CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CLAIRE
Two days after walking away from Mr. Mafia Boss, I found myself on Fifth Avenue—armed with his black card and a heart full of spite. First, I’d gone online and ordered six custom sewing machines for my business. Then came retail therapy. I bought three Hermès Birkin bags at thirty thousand each, and since I had a weakness for oversized Gucci and Louis Vuitton bags, I purchased five for myself and four for others.
I even stopped outside the Gucci store to give two bags to random women, a gesture I repeated after leaving the Louis Vuitton shop.
One of the women, overwhelmed with thanks, asked, “Are you ok?”
It was kind of her to show concern.
I replied, “No. I’m a woman scorn, taking it out on my ex-fiancé’s black card.”
A few days ago, I shopped for a few items at Walmart. It was nearly impossible to shop in secrecy with my bodyguards around who missed nothing. After learning they worked for Vino, this entire time, I was angry. I no longer shared casual conversation with them; instead, I simply issued commands like, “Take me here,” “Pick up my lunch,” or “Build a bathroom in my warehouse.”
Vino was right. Renato and Amadeo protected me every day. Even now with their boss being my ex fiancé.
There I was, ringing up six pregnancy tests, with shampoo and conditioner added on just to make the purchase of all those tests feel acceptable.
I remembered how Vino stared at me in his office each time he told me he was obsessed with me. He looked at me like I was his world. His blue eyes were full of love for me. There was no doubt that he loved me. I wasn’t sure while we were apart if he could touch another woman.
Porsha mentioned that Vino had frequented one of his strip clubs lately, a tidbit gleaned from Vince. It seemed she was trying to pry information from him about what Vino and I were going through. Every time I tried to confide in her, I broke down in tears.
Trying to process all that Vino had done messed with my head.
The love of my life met me at a sex club for months, pleasing me with his tongue. The thought of how hard that man worked to make me come was enough to get me off every night while we were apart. I knew I shouldn’t have thought of him sexually. But he dick whipped me. No other man could fuck me the way he could. The truth was, I didn’t want anyone else to ever touch me again. I craved only Vino.
We returned to the suite at the Ritz Carlton. My bodyguards took turns guarding the door. They shared the room across the suite with two beds inside.
I remained on my side of the suite. After drinking half a gallon of water, I peed on several pregnancy test sticks. Ten minutes later, I sat on the floor, legs splayed with the pregnancy test sprawled out. I checked each test, then leaned back against the tub. They all had the same result: pregnant.
My breath caught. He’d done exactly what he set out to do. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
I had no idea how I’d be ready for my fashion show in Milan. This man was maddening. How could he do this to me? I had told him we’d try for a baby after we were married, but that wasn’t true. I intended to wait until after the fashion show.
I was going to the abortion clinic. My career was most important.
The air inside the car felt like lead as Renato rolled to a stop in front of the clinic.
“I’m asking you not to call your boss and let him know I’m here,” I said, glancing back and forth between them. “That’s the absolute least you two can do.”
“We won’t call him,” Renato grumbled.
He was clearly displeased happiness was a rare visitor in his world. It always seemed like he carried a cloud of doom and gloom around him. He was an attractive man, just happened to be a grouch. That man needed to get laid, but how could he when he was stuck guarding me every minute of every day?
Amadeo slid out the passenger door and then yanked open the rear one. I stepped out and walked casually toward the building. The early morning sun warmed my bare shoulders.
Thankfully, there was light foot traffic this early in the morning.
“You’re really going to abort the boss’s baby?” He asked as he held the door open.
I peered up at him. “Why yes. I didn’t ask for a baby. Your boss took it upon himself to tamper with my birth control pills. Now here we are.”
A few other women were waiting in the lobby. After signing in, I tried desperately to clear my mind, but images of that dazzling engagement still flared inside me. Along with memories of the morning he boasted about his robust swimmers. That memory stoked my anger. He knew full well he had gotten me pregnant.
“Claire Bishop,” called the nurse from the door leading to the exam rooms.
I couldn’t use the name Claire Ainsley, for using that would risk my business details leaking to gossip sites. I had donned a baseball cap and dark sunglasses, rarely without them, since Ivan was still on the prowl.
Amadeo told the nurse he’d wait just outside my door, which I knew must look odd, a big, muscular man lingering near the nurse’s station.
After providing a urine sample, I entered the exam room. The doctor arrived shortly after and asked several questions to ensure I was committed to the abortion. Lying on the exam table, I gazed at the ceiling. She had me lift my blouse and applied a cold gel to my belly. “I need to determine how far along you are, so we’re going to do an ultrasound. Would you like to listen to the heartbeat?”
“Yes,” I replied.
