Because of You (24 page)

“I think he has a crush on you,” Jordan whispered once they were out of earshot.

Aziza wasn't given the opportunity to form a comeback when she found herself in a dining room staring at
Wainwrights staring at her and Jordan. Wyatt, Edward, Noah and Rhett all stood up. She knew she looked nothing like she had the night of Wyatt's party. She wasn't wearing makeup, her hair was pulled into a ponytail, and her jeans, boots and peasant blouse were far from haute couture.

Christiane rested a hand over her heart. “Oh, my goodness! Did I forget you were coming?”

Jordan approached his mother, kissing her cheek. “No. We just came from Puerto Rico. Zee and I came by because we want to tell you something.”

“Jordan and his girlfriend are having a baby!” Chanel shouted.

Christiane blushed to the roots of her pale hair. “Chanel Wainwright! You apologize to Aziza right now.”

“But, Mother—”

“Now, Chanel.”

The teenager dropped her head. “I'm sorry, Aziza.”

Aziza met Christiane's eyes, wondering if the older woman's thoughts echoed her daughter's query. “Apology accepted.”

Edward gestured to a chair. “Sit down, son. You, too, Aziza.”

Wyatt stepped away from his seat at the head of the table. “Aziza, please take my seat.”

She hesitated, then came around the table when he beckoned her closer. A collective gasp went up when he kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Wyatt.”

He leaned over her head. “Don't you mean Grandpa?”

Her left hand covered his on her shoulder, the overhead light reflecting off the diamonds on her fingers. “Okay, Grandpa.”

Chanel screamed, the piercing sound almost ear-shattering. “Aziza and Jordan are getting married!”

Suddenly Aziza had Wainwrights coming at her from
all sides. Wyatt kissed her cheek, Edward gave her a hug, and Rhett and Noah picked her up and gave her noisy kisses.

When she managed to catch her breath, she walked into Christiane's outstretched arms. “Welcome to the family.”

Aziza hugged the woman who was to become her mother-in-law. “Thank you for raising a remarkable son. If I can love him half as much as you do, then my life with him will be as close to perfect as it can be.”

Christiane found herself fighting tears. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She'd been wrong. Jordan
had
chosen well.

Chanel jumped up and down. “I'm going to get a sister!”

Aziza hugged and kissed the teenager. “Me, too. I also have three brothers and no sister. We can make dates for a full day of beauty that includes facials, massages and of course a mani-pedi.”

“Do you like shopping?” Chanel whispered like a coconspirator.

“I love shopping. Especially for shoes.”

When Christiane called for two more place settings, Jordan lifted his shoulders in supplication. He knew Aziza wanted to go home, but he also wanted to share the joy that she had agreed to become his wife with his family. The family that would also become her family.

 

It was after nine when Aziza settled into bed, picked up the telephone receiver and called family members. She began with her parents, then her brothers on the west coast. Each call lasted less than five minutes, she promising to call again and give them more particulars once she committed to a date and venue.

Turning off the lamp on the bedside table, she moaned
softly. The slight cramping in her lower belly was a distinct indicator that her menses was coming. She and Jordan had dodged a bullet.

“No more unprotected sex,” she whispered in the silent room.

After her meeting, she would call her gynecologist and schedule an appointment to get some birth control. She couldn't believe she was planning to marry a man she'd only known six weeks. A silent voice told her some people had to do it twice in order to get it right.

It was apparent she was one of those people.

 

Aziza was shown into the conference room where she would confer with the siblings who appeared willing to agree to a compromise. “Everyone is running late, so if you'd like some coffee I'll get it for you, Miss Fleming.”

She smiled at Raymond Humphries's assistant. “No, thank you, Ms. Jackson. I'm good.”

