Chapter 11 #2
With each step, his plan solidified. He would speak to his mother, assert his stance, and ensure they understood the seriousness of his commitment.
*****
He was prepared for anything and that was the reason he sat outside the electronic gates, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
He had reports to write and things to clear up with his team and of course, he answered to the old man.
Something he did not mind in the least, because whatever else Harry Wainwright was, he was a brilliant businessman, and Jordan had learned a lot from him.
He had of course forged his own path in the business, but that path was littered with life lessons from his father. He could respect that about him. He hated the bigotry and the ruthless drive to step over someone to get what he desired, but his father had taught him a lot – indirectly.
They had never been there for any of their children, and he had to wonder if that was something that was inherited. He decided to shove that aside. He had told Julesa that he wanted a family with her, and he meant it.
Taking a deep breath, he touched the button to release the gate and drove onto the circular cobbled stone driveway.
The building speared upwards, painting a stunning picture against the blueness of the sky.
Funny, he mused as he parked a few feet from the wraparound porch.
He had never felt at home here. And realized to his surprise that he felt more at home at the simple house he had left almost an hour ago.
The building was old, and weather beaten, but the woman he left inside the bedroom they shared last night, and this morning made all the difference.
He took a moment to glance at the sky, the serenity of the morning providing a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside him.
There was no turning back; he needed to confront his father and secure his future.
His determination hardened as he recalled the tender moments he had just shared with Julesa.
She was his sanctuary, and he vowed to protect her at all costs.
As he entered the grand manor, the opulence that once seemed impressive now felt suffocating. The marble floors echoed his footsteps, a reminder of the coldness that permeated his family.
His father would probably be at the golf course with some of his associates. His mother would be sleeping in or out at some meeting or the other. His sisters no doubt would be doing their own thing.
The butler greeted him with a slight smile and took his coat.
"Where's everyone?"
"The master and mistress are out since early this morning. Your sisters and their husbands are on some kind of retreat."
Jordan lifted his brows at that, but did not comment.
"I'll be up in my suite."
"Should I ask the chef to prepare something for you?"
He hesitated at the base of the spiral staircase. He had hoped to catch his parents and have a conversation with them, but that was going to have to wait for another time. Besides, it was not a priority. He had made his choice and nothing they say could ever make him change it.
"Yes, thank you. I'll be out on the terrace."
Climbing the stairs, he made his way towards his suite. He was going to be cutting ties, and it felt damn good.
*****
Joani wished she could tell him to go straight to hell.
After ignoring her for almost two weeks, with his bitch of a wife giving her grief over the slightest thing, she had thought about just giving up everything and getting out of town.
A fresh start would do her good. She had enough money saved up.
Harry Wainwright might be a son of a bitch, but he was a generous one and her bank account was fat.
Besides that, she had the pieces of jewelry he had given her over the years.
She could go someplace else, possibly West Palm Beach where she had a brother and start over. She could find her own place and maybe meet a man worthy of her. She was wasting her time with this bastard.
But he had come back. Just strode into the apartment while she was having her breakfast as if he had not ignored her and stayed away.
She held out for a few minutes, just sitting there sipping her cup of piping hot coffee and enjoying the grits and shrimp she had made for breakfast. Her hair was in some big rollers and she had not had the time nor the inclination to pretty herself up.
The man had caused her to be at the beauty salon every goddamned week, perming the hell out of her thick dark hair, a proud heritage of her African descent.
And vainly covering the grays. Betsy, the woman who owned and operated the salon was her best friend and was the only one she had taken into her confidence.
Her friend had warned her that the bastard was never going to leave his wife.
"He likes the idea of screwing you sideways to next Sunday, because he's not getting any from that ice cold bitch. But to him, you're just the help and will always be."
She had tried to dismiss that, telling herself that she was different.
"Want an apology?" he asked gruffly, pulling off his lightweight jacket and tossing it on one of the stools around the granite counter.
She wished she could tell him to go straight to hell.
"Not if you don't mean it and seeing the look on your face, tells me clearly, you don't." She eyed him over the cup.
"You pissed me off."
"Welcome to the damn club. What are you doing here?" She held up a hand. "Don't tell me. You own this place, so you're free to come and go as you please." Sliding off the stool, she went to pour more coffee she didn't need.
"I did not come here to fight."
"No?" Hitching a hip against the counter, she gave him a saucy smile. "You came here to have sex of course."
His mouth tightened and she could see the anger brewing in his eyes. She should stop while she was ahead, but something, some demon inside her was out for blood.
"I want to make things right, Joani," Harry said, his voice strained. "I know I've been a jerk, but I want to make it up to you."
Joani laughed, a brittle sound that echoed in the quiet apartment. "Make it up to me? How exactly are you planning to do that?" She was tired of his empty promises and his sporadic attempts at redemption.
Harry took a step towards her, his eyes pleading. "I miss you. You're the only one who understands me."
"Understand you?" Joani's voice was sharp and cutting. "Is that what you think this is about? Understanding you? I'm tired, Harry. Tired of being your secret, tired of waiting for scraps of attention. You come and go as you please and expect me to be here, waiting."
Harry's face twisted with frustration. "I'm trying, damn it! You don't know how hard it is for me."
Joani's eyes flashed with anger. "And you don't know how hard it is for me! I'm not your toy, Harry. I'm done."
A silence fell between them, heavy and charged. Joani turned away from him, her heart pounding. She needed to be strong, to stand her ground. But she couldn't, dammit, she wanted to feel his hands on her. It was pathetic how needy she was.
She had spent the last two weeks swearing that when he came running, she would boot him out. It did not matter that he was the one who owns the place. She was done with being used.
"That's a mistake." His voice had taken on that autocratic tone she hated, and his face had gone cold. "You need to remember who is paying for everything." He gestured to the silk robe; she had thrown on over her nakedness. "I paid for that."
"Go to hell."
He ran a weary hand at the back of his neck. "I am already there. I come here for comfort, to get away from the strain of my home and the job. Please don't make me regret extending certain privileges towards you."
She stared at him in stunned silence before bursting out laughing. She laughed so hard; she had to lean against the counter and press her hand on her middle. Tears dribbled from her eyes and she actually felt the anger draining away.
"What's so amusing?" he snapped.
"You jackass. You pompous bigoted jackass.
" She gasped. Lifting a hand, she swiped at the tears.
"You actually think it's a privilege to be with you.
Why? Because you're white and entitled and have money coming out of your pores?
I know my self-worth, believe it or not and I am beginning to respect that son of yours.
He stepped out of that 'privileged' white circle and married himself a black woman.
He has more balls than you will ever have. "
A dark flush stained his face and his eyes glittered.
"Watch your mouth."
She straightened. "Or what? You'll send me to the back of the bus where I belong?
You go down on me for Christ's sake. Told me with your own mouth that my come tastes like honey.
Have your tongue so deep inside me, I can feel it all the way to my womb--" her breath hitched.
"I love you. Have loved you for years and the only thing you ever felt for me is nothing more than a hole to dip your wick.
Your precious wife--" She stopped when he took several steps towards her.
"What? Are you going to slap me for mentioning her?
" Her eyes were bright with tears, her heart heavy.
She felt the ache deep in her bones. She had wasted her time loving this man and he didn't even care. What the hell did she expect?
"Look, I didn't mean to--"
"Point out the color of my skin?" She sat on the stool heavily. "I'm so tired."
When he came and put his arms around her, she let him. She gave into the weakness, all the while plotting what she was going to do.