Love Turns With Twisted Fates 2 (11 page)

Diego’s pulled out all the stops as he pushes me away and
pulls me back in with a turn, placing us chest to back again. The warmth of his
body against my nearly bare back has me clenching my thighs together to try to
ease the ache in my core.

“Izzy, are you wearing any panties?” he pants in my ear.

The question mixed with the headiness of his suggestion
renders me speechless. He gets a wordless answer with the shake of my head.

I feel him suck in a breath. The song finishes and he’s
leading us through the thinned crowd off the dance floor and towards a hallway.
It’s long and dimly lit. About half way down or so, Diego is opening a door,
leading us into a dark room. When we step in, a soft, diffused glow comes from
the cove lighting around a very large bathroom.

I hear the lock on the door click, as I take in the swank
bathroom with a modern-looking microfiber chaise and complementary vanity set.
The actual toilet appears to be in a separate room within this—”Izzy.” I hear
the strain in his voice.

I turn and meet his eyes. As expected, Diego’s face is taut
with self-control, but the need in his eyes matches the ache in my core. Unable
to resist the urge to make the man lose control, I back up to the chaise,
running my fingers up the spaghetti straps of my dress, hooking them at the
tops and dragging them down, slowly letting the dress slip from my body. Baring
all of me to my hungry looking husband, I turn to give him a look at my
backside and easy access to my sex.

He bends me over the back of the chaise, the peaks of my
sensitive and swollen breasts brushing the silky velvety microfiber fabric. He
has me so turned on and ready to go, I can feel the evidence dripping from my
pussy.

Without warning, his breath is on my opening, and in my next
breath he’s licking up my juices and plunging his tongue into my pool of
arousal. “Oh, Diego.” The moan and his name escape my mouth before I can
register the need to keep it quiet.

He’s trailing kisses up the back of my right leg while
dragging his hand up and around to the front of the other, resting at my clit.
He continues the trail with his lips up my spine. Another moan escapes and I’m
completely lost as he plunges the length of his cock into my wanting pussy.

“
Ahhhhhh
,” he rips the scream from me over and over.
Forgotten are our surroundings, it’s only the two of us and our punishing
needs. I don’t know how long I can hold on before the rein on my control snaps
and I’m a puddle at his feet.

A knock at the door is a reminder that there could be an
audience at any given moment. “
Ocupado
,” Diego grunts out. There’s
another knock this one a little louder. Diego repeats himself in kind, never
slowing his demanding pace.

Whoever was on the other side of the door seems to have
gotten the message or they want to be an audience to our symphony of lust.
Another moan is hammered out of me. The hitch in Diego’s otherwise steady pace
tells me he’s close. It’s my cue.

I balance myself on one hand, reaching the other between my
spread thighs and back to grab his balls, lightly scraping my nails against the
hardened globes. “Touch yourself,
bella
,” he rasps out through labored
breaths.

I do as instructed and instantly, the walls of my pussy are
milking at Diego’s penetrating cock with a euphoric orgasm. In response, Diego
is pumping his release into me, groaning out my name.

Diego slides out of me, striding to the vanity for some
tissues. Before situating himself, he wipes me down, taking care to be gentle
with my swollen lips. I’m still panting when Diego, signals for me to lift my
foot with the tap of his hand to my calf. I lift. He repeats the signal with my
other calf and slides my dress up and into place as I straighten myself. He
places chaste kisses where the straps rest on each shoulder; I moan my
approval.

I take a step and slightly stumble, “Wow. I’m feeling a bit
Drizzy,” referring of the drunk version of myself. “There you go again…robbing
me of my breath and my shame.”

“Izzy, you took my breath away a long time ago and never
gave it back,” he says, leading me to the vanity.

“You sweet talker,” I bat at him playfully. I use the mirror
to fix my mussed up hair and clean the added smokiness the bathroom sexcapade
gave me.

When we’ve made ourselves presentable, we leave the
luxurious bathroom and return to the party. No one is clued in to our bathroom
romp. Mazzy spends the night flirting with Jay. Diego and I dance a few more
times, but ultimately call it an early night. The night’s festivities and the
changes my body is going through make it impossible to stay up all night.

September 2006

“Diego,” the pitch in my voice is filled with concern. His
expression is sullen and worn. He looks up from his phone. He’s just finished a
call with his agent. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you turn on the news?” He doesn’t answer my question.
If we had a dog, I’d say he looked like our dog died. His usual animated face
is stoic, even forlorn.

