Tropical Storm (2 page)

“I
hate
you.” Storm said her lips trembling.

Her father nodded curtly. “Maybe so, but you will do exactly as I say. Now go up to your room and don’t come out until I say so. Your mother and I have some talking to do.”

A violent banging on the front door interrupted their conversation.

Cairo heard someone approaching the closed door and ran a shaking hand through his dark brown curls. He knelt down to tie the laces of his shoes, adjusted his suit
,
which was two sizes too big, and had just enough time to straighten his shirt before the door opened. A man with white gloves and the stiffest posture that Cairo had ever seen stood staring at him.

“Can I help you?” The man asked peering haughtily down his nose
at him.

Cairo squared his shoulders and swallowed hard. “I’ve come for my wife.”

The man raised his eyebrow. “And whom would that be?”

“Storm.” Cairo answered. “Jessica.” He added having never called his wife by anything other than her last name.

“Miss
Jessica
?” The man stiffened and Cairo got the distinct impression that the door was about to be slammed in his face, if not for a voice from inside the house.

“Salvador, show the young man into the library.”

Salvador immediately opened the door and stepped aside. “This way, please.” The butler led him through an ornate foyer into an equally daunting library decorated with dark wood and stacks of books almost as high as
the ceiling.

Cairo looked around for Storm and for the first time since her parents burst into their room, he felt like he could breathe again. When he saw her, she was looking down, her white-blond curls loose around her shoulders. She was still dressed in her rumpled wedding finery.

“Storm?” He whispered, but she
didn’t look up.

“What can I do for you Mr . . . ?”
His mother in-law let the words trail off.

“Kane.” Cairo said
and straightened his posture so that he rose to his full height. “There’s nothing you can do for me except give me back
my wife. I know you don’t want us together but it’s a done deal. Storm is my wife and nothing can change that. Not even you. Come on Storm, let’s go.”
He held out his hand
but Storm didn’t take it. Her mother spoke.

“I’m sorry you came all this way but Jessica isn’t going anywhere. I’m afraid there’s been terrible misunderstanding. Jessica should not have married you; she’s committed to someone else.”

“You’re lying.” Cairo rejected the statement immediately. “Storm and I are in love and she would never betray me.”

Pamela Storm twisted her mouth into a smile. “Foolish boy,” she laughed mirthlessly. “And here I thought you project kids were supposed to be street smart. If you don’t believe me, ask your
wife
.” She said the last word like it was something distasteful in her mouth.

Cairo went to Storm, slid into the seat beside her and gathered her close. “They’ll say just about anything, won’t they?” When she greeted his remark with silence, he picked up the hand that wore
his ring and rubbed it against his cheek. “Don’t be afraid of your parents, Storm, trust in me.
I’m
your family now.”

To this she opened her mouth to speak,
but only a sob came out.

“It’s okay,” he said as much to himself now as to her. “C’mon love, let’s get out of here. It’s our wedding night.”

This finally got her attention. Eyes the color of a wind tossed sea focused on him. For the first time he felt the sharp edge of fear. He watched as she took a deep shuddering breath. She then gave her parents a hard look before she pulled her hand out of his.

“I never meant to hurt you but my parents are right. I shouldn’t have married you.” Her voice was unrecognizable,
hard, and stiff, almost like she was a different person. “I’ve been seeing someone else and we have plans to get married when I’m older. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

A red haze clouded
Cairo eyes. Every fear, insecurity and feeling of not being good enough now descended on him. He fought the feelings back but his body shook with the effort. “I don’t believe you. What did your parents say to make you do this?”

“They didn’t say anything. It’s the truth.” She held his gaze as she said it.

When
Cairo grabbed her arms and shook her, Storm’s father took a step forward but her mother held him back.

“Don’t lie. I know they put you up to this. I know you love me. You can’t deny that you do.”

“I don’t deny it. You were different. You made me feel special.” Then the dam burst and her words came out in a tearful flood. “But it takes more than love to make a marriage work. I care about you but I made a mistake tonight. I want out.”

“You lying snake!” He hissed.

His wife of one day flinched as if he’d struck her and raised wounded eyes to his face.

