An Alpha's Desire Page 31

  “Just two years ago, Wentworth Daniel Rutledge the III was forced into the placement of CEO of Titan Aerospace, the umbrella corporation for the commercial Titan Airlines and private Titan Jetways, due to his grandparents’ untimely deaths. The company was founded in 1936 by the Rutledge dynasty...”

  As the newscaster’s mention the tragedy that my family has endured I glare at the image of Rebecca leaving the courthouse in Los Angeles. After months of arguing, she and her attorneys are playing the fucking wild card.

  “…Daniel, it appears, has exceeded expectations about Titan Aerospace after his grandparents who adopted him died in the spring before last; Wentworth Rutledge the First to pneumonia...”

  I remove the remote from Desire’s tensed grasp and turn the channel. Two, four, five, nine… Our paradise in the middle of nowhere has turned into a fucking shit storm as every major news network is covering the shots fired by Rebecca Christly, showing her sauntering out of court.

  “What makes this lady, barely related, barely blood, think she can take Daniel’s company from him?” one of the more outspoken news anchormen argues.

  The blood in my veins is lit, on fire. Rebecca Christly believes I’m a horse, bridle in its mouth that she domineers?

  “Daniel, it’s time for us to call it quits.” Desire murmurs, her voice is barely audible.

  “Break up?” I tear my gaze away from the burgeoning fire to glance at her. Had I heard her correctly? “Des, how can you say that?”

  “We’ll never get married, Daniel. Rebecca said she’d fuck with us… that we’d never get married. While watching exactly how low she’s willing to go, I just realized something, Daniel. Tha-that I really want to marry you.” Tears trickle down Desire’s face until it becomes a river.

  “We can get married today, damn it!” My fist zooms through the air. “I’ve already told you that Becky can have Titan Aerospace.” Fuck, I chose to wait until her next birthday in August to propose now that Monique is growing accustomed to me.

  “Daniel, can I go home?” Desire presses a hand to her chest.

  “Yes, we can...”

  She doubles over, breaths in jagged hard bursts.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Talk to me.” I scoop her in my arms, yet the inability for her to catch a breath expands. With Desire in my arms, I stalk to the intercom on the door. “Cap, we need a doctor. Now. Desire can’t breathe.”

  He responds a few seconds with the ETA of a rescue helicopter. For the first time in years, I understand the meaning of being hopeless. I was thirteen when walking in on my mother’s cold, lifeless body. Her usual despondent blue eyes were milky and lifeless as her face leaned against the side of the bathtub.

  I couldn’t save her.

  Desire is curled into my arms, and I will place a fucking bullet to Rebecca’s head if I can’t save Desire.

  When I’m done with this bitch, her entitled ass won’t even receive her monthly stipend, clean from drugs or not. Rebecca is fucking dead to me—

  ###

  By the time the medical helicopter lands on the helipad atop the yacht, Desire can speak again even though she is quiet while I help her dress in jean shorts and a shirt. I’ve dressed in khaki shorts and a polo. After an assessment of her vitals, the medic indicates that she appears to have had an anxiety attack. However, we were transported to the hospital in Nassau for further observation.

  After another few hours, a nurse informs me that Desire is in the clear and should be released shortly. I’m sitting in the lobby clutching her neon pink purse when she’s wheeled by a nurse down the corridor. Our gazes catch for a fraction of a second and I realize how my heart was lodged in my throat this entire time. My lungs fill with air.

  She says something to the nurse, and then stands, clutching a discharge summary. The nurse parts ways with her and I rise and go to her. My hand caresses her face. Desire’s eyelids close in comfort as I stroke her cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Daniel,” she murmurs hesitantly. Her flip flops clicks as she moves backward and out of my grasp. “I want to go home, please.”

  “I know. I’ve had the jet readied.”

  Her pupils rise from the ground but do not track my gaze. She won’t look me in the eyes. “By myself. I’ll take a taxi to the airport. I’ll catch the next flight, Daniel. I refuse to ride on anything Titan.”