I wondered silently if hearing my baby’s heartbeat might somehow change my mind.
The heartbeat thumped loudly in the small exam room—it was strong and insistent.
“You’re six weeks pregnant,” she said, a sparkle lighting up her brown eyes.
How could she still smile like that, knowing so many women came here merely to end their pregnancies? Perhaps she hoped to sway my decision.
Tears began streaming down the sides of my face.
“Would you like to proceed?”
I wiped my tears away and answered, “Yes.”
In two days, I’d finally move into the warehouse—no more living out of a suitcase. After the clinic, Amadeo insisted on stocking up on water and a heating pad.
Back in the hotel suite, I collapsed onto the bed and couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Vino preparing dinner for me. I missed his Bolognese sauce terribly. My hand curled around the t-shirt he’d hidden in my suitcase. I breathed in its intoxicating scent. I knew it wasn’t exactly healthy.
As much as I hated how he went about pursuing me, I still loved him.
After waking from my nap, I wandered into the living room to grab some grapes from the fridge, only to have my mouth drop open at the sight of crimson roses arranged in neat rows in clear glass vases along the window. They nearly covered the dining table, too. Such an extravagant display could only come from one person—unless our enemies were sending a cruel message. I removed the card attached to the bouquet carefully.
The card read:
Claire,
I understand you had a procedure done this morning. You’re no longer carrying our child.
Panic struck me. My bodyguards told him anyway.
It’s important that you rest. Drink plenty of fluids. I ordered a variety of tea.
Love, Vino
I traced my fingers over the water stains at the bottom of the card, wondering if Vino had cried.
Tears blurred my vision as I realized he had done this for me even after…I covered my mouth and sobbed.
I heard the door slam shut. My gaze met a set of gray eyes.
“Amadeo, you told him?” I asked.
“He called to check on you, asking if you picked up any pregnancy tests. I had to tell him where we’d taken you this morning,” he replied.
His eyes narrowed. “I could tell he murdered someone this morning. He thought he hung up the phone, but he didn’t. Then I heard him throw something across the room. He was angry, to say the least.”
Amadeo’s eyes darkened. “I’m loyal to the Romano Crime family first. Not telling him the moment you gave us the address could put me and Renato in that fucking meat locker,” he growled.
My heart dropped to my feet. “You’re right. You have no loyalty to me.”
“I do have loyalty to you, Claire. You’re about to become the Donna of the Romano Crime family. I will protect you with my life. But don’t ask us to keep life changing information from the boss.”
I folded my arms. “I’m not marrying him.”
He chuckled. “We both know you are. There’s only one way out of the mafia.”
Bile rose in my throat.
“Yeah, I know. Your boss told me in graphic detail how he should blow my brains out.”
Amadeo’s mouth dropped open, though he quickly recovered. “Get back in bed. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
“Thanks Amadeo.”
I walked to the fridge to grab my grapes before padding into the bedroom. After remembering Vino’s harsh words about blowing my brains out deep down, I knew he didn’t mean he’d do it. Just that was what was supposed to happen. My fingers curled around his t-shirt once more. I longed to call him and thank him for the flowers, but I dreaded the inevitable question about how I could abort our baby. A single tear slipped down my cheek as I mourned the death of my new relationship.
The next morning, I marched into the design studio ready to work. Porsha had righted every wrong since our heart to heart: fabric swatches neatly organized, samples on schedule. The office hummed with R&B under soft overhead lights. My heart swelled—I’d built this from nothing: given unknown designers a shot, put fresh faces on runways. I was making my own trends.
“Jasmine, I said no,” Renato barked at the door.
I tried peeking around my bodyguard. He had a body like a wide receiver.
“Renato, what’s the matter?” I asked as I inched closer to the door.
“It’s nothing, Claire. Jasmine was just leaving.”
The brunette fiddled with a curl and smiled up at him. “I came to discuss Vino,” she said with a grin.
Renato muttered a curse under his breath. “I’ll call the boss,” he said.
“Don’t,” I instructed.
“Come in, Jasmine,” I said with a warm smile.
How did she know Vino? Had she been to our house while I was away? I had told him I wouldn’t marry him. If he was seeing someone else, I would have preferred he did so at a hotel.
“This is quite the place you have here,” she remarked as she glanced around.
“We can talk in my office,” I suggested, gesturing for her to follow me.
She sniffed my hair. What was that about?
“You’re not his usual type,” she commented.
I raised an eyebrow and pointed to the chair across from my desk. She sat down.
“Porsha,” I called out.
She hurried over. “Yes, Claire?”
“Jasmine, would you like a glass of sweet tea?”
“Yes, please.”
I held up two fingers, and Porsha dashed off to the kitchen.
