!”

“Hey now!” Anthony said, but Aisha had heard enough. It all made sense now, why he seemed as though he wanted to keep her his little secret. She made the two steps over to where Anthony stood, and the foot of the staircase, and splashed the hot coffee
in
his face. It wasn’t scalding, but she hoped it at least hurt. Without a word she turned and stormed outside.

There wasn’t anywhere to go but into town, and Aisha was lucky enough to have thought to grab her coat from the hook just inside the door. Her
snowboots
were on the
porch,
and she pulled them on, and she was down into the snow as the door opened behind her.

“We’re
separated
!” Anthony called after her, but Aisha raised a middle finger to him without looking back. She walked down into town, taking half an hour in the snow, tears sliding from her eyes and freezing on her cheeks the whole way. She didn’t know where to
go,
so she found Mary at the hotel and told the old woman what had happened.

“Did you know he was married?” Aisha asked the cook.

“Yes, but he’s been trying to divorce her for years. She won’t sign.”

That made Aisha feel a bit better, but she was still hurt and shocked that he hadn’t told her. And she was pregnant, with his child, and still no one knew about them, and the whole thing filled her with
bitterness
and sadness. Mary helped her get home, and she had quit and cleaned out her desk before Anthony got back.

He sent message after message to her, emails, phone calls, but she didn’t speak to him. She found a new job with a smaller
firm
and had
settled in
. Two weeks after she started Anthony came to see her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him.

He just smiled, and then clapped his hands. A group of men came into the office, and they each had an instrument. They began to play a song, and Aisha recognized it as the first song they had ever danced to, laughing and drunk in her apartment one night. Tears stung her face.

“I love you,” Anthony said as he went to her. Everyone heard him. “I want to marry you, and I want to raise this baby together,” he added. He took her hands, and pulled her close, and they started to dance. “I’m working overtime to get my ex out of my life. She’s asking for too much, but you’re worth it. I’ll give it to her. The money, the cars, all of it, nothing matters. I want to be with you. Just you.”

Aisha could hardly speak, so she didn’t even try. She
simply
closed her eyes and laid her head on Anthony’s chest, and they danced slowly to the
music
while all of Aisha’s new co-workers looked on. She didn’t care if they saw her, and neither did Anthony.

*****

THE END

''It's okay, Tyra, hold on to me,'' Natalie said as Tyra collapsed into her arms.

Father Smith had told me it would be like this, Tyra thought. But which of the emotions had he meant? The Grief or the guilt? Tyra was experiencing both. Two of the most powerful human emotions were wracking through her at will.

''Tyra, we're so sorry for your loss.'' Tyra lifted her head from Natalie's shoulder. It was
Mr.
and
Mrs.
Radley Samuels, Tyra's boss and his wife.

''Thank you for coming. I
really
appreciate it.'' Tyra didn't think she could speak, but the words came out somehow. Natalie handed her another tissue and for a
moment,
Tyra could see clearly again. She looked to her left and saw a line of mourners waiting to express their condolences to her.

''If only I hadn't been so selfish,'' Tyra said to Natalie as they walked up the cemetery path. It had taken an eternity to work
through
the line of those seeking to express their condolences and Tyra was exhausted. ''It was
foggy,
and I knew dad didn't want to drive that day. It was me. Me moaning that they hadn't been to see me in my new home in the city. Lord knows, I think I even suggested they weren't interested in me anymore.'' She held onto Natalie again as another insufferable wave of guilt rammed at her. ''No, I killed them. Dad would never have taken
mom
out in the car on a day like
normally
.'' Natalie didn't know how to comfort her friend. They were both just
twenty-three
and
beginning
to make their way in the world. Losing parents
wasn't
supposed to happen until later in life.

*****

Three weeks after the funeral, Tyra stood outside the jewelry store on Wes
t 47th Street and looked at it, really looked
at it, for the first time. I've been working here for seven months, and this is the first time I've properly taken the place in, she thought.
Grief-stricken
and riddled with
guilt;
she felt her senses had become sharper since the passing of her parents. It was as if someone was making her take notice of the world. Making her appreciate what can so easily be torn away from you, in an instant.

