Perfect Page 15

  “I decorated the house,” she said, knowing that in no way justified her desire to own it. The money for every piece of furniture, painting, and decorative item had come from his bank account. She’d been given carte blanche to make changes as she see fit. “I want the Bentley, too.”

  Her attorney’s mouth fell open. He must think she was a crazy, callous bitch. “Daniella, the chances…”

  “I don’t care about chances,” she said firmly. She stood. “Make the request.”

  “You understand that if he doesn’t give in on what you want, this could drag out for months.”

  “I understand, but what do you care? He’ll cover your fees. Do as I ask, or I’ll find another attorney who will.” She’d been unnecessarily harsh, but she couldn’t afford for him to ruin her plan.

  Davis sat up. “I’ll have the revisions for you right away.”

  “Take your time. There’s no rush.”

  She left right after, heading back to the gallery even though it was late in the day. She dreaded going back to the house and facing Ms. Ernestine and the rest of the staff. They couldn’t possibly know the details of what had transpired between her and Cyrus, but somehow she felt they did and silently condemned her.

  They continued to keep the house in the same orderly fashion he preferred, as if he was still there, but as far as Daniella knew, he hadn’t returned once.

  She wanted to send a message to Cyrus through Shaun, but after the message he’d relayed through her attorney that they should only communicate through their lawyers, she’d decided against it. She thought about going to his office and confronting him, but she was afraid he might have had her barred from the building. She had a not-so-humorous thought of him sending her photo down to the security guards, similar to a mugshot, and warning she should not be allowed to get past the atrium. Even if she did, she’d never get past Roxanne. The woman was a bulldog when it came to him and wouldn’t hesitate to make the call to have her thrown out of the building.

  She’d have to wait and continue on the same course. Using the divorce was the only way she could think of to stay in Cyrus’s life for now. Until a better idea came along.

  ****

  Cyrus stared down at the dinner plate. Fish, rice pilaf, and vegetables stared back at him. He couldn’t even taste the food. He’d lost the taste for a lot of things lately. He’d been working harder than ever in an effort to forget Daniella, but hadn’t succeeded in doing so. Once she entered his thoughts, he couldn’t expunge her. Not even in sleep could he get any rest. At random times he woke up in the middle of the night and reached for her, only to find the empty space beside him in the bed.

  He had to stay focused. People depended on him. His attorney thought he was crazy for not fighting Daniella on any of her requests, but if any part of him was good, he had to correct his past wrongs and do right by her. He had to give her the one thing he’d denied her all along because of his own selfishness. Her freedom.

  The sooner the better. Nothing she asked for was irreplaceable, but his attorney disagreed with his decisions. Especially concerning the house.

  “She’s asking for your house, Cyrus. She has no legitimate claim to it. You lived in it before you married her.”

  Cyrus shrugged. “She helped me decorate it. Maybe she’s in love with the place. I really don’t care.” What was the point of holding onto the property? There were too many memories of Daniella there. All her touches in the colors and the furnishings. He would find another place, something smaller and more practical. For now, the Four Seasons Hotel served his purposes. Maybe he’d buy Ivy’s condo since she and Lucas had mentioned they wanted a larger place for after they were married.

  “As your attorney, I have to advise you the concessions you’re making are not in your best interest.”

  “I’m fully aware of what my best interests are, but I want to get this over with. These proceedings have gone on long enough, haven’t they?”

  “Cyrus?”

  He looked up into his mother’s kind, worried eyes. Around the table, the rest of the family observed him with concern. Trenton, to his left, and across from him Ivy, Lucas, Katie, and Xavier.

  “Is the food not to your liking?” his mother asked. “I could have Adelina make something else.”

  “I’m all right, Mother. I’m just not very hungry.”

  He sliced into the fish and placed a morsel in his mouth but didn’t miss the look that passed between her and Trenton.

  “I heard you’ve changed your schedule a bit.” His mother’s voice was cautious. It was unusual for her to be so careful. She usually spoke her mind and had the talent so many Southern women possessed—the ability to insult you while smiling, and it was only later you realized you should be offended by their deceptively innocent remark.

  “Who told you I changed my schedule?”

  “Ivy happened to mention it.”

  He glanced at his sister. “And what did Ivy say?”

  His mother dabbed at the corner of her mouth with the cloth napkin. “She mentioned you’ve been off your routine. Security said you’ve been showing up late for work.”

  Cyrus sat back and looked at his sister. “So you have security keeping tabs on me?”

  “No, I don’t,” Ivy said.

  “I’m at work by seven-thirty.”

  “You have to admit that’s later than normal for you. You usually get in earlier and work out.”

  “What Mother is trying to say,” Trenton interrupted, “is that everyone’s worried about you because you’re not acting like yourself.”

  They all had their eyes on him, and they were filled with worry. Even his niece, Katie. It was unnerving to see such concern, as if he’d somehow fallen short. The way they were behaving made him feel as if this was an intervention. He was the oldest and his father had charged him with the important task of being the head of the family and taking care of them—not the other way around.

  “I’m fine,” he said shortly. “I have a lot on my mind.”

