Rearranging Fate, page 8
“You’re quite articulate for someone with a limited education.”
Having been found lacking most of my life, I tell myself not to be offended. Given my background, it was a reasonable observation. “I like to read, and I’m a fast learner. You can acquire a lot from books, magazines, and television if you pay attention and apply yourself. Things start seeping into your brain processes without you even realizing.”
Thoughtful, he considers for a beat. “Books, I’ll give you that. I’ve known of people achieving and excelling at new careers from studying books alone. But television?”
“Pop culture,” I put in helpfully. “Reality shows. Drama. Comedy. Mrs. Fernandez,” I reply to the unvoiced question in his eyes. “She loves television and watches it nonstop.” My teeth sink into the sandwich. At the explosion of artful flavors, I hum with approval.
Damian digs into his salad, studying me in between bites. “How long have you worked at Café Love?”
I shrug and reach for the tea. “A few years. How about you? What do you do when you’re not eating at Love’s?” And gawking at me.
“I build things,” he says simply.
“Like what?” I press.
“Mostly buildings. Commercial. Mixed use.” He gestures vaguely with his fork. “Nothing too exciting.”
It sounds more exciting than cleaning tables all day. “Did you have to go to college for that?”
If he thought that was an obvious question, he doesn’t let on. “Six years.”
Six years. I finished fifth grade, but that’s hardly something I would boast. “Oh,” I allow before taking another bite so I don’t have to add to it. How would I possibly follow that? This time the food goes down lumpy. I decide to change the subject so I don’t have to think about yet another glaring difference between me and the rest of the world. “This is really good. You must really like Bob’s cooking. You’re at Love’s so much.”
A shoulder lifts, falls. He helps himself to his drink before saying, “It’s not bad.”
“Not bad? You used to eat there once a week.”
One dark brow goes up. “Were you counting?”
A flush blazes through me. I don’t know why. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I work there, of course I should notice the customers. “After a while we know who the regulars are. They usually order the same things. You stopped coming.”
He leans in, gorgeous eyes twinkling. “Did you miss me?”
The blaze just turned into a red-hot inferno.
“We miss all our customers.” That’s a good one. “Bob hates it when they stop coming for no apparent reason. Sometimes they move on from the neighborhood, but we don’t know about it.”
“I was out of the country for a few months,” he divulges, sitting back.
Out of the country. Like Paige and Colin. Like some of Love’s regulars who come back with tales of adventures from overseas, showing off a tan along with pictures on their phones.
Yet another one of my pipe dreams, another useless what-if.
Maybe once Damian makes good on his promise and I have my identity established, I can save up enough for a trip. Nothing showy. Canada to start, perhaps.
“What are you thinking about?” Damian interrupts my daydreaming. “You’ve got this wistful smile on you.”
“Just how nice that must be, traveling. See the magnificent, exotic places I’m only familiar with through words and photos. Experience other cultures. Breathe history. I think the furthest I’ve ever visited was North Carolina when I was a kid.”
“Where would you want to go first?”
“Anywhere.” I’m not being factious. It’s just the truth. “My friend Paige-I think you know her–she’s in Copenhagen right now. She’s invited me to visit a few times. I would love to, but... well, you know.”
“I’ll take you.”
His expression hasn’t changed. There’s no teasing glint in his eyes, no telling, jesting smirk, but I laugh anyway. “Good one,” I wheeze out, waving off the ridiculous offer. “I’ll be happy when you take me home.”
He nods, somber. “You’re right. Colin and Paige are returning to the States soon, so maybe somewhere else. Pick a place, Cara. The first place you want to board a plane and feel firsthand.”
“Australia.”
It just came out. I’m humoring him. That must be it. It’s summer there right now, and I’m so sick of the relentless cold, always there, a lurking shadow ready to strike to take over every inch of me.
“Australia, it is then.”
He doesn’t mean it. For all intents and purposes, I’m a stranger to him. Even the nicest guy wouldn’t take a stranger on an extravagant vacation. He’s humoring me.