“Let’s start over, Jasmine. How do you know about me and Vino? No one is supposed to know.”
She tossed her shiny brown hair over one shoulder. Her makeup looked professionally done. She must have been about five foot nine. She was stunning.
Porsha returned and placed our sweet tea in front of us. “Thank you, Porsha.”
She nodded and walked away.
Jasmine took a sip of her tea. “This is good.”
I smiled, waiting for her to answer my question.
“He’s been at the strip club almost every night,” she said.
My heart sank, but my face stayed unreadable.
“He loves watching me perform. Vino’s got a front-row seat to my show.”
The bitch was pushing it. I was two seconds away from shoving my fist down her throat.
“While I was dancing for him, I overheard him mention your name a couple of times to his brother Vince.”
She leaned in grinning. “I’ll be honest, he didn’t mention your last name, so I did a little investigating. I spoke to the bartender/ manager who handles a lot of business for the boss. He told me he’s had him send lunch to Claire Ainsley a few times. I said that name sounds familiar. He said it should. She’s a famous fashion designer.” There was that grin again.
“So you came to my place of business because you’re jealous I’m with your boss?” I snapped.
“I just wanted to put a face to the name of my competition,” she replied, taking another sip of her tea.
I took a swallow of my own drink, trying hard not to jump over the desk.
“Vino only fucks women who look like me,” she declared, flashing a cocky smirk.
“A stick figure. Tiny ass. The only thing big about you are those fake titts. All this is real.”
I gestured to my body. “I guess he got tired of porcelain stick figures and wanted something with a little more meat on her bones.”
I had thin arms but my ass, thighs, and ample breasts always attracted plenty of guys. Even though I wasn’t dating.
“Don’t you have a mouth on you?” She said with a southern twang.
Where was she from, Texas or Tennessee?
“Yes, I do. Especially when my fiancé’s side piece comes to my office to see what I look like.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “Look, you don’t really want him. That’s obvious, because he’s returned to the strip club. I just want to get back to pleasing him. Keeping his mind clear so he can perform his job.”
My eyes darkened. “What job is that?”
I waved her off. “Never mind. Now you know what Vino’s fiancée looks like. Enjoy him while you can because we’re getting married next month. And if I find out you’re still sniffing around for him after that, I’ll take my switchblade and make tiny cuts all over your body. You won’t ever be able to get back up on that pole again.”
Her eyes looked like they’d pop out of her skull. “You little black cunt.”
She was probably from Texas.
“Says the white side bitch from Texas who wants to keep my man happy.”
I leaned forward. “I don’t need you to empty his balls. This black woman is very capable.” I flashed a fake grin. “Now get the fuck out.”
She scrambled to her feet, crashing into the cubicle wall as she tried to make her escape.
Guess I was right. She was from Texas.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” A woman loved trying to intimidate the main woman over a rich man. It seemed her well dried up when Vino came after me.
Porsha slipped into the seat Jasmine vacated. “Who was that?”
I glanced at the door. I saw Renato’s lips moving. He probably was talking to Vino over the earpiece.
Jasmine approached the door. Renato placed his hand up. He said a few more words, then glared at Jasmine. His eyes darkened as he spoke to her.
“What?” she hollered.
Porsha’s gaze moved to the door, along with the rest of the staff.
“He can’t do this,” she cried.
Renato held the door open as he gripped her arm, helping her out the door.
Porsha’s big brown eyes met mine. “Spill, bitch.”
I chuckled. I told her about the stripper Jasmine Vino was fucking. I had no way of knowing if he fucked her since I left. Or any other women.
“Vince will give me the entire scoop,” she laughed.
I tilted my head. “You two have been talking a lot lately.”
“We’re just friends.” She blushed.
“Just friends sure?” I chuckled.
“Claire?” I peeked up at Renato.
“You don’t have to explain for Vino,” I stated.
He held up a bag. “Your lunch is here.” He placed the bag on my desk.
Tears welled in my eyes. He hadn’t sent lunch in a week. I held back the tears. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said before walking away.
I peeked at my friend. “When are you and Vince going on a date?” I asked to get my mind off Vino.
After she left my office, I glanced in the bag. There was an avocado salad inside. I’d been devouring these for days. I just wasn’t in the mood for greasy food right now.
There was a note on top of the plastic salad bowl.
Claire, I’m going away on a business trip tomorrow. When I return, I’d like to take you out to dinner.
Love Vino
My heart skipped a beat. I hated that I was still in love with him. If he’d been a cheating bastard, it would’ve made it easier to get over him. But he was a thoughtful man who treated me like a queen every time we were together. It would take time to get past him, sabotaging my birth control pills. This time apart was needed.