Placing her leather case on the conference table, Aziza took out the file on the four parcels that had become more of a nuisance than she'd originally thought. Firstly, whenever she spoke to someone about the property she had to use a fictitious name, which hadn't set right with her. Why all the secrecy and subterfuge? She'd spoken to someone from a holding company who'd seemed equally secretive, identifying himself as Mr. Scott. There had been something about Mr. Scott's voice that was vaguely familiar, but after searching her memory she couldn't identify where she'd heard it before.

Maybe all the questions would be answered today, and once she closed this deal for RLH Realty she planned to walk away and not look back. Although Raymond Humphries was more than generous, she didn't like the feeling that she was being sucked into something unethical if not illegal.

 

Jordan slipped on his topcoat. His appointment at RLH Realty had been pushed up to eleven. “Juliana, I should be back in a couple of hours,” he told his personal secretary as he walked past her desk.

With Kyle away on his two-week honeymoon, the responsibility of running the firm had fallen on him. That meant coming in even earlier and leaving later. He took the stairs to the first floor, nodding to those sitting in the reception area waiting to be seen by Duncan or Ivan.

RLH was within walking distance, so turning up the collar to his coat, Jordan set off in that direction. Winter still hadn't relaxed its cruel grip on New York. It was either snow or sleet or frigid if the sun did decide to make an appearance. He nodded to a man who hung out in the doorway of a building from sunup to sundown.

“What's up, Mr. Burns?”

“Nothin' much, gangsta. How you doin'?”

“It's all good, Mr. Burns.”

Slipping his hands in his pockets, Jordan ducked his head into the wind and kept walking. Aziza had asked if he liked Harlem, and he'd said he loved it. The residents were real and basically honest. If they liked you, then they really liked you. He'd walked the streets day and night without fear of anyone trying to mug him. Maybe they recognized him and maybe they didn't, but he still felt safe.

He'd lost sensation in his face by the time he rang the bell to the townhouse containing the offices of RLH Realty. He identified himself when a voice came through the intercom asking who he was. Using his shoulder, he pushed open the door, stepping into a lobby with welcoming heat. A young woman with neatly braided hair sat behind a Plexiglas partition.

“Mr. Wainwright, you can take the elevator to the third floor. Someone will direct you from there.”

He stepped into the elevator, pushing the button for the third floor. The short ride was enough for him to regain some feeling in his face. He had come with a blank check. He hadn't just come to talk.

The doors opened and a fastidiously dressed middle-aged woman smiled at him. “Mr. Wainwright. I'm Ms. Jackson. Please follow me.”

Jordan followed her down a carpeted hallway, noticing the richness of the tasteful furnishings in the town house. This was the first time he'd come to the offices of his grandfather's rival. The rivalry between the two men had gone on way before he was born and continued to this day.

But Jordan was willing to rise above the pettiness to conduct business. For him it was only business, never personal. There had been only one exception: when he'd offered to represent Aziza in her harassment suit. Kyle was right. He should've trusted him enough to come to him and have him file the suit. Kyle Chatham was one of the best trial attorneys in the city, and if anyone could break Kenneth Moore, Chat would.

Ms. Jackson stepped aside and Jordan walked into the conference room. He hadn't taken more than three steps when he stopped. Sitting at the table with Raymond Humphries, Robert Andrews and the four executors of the estate was his fiancée.

Aziza felt a pain in her chest as if she were having a heart attack. How could Jordan be the lawyer for the holding company when she hadn't spoken to him? Rising slowly, she shook her head.

“I'm sorry, but I must recuse myself.”

Raymond also stood up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Aziza rounded on Raymond Humphries. “I have to remove myself from this participation to avoid a conflict of interest. Opposing counsel happens to be my fiancé.”

“I don't care if he's your daddy. I've paid you to handle this and you will.”

Jordan had heard and seen enough. “Will everyone please leave so Mr. Humphries, Miss Fleming and I can come to some agreement?”

Robert Andrews nodded to the siblings who'd come from Florida to hopefully settle an issue that was a long time coming. “We all can wait in the lounge.”

