Cognac & Couture (The Passport Series Book 2) (33 page)

“LOVE OF MY LIFE,
heart of my
heart, where are you?” Liam called out as he opened the back door. Chaotic
piles of toys littered the living room, but there was the promising quiet of
naptime. He put his messenger bag down on a wooden bench made of cubbies,
stuffed full of shoes and Sean’s treasures. He slipped off his coat and hung it
on an iron peg just beside the back door. He loved walking into this room. The
tropical-yellow walls were cheerful, as was the general chaos of items that
belonged to his family.

Quietly, he took the stairs two at a time, pausing in front
of Sean’s bedroom. The door stood wide open, the room unexpectedly empty.
Walking further down the hall, he came to the master bedroom and found it empty,
as well. He walked across the room to the large mullioned windows to see if
they were outside. Sean’s favorite swing gently swayed in the breeze.

Utterly confused, he stood in the middle of the bedroom,
trying to decide what to do. Charlotte had called him just over an hour ago and
asked if he could come home for lunch. Here he was, but where was she?

Just as he was deciding what to do next, he heard Charlotte
comforting Sean as they walked into the house. Following her voice, he went to
the kitchen. “Sweet boy, it’s going to be fine. Let’s put a Band-Aid on it, all
right?” He could tell from her voice that she was cajoling their sniffling son
and that no real harm had come to him.

Rounding the corner, he saw Sean sitting on the kitchen
counter, swinging his little legs, while Charlotte used a wet paper towel to
clean the palm of his hand. After pressing a kiss to the baby’s soft, silky
hair, Liam rested a hand on his son’s shoulder while he kissed his wife. “What
happened?”

“We walked up the road to the shops, and when I took him out
of the stroller, he yanked his hand loose and stumbled over a paver.”
Charlotte’s voice was light, trying to keep the young boy’s tears at bay.

Once he was cleaned and bandaged, she passed him to his
father and grabbed up a bag. “Follow me, please!”

Following her swaying hips wherever she wanted to lead him,
he tickled his son as he did. “Mommy is going upstairs. Do you think she’s
going to tell me to put you in your cot while she and I have a nap? I hope so,
because I am very, very sleepy.”

Looking over her shoulder, she answered, “We’ll see.”

“Where’s Jane, by the way?” he asked about Sean’s nanny.

Walking through their bedroom and into the bathroom,
Charlotte answered, “I gave her the afternoon off.”

Confused, he asked, “Why? Do you have the afternoon off?”

She pulled a box out of the bag and held it up for him to
see. He looked between her and the box several times. Her face was completely
blank, so he had no idea what she was feeling. When he said nothing, she pulled
down her underwear and sat on the toilet, pulling the pee stick out of the
wrapper.

Five minutes later, with Sean squished between his parents,
Charlotte said against Liam’s lips, “Want to take the afternoon off?”

“Can we nap?”

“It’s napping that got us into trouble.”

***

The employees of Blackwell
Industries, or at least those who worked in the offices adjacent to Ted’s, had
become acclimated to Tiziana. As she sauntered through the office, waving
kindly at everyone she passed, many returned her greetings with ease. A handful
of clients and contractors fumbled with their coffee or quit speaking
mid-sentence.

“Hello, Georgina! Ted is expecting me. Is he available?” she
asked his secretary.

“Yes, he is waiting for you.” Georgina held the opulent,
dark mahogany door open for her as she walked into her husband’s inner sanctum.
Surprised, Tiziana came to a stop. Des sat in a chair opposite Ted.

“Des, how are you?” she asked, as she kissed her husband and
greeted Des with a kiss on the cheek before placing the massive folder she’d
been carrying on Ted’s desk.

Ted and Des exchanged glances before inviting Tiziana to sit
down in the chair in front of the large casement window overlooking a well-kept
garden.

Des took a deep breath before answering, “In a bit of a
pickle, actually.”

His response piqued Tiziana’s curiosity. “Is this a pickle
you want to share with me?”

Caught by surprise, her husband laughed out loud at her
incorrect use of the phrase.

