5. Carmine
Carmine
“Becky?” I enter the kitchen to find Dylan nowhere in sight, which is a relief; the man has gotten on my last nerve this week.
“Yes, sir.” Sighing, she smirks. “Carmine,” she mocks me as she continues sautéing whatever she’s cooking. Becky has a wonderful habit of meal prepping, and given how many nights I eat alone, it’s appreciated. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m going to be having a friend over for dinner tonight. Would you be so kind as to make enough, please?” Aside from my daughters, Becky is the only other woman who receives kindness from me these days.
“A friend, huh.” Rolling my eyes, she snickers. “I sure can. Pineapple chicken still good?”
“I believe so.” Honestly, I wouldn’t have a clue, but if Noa has no interest in it, then we could go out or order in.
Letting Becky get back to work, I head upstairs with the intent of ensuring my/our room is acceptable for Noa.
Any changes will have to come later, but I can at least provide room for her in the closet, dresser, and attached bathroom.
The entire process opens my eyes to how much I have that I don’t need.
With Malice and Holy taking over so much of the business these days, my wardrobe could use a downsizing.
As I clean out the closet and lay suits, ties, shoes, and so many other things on the bed, Jermaine enters the room with a raised brow.
“Becky mentioned a friend coming over this evening?” His curious tone conveys his knowledge of who it is.
The only woman I’ve been interested in since my wife’s passing is Noa.
“I do.” No point in denying it.
Jer whistles out his shock. “Finally claiming the woman who’s had you so grumpy all this time, are you?”
Dropping another suit on the bed, I turn to face him. “She’s pregnant.”
I’m still shocked and figuring out how I feel about that. I’m in my forties now, not a young man like I was when CJ came along.
“Son of a bitch.” He grins. “That’s some fucking news right there.” Sure fucking is. “Yours, I assume?”
The thought never occurred to me. “No fucking clue,” I respond.
My mood sours as I think about Noa with another man. The woman is curvy in the ass, hips, and tits, but she’s still slight in frame, so I couldn’t guess how many months along she is.
Fucking hell.
Storming past Jermaine, I stomp down to the garage, grab a set of keys from the lock box near the door, and climb into my Range Rover, peeling off the property with one destination in mind as my anger ramps up the more I imagine her with another man.
I'm not misogynistic. I didn’t expect her to be some kind of virgin or celibate before or after we were together.
But I was arrogant enough to hope she couldn’t move on from me so quickly.
The idea of me ever moving on from her has never been a possibility. Not from the first moment I laid eyes on her in the principal’s office when Odette was a student and I sent Malice in to keep an eye on her.
I always knew Noa had feelings for me; that’s why I pushed her away for so long.
I didn’t want to make false promises when, at the time, I knew I couldn’t follow through with them.
Noa deserved someone who could love her wholly.
Now that there’s the possibility of her being with someone else, I can’t fucking stand the thought.
In fact, I might have to kill the fucker if there is one and he’s still in the picture.
Traffic is slow, so I’m at the school an hour before the last bell. Slamming the vehicle into park, I take a deep breath, not wanting to bite her head off, because no matter what, she doesn’t deserve my displaced anger.
Straightening my suit jacket, I pull open the front door and make my way to the office, where I notice her back turned towards me through the glass doors, looking fucking breathtaking as always. She’s doing something at the printer as I walk in and wait silently for her to turn around to face me.
Unsure if she feels watched or is just looking around while the printer spews out paper for her, she glances over her shoulder to notice me standing there.
“Carmine,” she gasps, quickly turning back around.
“Noa.” I can’t help my growly tone. She brings out the feral beast in me.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice shakes slightly. From nerves or fear, I’m not sure.
“Is it mine?” I ask directly. No sense in beating around the bush. She needn’t be concerned that I’ll be pissed to see her pregnancy. Even though she’ll resist my claim on her because of it, also because it forced me to realize I can’t live without her any longer.
“What?” she asks as the printer dies down, and she plays with the papers in her hand.
“The baby, Noa.”
She inhales sharply.
