When I’m With You (Indigo) (23 page)

Louis cast a skeptical look. “Why?”

Marcel answered bluntly. “Three years ago, he hurt my woman. It’s payback time.”

“Three years is a long time for a woman not to recover from a broken heart.” Louis propped his feet on his desk and laughed. “Surely your lady’s not still upset with him after all this time.”

“No, she’s upset because the bastard has made her life a living hell,” Marcel shot back.

“Baptiste,” Louis uttered through a contemptuous laugh, “I’ve got better things to do than sit here and listen to the drama going on in your love life. Besides, it’s not my concern.”

Marcel’s jaw tightened. “Well, guess what. You better make it your concern.

Louis’s eyes flared as he planted his feet on the floor and stood. “What did you just say?”

Marcel remained seated and released a soft, dangerous smile. “You heard me. Hire him.”

Louis shot an angry glance at Marcel. “And if I don’t?”

Marcel slowly rose to his feet, tightened the knot in his silk tie, and answered in a condescending tone, “If you don’t, before the ink dries on my check, your company will be mine.”

Alcee cleared his throat. “Louis, you owe us this much.”

“I owe you nothing, Alcee,” Louis spat back. “If anyone owes, it’s you.”

Alcee moved swiftly in front of Louis. “Owe you for what?”

“For coming between me and Della, that’s what.” Louis’s hands balled into fists.

Alcee stood mere inches from Louis’s face and hissed between his teeth. “You never had Della. Perhaps if you had treated her right, things would have worked out differently.”

Marcel stepped between his father and Louis. “Shut up. Both of you.” He held them apart with hands against their chests and glanced between them. “At the moment, I don’t give a rat’s ass about something that happened so long ago neither of you probably remembers exactly right. I’ve got three concerns.” He put his hands down and bent his fingers as he named them. “Keeping my woman safe, taking Mazzei out, and planning my future with Caitlyn.” He narrowed his gaze at them both. “Do I make myself clear?”

Louis and Alcee begrudgingly nodded and retreated to opposite sides of the room.

After a short silence, Louis spoke again. “So, I guess you and Angelique are still convincing Della that I’m no good.”

Louis’s reference to Angelique shook Alcee to the core and a veil of sorrow covered his face. “We haven’t talked to Della, Louis.”

“Why not?” A questioning look drifted over Louis’s face.

“Angelique and Della are dead,” Alcee quietly advised.

Louis’s knees buckled, and his breathing became wheezy as he sat in his chair. “W-what?”

Marcel saw the painful expression on his father’s face and offered an explanation. “Louis, my mother has been dead for twenty-four years.” He took the seat in front of Louis’s desk again. With his arms on his knees, he leaned forward. “The woman I plan to marry is named Caitlyn Thompson. Della was her mother.”

Louis was dumbfounded. He asked no one in particular, “Is Caitlyn my…”

Marcel knew what Louis was about to say before he uttered the words, but until he had absolute proof that Ken was Caitlyn’s father he opted to answer the question in a different way. “Caitlyn was born two years after you and Della split.”

“H-How do you know all of this?” Louis stuttered.

Marcel looked to Alcee and saw the brief nod he gave. “I hired Alex to find out who was behind this bidding war with the dealership. After Caitlyn and I met, she told me she wanted to know if her father was dead or alive. I agreed to help her.”

Alex cleared his throat. “During my investigation, I discovered that I wasn’t the only one checking into Caitlyn’s background.”

A confused frown etched across Louis’s face. “I’m not following you.”

Alcee’s admission broke the silence in the room. “I hired a PI, Louis.”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“I wanted to help find Caitlyn’s father,” Alcee admitted.

Louis’s anger flared, and he leaned forward in his chair. “Oh, you could help Caitlyn, but when I needed help, you couldn’t help me. Is that it?” Louis stood and paced. “I rotted away in a jail cell for five long years, all because of you, Alcee.”