“What?”

“I’ll explain later,” Ted answered kindly. “Go ahead, Des,”

She swiveled her eyes to Des. “All right, what is
happening?” She carefully side-stepped the word “pickle.”

Des launched himself out of his chair and paced back and
forth, crossing the carpet several times. His fingers pinched his bottom lip as
he sought a solution.

“Just tell her!” Ted said after waiting impatiently for a
few minutes.

“Shit, shit, shit, fuck!” Des exploded, as he threw himself
back into the chair. He looked at her through squinted eyes, trying to gauge
her reaction. “I’m in a spot of trouble.”

While he spoke, Tiziana squirmed in her chair, not making it
easier for him to unburden himself.

“A woman has come forward and is pregnant, and she’s
claiming her baby is mine.”

Her eyebrows shot upwards. Before she could think, she burst
out, “Again? You have to start keeping your penis in your pants.” If her words
didn’t convey her disgust, the look on her face certainly did. When he wilted,
she spoke more gently. “What about a paternity test?”

“Tomorrow.” He shoved his hand into his hair, worrying his
fingers across his forehead. “What am I going to do? The paparazzi are going to
have a field day; my parents are going to kill me—again.”

Sliding her chair next to his, Tiziana held his hand to
comfort him. “Do you love either of these women? Want to commit to either of
them?”

“Not the way you’re thinking of. Sadly, I’m such a cock-up
that I am in love with someone else—someone who will never want to have
anything to do with me.”

“Your children are your first concern.”

A startled expression washed over his face. “I know! How am
I going to protect both children and both women from the paparazzi? They’ll
hound them. My parents will overwhelm them. Most importantly, how am I to be a
proper father with a child living in Canada and another in London?”

“One step at a time! You need to tell the woman in Canada
before this hits the press. Whatever your relationship is, she deserves to hear
this from you. Maybe she’ll consider moving to London, but I would talk to her
about this possibility when things are more certain with the new baby.”

“I know. I know.” He sounded dejected. “This is going to
sound utterly pathetic, in light of everything, but, while I’ll have children
whom I will love to pieces, I won’t have a family, not in the proper sense.
It’s not only women who want happily ever after.”

“You have no idea what the future holds. Maybe you’ll work
it out with the woman you’re in love with or meet someone who’ll be able to
handle all of this.” Ted spoke in a thoughtful voice before getting up and
pulling open a well-stocked bar. Selecting a bottle of Scotch and glasses, he
walked back to Des and Tiziana. “Would you like some, darling?”

“Thank you,
amore
. A bottle of water?” she asked
distractedly. “Des, when is the baby due?”

Leaning forward, he took a deep slug of the Scotch then
rubbed his chin. “Any day now.” She drew in a shocked breath. “The babies will
be almost the same age?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

After absorbing the news, Ted said, “I’ll come with you to
the appointment. I assume your lawyer will be there?”

The question spurred Des into action. He quickly swallowed
what was left in his glass while shaking his head. “Thanks, mate. I’ll text
you.” Looking at both of them, he said, “I need the two of you to keep this to
yourselves completely. No friends, no family. No one! This will become public
soon enough.”

***

Tiziana looked at Ted,
shell-shocked. “Did you just find out today?”

“Yes, he showed up just before you did.” Settling back into
one of the chairs, he patted his lap and said, “Come here, and tell me how your
day was, before Des dropped his bomb.”

Once she found herself within the cozy confines of his arms,
she closed her eyes, quickly offering thanks for their uncomplicated life.
While she nibbled his jawline, she said, “The contract is ready.”

“You’re certain you really want to do this?”

“Absolutely. Aren’t you?”

Ted looked at his beautiful wife. “I only meant to make sure
you were truly convinced you wanted to muddy the water. It’s difficult going
into business with someone you’re friends with.”

“Mi amore, I’m convinced.” Tiziana pressed her lips against
his, distracting him from his own friend’s problems.

