Chapter 11
Dina stepped into the elevator, feeling like a load had been lifted from her shoulders. The ongoing silent debate, whether mixing business with pleasure was the right thing to do, ended. Her easiness in Cole’s presence was like none she’d ever experienced, as if she’d known him forever. The bond between her and Vince didn’t compare to what she had with Cole. A working association would not hinder her work ethics. Besides, she had already been there, done that. If word got out she dated a client, she’d deal with it.
With that settled, she inspected her reflection in the elevator’s shiny wall, hoping no signs remained from the allergic reaction. The thought of having to explain to her father what she’d been doing when she broke out was downright hilarious. She giggled and covered her hand with her mouth. Even if she didn’t tell her dad everything, Cole stroking her with his tongue to orgasm would replay in the back of her mind. She, no doubt, would turn red with embarrassment and would have to explain why to her father.
No, thank you.
Luckily, the welts on her face vanished like the burning between her legs had and her lips returned to normal size. Earlier, in the bathroom, when she realized how big her lips had grown, she wanted to crawl back in bed and hide under the covers. Cole’s reaction to her appearance was what sealed the deal that she wanted more with him. She’d been so shocked by his sweet words that tears formed.
The elevator dinged its arrival on the lobby floor and the doors opened. Her cell rang, the vibration rippling through her coat pocket to her hip. She snatched the phone and pressed the talk button. “Hi, Dad. I’m—”
“Dina Bell.” Preston’s voice reached through the radio waves, and clutched her throat.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
His sickening, syrupy tone didn’t convince her she should listen. “You want money.”
“You’re perceptive.” His arrogance relaying he believed he was entitled to whatever she had.
“If that were true, I would have known you were a lying, cheating asshole before we married.”
“I’d be careful if I were you. Talking smack will come back to haunt you.”
“I’m hanging up now,” she snapped, lowering the phone
“No, wait, Dina.”
Her thumb hovered over the end call button, but the strain in his voice tugged at her conscience.
“Please.”
She grimaced and returned the phone to her ear. “What?”
“Since you asked so kindly, yes, I want money.”
Sucking a deep breath, she grasped onto her sanity to not blow up at him. What good would it do her? While they were married, how she felt about anything hadn’t mattered and wouldn’t make a difference now. “An intelligent person would know when someone doesn’t return a call, the answer is no.”
“I picked up on that…yes, but you don’t have all the information.”
What now? Lord help her, she didn’t know why she considered listening to his nonsense. “Spill.”
“If you don’t help me, I’ll tell the same gossip rag that spread the juicy details of our divorce your mother is a lesbian and screwed your best friend’s mother.”
Dina’s breath caught, muscles weakened, and heart stopped. The cell fell to the floor, breaking in two.
Frozen in place, she stared ahead, tears filling her vision. How did he know? She had to get to her father before Preston backed his threat. After all these years of her dad keeping their private life a secret for her ex to spill the beans to the social rag would tear him apart.
She picked up the pieces and puffed her irritation at Preston as she marched toward the entrance and tossed the parts of her phone into a trashcan with a clank. Her ex was scum. Dragging her parents into the middle of his troubles after they paid for his veterinary school was a low blow even for a loathsome person like him.
“Hello, Miss Dina,” Alfred said, interrupting her staring contest with the trashcan. “Would you like me to get a car?”
The floor-to-ceiling windows gave a view of the rain drumming the streets. The day didn’t look inviting, but talking with her father about the past to mend the ties between them was imperative. Too much time had been wasted, and now, she had another element to defuse before it ignited and harmed her family more. “Yes, please.”
Alfred lifted his portable radio, gazed at something behind her, and let it fall to his side.
Dina peered over her shoulder.
A man dressed in a suit, holding an umbrella above his head approached. “Miss Dina.”
Dina’s narrowed her eyes at the familiar face of the dark-haired, dark-eyed limo driver. “Silo?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled, bowing. “Mr. Dunbar called me. Right this way.”
“Stay dry, Ms. Wright,” Alfred said.
