Cayden (Members From Money Season 2 #145)

Chapter 1

The fall night was pretty, with the blue velvety sky covered with dozens of twinkling stars. The impossible heat of summer had finally made way for the cooler weather.

Trees were bending their boughs with the wind stirring the leaves and the rain, which had fallen earlier in the afternoon, glistened on the bed of roses and daffodils just along the wide porch.

The woman seated behind the wheel of the snazzy looking red car, took nothing in. Her mind was far away, thoughts troubled. She was trying her best to organize her thoughts and struggled for composure. She had to.

The man inside the sprawling ranch type house, one where she had grown up in, would notice the slightest bit of distress and she was not sure she wanted to unburden herself to him.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped out. Her boots hit the cobbled stone driveway, and she felt the familiar stirring throughout her body.

The place looked the same. She had been away for three weeks, and it still looked and felt like home. She had lived here for so many years, only moving out when she got married five years ago.

Wrapping her cashmere jacket around her slender body, Blair marched up the steps and pushed the door open, shaking her head at the fact that her dad refused to keep it locked. The neighborhood was secluded, and he had been living here for the past thirty-five years, but still…

Shrugging out of her jacket, she draped it on the peg of the coat tree and simply stood there inside the foyer, looking around. It was homey and comfortable. The furnishings were not new but had a kind of live-in quality that she appreciated.

It was funny that after being married into one of the richest family in the world, she could still appreciate home. And it was and always will be home. Especially now.

“Dad?” She called out. When she did not hear a response, she made her way through the narrow hallway towards the library where she knew he would be at this time of the evening.

She saw him standing precariously on the rolling ladder and reaching for a thick volume.

“Dad?” She approached cautiously, not wanting to startle him too much. “What on earth are you doing?”

His smile lit up his attractively lined face, mahogany eyes sparkling with pleasure.

“Honey. Why didn’t you tell me you were back?”

“I arrived just this afternoon and had to take a nap. The flight was long and exhausting.

What are you doing?”

“Just searching for a book to help with my lesson for tomorrow,” he patted it and carefully made his way down. Putting the book on the desk, he hurried forward to enfold her in his arms and she just took him in and wrapped herself around him.

The familiar scent of peppermint and tobacco almost brought tears to her eyes, and she wanted to stay in his arms and never leave. It was safer there than anywhere else.

As if sensing her turmoil, he eased her away and held her at arms’ length, eyes studying her face closely. “Still my beautiful baby, but there is something there. How about a cup of tea and some comforting conversation?”

“You know how I hate tea.”

He nodded. “I do. But in this case, you are going to humor your old man,” he patted her cheek, “let me just make a note I have been toying with before it slips my mind. I am teaching a controversial topic tomorrow and must be prepared.”

He walked over to his desk and wrote some jottings on his notepad. Blake Hendricks was a professor at the local university and taught religious science. He had had tenure for the past thirty-three years and was extremely popular with his students and members of staff at the university, a place he viewed as his home away from home.

He had met his wife there and often joked that he had married above him. Their love had always been a comfort to Blair and as an only child, she had been brought up to settle for nothing less than true love.

“Now honey,” taking her hand, he slipped it though his arm and led the way out of the library, he used as his office. “How was the trip?”

“Too much,” she admitted with a slight laugh. “The wine tasting went very well according to the responses received.” They entered the cozy and warmth of the large yellow and white room with the old-fashioned appliances. “Sit, I will make the tea.”

“Are you certain?”

“I don’t get to touch the stove much anymore.” She reminded him lightly as she foraged for the packet of tea and put the kettle on. “How have you been?”

Blake studied his daughter as she efficiently set out a tray with two cups and added slices of the apple pie, his neighbor had brought over just this evening and noticed the shadows in her beautiful eyes.

She reminded him so much of his dearly departed wife. Catherine had been a stunning beauty and could have had any man she wanted, and she had chosen him. it still baffled him that she had.