That, or he’s after something.
Wait... he is. He’s after a baby.
10
~ Damian ~
Violent gusts whip around me, plastering my shirt against me and stirring my hair. The fact that it’s not just a breezy tickle on my scalp but long enough for me to notice is progress. Ivan strolls beside me, admiring the wild and magnificent view that neither of us is tired of even after all these years. Ivan found me out here after Cara excused herself, allowing Barbara to escort her to the bathroom.
By the time I’m done, Cara Candlewood won’t be able to deny me.
The plan is really quite uncomplicated. Cara doesn’t have much, hasn’t had much of anything for years except fantastic imaginings. I saw the dreamy look in her eyes, the longing tugging at her striking expression when the topic changed to travels. She couldn’t journey to Denmark, a missed opportunity that made her more than a little woeful.
Australia. Denmark. Hell, I’ll take her to the moon if it’ll get me what I want from her.
“You want me to do what?”
A month. Four weeks to convince her the proposed arrangement would work in both of our favors. Perhaps I can solicit Paige to talk me up to her friend, a raving testimonial of my character. Tell her in details how I’m the perfect father for any child. Patient. Attentive. Loving.
Ivan was right. I do need to get laid. I’m clearly not of the right mind if I’m thinking Paige is going to be any help on this. She’d sooner jab a blunt fork in my balls than approve of something like this for her friend.
“Hello?” Ivan intrudes on my private musing. “Anyone in there?”
I blink. Why is he still here? “Excuse me?”
With practiced, efficient twists of his wrists, he has his much longer hair bundled in a low bun. “Excuse me?” he parodies. “You’re such an asshole.”
“For having manners?”
“For faking manners. You’re the guy who told his driver to go fuck a sharp stick.”
By silent agreement, we both halt at the very end of my property where rigid cliff meets harsher sea. The mild sun is behind us, bashful this time of year.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“You were seven.”
“Seven and a half. The fucker had it coming for openly ogling my mom.”
“Aunt Basil was a beautiful woman. You can’t blame the man for noticing. Us mortal men don’t have superpowers like you, able to resist all shapes of tits and asses. Speaking of which, why the ever-loving fuck would you want to send that sweet thing back? I’m pretty sure she has a genuine uterus part.”
I toss him a disgusted look. “You’re getting sicker by the hour, you know that?” That got more and more glaring with each page I was scrolling through in Ivan’s report. “And I can’t force a woman to carry my child. It has to be something she’s willing to do.”
“I thought you were going to pay her.”
Chilled splatters speckle my face. The water is restless, churning in anticipation. “I told you, some people can’t be bought.”
He makes a disbelieving noise carried off by the lash of the wind. “You mean you didn’t offer her enough. Give me ten minutes with her. She’ll be singing a different tune.”
“Ten minutes with you and she’d have her tubes tied. In any case, she’s agreed to think about it and to meet with the physicians. In the meantime, I’m not holding her here against her will.”
“Why not?” he argues. “You brought her here against her will.”
“I did no such thing. You did. I never told you to force her into the car or drug her, you idiot.”
“You said by any means necessary.”
Not for the first time, I wonder how we’re related. “Not physical. I assumed you knew that.”
“I assume nothing. Besides, how do we know for certain she doesn’t work for the senator?”
I don’t, but... “Cara is too... naïve. My father is more cunning, his deviousness more sophisticated, if you will. If he were to send a woman, he would find someone with more feminine finesse, schooled in worldly manipulation.”
“Like Grace.”
It isn’t easy, but I make sure my face doesn’t show my irritation at the mention of the vile name. “Exactly.”
Ivan is shaking his head, angling to face me and away from the untamed. “You might be the one who’s naïve. You didn’t see Grace coming. This Cara character, the whole finding your wallet coincidence and leaving it untouched, it might’ve been engineered to make you believe she’s innocent, even trustworthy. You’ve always been smart, and Alan would know you’re a hell of a lot more alert now. He would come at you where you least expect it.” His face twists with feigned nausea. “Apparently, a pretty thing like her does the trick. She might not be sophisticated, but she’s caught your eye, my friend.”
