Burned by Passion (2 page)

“Hello son. And welcome back. Chase informed me that your trip was hitch-free, and I understand you were napping earlier.”

“Yeah. Jet lag caught up to me. I’m just in from the shower,” he answered. Blake couldn’t help thinking how much they sounded like strangers. Which they were. The last time they’d spoken, he’d been a mere boy.

“Great, I just came in myself and I’m up in my own room. I hope you wouldn’t mind us dining together this evening – say seven? I told the private chef Marcello to fix something special for us.”

“Of course, I’ll be down promptly,” Blake replied.

“Great,” his father said again, and next came a heavy silence. Both seemed to be listening to the other’s breathing – almost as if hoping to find answers within.

At last, moments later Blake said, “Well, I’ll see you in a little bit then,” before hanging up. He let out a ‘whoosh’ and then muttered to the large, sumptuously furnished bedroom, “See that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Blake figured they’d jumped one hurdle – at least they’d shared their first civil conversation even if it was over the phone. They might not get along so well face to face. But Blake decided to cross that bridge when he got there.

Opening his closet, he picked out what to wear from the newly unpacked clothes hanging there.

***

It was a ten minutes to seven when Blake descended the circling stairway to the living room which matched the lavish vastness of the whole villa. It was grandly furnished and stately. In the middle stood a tall, broad shouldered man dressed in an open-necked dress shirt and trousers, his hair a distinguishing grey at the corners. Blake recognized him instantly.

“Evening, Dad,” he said and his father turned fully to face him. They both regarded each other from the distance separating them. For several moments they simply stood and studied each other. Blake didn’t know what his father saw, but as for him what he saw was the same man he’d known eighteen years ago – except this one had more grey in his hair, a few lines etched into his still-handsome face…and perhaps a little more waist. He still had that self-contained, aristocratic bearing Blake remembered him for.

Sometimes it amazed Blake that he remembered anything at all.

“What would you like to drink before dinner?” asked his father at last. He turned to the drinks bar. “How about some scotch?”

“Thanks; that sounds fine,” Blake replied; unbuttoning the jacket he’d worn over his shirt and slacks. Moments later his father handed him his drink.

“We’ll go in to dinner in a minute,” said Bretton. “I thought we’d talk a while. Take a seat, son.”

“Sure,” Blake said dryly, feeling more like a guest than a son in his own father’s home. Settling into one of the plush leather seats, he watched his father silently as the older man took the chair opposite.

“So, what is it you do now?” His father asked, sitting back.

“I’m into IT consulting and software development.”

“I should have guessed. You always were good with computers and all that stuff even at a young age. Would’ve been surprised if you got into anything else.”

Blake found himself smiling wryly. “Well I did consider starting up as a bassist in a rock band but I guess I needed something more challenging.”

There it was; the token dry joke to set things even more at ease, thought Blake as his father chuckled.

“I’m glad for you anyway. Glad you seem to be doing well,” Bretton said with a nod. “So now that you’re back – how long do you intend to stay? For a while I hope.”

Blake paused thoughtfully. “Didn’t exactly have it all planned out. So I’m not really sure.”

“Hmm. And your mother? What did she think about your return?”

“Mom died six months ago,” Blake said simply. Just like that.

There was a resounding crash when the half-empty glass of scotch his father held slipped from his limp grasp, fell and smashed on the polished floor. Some of the liquid spilled onto the hem of his father’s pants, but he didn’t seem to notice as he sat there, still as a stone.

“Dad?” Blake sprang to his feet in concern.

“No…,” Bretton was saying as if from far away, shaking his head in disbelief. His eyes seemed glazed in his drawn face, before his gaze focused on the worried-looking Blake.

“Where…how?”

Feeling like such an insensitive bastard for the thoughtless way he’d broken the news, Blake said quietly, “In a hospital in Kent. She’d been suffering from cancer for months…”

“But you wrote to me a few months ago and never mentioned this.” His father’s voice was firmer now, and angry.

Blake shrugged. “I guess I couldn’t bring myself to break such a delicate piece of news in a letter. Besides….” Blake paused, and then said deeply, “I didn’t realize you’d care.”