The expression enraged him. “Damn! You didn’t have to marry me
if all you wanted was to slum it for a night or two with a boy from the Bronx.” He lapsed back into the inner-city accent he’d worked so hard to stamp out
.
“I get it now. You were slumming. Is that what this was all about?” The pain was sharp. Physical.

“Forget what I just said, Cairo. I’m sorry, I can explain. I . . . ” The words trailed away as Storm’s mother walked over and squeezed her hand.

Cairo saw their linked hands as bonds of conspiracy. “
Explain
? What can you tell me that I don’t already know?” He asked as tears of humiliation gathered in his eyes. “I should’ve known your love was a lie. What would a girl like you do with someone like me? It had to be a trick. Well playtime is over, back to reality.”

Without looking away from Storm,
he drew the folded marriage certificate from his pocket and held it up.

“You want an annulment? It’s yours. You never existed as far as I’m concerned.” Then he tore to pieces the only proof he had that Storm had ever belonged to him. He threw the pieces of their marriage contract on the floor at her feet, turned on his heel and walked out,
ignoring
the sound of Storm screaming his name.

Chapter One

Cairo rounded the side of
The Victory
Hotel and stepped up onto the wide veranda that spanned the front of the building. Storm clouds were gathering in the morning sky and he heard a distant clap of thunder. Later, when the Jamaican island was fresh and rain-washed, he would climb into the mountains up
to the summit and survey his property. He would breathe in the fragrance of the flowers blooming in the lush, tropical forest and savor the pride and sense of accomplishment that always came over him. The majestic hillside hotel wasn’t the house he had promised to build his godfather and guardian when he’d packed up and left New York with him years ago; it was so much more. He could still remember the tears that had come to Papa Joseph’s eyes when he’d first shown him the elegant suite of rooms that were his and his alone. How grateful he was that he’d been able to repay the old man he considered his grandfather, in some way,
for standing by him. Cairo missed him. He would probably miss him for the rest of his life. He sighed deeply and stepped into the hotel lobby.

Sharlene, his recently hired employee, pounced on him. “Thank God you’re finally here.”

“What’s wrong now?” He asked, trying not to sigh.

“Mrs. Tanebrae went to sleep on the beach and now claims to be suffering from heat stroke. She says we should have sent someone down to wake her. Mr. Fisher called down complaining of faulty plumbing. And, a new guest arrived at the crack of dawn without a reservation. We’re all booked up but she demands that we find her a room. I sent her to the solarium with a cold drink.” She finished in her lilting Jamaican accent.

Sharlene stood before him wringing her hands and chewing off what was left of a bright purple lipstick. Eventually she would understand that these were simply problems to solve. A real
crisis was when twenty Texas oil tycoons and their wives arrived an hour after the air conditioning system went out.

“First of all, take a deep breath and relax.” Cairo demonstrated by taking a deep breath of his own. A patient smile on his face, he watched as Sharlene pressed her hand to her chest, took a deep breath and released it along with the look of panic in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I know you’ve said I should be calmer.” She explained. “I’ve already dealt with Mr. Fisher by moving him to another room, but the lady in the solarium really rattled me. She was very insistent and wouldn’t take no for an answer. When I told her we may not have a room available anytime soon, she said she would wait forever if necessary.”

“Couldn’t you find Tyrone?”

“You rang?” Asked an amused voice from behind.

Grinning, Cairo turned to his cousin. At six-two, he and Tyrone were the same height; however, their similarities began and ended there. In temperament and appearance they were complete opposites. Tyrone looked like a young Muhammad Ali with all the devastating charm and charisma to go with it. Cairo, on the other hand, resembled a young version of Grey’s Anatomy actor Eric Dane, but with chocolate brown eyes. He knew he was too serious to be considered charming. They called themselves cousins but Tyrone was actually Papa Joseph’s other godson whom Cairo had met for the first time the summer his parents died. He had spent the school term in New York and summer breaks in the parish of St. Thomas in the Jamaican countryside
where he had built
The Victory
. He had missed his parents desperately, and at first, Jamaica had been hard on a white boy from the Bronx, but his adopted grandfather and his newfound Caribbean cousin Tyrone had made life bearable. An athletic, engaging man of a scant twenty-five, Tyrone resembled more a man of leisure than a man of business. Despite his laid back
demeanor, he was vastly intelligent and extremely loyal. Papa Joseph’s death last year meant that Tyrone was all the family he had left. There wasn’t a man on earth that Cairo trusted more.