“Thank you.” She shifted closer to Silo under the umbrella and walked to the back of a limo. “The car’s been repaired already?”
“No, ma’am,” he said loud enough to hear him over the whipping wind and pounding rain. “Mr. Dunbar has two.”
Scooting into the backseat, she thought about the scene in the limo from the other night: her drinking too much, talking to the online guy, the accident, and the one thing that stood out most of all, Cole. Again, his kindness came to the forefront of her thoughts, overshadowing the negatives in her life, a bright light.
“Where to, ma’am?”
“My father’s,” she said and gave him the address.
He pulled out onto the street. The windshield wipers flipped back and forth as if they were on speed, and still couldn’t keep up with the increasing rain.
After several wide-eyed minutes of only listening and staring at the blinding rain, the familiarity of her parents’ street and their building came into view. Silo stopped in front of the brick high-rise.
“Don’t get out, Silo.” No need for both of them to get wet.
Silo twisted, looking back at her from the front seat. “It’s my job, ma’am.”
“It’s also your job to listen to your passenger, right?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, ma’am. It is. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to stay to pick you up.”
“That’s okay, and please call me Dina.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, smiling.
She readied her thumb over the knob on the umbrella’s handle, shoved opened the door, and was greeted by her father’s doorman. His large umbrella shielded her and him the few steps from the now blustering winds and rain until they stepped under the apartment building’s canopy, leading to the main entrance.
“Good morning, miss,” he said, with a hint of a French accent, and opened the door.
She tossed her umbrella in the stand outside the door and unbuttoned her coat to shake off the excessive water before she entered the foyer. “Hi, Ronald.”
Thunder rolled and lightning cracked, almost simultaneously. Wide eyed, Dina gazed through the glass doors at the show Mother Nature put on and caught a glimpse of a man at the edge of the road, just under the canopy. A jolt rushed through her with another crack of thunder, brightening the area, and his face came into view. At first glance, she’d thought Preston had followed her or came to threaten her father but the man’s dreadlocks and dark eyes, wicked-looking, reminded her of the person in Café Coffees.
Dina inched backwards, bumping into the doorman. “I’ll handle this,” he said and pushed open the door. “Move along, sir,” Ronald said before the door clicked shut, blocking whatever else he might have said.
Ronald actions became animated and the man with dreadlocks put his hand under his chin and slashed it forward.
Dina wasn’t sure, but she believed Ronald was told where to go in sign language.
Once the man walked away, Ronald gripped the door handle and came back inside. “He won’t bother you again.”
Looking out the window, she squinted through the thickness of the rain in the direction the man went. “What did he say?”
“That you looked like someone he knew.”
“Knew me?” She hadn’t considered she might know the stranger. Had she unjustly been scared of him for no reason?
The niggling feeling at the back of her neck she had the day at the coffeehouse, and just now, told her she hadn’t. “Thanks.”
He nodded and she walked through the foyer to the parted elevator doors. Inside, she entered the code for the penthouse and rested her back against the wall, grasping the waist-high railing. Before long, the smooth ride ended and the door divided.
The faint glow from the Tiffany candelabras bounced off the entryway’s white marble floor. She stepped inside and twisted toward the soft footfalls approaching, tightness settled in her chest.
“Hello, miss.” Her father’s butler touched her shoulders and on her nod, he slipped off her wet coat. He hung it on a peg over a mat to catch the water. “It’s a dreadful day.” A smile crossed his face, lightening his dark features. His brown eyes held the gentleness of a grandfather while his broad-shoulders said he could kick ass.
“Hi, Fred. How are you?” She babbled, her nerves eating at her as she leaned forward to peek in the family room for her father. “How’s the family? Grandchild?”
“I’m well, thank you. My little pokie is growing like a weed.”
“She’s two?” Not finding her dad, she tilted her head and eyed the hallway, leading back to the bedrooms.
“Two and a half, if you ask her,” Fred said, not paying any attention to her scanning the area. “Half years are important at this age.” He chuckled. “She brings life back to me, that one.”
Dina stopped fidgeting and let the older man’s warmth for his grandchild wash over her. “I bet she does.”
