Bittersweet Chocolate (43 page)

While she waited, Marissa set up a work plan for the week of her return, and lost track of time. It wasn’t until she was satisfied with her list of activities that she glanced at her watch and realized more than a half hour had passed and her secretary hadn’t returned. It wasn’t like Megan to stay away from the office for so long, unless...she must be working.

Damn, she did not want to deal with Matthew today, but his office would be the logical place to look for Megan. After making a few more notes, she went searching for her secretary.

Marissa knocked on Matthew’s door. Hearing muffled scuffling, she tensed. Feeling oddly disembodied, she had a flashback to another time. Face tight and stomach knotting, she didn’t hesitate to open the door. The scene before her made her reflexively put her hand in her pocket.

Megan lay trapped beneath him on the sofa, struggling, her clothes in disarray, and tears streaming down her cheeks. Matthew scrambled to his feet. With his back to the door, he stood in front of his desk, hastily adjusting his clothes.

Hell. With everything else going on in her life, she did not need this.

“Megan, leave. Meet me out by my car, we’re going to lunch.” Beyond angry, tears stung her eyes, but she wanted Megan out of the room before she vented her fury. Didn’t want a witness.

Eyes wide with fright, and the flush of embarrassment tinting her cheeks, Megan clambered to her feet. She adjusted her bra, clumsy fingers fumbled with the few buttons left on her blouse, and gave Marissa a quick hug before fleeing the room.

Marissa turned to Matthew. An atmosphere of animosity permeated the room, neither spoke, and Matthew hadn’t turned to face her. She waited.

Moments passed before he straightened and turned. Eyes glittering with loathing, he went on the attack. “Who the hell do you think you are, walking in here unannounced? Wait until I tell you to come in like everyone else.”

One eyebrow arched, she didn’t respond. Lips curling in disgust, her gaze swept his body, regarding him in the same manner as dog-doo on her shoes.

“This is none of your damn business, anyway. Megan is a grown woman. You have no right to interfere.” He glared. “Get out of my office.”

She smirked, knowing that would provoke him, and it worked. He foolishly reached for her and she lurched forward, her attack quick, and unexpected. Pushing him back against his desk, she straddled his body, knife at his throat. Caught off guard, eyes widening, Matthew gawked.

“You lowlife son of a bitch,” she snarled. “I warned you before I left. No, if you’ll recall, I told you not to mess with me twenty years ago. Evidently, I haven’t made myself clear, or you lack comprehension skills.”

The reminder of their last encounter changed his demeanor, and he tried patronizing. “Okay! I screwed up, then and now. But Megan and I are adults, both single,” he whined. “The way she dresses, she repeatedly rebuffed my advances, and I thought she was playing hard to get―”

‘“Stop. Don’t even go there.” Their gazes locked. “Listen to what I’m telling you. You’re not worth going to jail for, but stop fuckin’ with me, Matthew,” she stated. “Don’t think leaving Philly has changed the rules. Shit still happens, and people get hurt in the oddest situations. You need to be careful, try not to become one of those people.”

Remembering how her father felt about Matthew back when, maybe she should let Stephen know Matthew was in California, and up to his old tricks. Not. As entertaining as that would play out, it would diminish her satisfaction. She backed away, retracted the blade of her knife, put it in her pocket, and turned her back on him.

Come on, damn it, make me defend myself.

He didn’t go for it.

“I told you once before, don’t threaten me. I’m not afraid of you,” he sneered.

She swung around. “Then you’re more of a fool than I thought, and you need to reconsider. I told you before I don’t make threats. You never came back into my neighborhood, you must have taken my promise to heart,” she mocked.

His smug expression morphed into one of pure hatred. With his old-school mindset—women seen not heard, kept barefoot and pregnant—it had to frost his autocratic ass that any female had the nerve to talk to him in such a way. But to have the same young woman, who belittled him once before, threatening him again, had to be an ego bruiser.

“I’ll have you fired for pulling a knife on me. You can kiss this job goodbye.”

Turning, she walked away, and without a backward glance, she scoffed, “Prove it.”