Blake thought he saw his father flinch, before they both turned as a burly and bald-headed man in a uniform of black shirt and matching trousers rushed in saying, “Did I hear glass breaking…?”

“Yes,” Blake said quickly, thankful for the interruption. “My dad dropped something.”

“Very unlike you, sir,” the bulky man said worriedly.

“I know, Wellman. Help me clear up the mess, will you?” Bretton said in a controlled tone. He rose to his feet and carefully stepped around the shards of broken glass.

As Wellman disappeared, father and son looked expressionlessly at each other and the moments ticked by. “I’d better go up and change my pants,” Bretton said at last. “When I come back down, we’ll eat.” And without another word, he left the room.

Blake let out a sigh, his fingers raking into his hair as he felt a strange heaviness. He’d really acted out of turn. Blurting out his mother’s demise like that hadn’t been planned but he couldn’t help admitting that he liked that it had an effect. Let the old man get to feel something for once. Bretton Carter’s trademark cool had been shattered along with that crystal tumbler, if only for a moment.

Blake had meant it when he’d said he didn’t think his father cared. Blake had been so certain his father had forgotten them – a faded memory from photos in a forgotten album. Hell, the man had practically ignored them for almost twenty years. The main reason Blake had even decided to come back was because he’d sensed that it was his mother’s wish for him. Why should Blake feel sorry for his father now just because the man had suddenly been taken over by emotions? Bretton’s shock, dismay and pain had been palpable. But Blake was ready to put it all down to guilt. That’s all it really was. And that’s why Blake felt no pity for him.

***

Dinner was delicious. A balance of rich and simple dishes with the flavors combined perfectly using fresh, seasonal foods. Blake was pleasantly surprised considering what he’d heard and remembered about American cooking. The meal was world-class and he didn’t hesitate to tell this to the private chef who served the meal.

His father made no more mention of his mother, nor about anything they’d spoken about earlier. Conversation was focused on comments about the food, light topics such as the cooling weather and some current world affairs. Bretton Carter was quite composed and back to his normal self by all indications.

“What exactly do you intend to do during your stay?” Bretton finally asked over after-dinner coffee. “You left your job in London, I presume?”

Blake shrugged. “I used to work for a major IT consulting firm but now I’m mostly independent. But I’ve taken time off work, actually. However if I decided to, I’m sure I could easily find work here as well.”

“You would,” Bretton agreed. “In fact, you could come and work for me.”

Blake smiled faintly. “I barely know anything about your line of business. I’m no investment whiz nor do I know a hell of a lot about mergers and acquisitions.”

“You don’t have to. I’m into a lot of things now. I even recently acquired a software company that’s been doing fantastic. Your skills would come in handy there…”

“Thanks but no, Dad,” Blake said firmly, hiding a grimace. He had to lay it on the line then and there. “You don’t have to work things out for me. If I decided to stay here in New York, I’d like to make my own way.”

Bretton lifted a slightly taunting brow as he smiled. “Independent as always I see.”

“Always,” Blake replied very seriously. And saw, for the first time, a flicker of real humor in his father’s eyes.

“Well I hope that at least you’ll agree to be present at the welcome home party I’ve organized for you later this week,” Bretton said casually as he lifted his cup of coffee to his lips.

Meanwhile, Blake was almost choking over his. “Party? What party?”

“You didn’t really think I’d let your return go without a little fanfare, did you?” his father asked in surprise. “You’re my only son back home again – I think the whole world should celebrate that with me.”

Blake groaned inwardly. No way. He hated parties. Especially when he was the center of attention. He started to outright refuse. “Dad…”

“Please,” Bretton said stiffly. “I want you to meet my friends – and I want them to meet you.” Especially one, Bretton added silently to himself. “Surely you wouldn’t refuse me this one request?”

Blake sighed away his obvious annoyance as he looked across at his father. “No,” he said at last with resignation. “I guess I can’t.”