Heavier footsteps approached. Her dad appeared from the hall, his eyes glued to a page in an open book that he carried. He entered the living room, so engrossed in reading the story, he never looked her way.
A blast of emotions slammed into her. Tears stung her eyes. She swallowed the lump of nerves catching in her throat and uttered the one word that would disclose the reason why she was there. “Dad.”
“Excuse me,” the butler said on a pleased sigh and he scurried out of the room.
Tom Saunders stiffened. The thud signaled he shut his book. His back expanded and contracted for a few labored breaths before facing her. His eyes tinged red, widened. A slow smile curled his lips. “I’ve missed hearing you call me dad,” he said, relief smoothing out his wrinkled skin.
And just like that, he dropped his book to a chair and opened his arms. All the crap, she’d put him through was forgiven in that one simple act.
A sob worked up her throat and she fell into his embrace. “D-a-a-d, I’m s-o-r—” The scent of mint and honey engulfed and comforted her. “I tr-eat-ed you aw-ful.”
His chin rested atop her head and his chest vibrated against her cheek. “Does this mean you’ve stopped blaming me?”
“Yes.” She sniffled, tightening her grip on his shirt. “What I did was unthinkable.”
“Sweetheart, someone you trusted lied.” His frustration showed in his clipped response.
“But I should have had faith in you.”
“It’s my fault. If I had only told you the truth…” The hair on her head moved when he released the last word on a sigh.
Coming to him today and asking for forgiveness for not trusting him, she figured would rank high on the difficulty scale, right up there with asking a guy out on a date for the very first time. Yet, she said his name and he instantly knew why she was there and forgave her. “How’d you know the reason I apologized?”
Eyes the same color as hers sparkled and he slid his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s have some coffee.”
She rested her head on his shoulder and stretched an arm around his back. The undying, unconditional love her father exhibited since her first memory arrived in full force and tugged on her heartstrings.
They walked through the family room. Cream-colored furnishings surrounded a coffee table and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Central Park. In the kitchen nook, windows gave way to her father’s hobby, a botanical garden.
They settled in chairs beside each other at a mahogany table. The maid her parents employed for a few years appeared, wearing a black dress and an apron tied around her waist. She placed a latte in front of Dina and a cup of coffee by her dad. The matronly maid smiled at Dina before setting a plate of muffins in the center of the table.
“Thank you,” she and her father said in unison.
With a nod, the maid disappeared behind the swinging door to the kitchen.
Dina inhaled the fresh aroma and sipped the steamy froth, letting the warmth wash over her. “How’d she know to prepare my favorite drink?”
“I’m sure Fred told her.” He set his cup in the saucer. “You asked another question a moment ago.”
“Yes. How’d you know the reason I apologized?”
“The writing is on the wall. That, and Vince stopped by and told me about your conversation earlier.” He swiped a muffin off the plate, worry creasing his forehead. “Guilt ate at him. He apologized for telling you. I thanked him for being more of a man than I am.” He bit into the muffin. “I didn’t expect you to come by so quick. I figured it’d be a day or two before you digested everything, but sweetheart…hearing you say my favorite word—” He braced his elbow on the table and rested his forehead against his fingers.
“Dad.” She slid a hand over his. “I love you.”
He met her gaze, his eyes watery and the whites streaked with red. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”
The intense moment passed and easiness settled between them.
Dina plucked a blueberry muffin off the plate. “Vince didn’t mean to step on your toes by telling me.”
“I’m glad he told you. He always did what was best. When he disappeared…” Her dad blew out a breath and shook his head, his aggravation clear. “I was concerned about the reason he left, but I assumed he left over the grief of losing his father and needed a break from his meddling mother, not that he witnessed Clarisse and Betty’s infidelity.”
She squeezed her eyes shut on the image of what Vince told her about their mothers. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Her dad forced a chuckle and hit his fisted hand on the table. “I imagine you don’t. I know I don’t. The brunette woman Vince brought with him is a loyal friend to you.”
“Monique was here?”
“I believe that’s her name.”