West 47th Street was full of jewelry shops, but none as grand as J.P Samuels. They might as well have called it, '
Jewelers to the rich and famous,'
she thought. For that's what it was. A place where the rich came to gorge on expensive stones. The front of the store was imposing. Between the cleanest store windows in New York, there were columns of polished black granite. The entrance was in the middle of the
store
and it
too
was surrounded by shiny black stone. The door itself
was made
of
bulletproof
, reinforced glass. What Tyra liked best about the facade was the sign. It
was made
of copper and ran the length of the store. The background was dark and the letters that had
been forged
onto
it
were
polished
and stood out better than any other letters on the street.

''Welcome back Tyra.
I'm so sorry to hear about your mom and dad,'' Leon said.
''
Thanks,
Leon. It's very brave of you to say so.'' She'd found that most people just turned away from her, not knowing what to say. Not Leon. It was his job to stand inside the door and keep out the undesirables. He was perfectly equipped to do so at six feet seven and two hundred and fifty pounds, but it involved hours standing in the same place, day after day.

''Tyra, my girl,'' Radley Samuel's said. He'd been waiting for her.
Normally,
he didn't stand in the shop.

He had others to do that for him. His job was managing the business
that
his grandfather had started. ''Come with me.''

Tyra followed him through the store. They walked past glass cabinets filled with beautiful necklaces, rings, bracelets,
earrings,
and watches. At the back of the
store
, they went through a door and down a corridor. The first door on the right led to a security room. Tyra had never been in the
room,
but she had seen inside
once
when the door had been open. It was full of monitors and the latest lock down systems. It was all
hi-tech,
and she had no idea about any of it.

Radley pushed open the first door on the left and showed her into his office. How can anyone spend hours in an office with no daylight?
she
wondered. There were pictures of his ancestors on one wall and a giant
flora
vase in the corner. What she liked most about his office was the carpet. It was
deep
red with the company crest woven into it.

''Tyra, please sit down.'' He pointed to a button backed armchair
that
stood in front of his mahogany desk. ''I want you to tell me how you are feeling. You've been through a
lot,
and I want to make sure
you’re
feeling up to working again.'' I wish I had a daughter like her, she's so graceful and kind, yet determined and motivated, he thought.

''Well, honestly speaking, I'm still feeling awful.'' You can tell him
everything;
he cares for you, she
told
herself as a moment of doubt crept into her mind. ''I weep a lot, especially in the evening and I feel guilty.
So guilty.''
She noticed how closely he was listening to her. The furrows on his forehead were
deep
with concern for
her,
and his eyes were looking directly into hers, seeking any sign that a return to work may be too early.

''There is nothing I can say to you that will make you feel better. All I can do is tell you what happened to me when my son
was killed
.'' Killed? I didn't know he'd had a son, she thought. The thought that someone close to her had also suffered such a loss made her feel better.

''My son was only nineteen. He was studying business at New York University and working here
at
the weekends.'' He stopped talking for a moment, took out a white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped his forehead. Tyra knew him to be
fifty-nine
. He was quite tall and
very thin
. It was as if he was so involved in his business he forgot to eat.

He looked at her with a pained expression as he continued. ''One morning, he left home to go to college, and he never came back again. A man who had been drinking all
night
decided to get into his
car
and drive to the girlfriend he had left for dead in her apartment the previous evening. When he fell asleep at the wheel, it was my son he hit.'' Tyra noticed a crack in his voice. ''Walking down the street minding his own business.'' He took the handkerchief and blew his nose.

''Oh my God, that's awful,'' Tyra put her hand to her mouth.

He nodded. Perhaps I shouldn't have burdened her with this, he thought. ''
At first,
everything was a blur. It was only after the funeral had taken place that it
really
hit me. After the funeral, everyone seems to disappear. All the kind words and supporting arms are no longer there. You are suddenly alone.'' He ran his hand through his thinning gray hair and looked towards a photo on his desk. Tyra couldn't see who it was. She assumed his son.

