13. Myraj
NEXT DAY
I tried to contain my confusion as the car service Micaiah sent for me pulled up to a palatial estate. The home was modern transitional comprised of beautiful river rocks with modern, flat-panel shutters, and a beautiful gabled roof.
Micaiah met me when the car pulled up to the front steps.
He opened the door for me and smiled as though he was excited that I was there.
I tried to still my racing heart at the sight of his handsome face and his welcoming reaction to seeing me.
I didn’t want to allow my mind to travel down roads that might confuse the situation.
The man was simply excited about his baby, not me.
“This is a beautiful house, Micaiah. Is it yours?”
“Thanks. Yes, it’s mine. Would you like a tour?”
“I would love a tour,” I stated in a breathy voice as I looked up at the house and then all around me.
“Let’s go.”
He led me inside and showed off his four-bedroom, five-bathroom home.
Besides the traditional rooms like a living room, dining room, kitchen, den and office, he also had a library that I didn’t get to see, and a gym.
Outside, he had an in-ground pool, a basketball court, both floral and herbal gardens, and a four-car garage.
It was seven thousand square feet in total.
I was so confused because now, sexy baby daddy had turned into affluent baby daddy, and though I had wanted to ask where his wealth came from, I didn’t want to be rude.
It was clear he made a nice living, but it couldn’t be on a security guard income alone, unless he owned the firm. Why wouldn’t he have mentioned that, though?
After we finished the tour, he took me to the dining room where he had prepared a feast of Greek slow-roasted lamb with a lemon and olive oil sauce, Greek lemon potatoes, and a horiatiki salata, which was a Greek salad.
I devoured the cucumbers, red onions, kalamata olives, tomatoes, and feta cheese.
“The acidity of the salad balances the richness of the meal perfectly. Look at you. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you were a professional chef.”
He chuckled. “No, I just enjoy nice things, and cooking comes with that. I don’t always want to go to a restaurant, but I want to be able to eat nicely, even if I don’t want to go out. So I’ve learned to cook a thing or two.”
“Well, it’s great, and the Artisan bread is so delicious.”
“Thank you.”
I spooned more of his homemade tzatziki sauce onto the lamb and bit into it. I loved the cool, refreshing blend of the cucumber and Greek yogurt.
“I have to admit, not only am I impressed that you remembered I love Greek food, but I’m more impressed that you cooked it yourself.”
“My mother taught me how to cook when I was younger.”
“She did the thang!”
He chuckled. “I’ll be sure to pass the compliment along.”
I wiped my mouth and tilted my head. “I’ve been trying not to ask this question, but I guess there’s no other way around it. We’ve discussed so many things, including my business, but I have no idea what you do for a living.”
I watched as his face grew slightly taut before he placed his napkin on the table. He clasped his hands together and rested his forearms against the edge of the table.
He sighed. “I’ve got something to tell you, Myraj. I don’t know how you’ll take it, but trust that there’s a good reason that I didn’t tell you in the beginning. I’m in the literary field.”
I shook my head. “What does that mean?”
“I’m an author.”
“Oh. Well, what sort of stories do you write?”
“Mostly crime fiction.”
“I’m not really into that, but it must be cool.”
“It’s entertaining, and it pays the bills.”
I lifted my eyebrow, because I was certain he was going to say that he had a secondary source of income. If writing allowed him to live like this, then he must be doing pretty decent at it. “What’s your pen name? Or do you write under your real name?”
He chuckled and inhaled deeply. I felt that he was about to drop a bombshell on me, but I wasn’t prepared for what he said. “Mike Jamison.”
“Wait. Did you just say Mike Jamison?”
He nodded. I shook my head. “As in thee Mike Jamison?”
He nodded again.
“No, Micaiah, you don’t get to sit there and just nod. I’m talking about the household name Mike Jamison who writes mystery and crime fiction that has all the other readers in a chokehold?”
He bobbed his head again.
“Oooh, God. I’m so embarrassed.” I groaned and smacked my forehead.
“Don’t be, gorgeous. You had no way of knowing.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”
“One, you weren’t into mystery and crime fiction. You told me that off the bat that night we met, so I didn’t think it would matter.”