  That feels like a punch to my gut. I reach out to touch her. Desire finally glances at me, and her big brown eyes are swollen and red with tears.

  “Then we’ll get on a fucking commercial flight for one of my competition, Des.”

  “No.” Her voice is unyielding. “Daniel, I need time alone.”

  Futility consumes me. I’m a fucking man yet I don’t touch her. I cannot fathom how much my heart will crumble if I try to touch her and she pushes away. I gesture between us. “Sweetheart, don’t do this to us. You want to get married. Monique and I are getting along. Everyone is getting along. We hosted Mother’s Day, Des, and everything was good.”

  “Daniel, you’ve always marched to the beat of your own drum.” She shrugs. “But let me go. Let me go for now, please…”

  “Let’s start planning a wedding.”

  “I’m not marrying you, damn!” she screams. “I’m doing what’s best for you, Daniel. I’m placing everything you’ve ever known and loved over one year of you and I, okay? Sometimes the world won’t rotate at your request.”

  My jaw tenses. In business, every aspect of my desires has been at my fingertips. As a child, that couldn’t be further from the truth when adding Celine and Wentworth II to the equation.

  “Do you want to marry me?” I ask.

  “Must I answer that?” she asks, lips tensed.

  My jaw tenses. “Desire, do you fucking want to marry me?”

  “Yes. More than anything. But you’d have to force me down the aisle, Daniel. I love you more than I love the concept of marriage. At least my heart loves you more, but my brain is weighted toward marriage. This breaks my heart too. You understand, don’t you?”

  I shrug. “Whatever you say, Des.”

  “Just stay here, let me leave.” She grabs her tote bag from me and backs away. Every step she takes further away from me, the more hatred twines in my abdominals for Rebecca Christly.

  “Can you tell me what plane and flight you take?”

  Desire stops.

  “That’s all I ask, Des. I’ve gotta make sure you get home safe.”

  “I’ll text you once I secure a flight,” Desire agrees. She mouths ‘I love you’ before turning around and stalking toward the exit.

  Desire

  You are asking what the hell is wrong with me? You’re caught up to speed on how one extremely powerful man did everything in his might to possess me. Daniel exceeded my expectations, and I’ve left my heart in his hands. I’ve literally just run away from the only man I’ve ever loved, and that makes me a bitch, depending on how the mechanics are twisted.

  I’m in the center seat of a JetBlue eight-hour flight. The plane descended at Fort Lauderdale a few minutes ago, and while a portion of the attendees are exiting at their final destination, I head to the rear restroom. I turn sideways to squeeze my hips into the tiny room.

  A small yelp comes from my lips as I glance at myself in the mirror. I cried at Lynden Pindling International Airport for almost two hours while waiting for the plane, and I had cried at the hospital while waiting to be released, so I’m sure I looked like shit from the get-go.

  “Desire, you did this for Daniel’s own good,” I tell myself. The words feel encouraging to my psyche but like toxic lies to my heart.

  A whimper of tears roll through me and I pluck a few tissues.

  “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear…” I quote the Bible. God, can you just speak to me for a second? Was I afraid setting Daniel free? Or am I just feeling the repercussions of being strong enough to put his legacy, his entire life, before our love?

  I
pool water into my hands and splash it onto my face. The heat around my eyes from crying so much begins to diminish.

  There’s a knock at the door.

  I open the tiny partition.

  “Sorry, ma’am, but I have to get a head count before the Fort Lauderdale passengers are let on the plane. Please claim your seat.”

  ###

  It’s a quarter past seven when I part ways from the passengers who are headed to baggage claim since I only had my tote bag.

  My cell phone rings for the upteenth time. Daniel again.

  A text message pings.

  DANIEL: Will you just answer??

  DANIEL: There’s a car waiting for you at the north entrance.

  ME: K, thanks.

  The iPhone tinkers as I start a new message to tell him I love him. Instead, I delete it with a huff, and start for the north entrance. I shove the phone into my pocket and take the long walk.

  About five minutes later, my iPhone vibrates against my pocket. Another text from Daniel. I almost smile as I click it and see a YouTube link. It’s The Isley Brothers, “Voyage to Atlantis.”