Opening the door, she stepped through, and closed it softly behind her. She leaned against the wall, hands fisted at her sides. It had been a long time since she had wanted to hurt someone so badly. Yet twice, in as many days, she’d been angry enough to kill.

The short, brisk walk across the parking lot gave her time to plan her next move, and to calm down. Megan waited by her car.

“Thank you, Marissa.” Megan hugged her again.

“Hey, I’m in the mood for Chinese, let’s go to Chan’s for lunch. We can talk there.”

They had settled at their table, and had ordered drinks and lunch, before Megan started talking. “Marissa, I’m afraid. He’s always making sexual remarks, and I’ve just ignored him. I knew if he stepped out of line, I could count on you to take my side. Today was the first time he tried anything.” Megan started crying.

“Yeah, life is strange. The day I decide to come to work, go figure,” she muttered, then more audibly, “Megan, listen. Do you want to call the police and report him?”

“No, I couldn’t. It would be his word against mine. It would be embarrassing.”

“Trust me. What happened today won’t happen again.” Marissa reached across the table and took Megan’s hand. “He may be my boss, but you’re my secretary. Any problems he has with you, he has to report to me,” she explained. “That’s the way management had it setup. I’m the only one you have to worry about, but watch your back. Matthew can’t fire you, but he’s a vindictive son of a bitch.” Speaking more to herself than Megan, she added, “I have plans for Mister Miller.”

“Marissa...” Megan started, her voice fading when she looked at Marissa’s face.

“Megan, whatever you do, don’t quit. If he hassles you, call me, no matter how trivial.”

Her smile tentative, Megan said, “Thanks. If you hadn’t come to the office today, he would have raped me and gotten away with it. I would have been too embarrassed to have told you, or anyone else.”

“I despise men who think they can do whatever they want to a woman, and get away with it. If we at least tell one other person, maybe we can stop them. Don’t be afraid to talk to me.”

They finished their lunch, left the restaurant, and returned to the office. “Get in your car and go home,” Marissa insisted. “If Matthew asks for an explanation, tell him to call me.”

Marissa drove home, and for a brief moment, she panicked when JC and CJ greeted her at the door. Then she recalled she had a houseful of guests. She scratched the dogs behind their ears and followed them out to the backyard. To ease her tension, she settled down on the chaise and watched the dogs’ antics. Every so often she’d hug and pet them, while her mind was engaged in reviewing her plan of action to end the unwarranted campaign of revenge. She had to stop the terror tactics before her family became casualties, caught in the crossfire

Half hour later, she reentered the house through the kitchen. Kate, there preparing dinner, looked up and frowned, asking, “Is something wrong? Is it Tristan?”

Smiling, she ignored the questions, absently moving around the kitchen, then asked, “Can I help? With a few extra mouths to feed, I can pitch in, if you need my help.”

“It’s not too much for me,” Kate said, then waited, probably expecting Marissa to comment, but she didn’t, and Kate continued. “Clarisse helped prepare most of it. I like your mother-in-law, don’t be too hard on her.”

“Thanks, Kate. I’ll try to be more understanding,” she said over her shoulder as she left the kitchen.

Walking slowly toward the stairs, she acknowledged the first step of her plan had been to take full responsibility for the consequences of past actions. Next, she needed positive identification of her adversary.

She started to pass the nursery, glanced inside, and came to an abrupt stop at the sight before her. Christopher held Korey in the air at arm’s length, making silly noises, coaching him to smile. “Well, well, this is a surprise.”

Christopher started at the sound of her voice, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, he moved toward the cribs and put Korey down before turning to face her.

“I hope you don’t expect me to apologize too. I thought you believed me when I said this wasn’t about me and Tony,” he remarked. “People have prejudices, unsubstantiated, I admit. And if it hadn’t been for my job, I would’ve been home, and never would have allowed the family to treat you that way.” Brow furrowed, it seemed he was giving serious thought to what he’d say next.

“Nonetheless, regardless of my family’s previous stance, I’d like to get to know you and reestablish my relationship with Tristan,” he stated. “Will you trust me, and give us a chance to get to know one another?”