***

Kira knew about the forthcoming welcome party, of course. After all she’d given a hand seeing to organizing it; sending invites and making orders. The guest list consisted of her boss’s close friends and associates; a pretty close-knit affair. So when the Friday before the party came, Kira balked when Mr. Carter asked her to attend as well.

“But sir…I can’t,” she said haltingly, clutching the files she held to her chest as she straightened in the chair in front of his desk where she’d been taking notes.

“Why not?” Bretton Carter inquired. “Don’t you have anything suitable to wear? If that’s an issue then go out and get something nice and have it charged to me. I insist.”

“No. It’s not that.” Kira felt her face flush with embarrassment thinking of many reasons why she couldn’t attend. She could imagine how she’d stand out in her boss’s group of high class friends who collectively owned half the city in terms of possessions and social standing. She’d be like a fish out of water and very self-conscious.

“Then what?” He asked as if he couldn’t possibly think of anything else.

“Well, I just don’t think I…”

“Do you have a date scheduled for that evening?”

“No…”

“Any other important engagements?”

“Uh…no.”

“Then it’s settled,” Mr. Carter said briskly. “You can leave a few hours early today to handle whatever you need to get ready for the party tomorrow. And that’s that. Now take this down…”

Kira sighed in concealed frustration, knowing the matter was closed. She very well couldn’t defy her boss which meant she would be at that party whether she liked it or not. And yet she couldn’t deny it even to herself that at least, she was deeply curious to finally meet her boss’s son.

It made her breathless again just thinking about coming face to face with that gorgeously attractive man she’d seen in that photo. A man with scorching good looks that had singed her fantasies every night since she’d seen a glimpse of his image.

Strange how she was normally the last person to get fixated on sex but now each night it was all she dreamed about. Steamy, back-breaking sex; the type that made the neighbors hate you for with all the headboard banging and the moans and screams. Kira’s cheeks flushed thinking how she woke up each morning with damp inner thighs and her arms wrapped around her pillow. And her gorgeous lover always had the same face; the same name.

Blake.

It was crazy to keep dreaming about a man she didn’t know and hadn’t even met. Kira knew she was a fool for nursing any attraction for him but she couldn’t seem able to help herself.

Not only was he way out of her league, she couldn’t see herself with her boss’s son and besides, she’d never ventured into interracial relationships.

In many ways, it really was only a fantasy and maybe finally meeting him would break the strange spell. Yeah…that was probably it. He probably wasn’t so hot in person, Kira told herself. If she was lucky, he’d now be balding, overweight and a terrible dresser. Or something like that.

Either way, she’d soon be over her girlish infatuation for his handsome chiseled face with the smoky grey eyes and the hunky smile that seemed to promise a multitude of sexy sins.

Stamping down any underlying feelings of excitement, Kira made herself concentrate on the notes her boss dictated.

***

Later that evening, Kira had dinner with her boyfriend.

Also African-American, his name was Terrence King and at thirty he was several years older than Kira. However the age difference was in no way obvious since Terrence was the epitome of ‘hip’ and cool not only in the way he looked but in the way he acted. He always had an infectious grin as well as a cheery outlook on life. Nothing seemed to ever faze him and he was always good at brightening even the worst situations. He was a reporter for one of the major New York newspapers and had his own celebrity column that was very popular.

They’d met less than six months ago at a friend’s house and clicked instantly. They liked the same kind of music, sports and had similar tastes in movies. They started dating seriously two months ago and hadn’t made any definite plans in their relationship which suited Kira just fine. They saw each other as regularly as both their jobs allowed and generally kept things simple. Kira’s idea, not his.

They ordered their favorite dishes and wine, and as usual Terrence started off talking about his day, and then she told him about hers. They laughed over the usual little gossip about co-workers or mutual friends. It was turning into an enjoyable evening as it felt great to have someone to share a nice meal with and talk about anything you both found interesting. Kira found herself mentioning the welcome party and saw Terrence’s darkly handsome face register interest.

“There could be a story in this you know. Bretton Carter’s long-lost son finally returns,” Terrence murmured and Kira rolled her eyes expressively. Trust Terrence to find a story in everything.