Blair had inherited her caramel complexion, the small face, pointed and determined chin, with the fascinating cleft in the middle and eyes that dominated the face. The color and shape were the only things she had inherited from him. Everything else was a replica of her mother, right down to the petiteness and graceful movements.

“Dad?” She looked up as she finished pouring water over the pouch.

“I am doing great, except the odd reporter who came around wanting to know if the rumors were true.”

“What rumors?” She arranged the things neatly and went to get the honey and lemon.

He waited for her to face him before responding. “The one where your husband is having an affair.”

She tried to stop her hands from shaking, but did not quite pull it off.

“It’s all lies!” She also tried to appear nonchalant, but her voice lacked conviction. She had always been known to tell the truth and lying was not in her makeup and they both knew it. Sitting around the table, she cradled the cup and lifted her eyes to him. “He denies it.” She took a shaky breath.

“We’re having problems, yes, but Cayden would never cheat on me.” She realized that she was vehement in her denial and knew how it sounded. As if she was trying to convince herself that he was not cheating. Please God. Let it not be true.

Blake stirred his tea with the spoon in contemplative silence for a few seconds, his face expressionless. “I had my doubts when you came back from your holidays and said you met someone. When that someone turned out to be the heir to an incredible fortune, fear took over.” He trained his steady gaze on her.

“I wanted someone who would love you for the wonderful person you are, and I did not see it in the man you chose to spend the rest of your life with. He was too pretty…” He waved a hand when she opened her mouth.

“Please let me finish. Too everything. Too rich and entitled and a former playboy. You are an exceptionally beautiful woman,” he cast a wistful gaze over the smooth complexion and thick dark brown hair was styled into a neat chignon at the nape of a long, graceful neck. Diamonds glinted at her lobes and around her neck.

She was wearing a necklace that had been given to her when she and her husband just started out – platinum – a long chain with a large teardrop diamond nestled between her cleavage.

She never took it off, not even when she was draped in other fineries because it represented a sentiment to her. Her rings were stunning – her clothes expensive, befitting that of the woman she was now. The wife of a very wealthy man.

But all the wealth and status that came with being Mrs. Cayden Caruso had not changed whom she was inside and for that he was incredibly grateful.

“He does not strike me as being a man who can stick it out when challenging times come along. And marriage is composed of the good and bad. There are times when you do not even like the person you are with.”

A faint smile touched his lips. “I am forgetful and disorganized. I would be buried in my research and forget to bring home the milk or pick up the pastry for a dinner party your mother was planning. I would track in mud on her clean floor and often forget that she was not only a mother and a wife, but a careerist as well.

She juggled everything perfectly, me – not so much. We would argue – or she would reprimand me, and I would sulk and slam into my den - but then I would have to come right out and apologize for being in the wrong.”

His face became sober. “Your husband is spoiled – has been for years because he is the eldest of three boys and heir to the fortune and women climb over themselves to be with him. You, my dear, have been trying to please not only him, but the entire family by trying to produce an heir and that is stressful.”

She stirred her tea and tried to keep the tears away. “Five miscarriages.” She intoned bitterly. “I have been asking God why the punishment. I feel like Hannah in the Bible.”

He nodded in approval. “It is good that you remember your scripture. They miss you at church. And like Hannah in the Bible, you will get your triumph. You have to give yourself time to heal – your heart to settle…”

“He says we should stop focusing on getting pregnant and just be.”

“He might be right.”

“No!” Her voice was filled with passion. “He is not right and is just saying that. His mother looks at me like I am a misfit. Clive and Conail are pretty sweet and treats me with respect, but I do not belong.” She took a hasty sip of her tea and almost burnt her tongue in the process. “I want this for me – for us and it’s not happening.”

“And you think that producing an heir will fix what’s broken?” Her father intuited.