“She’s a terrific friend.” She tore off a piece of muffin. “Dad, why didn’t you tell me the truth about Mom? Why let me think you were the bad guy?”
“Girls need their mothers.”
“They need their fathers, too. We’ve lost years.”
His mouth stretched into a taut line. “We did lose years. I hated that we didn’t talk. I kept telling myself you were better off having Clarisse in your life. If I had a redo, I’d broach the situation differently. I supported her decision thinking she knew what was best for you.”
“Did you know”—Dina paused, working out a dignified way to ask the next question—“about Mom’s…behavior…before Vince found them together?”
Her dad drummed his fingers on the table and gazed in the direction of the garden on the terrace. “I guess I did. After you were born, she…well…let’s just say, I assumed she was tired until the day she turned up missing. When I found the nanny pushing you on a swing in the back of the apartment building and your mother nowhere around, I went searching for her. First, I checked the garage. The car was there, so I knew she was close.” He shook his head, worry lines creasing his forehead and the corners of his mouth turned downward. “The ride in the elevator to our apartment was torture. When I found the kitchen empty, I had a bad feeling.”
She took in her dad’s features for the first time in years. He’d aged. His smooth face had been replaced by light wrinkles, gray sprinkled his dark hair, and some of his muscle density had vanished. For being in his late fifties, he looked great, but stressed. “Did you catch her?”
His face looked pained. “Yes, in our bedroom with the housekeeper. I fired the woman on the spot.” His gaze landed on Dina’s. “I made sure I didn’t hire an attractive female again.”
Dina tilted her head to the swinging door, leading to the kitchen. “Don’t let the maid hear you.”
“She’s attractive, but not in the way your mother likes. Besides, she’s loyal to her husband and not one to wander.”
Dina couldn’t help but ask, “How many affairs did Mom have?” The impact of what her mom had done baffled her, but what she experienced didn’t compare to what her dad must have endured for so long.
“I never took count. All I can say is for a span of time I wondered why we couldn’t keep maids employed. The high turnover concerned me.”
“Mom led me to believe you perused every woman you saw.”
An unfeeling chuckle escaped him. “I never wandered. Sweetheart, as a child or now, you shouldn’t have had to understand your parents’ marital problems. It was my responsibility to protect you. At a tender age…learning your mom cheated…with your best friend’s mother.” He paused. “Well, it’s not something a girl needs to hear. On the other hand, I ignored your mother by working too much. She grew lonely and found attention elsewhere.”
Dina couldn’t believe her dad still tried to shoulder the responsibility for her mom’s actions. “Do you think if you were more attentive, Mom wouldn’t have directed her affection to others?”
“I can’t answer that.”
She could. “She didn’t think of anyone else but herself.” Case and point, the way she convinced Dina that Clarisse was the victim. “I think she would have cheated no matter what.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Maybe. I love your mother, always have, and always will.”
His admission surprised her. “I can’t see how. I don’t love Preston. I despise him.”
“I shouldn’t have encouraged you to marry him.” Her dad’s strained voice proved how much he regretted nudging her toward Preston. “I hoped he would have protected and taken care of you.”
Funny how her father thought she needed a man to help her through difficult times. What had she done for him to think she couldn’t handle herself? “From what, Dad?”
“Learning the truth.”
“I should have heard the facts from Mom and you from the beginning. I didn’t and don’t need a man to protect me.”
“You’re right. I’ve made mistakes…a lot of them…I had tunnel vision…I’m sorry.” He pinched her chin. “Let this go, Dina. I know you want to confront your mother, but it won’t do you or her any good.”
She wanted to do what he asked, especially after the way she’d treated him. But to keep quiet unsettled her. “Dad, I can’t make any promises.”
“I assumed.”
She rested back in the chair and the other thing she needed to tell her dad came to mind. “Dad, Preston’s asking for money.”
“Why? He has a successful business.”
“It baffles me, too. Preston said if I didn’t give him money, he’d tell the gossip rags about Mom cheating. How does he know?”
Disgust crossed his features. “I don’t know, but don’t give him the money.”
“I don’t plan to.”