Waiting until the door closed behind Raymond's son-in-law, Jordan stalked to the older man, backing him into a corner. “What kind of game do you think you're playing? You had to know my grandfather wanted those parcels, but why bring my fiancée into your sick twisted game?”

“I didn't know she was your fiancée. Now, I want you to back the hell up outta my face before—”

“Before what, Raymond? You'll have me arrested? I don't think so, because then everyone will know your business. I suggest you let it go.”

Raymond pulled back his shoulders. “I'm not going to let it go as long as Wyatt continues to buy property in Harlem.”

A flush darkened Jordan's face under his deep tan. “You don't own Harlem, despite what you think! It was here before you and it'll be here after you're dead and buried. Give it a rest!” He'd enunciated each word. “We can do this nice, or it can get very nasty.”

“You would love nasty, wouldn't you? You're just like Wyatt!”

Jordan took several backward steps, allowing Raymond
to move out of the corner. “That's where you're wrong. If I was Wyatt I would've blown your brains out.” He ignored Aziza's gasp. “What happened between your daughter and my father is history—ancient history. You and Wyatt took care of that, so I'm warning you for the last time to let it go.”

Raymond, trying to regain a modicum of bravado, crossed his arms over his chest. “What do
you
want?”

Resting his hands at his waist, Jordan pushed back his topcoat and suit jacket. “Instead of bidding on all four parcels, I'm willing to take two and give you the other two.”

“You give me? I don't think so, Wainwright. You have nothing to give.”

“I have Wyatt Wainwright's approval to offer the family waiting for us to resume this meeting and an obscene amount of money to keep you from getting the parcels. But because I'm not Wyatt, I'm willing to split them with you. Two for you and two for me.”

Raymond bared his teeth. “You bastard!”

A deep frown settled between Jordan's eyes. “Do me a favor. Watch your mouth.” He shifted his attention to Aziza, his expression softening. “I'd like you to stay, but because you've already recused yourself, you will just be an observer.
My
maternal grandfather is going to have those good people come back in and we're going to negotiate the sale of the four parcels at 118th and St. Nicholas Avenue. There will be two for RLH and two for Wainwright Developers Group. And the nonsense that has been going on for more than thirty years will end today. Does that meet with your approval, Mr. Humphries?”

“And if it doesn't?” Raymond refused to believe he'd been bested, that his scheme had backfired.

A beat passed. “Maybe it's time I introduce myself to my half sisters.”

“You wouldn't!”

“I would,” Jordan threatened. “What's it going to be? Half, or I'll put your business in the street. Remember, I have nothing to lose.”

Raymond's shoulders slumped, indicating defeat. “Okay. Half it is.”

 

Two hours later Jordan and Aziza walked out of the building housing RLH Realty. “I'm sorry you had to get involved in that.”

Aziza shook her head. “I still don't understand why Raymond hates your grandfather. It can't be about who can gobble up more property like a Monopoly game.”

“Raymond is still angry that my father got his daughter pregnant.”

“But Wyatt saved his daughter's reputation when they arranged the private adoption.”

“That's true. But Raymond never forgave my father for seducing his virginal daughter when he was engaged to another woman.”

Aziza reached for Jordan's hand. “Not only were you able to secure the properties, but you also declared a truce and formed a partnership between RLH and Wainwright Developers Group.”

“That wasn't my initial intent but I supposed it all worked out in the end.”

“What do you think your grandfather will say?”

Jordan gave Aziza a quick glance. “Which one?”

She laughed. “You know which one I'm talking about.”

“I think Wyatt will forgive me when I had to make a deal with his enemy to get those buildings.”

“What do think about inviting Raymond to our wedding?”

“I don't know, but it is something to think about.” He stopped, lowered his head and kissed her. “Did I tell you that I love you today?”

“Yo gangsta! Why you disrespectin' that woman like that? Get a room,” a deep voice boomed.

Jordan turned and raised his fist in a salute. He loved Harlem, its people and the woman who'd promised to share her future with him.