“Diego, what is it?”

Before he can answer, I see that Mazzy has changed the
channel to the one with the local news. The newscaster is announcing breaking
news.

“Owner of the London United Football Club William “Bean”
Stafford was rushed to the hospital this afternoon. Early reports are saying
Stafford suffered a heart attack.”

“Oh no.” The words fall past my lips as I suck in a sob.
Not
Bean
.

“As always presumed,” continues the anchor, “Sasha Stafford,
the daughter of William Stafford and his late wife, actress Esme Stafford, will
assume the role of acting owner while Stafford is incapacitated. We’ll report
back when we have more information.”

Diego switches off the television. His stunned silence is
interrupted when his phone rings. “I have to take this,” his voice comes off as
harsh. “Sasha?” he answers. “How is he?” he’s walked to our office.

The sigh I release is very audible and wreaking of
frustration.

“I know, Izzy,” Mazzy soothes, reaching over to rub my
forearm. I can’t even voice my issues with our current situation with Bean in
the hospital. If I thought Sasha was trouble before, as the acting owner I just
know the woman is going to be my own personal hell. “Hey,” she perks up, “you
want me to stay for another week?” She’s leaving the day after tomorrow. Her
two weeks have gone by so fast.

“I’ll be fine, Mazz. You have work and we,” referring to my
record label, “can’t have our top producer gone because her best friend can’t
handle a measly blonde.”

She laughs at my unenthusiastic jab, “That’s my Bizzy.”
She’s the tonic to my sour mood, always knowing the right words to say and when
to say them. And knowing when saying nothing is also what I need.

When Diego returns, his mood and state of being looks worse,
if that’s possible. “Hey, Izzy, I need to go to the hospital.” He’s so sullen
it makes my heart break.

“Okay,” pushing up from the couch. “I’ll go with you.”

“No!” he barks back. “I really don’t want you in the
emergency room with all those sick people.” He looks down to my belly and back
up at me. “No risks right now, okay?” His eyes plead with me to understand. And
I don’t have the heart to argue.

“Okay, then. Will you give Bean my love? And keep me
updated?” my voice imperceptibly cracking. The raise of Mazzy’s eyebrow says
she caught it. Diego is too distracted to notice.

“Of course, Izzy.” He leans down to kiss the space between
my temple and the corner of my eye. And with that, he’s out the door.

“You okay, babe?” asks Mazzy. I know she’s just trying to
keep me focused on what we know and not start taking the trip down the rabbit
hole of darkness.

With a sigh, I voice my concerns. I talk about how I’m
afraid that this is the opportunity Sasha will jump on to take what’s mine,
completely and utterly, unafraid and void of shame to use the situation with
her father to further her own agenda.

Mazzy does what Mazzy does and reminds me that Diego is
mine. She shines a light on the areas my mind tries to blanket in doom and
gloom. When night sets in, we’ve hashed it out and I’m in a better place. Diego
calls with an update on Bean. They’re letting in visitors per Bean’s directive
and I instruct Diego to kiss him for me. Diego can barely muster a chuckle and
again my heart breaks.

I wish I understood what has him so sullen. I get the
concern, but I don’t understand why he has almost a defeated look about him.

The minutes that pass turn to hours, but Diego checks in as
often as possible. Alfred makes Mazz and me a light dinner, but I still
struggle to eat more than a handful of bites.

Diego isn’t home by the time I decide to call it a night. I
send him a message from bed.

Hey lover. Can’t keep my eyes open any longer.

Mi bella preciosa did u eat

What I could. How’s Bean?

Theyre waiting for the results

It might b worse than they thought

Are you okay?

Im fine just worried

He took a chance on me Iz

I know, lover. I’m glad you’re there for him. Come home
soon.

I will

Hey Izzy

Yeah?

U know I love u right

I do.
How much do you love me?

So much so much

September 2006

“Hey, peanut,” Mazzy’s talking to my still flat belly. “Your
Auntie Mazzy has to go now, but you keep moving in there. I expect to hear
about your activity as soon as your mom feels it. Cock block your dad for me—”

“Mazzy.”

“She doesn’t know what I mean,” she waves away my concern
with her hand. “Just putting it out there for her to find the perfect time to
make her presence known.” She framed perfect with air quotes.

I let out a gleeful laugh. “You two are incorrigible. I’ll
have to share the order you gave her,” referring to the baby as Mazzy did,
“with Diego. He’s gonna love it.”