“How did you know?” She still hasn’t turned around, and I’m growing frustrated. I’d rather not have this conversation with her back.
“Turn around and look at me.” She jumps at the barked order but ignores me, so I move around the counter and stop half a foot behind her. “Turn around, Noa.”
Her shoulders droop, and she lets out a sad sigh before turning, but keeps her head down, refusing to look up so I can see her face.
“I want your eyes, Noa. Look at me.”
“You shouldn’t be here, Carmine.” She sounds so small, hurt, and I fucking hate it.
Reaching forward, my teeth grind when she flinches, and rage escalates when I tip her chin up and see bruising on the side of her face with a small cut and swelling along her cheekbone.
Taking a deep breath, it’s hard to remain calm while the beast inside is raring to annihilate whoever touched her. “Who did this to you?” I gently trace the side of her face; her body wilts, and a sob breaks free.
Pulling her into my arms, she buries her face into my chest as I wrap her up, running a soothing hand up and down her back as she breaks down. I won’t push too hard for answers just yet, but I will later.
“Is there more?” I murmur into her ear, and her hands finally circle around my back as she nods slightly.
Blowing out an aggravated breath and pausing to control my tone, I ask, “Where?” Cataloguing her injuries, no matter the reason for them, will mean a more painful death for the asshole who fucking touched her.
“My side,” she hiccups. “It’s just a small cut, though.”
Drawing back from her, I cup her face in both hands.
“Doesn’t matter. I need to know it all because anyone touching you needs to understand you’re off limits.
” Her lips quirk a little through her tears.
“You’ll tell me when you’re ready.” She blinks the moisture away and chews on her lip before affirming.
“What are you doing here?” she finally asks as she removes herself from my hold and pulls some tissues from the box on her desk. “You made it clear there was nothing for us.” The hurt in her tone kills me.
When’s the last time someone questioned me so boldly?
“You never answered my question. Is it mine?”
Narrowing her gaze and wincing from her injuries, Noa crosses her arms, and I notice how much larger her breasts have gotten. “Why? So you can be a white knight? I think you were pretty clear when you told me it was one night only.”
“Please answer my question, Noa.” My patience wears thin.
“I don’t need nor do I want you to try and rescue us, Carmine.” She sounds exhausted, deflated.
Time for a new tactic. “Come over for dinner tonight. We can talk.”
“I can’t,” she sighs.
“Why?”
She stares me dead in the eye and says, “Because I have no one to watch my kids.” That knocks the wind from my sails, feeling like I’ve been punched in the solar plexus.
“Kids,” I hiss, wondering how the hell I didn’t know. “More than one?”
Tapping her foot in annoyance, she holds up three fingers.
Stunned, I think quickly because, having decided to throw caution to the wind, there’s not much I won’t do to make Noa mine. Even if it means fathering children who aren’t my own. “Bring them too,” I try suggesting.
Swiftly, surprise flashes in her eyes, almost faster than I can interpret it. “I don’t know,” she stalls, but there’s desire in her eyes.
“I have kids, Noa, I know how to act around them.” Hell, I have a grandson, and he spends a lot of Saturday nights with me. “I’ll even have Becky stay late so you can relax a little. She adores children.”
“I don’t need someone to watch them.”
Her exhausted appearance tells me otherwise. Noa needs a good rest, even if she doesn’t think so.
“How far along are you?” Changing the subject seems to throw her off, keeping her from denying me outright.
“Five months.” Her chin tilts in defiance.
“So, it is mine.” Good, it means she can’t get rid of me so easily. Not that another man’s child would scare me off.
Rolling her eyes, she huffs out an exasperated breath. “Yes, Carmine, it’s your baby. It’s insulting you’d think otherwise.”
“That wasn’t my intention, Noa. You know I’d never purposely insult or hurt you.” The office door swings open, filtering in the noise from the students in the hallways.
“Noa, you aren’t allowed guests during school hours,” fucking Erin Tuckwood scolds her. He turns to see who’s here with her, and the man’s face pales as he stutters out, “Oh, uh, well, just don’t make it a habit.” His glare intensifies when he looks back at Noa.