''The
Undertaker
had warned me about it. A deep hole, he'd called it, and I fell into it.'' When he
paused,
Tyra thought about where she was mentally and recognized what he was describing. ''The
Undertaker
also explained that there is something called the cycle of grief. You go through stages of grief, and if you are lucky, eventually come out the other end. The last stage is called the acceptance
stage
. You stop all the blaming and come to terms with what's happened.
Of course,
you're still
sad,
but it gets easier.''

''It's very kind of you to tell me this. I had no idea. I was afraid I would have this level of pain for the rest of my life.'' Tyra looked at her hands. Her nails used to be so manicured, she thought.

''When I employed you, Tyra, I saw something in you. You are one of life's
good
people. I can see you care about people. When you talk to
clients,
you are patient, and most importantly, you listen to them. Did you know I have no relatives?''

Tyra shook her head.

''No.''

''Well, I don't. Not one, and no friends. There's only my wife and me.'' He looked at her, and wondered what he was about to say, would do to her. ''I am going to leave the business to you.'' He stared at her, not wanting to miss her reaction.

''Pardon?' Tyra said. She wasn't really in the mood for jokes.

''I am going to leave the business to you,'' he repeated.

What the hell is he
playing at
? This isn't funny, doesn't he know I've just buried my parents. She went to stand
up,
but he put up his hand and stopped her.

''For the last time, Tyra. You will inherit this business.'' Someone knocked on the
door;
it was his wife. ''Tell her Eliana, she doesn't believe me.''

''How are
you,
Tyra? We are
very worried
about you?'' she said ignoring her husband's plea for help.

''I've been better.'' What are they playing at, surely Jewish people don't give things away like this, she
thought?

''My husband, as you know, isn't given to pranks. We have decided to leave it to you.
Of course,
you are young, and you have only just started in the business, but we see you have got what it takes.'' She put her hand on Tyra's shoulder and looked her into her eyes. ''You are
intelligent,
and you have an enormous appetite for the business. We have never seen anyone with your enthusiasm. We are both sixty next year and all we have done with our lives is sit in this store.'' She looked at her husband and gave him
an assertive
nod. ''In five years time, we will retire and travel. You will take over as
manager,
and when we die, it will all be yours. Take the time between now and then to learn all you can about the business.''

''Are you okay to come back to work?'' Radley asked. Tyra looked at him and burst into tears. It was a gesture so
great
that
her
emotions overflowed.

Eliana sat on the chair arm and put her arm around her. ''You have been through a lot, but you have us, and we will help you all we can.''

*****

Tyra started up
Google
and typed in:
'The Hope Diamond'
She read: Value $350 million dollars, 45
karats
, 9.1 grams. ''Three hundred and fifty million dollars,'' she whispered under her breath.

She and Radley had agreed that she would work in the shop four days a week and spend the other two days shadowing him. He' made a list of things he had to teach her.
He
hadn't realized how long the list would prove to be. One thing he couldn't teach her was diamond cutting. While he was an expert at grading and valuing gems, he'd never enjoyed using tools. Tyra had told him that she'd go to college in her own time and learn.

''How do you like your desk?'' Radley asked as he poked his head into her new office. Tyra wondered if the room had been intended as a broom cupboard when the place
was built
, but she didn't want to complain. She was grateful it had a window and more than
grateful
that the Samuels had seen so much potential in her.

''Lovely thanks. I was just looking up information on the Hope Diamond. It
really
is quite spectacular.''

He stepped into the office and looked at the picture
with
her. ''It sure is. One of the best diamonds in the world and it's coming here. I can't quite believe it.''

''Neither can I.'' She'd never heard of the program called,
'Diamonds for All.'
It was an initiative set up by the National Association of Jewelers, with the aim of bringing famous diamonds to places where the public go and see them. Based on reputation, Radley had been asked if he would like to house the Hope Diamond when it came to New York. His store had the best security of any in the
city,
and it had
a strong
room big enough to house a large show cabinet, four security
men,
and the viewing public.