  I chuckle. On Valentine’s Day, Daniel admitted that he’d looked The Isley Brothers up after my mother’s Summer Breeze Party. He’d had a playlist with “Make Me say It Again Girl” and other great hits.

  Don’t Say Goodnight might be more applicable here.

  I start to chuckle at myself but a bubble of tears threaten to escape with it. I’m passing a Starbucks cart when I see a crowd ahead. Great, I’ll probably pass a celebrity while heading toward the car Daniel was kind enough to send me after I was an asshole.

  My eyes bug! Sia the celebrity interviewer from E News is smack dab in the middle of the throng of people. She joked with Daniel and I almost a year ago at the museum gala, and then again at the summer launch of the Titan Jets.

  My phone vibrates in my hand and subconiscously, I take a glance.

  DANIEL: Look up Des.

  I cry harder recalling the sign on the bottom of the jet when Daniel scared the daylights out of me during my first day in Texas. The adrenaline rush. The mixture of feelings that only he was able to conjure.

  DANIEL: And stop crying.

  My eyebrows furrow together. How is he aware that I’m crying? I begin to glance around but in the direction of the crowd, I hear a very familiar voice. One that my mom and Tonisha have screamed and moaned over since I was a little girl.

  Ronald Isley is singing “Voyage to Atlantis” acapella style. He moves through the crowd. Sia is standing next to Daniel. This motherfucker is dressed to the nines. A tailored suit is unbuttoned over his broad chest. I rub tears away from my eyes as Daniel drops to one knee.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I’m as quiet as can be, but Sia has shoved the microphone next to me.

  “You said I should force you down the aisle, Desire,” he says under his breath. I burst into laughter as I consider how he misconstrued my words at the hospital. “Don’t make me say your real name, much louder, sweetheart.”

  In a more audible voice he asks me to marry him, with a crowd of personal phones and Sia’s camera crew right in the mix. There’s only one thought swarming through my mind.

  “Yes!” I hug him.

  Sia bursts in a second later. “Where to now? And can you tell us about your estranged cousin, Rebecca Rutledge’s threats at court?”

  “We’re off to Greenwich,” Daniel says. “I have no comment regarding Rebecca Christly.”

  My mouth drops. I’ve asked for us to visit his childhood mansion so many times before. The sheer determination in Daniel’s eye tells me that there truly is no fear in love…

  Daniel

  Over the years, after heading off to college, I have only returned to the Rutledge Estate in Greenwich a handful of times, the last being when Grandmother Marilyn was on her deathbed. I stayed a week, steering clear of my mother’s old living quarters and where my father got too drunk to handle his Lamborghini.

  Desire holds my hand as the SUV meanders up the hill toward the home, which sits on a plateau. I can still recall the panoramic views of Long Island Sound below. I remind myself I’m here for a purpose; this is the only place I’ve ever hated and loved so much.

  “We’re looking for something to prove that my Grandfather Wentworth wasn’t in his right frame of mind when constructing his will,” I remind Desire. “I left Ephraim a voicemail before my phone died.”

  In the past, Ephraim asked to bring a team to view this home through a fine-toothed comb. My hatred of the place and the thought of exposing still more family secrets caused me to decline his request, and Desire’s subsequent requests.

  “Dang, after the long conversation I had with my mom—who is probably as in love with you as much as she is with Ronald Isley—my phone is dead too. But I know I packed a charger, somewhere,” she says as the driver navigates through the windy passageways.

  The car stops. Desire is ready to place one foot out the door. I stop her with a kiss. Our tongues twine and my cock surges to life.

  “Whoa,” Desire says, catching her breath.

  “This isn’t a race, sweetheart. Once we get these damn phones on a charger, I’m sure the caretaker will have one if we can’t find ours, then we comb each room together. Celine’s last… after the original brick carriage house and its separate apartments…if it comes to it.

  She grins. “Together. I like that, Daniel.”

  We step out into the courtyard.