“Nice to see you, Tucker,” I say. He’s too chicken to correct me about his name out of fear, making me roll my own eyes as I dismiss him. He hurries to his office, closing and locking the door behind him. “Asshole.” I’m not quiet about the comment. “He should have been fired a long time ago.”
“His uncle is on the board, I think,” Noa murmurs, still keeping her distance.
“Please come for dinner. Bring the kids.” Christ, I can’t believe she has three kids. Her body doesn’t tell that tale, and I remember her skin and curves like I’ve explored them every night for years.
Sighing, Noa pinches the bridge of her nose. “Alright, we’ll come, but only because we obviously need to talk.” Her hands flow around her belly; one I very much want to touch and kiss.
“Any allergies I should apprise Becky of? She’s making pineapple chicken and likely some sort of rice with it.” It’s a dish I’ve always enjoyed.
“No, nobody has allergies,” she says, and awkwardness creeps in because all I want is to carry Noa out of here, take her home, and lavish her with pleasure and attention while spoiling her rotten. However, I doubt she’ll allow me to do so any time soon. “What time should we be there?”
Realizing she won’t allow me to bring them, I keep my cool and suggest, “How about you grab the kids and come right over? I’ll make sure there’s snacks and drinks for everyone, and I’m sure Odette won’t mind if I break out some of Finn’s things for them.
” The boy has an entire playroom at my house, with toys and crafts for all ages.
“We’ll see you later, then.”
Being dismissed is an unfamiliar feeling, but I recognize the tone regardless. Wishing to respect Noa’s wants and needs, I walk away with regret settling in my gut.
Once in my vehicle, I sit for a few minutes, deciding on what to do, and finally deem that a trip to the bakery near home is in order.
I don’t know what kind of diet Noa has them on, but the least I can do is get them a fresh fruit platter and some cheese croissants.
They also happen to have a selection of flavored milks, so I grab three of each.
Walking into the house, Becky’s eyes widen when she sees what I’ve brought home.
“She has kids,” I say. “Three of them. How the fuck did I not know this?” There was never an inkling of the possibility. Not when we first met, and certainly not the last time Odette brought her home while studying for finals in school.
“And you think three is an army?” Her eyes roam over the assortment of food I had them whip up while I was there.
“I wasn’t sure if they ate pineapple chicken, and Noa was more than annoyed with me, so I didn’t want to push her. I figure if they have a choice, then maybe they’ll still eat.” I haven’t been this unsure of something since Juliette told me she was pregnant with CJ.
“They’re kids in a new environment, I bet they’ll pick at anything,” Becky encourages. “How old are they?”
“No clue.” I’m already fucking this up.
“That’s alright, you’ll find out soon enough.” Turning her back, Becky continues cooking, ignoring me as usual.
With children in the picture, I now realize that moving Noa into my home won’t be as simple as I first thought. She’ll put them first, as she should, so I might have to work harder getting into their good graces in order to win her over.
The first step will be deciding which rooms they get. As my own girls were growing up, I always imagined their rooms remaining their own, so they’d have a comforting place to stay when they came home. While there are many spare bedrooms in the house, the ones closest to my room are my daughters’.
Ejecting their childhood belongings into another room without their input seems wrong, but I’m already thinking of ways to appease everyone.
Starting with renovating some of the spare rooms into full suites and having the girls included in the planning and decorating.
Odette will tell me I’m being ridiculous, but she’ll do it to make me happy.
CJ will likely scoff, give me a hard time, and be as outrageous as she can.
Aura is the wild card, though. My free-spirited child has only been home a couple of times since her globe-trotting ended a year ago.
She loves to travel, learn about new cultures, and enjoys the diversity the world has to offer.
But we clash. We’re both headstrong and independent, and we want things our way.
Walking into her room and seeing the posters of several maps from around the world still pinned to her wall, I know the first move must be mine. I’ll be the one to bend because I miss her. I want to see her more.
Taking out my phone, I search for her contact and realize we haven’t spoken on the phone in months, and our texts are short and to the point. Things need to change between us, and I hope she’ll accept my attempts to grow closer to her.