  “Do you want to talk about it…privately?” his mother asked quietly.

  “No, I don’t. As a matter of fact, I should go into the office and get some work done.”

  The concern in his mother’s eyes deepened. “It’s Sunday.”

  Oh yeah, it was.

  Since he and Daniella separated for the second time, he had been distracted and zoned out at the oddest times. One day he’d even driven to her gallery. He hadn’t realized he was on his way there until he pulled up outside. Since he was there, he thought he’d talk to her, maybe even apologize for his heinous behavior their last night together in Spain.

  But he had been ill prepared for the sight of his wife, standing amidst a crowd of smiling faces wishing her well as they toasted the New York location. She’d looked so…happy. So content, he hadn’t wanted to spoil her special night with his presence. He’d slipped away unnoticed and sat in the car, finally accepting it was indeed over. Even in their happiest moments, he was convinced she’d never looked so radiant.

  Love, a pure form of it reserved only for her—had been pushed back down where it belonged. No point in getting his hopes up. No point in thinking that maybe if he had been a different man from the beginning, she could love him.

  In a moment of introspection, he knew without a doubt she could never love him. Why would she? He’d never given her a single reason to.

  Cyrus scraped his chair back. Sunday dinners were important to his mother, but he couldn’t stay there any longer and face the pitying looks of his family members. Hell, maybe he would go to work.

  “Mother, I’m sorry to disrupt dinner, but I can’t do this right now. No need to worry about Johnson Enterprises, though. The business won’t suffer.”

  His mother frowned. “I’m not worried about the business, son. I’m worried about you.”

  “We’ve never seen you like this,” Trenton added.

  “Everything is fine. I’m fine. No need for anyone to worry.”
>
  Cyrus kissed his mother on the cheek and saw her look desperately at his brother, Xavier. A message was conveyed, and Xavier rose immediately to his feet. Cyrus didn’t stick around. He left the dining room without any intention of talking to his brother.

  “Hang on a minute.” Xavier caught up to him in the foyer.

  Cyrus spun around. “I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth. He glanced at his watch as if he had a pressing appointment.

  “I’m sure you are, but that’s not why I stopped you.”

  Cyrus raised an eyebrow in skepticism.

  “Well, it is, but before we get to the part about you, I wanted to talk to you about what we discussed at Ivy’s engagement party.”

  “What about it?” Cyrus said impatiently. He wasn’t in the mood to argue.

  Xavier appeared uncertain, as if unsure of what to say. “Maybe I could…come back and help out with the company.”

  Cyrus hadn’t expected him to say that. “You’re actually interested?”

  He shrugged. “You could say I am, but what would I do there?”

  Cyrus considered his brother for a moment. “What brought this on?”

  “Like I said, I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

  This was good news. With Xavier working at Johnson Enterprises, they’d all be there except Gavin, and he knew Xavier would do a good job once he’d been fully trained.

  “Well, with your background in finance, the logical position would be CFO, but we have one already and I’d much rather have you in a different position. You should become the COO of the company, work closely with me and learn the ropes, the same way I did when Father was alive. There’s a corner office sitting empty on the executive floor. All you have to do is put your name on it and move in.”

  Xavier nodded thoughtfully. “I need to tie up a few things before I bail on the nonprofits. I still want to be involved with them in some capacity. These projects are important to me.”

  “Understandable, but with our financial resources, you could still work with those organizations and be a voice for change, the way you want.”

  “Would I have to wear a suit?”

  “Yes. I’ll get you in touch with my tailor.” He looked his brother up and down, taking in the dashiki and distressed jeans. “We can’t have you walking around the offices looking like a drugged out Rastafarian. No offense.”

  A smile softened the corner of Xavier’s mouth. “Offense taken.”

  They grinned at each other. Something they hadn’t done in a long time.

  “Now, to your personal life…”

  Cyrus sighed. “You’re all worried about nothing.”

  “Make up with your wife. I can’t stand to see you operating at less than one hundred percent. If you aren’t together mentally, the rest of us are screwed.”

  “Dani and I didn’t work out. It’s really over this time.” He considered himself a strong man, but losing her again had rocked him—hard. His life was not the same and he knew it never would be.

  “Damn,” Xavier said in a grave voice. “You guys couldn’t fix it, huh?”

  It was with great effort Cyrus shrugged and downplayed the catastrophe that was his marriage. “No.” He didn’t meet Xavier’s gaze because he didn’t want him to see how much the separation from Daniella affected him. During moments alone when he dwelled on their separation, he likened the empty, hollow ache to that of losing a vital organ. “I better go so I can get in to work early enough for security to report to Ivy I’m back on my schedule.”

  As he was turning away, he heard Katie’s soft voice. “Uncle Cyrus.” She stood uncertainly in the hallway with her hands behind her back. Concerned brown eyes looked up at him through her glasses. “Are you okay?”

  He smiled at his niece. “I’m not at my best right now,” he admitted.

  “Do you need a hug?” she asked. That was about the best idea he’d heard in a long time.

  “Yeah.”