***

Moving from table to table, Hillary
readjusted silverware and vases of flowers, wanting every detail of the table
and room to be absolutely perfect for her mother.

The Make-a-Wish Foundation had become her mother’s passion,
and today’s luncheon was a fundraiser for the charity. The Board of Directors,
along with a dozen of Fern Cavendish’s influential and moneyed friends, had
been invited.

“Looks lovely, darling.” Hillary heard the muffled clicks of
her mother’s heels make their way toward her.

Before turning to face her, Hillary straightened a place card
holder. “Anything else I can do for you?” She folded her hands as she turned
her focus on her mother.

“Now that you mention it, yes.” Her mother offered her an
envelope. “This just arrived.”

Taking the envelope from her, she slid a finger along the
seal, carefully prying it open. Inside was a check for £50,000. She read the
name over and over.
Aksel Pedersen.
She hadn’t heard from him in months.

She handed the check to her mother, so she could see for
herself. She mused, “He hasn’t been added to the guest list, has he?” She
hadn’t seen his name at any table.

“No. Do you know how to reach him? Perhaps you could call,
check with his assistant. We can squeeze one more in, surely.”

Round tables covered in white linen, sterling silver, and
crystal glasses filled the summer sitting room. “I’ll try.” She slipped away to
find privacy. Not reaching him on his cell phone, she left a message, inviting
him to join them.

She had a member of the wait staff prepare a place, in case
he joined them, then she nipped into the library and searched for Aksel
Pedersen on her father’s laptop but found nothing to link him to this event.
She heard the guests begin to arrive.

She wended her way to the front door and took her place
beside her mother. The two of them greeted guests with air kisses and
handshakes before having them ushered to the drawing room by one of the many
handsomely dressed waiters. Hillary paid particular attention to the Board of
Directors, while her mother greeted her friends and wealthy patrons.

He hadn’t arrived by the time the luncheon was to begin.
Taking that table’s server aside, Hillary instructed, “Leave the setting for
two minutes and then remove it, if the guest hasn’t arrived.”

Moving about the room, she managed to get conversation
flowing amongst the guests, only excusing herself when she determined they were
able to manage themselves. Her eyes drifted to the empty seat.

When she finally took her chair, seated between her deaf
grandmother, who would mostly ignore her, and an attractive heart surgeon,
Hillary was disappointed to see the server had removed the new place setting
and chair. She returned her attention to those at her table.

***

Sitting in Il Primo, having lunch
with her friend Branna, Marian was pushing the last pieces of crab and mixed
greens onto her fork when a familiar voice called her name. Carefully, she placed
her fork on her plate and wiped her mouth before searching for his face in the
lunchtime crowd.

Looking into the sea of faces, she found Declan a few tables
over. He had just been shown to his table, by the looks of things. Dropping his
coat onto the back of his chair, he had a quick word with the woman he was
having lunch with before making his way to her table. She waited for him to
lean down and kiss her cheek before allowing herself to breathe. Inhaling his
scent, she felt her stomach tremble.

Politely, she introduced Branna and Declan before asking,
“What have you been up to? I haven’t seen you in forever, it seems.” It had
been one year, two months, four days, and six hours, give or take.

He cackled at her comment nervously. “The usual. Nothing
exciting to report. No requests to tour with Lenny Kravitz!” He quickly glanced
over his shoulder at his lunch date. Tossing his head in the direction of his
table, his calm façade slipped a bit more. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.
Technically, I’m on a job interview. Can I call you? Same number?”

“Yeah, sure! Good luck,” Marian quickly answered, wanting
him to be gone as soon as possible so that he couldn’t see her lose her
composure. “Excuse me,” she said to Branna then rushed to the bathroom.

Her reflection showed her flushed cheeks, broody eyes, and
bruised, gnawed lips after the full forty-five-second conversation they’d had.
“Jaysus, get a grip!” She turned the cold water tap on full blast and waited a
minute before thrusting her hands under to splash her face. The cold water was
bracing, causing her to sputter as she attempted to cool her hot, red cheeks.
The result was to transform all her skin into a blotchy mess. “That’s better!”
she said to herself sarcastically.