She simply stared at him and felt her heart quaking. He could always read her, no matter how much she tried to hide it. She had insisted on leaving Italy where the entire family had gathered for the introduction of the new label. And had stood firm when her husband had balked at the idea of her leaving.

“How will it look?”

“Like I am feeling homesick and sick and tired of smiling like I am idiot. Like I am happy, like we are in a perfect marriage.”

“Blair…”

“Are you sleeping with her?”

“With whom?” His deep voice had sounded impatient.

“Claudine. I saw the two of you cuddled together in a corner of the room. In front of my eyes. What are you doing behind my back?”

“I refuse to grace that with a response,” he had told her coldly, “Claudine is a friend.”

“She is a woman you were sleeping with in the past!”

“Years ago, before I met you. You are being unreasonable and paranoid.”

“Am I? Are you falling out of love with me? Is that it? I am unable to give you children and you are thinking of getting rid of me, I know it.”

He had simply stared at her in frustration. “Go back home, Blair, do whatever the hell you want. I cannot do this again. You have been nagging me about so-called affairs and worrying yourself sick because we are childless for now. The doctors said to give it time…”

“I am thirty! And we have been trying for years. Five miscarriages…!”

“Darling…”

“No!” She shook her head. “I know you have regrets. I know what you and your family are saying. You should have married someone else, and they are probably right.”

“I had no idea that you could read minds now.” His voice had turned icy. “I love you, whether you believe that or not, is entirely up to you.”

*****

Shaking herself to disperse the memories, she stared at her father. “I am trying IVF. It is the main reason I came back before they did. I have been meeting with a specialist and am going ahead with it. Two years ago, I implored Cayden to freeze his sperm, and he did. I am meeting with the doctor tomorrow to start the procedure.”

“Without telling your husband.”

“Yes. I have seen his face each time that it was confirmed that I was pregnant and the way he looked when I lost each and every one of them. He is not even trying…,” her hands fluttered. “We have not been together physically for the past three weeks and I… You think he is with someone else.”

“Our love life has been hectic, passionate, unbelievably so.” She linked her fingers together, the tea forgotten.

“You continue to have doubts about our love for each other, but from the very moment we met…,” a smile touched her lips. “I remember it like it was yesterday. The tiny café in the middle of the busy Venetian street. I was coming out and he was going in and he stopped and stared at me.

I was going around him when he took my hand and insisted on buying me an espresso. I had no idea who he was at first and was annoyed at his arrogance. But he was so funny and sweet, and I admired his fluency in the language.

It was two days before I knew he was Cayden Caruso.” She shook her head. “I tried to break it off and he would not let me.” She stared at her father. “I love him, daddy…,” she had unconsciously reverted to her childhood name for him.

“You don’t know him the way I do. To the rest of the world, he is the former playboy and entitled heir to the wine industry, but to me, he’s just Cayden, a man who makes me laugh, who has insecurities about taking over the business, one who loves to play and tease me when we’re alone. I know he loves me and this not having a baby, is getting to both of us.”

“But keeping something as significant as IVF from him. Isn’t that going to drive the wedge even deeper?”

Her heart quaked at that. She had introduced the subject to him several times and he had been against it.

“Absolutely not. It is dangerous and unstable. If it cannot happen naturally, then so be it.”

“I don’t know!” She picked up her cooling tea and took a sip. “I don’t care. I want this and whatever happens, will happen. Hopefully, he will come around when he realizes I am pregnant.” She took a deep breath. “I need this, daddy, more than you will ever know.”

Reaching out a hand, he touched hers. “Honesty and communication are two especially crucial factors in a marriage. Whatever your mother and I faced, we always had that to fall back on.” His expression was sober.

“I wanted a nice churchgoing young man for you, one who would appreciate your value, your worth. You have married into an immensely powerful family.

Outwardly, you are polished and sophisticated, but I know my daughter and know the inside of you. I often see you in the magazines, on the internet and sometimes I am proud and say to myself that this is my daughter, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous.”