  Katie rushed over and wrapped her arms around his waist. She squeezed hard and he hugged her back.

  “Thank you,” he said softly, and kissed the top of her head.

  She looked up at him. “I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you’re doing fine.”

  “Thank you, Munchkin.”

  She and Xavier went back to the dining room, and Cyrus left his mother’s house. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t feel any better when Katie called him. Reason being, he’d tasted heaven. Now anything else felt like hell.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Cyrus pulled up in front of the Four Seasons Hotel and stepped out of his car. He handed the keys to the valet. It was almost ten o’clock at night and he’d left work fifteen minutes before. Entering the empty suite he now called home didn’t appeal to him, but he couldn’t stay at work forever.

  Briefcase in hand, he flung his jacket over his shoulder and had strolled halfway through the foyer to the bank of elevators when he saw Daniella walking toward him. His steps slowed, but his heart started racing.

  “Hi, Cyrus,” she said.

  His gaze traveled over her from head to toe. A chocolate pencil skirt fit snug over her hips and a silk blouse in a lighter brown flattered her full bosom. Her long hair hung in loose, ebony waves over her shoulder and down her back. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Can I talk to you?” She looked discomforted, as if she was nervous.

  “Do you need something?” His eyes searched her face. He would give her whatever she needed. He hoped she at least knew that.

  “I need to talk to you,” she replied.

  “How long have you been waiting here?” he asked.

  “Not long. I figured you’d be working late.” Her smile was timid. “Do you mind if I come up?”

  He almost said no, because he couldn’t tolerate having her presence in his new sanctuary. At least there only his thoughts tormented him, but if Daniella came upstairs, he’d have the memory of seeing her in this new space, too.

  His own selfish urges won out.

  “Sure, you can come up,” he said with a curt nod.

  Neither of them spoke all the way up to the tenth floor. They stood at opposite ends of the elevator, the way strangers do. At the presidential suite, he opened the door and let her enter first, using the opportunity to assess the way the material of her skirt stretched over her plump little ass. She smelled good, too, and he wanted to lean closer and gratify his senses with the scent of her. The light in the entryway illuminated her hair, giving it the appearance of smooth silk. He wanted to sift his fingers through the lush strands and experience their softness again, but he fought the urge.

  In the living room he set down his briefcase and tossed his jacket over the back of the sofa.

  She stood awkwardly in the center of the room. “This is nice.”

  Earth tones dominated the room’s decorations, and in the living room, dining room, and bedroom he had great views of Elliott Bay through the floor to ceiling windows.

  “It’s fine, and big enough to suit my purposes.” This was what they’d devolved to—inane pleasantries about his living arrangements. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “I don’t know how to say this.” Daniella wrung her hands together. Now that she was here, she was a nervous wreck to tell Cyrus her news. She stared down at her shoes, summoning the courage to say the words she’d practiced all day. She finally looked up at him. “I’m pregnant.”

  No movement from him, no reaction at all. He stared at her as if he was disoriented. She understood the feeling. She’d been shocked herself when the doctor told her. Once the initial surprise wore off, she’d recognized the opportunity her pregnancy presented. It was a chance to start a family with the man she loved, and an ace in the hole she’d been waiting for to orchestrate a reconciliation between them.

  “Did you hear me?” she asked.

  His gaze fell to her waistline. Then there was the smallest of movements—a twitch right above his eyebrow before he a
bruptly turned away as if he could no longer bear to look her. His shoulders became as taut and rigid as wooden planks.

  “How far along are you?”

  “Ten weeks,” she replied, and she could almost see him doing the math to determine the time of conception, the same as she had, when she’d figured out she’d gotten pregnant in Málaga.

  He’d have to take her back now. She tossed her hair, fluffing it with her fingers. Wearing her hair down had been a calculated decision because she knew he liked it this way.

  The cadence of her heart sped up as she waited, anticipated he would tell her they had to stay married. That he wanted a prominent role in his child’s life and they would live together as husband and wife—as a family—to make sure that happened. Their child would be the bridge to bring them back together, the way they were before he found her prescription. He’d had feelings for her. She’d seen it in his face and in his actions.

  “Joint custody is the only arrangement I’ll accept.” Cyrus’s voice sounded detached, hollow. “That’s nonnegotiable. I’ll have my lawyer draw up new papers to include child support.”

  What? Her heart juddered and then stopped before starting again at an even faster, panicked pace. That wasn’t the response she’d expected.

  “I’m carrying your baby.”

  “Which you didn’t want in the first place,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion and his body still ramrod straight. “I understand, and I want to make this as easy for you as possible, which includes giving you the house, as you requested, and of course enough to maintain it.” He continued to stare out of the window into the night.

  Why wouldn’t he look at her? They should be celebrating right now. Why didn’t he grab her and hug her and tell her of his excitement? That all was forgiven and they could start over?

  Daniella licked her dry lips, true panic setting in. He was supposed to come back home. “I don’t understand. You love that house,” she said, hoping she’d effectively hidden the dismay in her voice. Her last chance to hold onto him was slipping away. Why was he giving her all of these things?