“Have a little faith in me. I’m not that easily charmed.” I throw up a hand just as he opens his mouth to dispute. “Before you say anything about Grace, I don’t need to remind you that yes, she caught my eye, but that about covered it. Unlike that time, what I’m looking for with Cara isn’t a few nights of sweaty sheets. My father doesn’t know about my plan.”
“That only means you should be more cautious. Speaking of which...” He pauses, gaze pulled to something over my shoulder, before muttering, “Incoming.”
A glimpse over reveals Cara approaching from the rear garden, her purposeful steps slowing at the sight of Ivan, then comes to a hesitant stop a safe ten feet from us.
Deliberately, the corners of Ivan’s mouth slink up into his harmless, for-the-pretty-ladies-only smirk. “Well, hello there, sweetness. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
His suddenly syrupy drone nearly has me vomiting out of my ass.
Turning fully, I watch Cara attempt to subtly inch closer and closer to me and away from my cousin.
“Hi.”
The greeting was so faint, I would’ve missed it to the breeze if I hadn’t been looking at it sneak out of her mouth. I send a discreet nod at Barbara lingering behind that has her turning back in the direction of the house.
“Cara, let me formally introduce you to Ivan, my cousin.”
As though he hadn’t drugged her and tossed her into a car only last night, Ivan is all welcoming charm as he cuts the distance with his hand out. Cara instinctively retreats a half step before she promptly catches herself. Bravely bracing her shoulders, she accepts the offered hand.
“Always my pleasure to meet such a beautiful woman.” Never taking his admiring eyes off her, he lifts her loosely clasped fingers and plants his big mouth on them.
Her fair cheeks pinken.
Hot irritation flickers through me. “Ivan was just leaving.”
Oozing practiced charisma, the prick only smiles at my pointed glare. “I have a few minutes. I wouldn’t be so rude as to leave our guest.”
Our guest? Just a few minutes ago he was harping on me to focus on cynicism, now he’s all but getting down on one knee in front of the woman.
“Why? You have some leftover chloroform laying around?”
At Cara’s tart remark, Ivan dramatically slaps his palm on his chest with his free hand. “I’m wounded. Here I thought we bonded.”
I wonder if Cara realizes she just scooted a smidgen closer to me yet again. That’s a good sign.
Her frown is filled with both bewilderment and accusation. “You’re creepy.”
Despite Ivan’s ridiculousness, I’m fighting back amusement. Cara is obviously smart. I’m thrilled at the discovery. Between my superior DNA and hers, our child can very well rule the world.
“He is that,” I agree easily, ignoring Ivan’s mock scowl. “Was there something you needed?”
She darts a last wary glimpse at Ivan before fully facing me. An encouraging smile is conjured. “I’m ready to go home now. It’s okay if you’re busy,” she quickly adds, punctuating it with accommodating nods as though that sales her case even more. “I can find my way back.”
“Now, why would you want to leave us, sweetness?” Ivan dares closer to her until she’s all but sandwiched between us. “We’re just starting to get to know each other.”
Cara flinches. “I have a boyfriend,” she shrieks out of the blue.
All my muscles turn to ice. She didn’t once hint there was someone in her life when we were discussing the possible arrangement. Suddenly there’s a boyfriend?
“You got a guy?” Ivan snickers in disbelief, not accepting even one cent of it. “C’mon. You don’t have to make shit up.”
“We met years ago,” she persists, not taking her guarded eyes off my chest like the name is spelled on it. “He’s handsome and fun and honest and everything good.”
Ivan’s uncertain gaze bounces to me, wordlessly assessing my reaction to this unexpected development. I don’t let my testiness show. He zeroes in to the back of Cara’s head. “What’s his name?”