Marcel came to his father’s defense. “Listen, Pop wasn’t responsible for what happened to you, Louis.”

“He may not have been responsible for what happened—” Louis broke off and tossed a blazing glare at Alcee, “but he was certainly responsible for not clearing my name.”

Alcee shook his head. “Louis, I didn’t know until a couple of days ago that you tried to get word to me. I swear to you on our mother’s grave, I never knew. God knows, after what you tried to do to Angelique, I hated you, but I would have helped you, if I had known. Despite everything, we are family.”

Looking skeptical, Louis glanced around the room at Marcel, Alcee and Alex. “How do I know this isn’t some kind of setup, some kind of revenge against me?”

Marcel stood and pulled two items out of his wallet. “You look at these and tell me if this is a setup.”

Louis took the photographs of Caitlyn and her mother from Marcel’s outstretched hand. “My God. She looks just like Della.” He walked to the window and said over his shoulder, “What is it you want me to do?”

Marcel cleared his throat. “I want you to hire Mazzei. Once he’s in, I need you to make it known to him that you know Caitlyn and where she is.”

Louis turned around and a frown knitted his brow. “How?”

“Place a picture of Caitlyn on your desk,” Marcel suggested. “Say she’s your goddaughter, niece, cousin, I don’t care. The only thing I want is for him to know there’s a connection.”

Louis shook his head. “I don’t want to get involved in this.”

Marcel relaxed his long frame in his chair. He needed to convince Louis to see things his way. Without violating the confidence of what his father had told him about Louis’s abusiveness to Della, he opted for a different tactic. He braced his left index finger at his temple. “Hennings, let me ask you something. Have you ever known a woman who’s been traumatized at the hands of a man?” His brow rose when he saw the emotions that played across Louis’s face and he pressed on. “Ever known a woman who had to leave behind her dreams, her family and her friends to escape the person who should have provided her protection?”

Louis swallowed a lump in his throat. “W-What did Mazzei do to her?”

There was no way Marcel would betray Caitlyn’s trust in him by revealing Cole had raped her. It was a private matter between the two of them, and the decision to reveal it to anyone was strictly Caitlyn’s. “He’s a stalker, and she’s been on the run from him for three years.”

Louis nodded. “I’ll follow your instructions to the letter.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe in some way this will make up for the wrong I did in the past.” He extended his hand to Marcel. “Go after that dealership. You have my word that I won’t interfere again. And I don’t want a penny of your money.”

The tension that had threaded through Marcel for the last few hours ebbed away. He shook Louis’s hand to confirm the truce. “Alex will have his men close by at all times. The moment Mazzei makes a move out of New York, I want to know about it.”

“You know, Marcel,” Louis paused, “a man can sometimes learn from his mistakes. I’m living proof. If I could take back the things I did to Della,” he looked at Alcee, “and Angelique, I would. I learned from my errors. So, when Mazzei finds her, what do you plan to do to him?”

Although Marcel’s eyes were cold, deadly and angry, he smiled. In the calmest tone imaginable, and with the gentleness of a caress, he communicated the solemn vow he planned to make good on. “Ensure he doesn’t make The same mistake thrice.”

He quickly glanced at his watch. His next stop was to see the father of Cole’s latest victim, the Honorable John Ramsey.

* * *

As Caitlyn sat in the middle of Marcel’s bed, her mind drifted to the previous night. She tried to close her heart to the feeling within her that something was wrong. She knew Marcel would never hurt her, and that he loved her. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder why he’d made love to her the way he did. It was as if some wild, unexplainable force had driven him to the brink. Even though he hadn’t said it aloud, she knew something wasn’t right, and that whatever it was involved her.

Right before she drifted off to sleep, Marcel had told her he had to make an unexpected business trip to New York, but promised to be home later that evening. After receiving his text message earlier in the afternoon that simply read, ‘I love you,’ she felt a little better and tried not to concentrate on the nagging suspicion something wasn’t right. She was determined to stay up and greet him, at whatever time he made it in. She wondered if he’d tell her what was bothering him. Would he eventually be able to trust their love enough to share the secret she knew rested within his heart?