“I mean, it does and it doesn’t. I needed to know who I was getting into bed with.”
He narrowed his eyes at me and steepled his fingers. “You knew. You knew it was a man who made you feel desired, beautiful, and cared about that night. You knew it was a man who would protect you while giving you the romance you desired.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right, but still, this has blindsided me.”
He reached across the table and took my hands into his. “There’s more.”
“More?”
“Yes, but what I’m about to tell you, including what I just told you, but especially this part stays between us. My team would have my ass if they knew that I told you, and my good friend, Lance, would insist I have you sign an NDA.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“I promise there’s nothing for you to be scared of.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m also MJ Stone.”
“No, that can’t be right. MJ’s a woman—she’s her, and you’re you.”
He stood and walked around the table as my heart beat a mile a minute. I looked around the room to see if there were any hidden cameras, and I found none. He took my hand and pulled me out of my chair.
“Follow me. Let me show you something.”
He led me into a two-story library that was circular in design.
Bookshelves covered most of the walls from the floor to the ceiling, and there was a rolling ladder that was tall enough to reach all the shelves.
There was a large section along one of the walls that had a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out onto a beautiful pond and greenery.
“This is my library that I didn’t show you earlier. Here’s why.”
There were picture frames on another section of the wall.
He was in every picture with famous authors and people I guessed were in the literary world.
He held up copies of MJ Stone’s books in the pictures, and then there was one bookshelf that held nothing but Mike Jamison and MJ Stone books and literary awards he had won.
I was breathless and shook my head. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Memories of everything I shared with him about how I felt about MJ returned, and now I was embarrassed.
He remained silent as I walked around the library and took in the extent of his works, awards, and honorary recognitions.
He was an educated man, a cultured man, and a man with many layers that I hadn’t begun to peel back yet.
When I finished my personal tour, he stood watching me with his hands locked behind his back. “Say something.”
“I don’t know what to say, Micaiah. I mean, what? Why did you lie to me? Why didn’t you trust me? There are so many questions, but does it even matter?”
I felt a bit dejected because I thought we’d created a bond and shared a closeness that night like no other.
“Come here, let’s talk.” He took my hand and led me out of the library, with its baby grand piano, and back to the dining room. Once I was seated, he explained himself.
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t honest with you before now.
There are clauses in my contract for MJ that prohibits me from sharing my identity.
When I decided to write under that name, no one expected it to do well—not the publishing company, my agent, hell, not even me.
They didn’t want it to ruin the sales for Mike if people figured out that they were one and the same.
In time, MJ surpassed Mike, and they didn’t want people to connect the two and stop reading MJ. ”
“I mean, I get that. It makes sense why you didn’t tell me initially, but it still stings a bit, you know?”
“I’m sure it does.”
“Even if not that night, why not now?”
He sighed. “I wanted to tell you, but I also enjoyed getting to know you without the barrier and heaviness of those titles and names between us. You’re the first person I’ve gotten to know who didn’t know who I was or what I did.
You didn’t give a damn about nothing except getting to know the man.
You have no idea how that feels to me. I’d made up my mind that I would tell you after the DNA test came back.
I’ll admit, I was slow about it, but I was going to tell you.
That’s partially why I brought you here today.
I knew you thought that I worked security. Well, this was my big reveal—ta-dah!”
My heart lightened at that revelation and the tiny smile on his face. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“And a very big one it is.” My cheeks flushed as he smirked, and my eyes grew wide. “I have a habit of opening my mouth and inserting my foot.”
He laughed. “It’s all good. But the most important part of my decision to keep my pen names a secret is because I have custody of my son, and I have to protect him.
I don’t want anyone knowing who I am, anything about my personal life, or finding ways to gain access to my son—unless they’re in my life for good.
People have used me in the past, and now that he’s here, I can’t have that, same with our princess now.
Having custody of Malachi causes me to move differently. ”
I wasn’t sure why, but my hand immediately rested on my belly at the mention of the word “custody.”
“Don’t worry. I would never try to take her from you. That’s what you were thinking when you placed your hand on your belly, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I do want to discuss shared custody, but I would never remove a child from their mother’s care—unless it was necessary, and Malachi was very necessary.”