She directs her attention back to my belly. “Now, peanut be
good and I’ll be back before you’re born. Take care of your mommy, she’s the
bestest. You’ll see. And peanut, auntie loves you so much, so much.”

What was once a lone tear leaking from my eye is now a flood
of tears streaking my face. “Oh, Frizzy. Don’t you cry or I’m gonna cry,” she
teases.

I smudge the tears away with my sleeves much like a child
would. She pulls me in for a hug and we just stay there. “Mazzy,” I speak into
her shoulder through sobs, “how am I going to do this with you thousands of
miles and an ocean between us?”

She scoffs. “You do remember who your husband is, right? I
hardly think you’ll need the both of us hovering.” She quirks an eyebrow up at
me. Ever since she went to my last doctor’s appointment with me, she’s been
almost as bad as Diego with the over-cautiousness and over-protectiveness. It’s
quite ridiculous. The doc just said I need to be good about taking my
supplements, drinking water, and getting rest. Even with the added iron
supplement, my levels are within range, but on the low side.

She releases me from our hug and levels a pointed stare at
me. I feel like a kid again, because my natural reaction is to roll my eyes.

“I still don’t see why I can’t go to the airport with you.”
Yup, that’s a pout on my face. Diego insisted, and Mazzy agreed, that I didn’t
need to be traipsing through a crowded airport. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“And we’re going to keep it that way,” she delivers with a
stern smile.

“Fine, go,” I turn to give her my back, my arms crossed over
my chest. Before I can settle into my forced tantrum, I’m shaking with a laugh
that gives me away. She grabs me from behind and whips out her digital camera.
Strategically placing it in front of our faces, she clicks off a photo. She
turns it around and opens up the image on the small viewscreen on the back of
the camera.

We both are cracking up. She’s managed to only capture our foreheads
and our eyes. She whips it around again and takes a little more time to angle
it to get our faces in the pic. When she’s done, she repeats the action of
pulling the new image up on the viewscreen.

“Better,” she declares. “Now, keep that smile on your face,
because before you know it, I’ll be back,” I crack up because with those last
three words she tries out her best Terminator voice and fails miserably.

Albert comes in and informs us that Mazzy’s bags are in the
car. “Love you so much, so much, Izzy.” She gives me another hug.

“Love you so much, so much, Mazz.” I squeeze her back.

I do as she says and keep the smile on my face as she pulls
away from the curb, waving at me from the rolled down window.

September 2006

Since the day before Mazzy left, Diego has become busier
than normal. It’s been nearly ten days and it feels, more often than not, like
we are two ships passing in the night. The day before his birthday, I send him
a message.

Hey lover. I miss you.

Hey Iz miss you

I can’t shake the feeling that he’s being unusually short
with me.

Can’t wait for tomorrow night.

Referring to his birthday and the special night I have
planned.

About that

My stomach drops. I just stare at the last two words he sent
me. I can’t imagine what must be going on.

We’ve always made birthdays special. A tradition both our
mothers emphasized more than any other holiday or celebration. While he heard
of stories of his mom sharing birthdays with her siblings back in Mexico,
Diego’s mom made a point of celebrating just him. Our mothers had similar
sayings about our birthdays. His mom would say, “
El día que me hiciste una
madre es digno de celebración hasta el fin de los tiempos
.” The day you
made me a mother is worth celebrating until the end of time. My mother would
say to me, “The day you were born you made us a family. And this family is
worth celebrating.”

Izzy?

His message breaks my trance. With a sigh, I message him
back.

Yup.

Whats going on.

Nothing. Just waiting for you to tell me “about that.”

The nice thing about texting? He can’t hear the frustration
and sarcasm in my statement or see the accompanying eye roll.

We need 2 take new team photos Sasha scheduled it for
tomorrow afternoon can we push dinner back by an hour i just want 2 make sure
im not late

Relief washes over me at the celebration just being bumped
back while ice runs through my veins at the mention of
her
name. If it’s
not one thing, it’s another with her. And for whatever reason, Diego is asking how
high when she says jump.

That’s fine, D.

Thx bella ill c u soon k

Okay

I wait for his typical way of signing off or saying goodbye
and it never comes. I know it’s the added hormones from the pregnancy, but this
unusual lack of his sentiment has my eyes leaking. I chastise myself, but the
tears don’t stop.