* * *

Around eleven that evening, Caitlyn stood at the bottom of the dual staircase and turned when she heard the front door open. She threw herself into Marcel’s outstretched arms and held him tight and whispered against the solid wall of his chest, “I missed you.” When he pressed his lips to her cheek, she felt scorched, but when he kissed her with such gentleness, she softly purred.

She lifted her head to peer into his eyes. His gaze locked with hers and told her what they shared was real. In his eyes, she saw hope for tomorrow and a determination to banish all the hurts of yesterday. The expression in his eyes was so remarkably tender, so profoundly passionate, it caused her insides to shiver. But she saw something else, too. She saw fear, something she’d never seen before. Terror rose up inside her because the happiness she felt at that moment was in jeopardy. Wrapping her arms around him even tighter, she gently rested her head against his chest, praying that whatever had caused the distress would be over soon, and that their love would see them through. She listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he caressed her shoulders.

“Missed you, too, kitten,” Marcel whispered softly.

She glanced up and became concerned when she noticed the dark circles underneath his eyes. “Come on. Let’s go to bed. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

He chuckled. “That’s the best welcome home your man can get?”

The look of anxiety she’d had before transformed into a sultry gaze of desire and a sexy smile touched her lips. Caitlyn enfolded Marcel’s large hand inside hers and led him up the left side of the dual staircase and into the bedroom. Then she spoke with the boldness of a woman deeply in love. “Take everything off.”

He stood nude before her, and she inhaled the woodsy fragrance of his cologne, which mingled with the scent of man. She marveled at everything she’d come to expect from him: warmth, tenderness and protection. Right now she wanted more. She wanted to take a slow, all-night tour of him. She wanted to feel the texture and taste of him.

The sash on her robe gave way, and she continued until, like him, she was nude. Then she knelt before him.

“Oh, man.” His voice quivered as her tongue laved its way around his navel.

Raising her head, she saw him gasp for air when her palms landed flat against his thighs.

“Marcel.” She purred softly against his erection before the warmth of her mouth closed over him and loved him in the same tortured way he’d loved her in the past. Slow, rhythmic motions enabled her to take him in deeply and his hips rocked against her lips.

“Have mercy.” His fingers wrapped around the soft, wavy curls at the top of her head.

Warm, loving hands replaced her mouth and stroked him with such gentleness, he moaned. Somehow, his hand found hers, and together they moved in perfect sync.

“Touch me harder,” he whispered.

For Caitlyn, realization finally set in that she’d lost him moments earlier because his hands had clenched at his side, his eyes had rolled back, and his head had slumped to touch his shoulders. Pleasure washed over her, and she lowered her mouth again.

“Baby…I’m not going…to make…it…” His words were strained and he braced his palms against the wall.

Lifting her mouth, she stroked him harder and faster. “Come just for me.”

Her sensual attack didn’t stop until he’d convulsed in an earth-shattering climax and spilled down the valley of her breasts. She didn’t bother to wipe away his essence. Instead, she reached for his hand and placed it against the creamy-pearl substance on her.

His head hung so low it almost touched his chest, and he struggled to breathe.

Her smile was followed by two simple words. “Welcome home.”

All rationale left Marcel. He looked wild, primitive, his eyes narrowed and glittering. Perhaps reasoning fled when the flashback rolled through his head of the agonizing hours when he’d feared his love for the woman standing before him was forbidden. Or maybe it took flight because she’d just loved him in the most intimate way a woman could love her man. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter and he didn’t care.

Without hesitation, he scooped her off her feet, swung her across his shoulders, and carried her in a fireman’s hold to the bed. He didn’t bother to search the nightstand for a condom. He just spread her thighs and settled himself in between, caressing her silken folds until she hummed.