That’s when she turns, meeting the skepticism head-on with surprising resolve. “Why? So you can stalk and drug him too?”
“Cara.” I lift a hand, lay it on her shoulder. “Ivan made a mistake yesterday. I promise you, it won’t happen again.”
It was meant to sooth, to appease, but she crossly shrugs off my hand, whirling back to face me with sudden resentment. “Good. That means you won’t stop me. I’m going home.”
“Whoa now. No need for any of that.”
Flicking irritated eyes at Ivan, Cara turns and begins stomping off.
I have a second to grant Ivan the same glare. “You’re not helping. Cara.” My shuffling feet catches up to her within seconds, but she doesn’t have the decency to slow down. “You don’t even know where we are,” I sigh. Grant me patience with exasperating women. “How are you going to get home on your own?”
“I’ve been on my own for years. I don’t need your help. Or your lawless cousin’s.”
“I told you. He’s a good guy. He didn’t mean any harm.”
“He’s a punk ass with a man bun. And you are the company you keep.”
“I prefer buns on women. Would you please stop for a moment?” I don’t give her a choice but halt her by gripping her forearm. Air escapes out of her, and she refuses to look at me, but at least she’s stopped trying to take flight with swift steps. “Forget Ivan. I said I would take you home, and I will, but not like this.”
“I’m not staying here for another minute.”
11
~ Cara ~
After the initial shock and terror of being taken, I realized Damian Delevan wouldn’t kill me, but I couldn’t believe he actually brought me back. It was what I wanted–expected–but I didn’t think it would be that easy. Years of watching, observing people on the streets and then at Love’s, I can usually tell a malicious or even questionable soul from a good one, and I don’t believe Damian fits the first. The latter description remains to be seen.
And I won’t waste precious time ruminating and gushing over the once in a lifetime helicopter ride back to the city that both thrilled my heart and made it pound with jittery nerves.
Plopping the bin of soiled dishes by Gus, I exchange my expired rag for a clean one, ignoring Bob’s surreptitious and speculative peeks in my direction from the stove. I only missed a day, yet by the worried frown on his face, I think he might believe I’m dying or something. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him I wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t call because my pay-by-the-month phone was out of data. We’re all still traumatized by the sudden and haunting discovery of Paige’s illness.
I don’t want Bob to fret, so I try for a reassuring smile while I pass him. His chin wobbles as he squints at me with trepidation.
He aims the spatula my way. “You eat. Ya hear me, girl? I won’t have ya falling on ya face.”
Food cures all for Bob. I nod, because there’s no arguing with him. “Yes, Bob. In a few.”
Never mind he made me scarf down a cheeseburger just twenty minutes ago.
As soon as I push out of the kitchen, Sissy urgently latches onto my hand and pulls me aside near the register with bubbling excitement.
Gloating eyes wide, her pretty cheeks are rosy with eagerness. “He’s back! That’s three times in the last four days. By himself this time. Cara.” Her fingers tighten. “That means he’s into me, right? I knew it! I’m so going to dump Paul. God, this guy is so delicious, I can hardly stand it.”
I stare at her wildly animated expression. “Who?”
Of course, I know who, but for some aching reason, I need to hear it.
“Damian Delevan,” she coos, finally releasing me to preen. The standard issued Love’s red t-shirt is tugged and smoothed over with a hand. “Damn but I wish we have hotter uniforms. Maybe I should get rid of my bra. Even his name is fabulous. At least, that’s the name on his credit card.”
“Whose credit card?” Jenny drops in between us with her own plastic, swiftly inserting it into the reader.
“The one on eight. He keeps coming back to see me.” She sends a smooth, knowing wink my way. “I think he’s working up to put the moves on me.”
Jenny barely spares a negligent glimpse over her shoulder before yanking the card out with one hand and ripping off the receipt with the other. “That guy?” She snorts, efficiently stuffing everything and a pen into the vinyl fold. “He’s hot for Cara. Everyone knows that,” she casually tosses out the grenade before whirling off to tend to her customers.