  “Are those Ebony trees?’ Desire asks, glancing around the rolling lawns.

  “Yup. Those are the first trees I’ve ever used for carving,” I tell her. I remind myself that though I usually give her the grand tour of my homes, in this instance I won’t. I’ll at least need to show some sort of interest.

  The entryway has travertine marble floors and expansive bay windows. We place our cell phones on a double charger near the entrance, and start for my grandparents’ shared room. It is the best place to begin. I’ve told her to search for a diary, something to chronologize my grandfather’s life from the 1950s. Instead of forcing Odessa to endure the past, I hope to find a written statement from him about his love for Tamar. Ephraim can use that to identify that he wasn’t in his right mind while Ian Levine constructed those additional stipulations to the family will.

  Almost an hour later, we have found nothing in their room.

  “My grandfather’s office, we should’ve started there,” I say.

  Desire stalks after me, unable to keep up with my stride. “Should we check our phones for Ephraim? We could honestly use help. Each room is larger than my first apartment after college.”

  “Yes, we should.” I start up to the third level. “Go check, sweetheart.” Fuck, Wentworth’s office should’ve been the first place I searched.

  “I don’t know my way back, Daniel.”

  “Then keep up, beautiful. We can see if Ephraim responded once we check out this room,” I say. Once on the third level, Desire catches up to me down the hall. I pull both doorknobs. My grandfather’s office has a lemony fresh scent, the wood walls polished.

  I head to his desk and begin to pull out the drawers. Desire starts to open another door.

  “Bathroom, sweetheart.”

  “Oh.”

  “And that’s the closet.” I gesture toward the door on the opposite side of the room. She hurries over while I push around various pieces of paper.

  We get into a rhythm while searching around, and then I hear a gasp come from the closet. I step inside, and Desire is seated on the floor.

  “Daniel, listen.” She’s holding a tiny leather book. She flips back to the first page.

  ‘My dearest Nolan, I will convince you of our love…’ Desire says.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s a diary, from Tamar. Tamar Bowers to your Grandfather Wentworth. He was in the army?”

  I rub the back of my neck in thought, and recall when I was a child. My grandfather always brought ho
me toy planes and helicopters when I was little. One time, he seemed more excited than the others. He’d gifted me with an army helicopter. “He was in the Air Force.”

  “It seems like Nolan—”

  “Nolan?” I arch an eyebrow.

  “What? After reading a few pages, I like him. Wentworth is such a stuffy name. Besides, everyone who knew him well called him Nolan.” Desire has stars in her eyes, and I don’t have the time nor the ‘fuck to give’ as to what she’s read to persuade her to my grandfather’s side. “So Nolan loved him some Tamar. Unfortunately, after his second tour in the Vietnam War, Nolan returned home with amnesia.”

  “Amnesia? I wasn’t aware of that.” I bite my knuckle in contemplation. I was aware of how he fought with blacks during the Korean War, Mama Odessa had mentioned that to remind me that he wasn’t racist. It was hard for me to hate my grandfather after his shunning Juliet. But the contract? Reading the will after he’d died ruined any positive perception I ever had of Wentworth. It always seemed easier for me to just hate him than to even listen to Odessa’s attempts at rationalizing his love.

  “Sheesh, a black woman convincing a white man that they are in love circa 1957 after he’s diagnosed with a case of amnesia. I can’t imagine…” Desire says.

  “That must have been the ‘bad shit’ Odessa told me about.”

  “Odessa told you what?”

  “Wentworth was at Tamar’s side during a few civil rights marches and they fell in love. Something bad happened, and she died.”

  “But was his amnesia the ‘bad’ thing Odessa was referring to? And when did Tamar die? Are the two related?”

  “Late 1950s.”

  Desire huffs. “Well this journal appears to span from 1951 to 1957.” She scans the journal and she mumbles, “Damn, I need to keep reading…”

  “Okay, sweetheart. But later. We have to search for something in my grandfather’s handwriting instead. Let’s see if Ephraim called. Then we can come back up here to check. When the team gets here, you can continue to read Tamar’s book.”