“What can I do for you
Mista
boss man?” Although educated at the University of the West Indies with a degree in International Relations, for effect, Tyrone often spoke in a deeply accented patois.

“Be available to solve problems when they come up.” Cairo answered curtly.

Tyrone’s grin was saccharine. “Ah yes, Sharlene’s end-of-the-world-as we-know-it catastrophes.”

Sharlene squirmed under Tyrone’s gaze. “You didn’t tell me you were going to handle it.” She said nervously.

Cairo was beginning to get the picture. Sharlene was jumpy and new, she hadn’t learned to trust that although Tyrone seemed laid back and carefree, he always got things done.

Cairo turned his attention back to his cousin. “Well?” he prompted.

“Well, what?” Tyrone grinned.

Cairo sighed. “Ty, I like to be kept abreast of what’s going on in my hotel. You’re the manager so give me an update.”

“I’m the manager?” Tyrone widened his
golden-brown eyes in amazement.

“Tyrone.” Cairo warned, his patience wearing thin.

“Okay, okay.” Tyrone chuckled
with his trademark smile. “When will you ever be able to take a joke? Relax,
mon
. The crisis is all taken care of.”

“How?” Cairo asked.

Tyrone sighed and held up three fingers. “First: I turned over Mrs. Tanebrae and applied a light coat of barbecue sauce to her for perfect browning.” He joked. “Second: I told Mr. Fisher to lay off the Jerk seasoning sauce therefore sparing his bathroom. Third: The early bird guest, I’ve asked her to marry me.”

Cairo snorted. “Marriage, huh? Please spare me, Ty. I’ve known you almost all my life and not once in that time have you met a girl you wanted to marry.”

“Can things not change?” Tyrone placed his hand over his heart. “I’m a virtuous man, Cairo. I’m good to the ladies because they are oh-so-good to me. But believe me; I’ll willingly give them all up for this woman. Quick, feel my forehead.” He grabbed Cairo’s hand. “All jokes aside, I think I’m in love.”

“Maybe lust but not love,” Cairo said snatching his hand back. “There is a difference you know.”

“There
is
?” Tyrone crinkled his brow. “Not that it matters. This is the real thing. Wait until you see her cuz, she’s a stunner.”

“Beauty is not always a good thing.” Cairo said wryly.
Storm had been beautiful. She’d also been weak and deceitful. Cairo was immediately angry with himself. He barely thought of her but sometimes he surprised himself.

“How long has it been since Storm . . . six years, almost seven?” Tyrone read the direction of his thoughts and gave his shoulder a hard squeeze. “Forget it. It’s over.”

Tyrone was right. Cairo shook himself out of the black mood that threatened to settle over him and smiled. “Back to the soon-to-be Mrs. Tyrone Ebanks. Tell me all about her.”

“Ah yes, my wife. I went to visit her in the solarium and explained to her that I would get her a room. I have Inez making up 506 as we speak.”

“The painting’s done?”

“Barely. Exhaust fans are running at top speed. It should be fine in about another hour.”

“I’ll let her know that she can have breakfast in the dining room while she’s waiting. Our treat.” Cairo said on his way out of the room. “Who knows,” he added. “I might just want her for myself.”

Tyrone snorted. “Please! That’ll be the day. If my homegirl Ambrosia couldn’t turn your head then no one can. No woman
—
white, black or in between has been able to hold your attention for more than five minutes.”

“That’s not true!” Cairo protested. “I talk to the ladies.”

“Talk!” Tyrone snickered. “You’re in the prime of your life, rich and successful beyond your wildest dreams, why in God’s name would you only want to talk?”

“Women are for savoring not for sampling.” Cairo said with a good-natured grin. “You’re incorrigible. If the female guests didn’t think you were so pretty, I would fire your philandering butt.”