Repairing her makeup, she took a quick run at her hair with
a hairbrush and applied a spritz of perfume.

She was all the way to her table before she realized she’d
unconsciously primped herself for a man who hadn’t acknowledged she was alive
since the night she’d told him she loved him. She’d gone so far as to visit his
granny at her nursing home and learned that Declan was roaming Europe with some
woman called Catriona. She’d taken an instant dislike to the name.

“All right?” Branna asked when she saw Marian’s touched-up
makeup and anxious eyes.

She willed herself not to look in Declan’s direction. Branna
seemed to understand that a lazy Friday lunch had become a wind sprint to the
finish, not commenting at all when Marian asked the busy waitress for the bill.

Safely outside on the sidewalk a few blocks away, Marian
came to a stop. Holding her bag up on her shoulder, she shared with Branna that
Declan had “been someone special.” Begging off popping into the shops before
they returned to work, she admitted she needed time to herself. Declan’s
unexpected appearance had thrown her off-kilter. After a hug and some
reassuring, Branna told her, “No worries. Call if you want to go out for a
drink later!”

It was only hours later, while she sat alone in her
apartment, that Marian allowed herself to cry. She’d just gotten off the phone
with Charlotte and heard the good news.

“Early days yet. Don’t say anything,” Charlotte had warned.

She’d painted an effervescent smile on her face and made it
through the whole conversation without a single snarky word. It wasn’t everyone
else’s fault that their lives were coming together and hers was the same as
always—working all hours of God’s day to come home to an empty, benign house.

Her phone rang. She expected to see Hillary, Tiziana, or
Kathleen’s phone number, wanting to share in the good news, but no, it was
Declan. Wiping her eyes, she hoped she didn’t sound all nasally when she
answered.

“Marian, thank Jaysus you’re home. Can I come up?”

Rushing to the bathroom, she took in her smudged mascara,
alarmed. “Where are you?”

“Downstairs. Hence the ‘can I come up’ part.”

“Yea, all right.” Throwing open the window, she let fresh
air rush into the room. With any luck, the smell of self-pity would exit. She
spoke calmly into the phone as she dashed around her apartment, stuffing dishes
into the oven, throwing cartons into the bin, and trying to make the house look
somewhat tidy.

When they were face-to-face, he kissed her cheek. “You look
great. Can I use the toilet?” She stepped back and pointed in the general
direction of the loo.

While he was gone, she rushed around the apartment, fluffing
pillows, folding blankets, using her sleeve to dust as she moved from one
surface to another. It was only when he cleared his throat that she realized
she’d been caught.

“Sorry! Not expecting guests tonight. Working too hard to
clean the place often.” If possible, he’d grown more handsome since lunch.
“How’d the interview go?” she asked as she returned to her place on the ugly
floral couch.

He sat down dangerously close to her. Heat emanated from
him, as well as his luscious scent. Just as Marian was about to throw herself
off the couch or onto him, he pushed himself back onto his feet.

“It went well.” He walked to the window and looked out at
passersby. Turning his focus back to her, he continued, while pushing back his
dark hair, which had flopped into his eyes. “I’ve been traveling quite a bit
for work. Non-stop, actually. And I’m hoping to find something that will let me
stay in one place longer than a few nights.” It was only then that she noticed
his usually mischievous brown eyes lacked their spark.

“I didn’t know.”

“No? My granny told me you’d come to visit. I’d hoped she
told you I was working like a rabid dog.”

“She told me you were travelling through Europe with a woman
called Catriona.”

When he laughed, she felt the sting. About to let loose her
anger, she stopped short when he raised his hands. “I’m guessing she was hoping
to make you jealous.”

So angry she couldn’t hold her tongue, she hissed, “Well, it
fecking worked. I tell you I love you, then I wake up and you’re gone, and I’m
left to wonder. Where did you disappear to, anyway, you gammy piece of shite?”

“You love me?”

Still angry, she said, “I did.”

His shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

***