“Tell me something, Chris, what is it you do for a living? Tristan is so vague and mysterious whenever he talks about you and Tony. Why did he think you could help, why call you, instead of the police?”

* * * *

He grinned. His father was right—the woman had skills.

“From what Tristan has said, you aren’t, nor have you ever been, partial to police intervention. What’s up with that?”

Check.

She smirked. “Tristan told you that, huh? Well, you know us black folkes, and how we get skittish around the
po-leece,
so right back at you.”

Christopher compressed his lips to keep from laughing. “Okay, I’m an attorney with an active sideline in law enforcement. I guess Tristan thought my expertise would come in handy.” Even to his ears, it sounded lame, like a rehearsed speech. “But tell me, why did Tristan think your father could help?”

Mate.

Brow furrowed, Marissa nibbled on her bottom lip. “I see. You expect me to trust you, but you can’t, or won’t trust me enough to tell me what you do for a living.”

“I hardly know you,” he quipped.

“Well, isn’t that the point of this little exercise, to get acquainted?”

At a loss for words, he said the only thing that came to mind. “And your father?” His regard steady, it surprised him when she didn’t look away or fidget under his scrutiny. She returned his stare, unwavering, even challenging.

“Okay, truce.” He snorted. Clearly, she couldn’t be intimidated, which added weight to his growing respect for her, and he instinctively decided to trust her. “Can we go somewhere and talk? I’d rather not be overheard, and I’d like more details about your life, so I can try to piece this puzzle together.”

“Sure.” She glanced at her watch. “I can give you an hour.”

Christopher watched with fascination as she lifted the silver chain around her neck, grasped the whistle dangling from its end, and placed it between her lips. Nothing, no sound, yet before they reached the nursery door, the Dobies appeared. He trailed her out of the room and they walked in silence until they reached the kitchen.

“Kate, I’ll be outside. Will you listen for the babies?”

* * * *

She opened the sliding glass door and stepped out on the patio. Christopher followed. They walked and talked for over an hour, and she came away from their discussion impressed. Moving back toward the house, with a sidelong glance, she looked him over.

The man had every right to be distrustful. His resume was impressive. Her gang affiliation had taught her the importance of secrecy, how the slightest lapse would jeopardize lives. From her point of view, Christopher simply moved in the shadowy world of a legalized gang. Smooth move on Tristan’s part, with his two brothers and her father—damn. She had to warn her father to be careful, since she wasn’t sure Stephen operated on the legal side of the law.

Passing through the kitchen, she paused to speak to Kate. “I’m going to skip dinner, had a big lunch, need to catch up on my sleep.”

Her mood pensive, she returned to the nursery. She bathed and fed the babies, settled them in their cribs, and read aloud until they fell asleep. Before leaving the room, she spoke softly to the dogs, praising both. Feet feeling like lead weights, she trudged along to her room. The door barely closed behind her before she stripped out of her clothes, went into the bathroom, and started the shower. She so wanted a bath, but exhaustion overruled. A hot shower would have to do, and maybe the pulsating water would alleviate her fatigue.

Refreshed, she remained disquieted by the events of the last few days, and Tristan’s absence left a void. They always shared thoughts and experiences of the day before going to bed, but because of her, he—
damn it!
She forgot to tell Tristan about her new suspicions. Hell, it would have to wait until morning. Tonight, she wanted to try for some undisturbed sleep, since the kids and Tristan had all the protection they needed.

She, on the other hand, would take care of herself.

How few there are who have courage enough to own their faults, or resolution enough to mend them.

—Benjamin Franklin

Marissa woke knowing it had to end today, and one of them would die. God knows, she had prayed it wouldn’t come to this, but the threats to Tristan and the kids upped the stakes, and had to end. This was about her, her fault. She had to be the one to rectify it before her family became the victims. If she’d led a different kind of life, she would have let Christopher or even the cops handle it.

Resigned, she washed, dressed, and started to leave her room when the phone rang. She picked up. “I have it, Kate.”

“Rissa, Chris and Tony are here, and we’re going to pick up my car. We have a few things to check out before coming home.”

“Tris, couldn’t they bring you home first? You’re still recovering.”