He rubbed her hand absently. “But most of that time is spent wondering if you are happy. That is what concerns me the most. Your mother and I were in love until the day the Lord took her from me. I want that to be your legacy, the focal point in your marriage. I want love to be able to conquer all, be the epicenter of your lives together.

But, most of all, I would like to see you and your husband move into somewhere aside from that sprawling mansion where everyone lives.

Give yourselves some much-needed privacy. I know you have an entire wing to yourselves, but the family is still there, and you do not need interference in your union. It has to be just the two of you and the Lord.” His brows creased. “And I pray you will find your way back to coming to church. Even if it is just you alone.”

She nodded. “I have been thinking about that. Coming back and attending services.”

“Don’t just do it because you need something from the Lord!”

“I miss the congregation and the warmth of the people there. Being Cayden’s wife is hectic and time consuming, but I need to make the effort.”

“Good.” He patted her hand. “Honey, I want to warn you about keeping things from your husband. It is starting a very dangerous precedent.”

“I have to do what I must.”

*****

“To another round of success.” Alberto lifted his glass of Caruso Sauvignon in a toast as the family sat around the huge living room of the villa. A fire was blazing in the large heart, giving the rose pink and gold room a distinctive glow.

“Your statements to the press was spot on Clive,” he nodded approval to his second son, who received it with a grateful smile. Compliments did not come easily from the senior Caruso.

“Darling, you were right.” Marianne Caruso turned her emerald, green eyes on her eldest son who was slouched on a comfortable leather sofa near the fire.

“I know,” he flashed her a smile, one that was expected. “About what precisely?”

“About combining the campaign with a charitable ball. The press ate it up and the public are clamoring to place orders.”

“It’s what I do.” He lifted his glass in a toast. Cayden was the only one of her children who had inherited her green eyes, and he was secretly her favorite. She was also finely attuned to his moods and could see that the smile did not quite reach his remarkable eyes.

She knew that bringing up the subject of what was bothering him would be off limits, but decided that a little later on, she would have a frank discussion with him. Blair leaving so abruptly had sparked all kinds of rumors.

The girl had married into the family and even though she had not been suitable, they had bowed to Cayden’s desire to make her his wife. But the marriage was crumbling, and it was obvious to everyone.

“Have you heard from your wife?” Alberto asked abruptly, eyeing his son.

“She arrived back home safely.”

“And you just let her go?”

Cayden’s thick dark brows lifted, his displeasure at the perfectly obvious subject. “Should I have tied her to the bedpost?”

His father’s frown deepened, gray eyes glinting. “I expected you to demand that she stays for the duration. You are the bloody face of the company as well as the heir. She is supposed to be standing by your side.”

“She wanted to go home, and I had no intention of trying to stop her.”

“In my opinion, you have given her too much leeway.”

“Darling…”

“No, Mother!” Cayden held up a hand as the room became silent. His two brothers looked as if they would rather be anywhere else but in the room. “Why don’t we have this out for the last time.

You never approved of the marriage and still think of Blair as an outsider. She is smart and sensitive enough to figure that out for herself. She has blood running through her veins, and it bothers her that she is not accepted, even after all these years.”

“We are not the one running around with different women,” his father shot at him.

Tossing back the drink, Cayden slammed the glass down on the priceless Louis IV table and rose. He had inherited his father’s lofty height and cut quite an impressive physique.

All three boys had inherited the six-foot two muscular frame and black hair that was part of their Italian legacy. But Cayden was the most handsome of the three and most volatile in temper.

“I will not sit here and listen to this nonsense. I hear enough of it from my bloody wife. What I do is of no concern to anyone else.”

His father rose, his expression thunderous. “Whatever you do affects the family, so damn well think again. Where in the hell are you going?”

“To my suite!” He tossed them a look over one broad shoulder as he headed for the arched doorway. “I am tired and need to get some sleep.”

“Let him go,” Marianne waved a hand at her husband wearily, “just leave him be.”