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Rayne stood outside the hotel suite, nerves trembling but her body stiff in fear. Her cousin had asked her for a favor. Lola was the only family Rayne had left. She remembered her brother, vaguely. Rayne had been just a toddler when she’d left home. She couldn’t picture his face clearly. She also didn’t know why she’d left home in the first place. For the longest time, the only person she could call family was Lola. Her own parents were dead and the place she had called home for more than twenty years was an orphanage that had already been torn down.
It was Lola who had found Rayne in the hotel they’d worked at a while back. Ever since, Rayne had followed Lola wherever she went, from the Hawaiian Islands to New York to Los Angeles and now Vegas. They were searching for Rayne’s brother, and Lola was the only one who knew what he looked like.
She dug her nails into her palms as she mastered the courage to knock. It was her conscience that held her back. It wasn’t that she was about to do something illegal. Lola had promised her it wasn’t. It was more of a right-or-wrong issue. Or maybe it was just the fear of not knowing what exactly would happen once she walked into the hotel room. Lola claimed it was an easy job: walk in, have a chat, go to dinner, basically a rent-a-girlfriend kind of job. Yet there was something telling Rayne she shouldn’t dare step foot in.
Rayne didn’t want to disappoint Lola, or cost her a paycheck. Rayne’s waitressing job didn’t pay as much as Lola’s girlfriend gigs. It was Lola who bore the weight of most of the bills, and Rayne felt bad about it. It was guilt that made Rayne raise her fist to the door and knock. Once.
Nothing.
Rayne told herself that she would only knock once more, count to ten, then take off like the devil was on her heels. She would have fulfilled her end of the deal, sort of. So she did: she knocked and counted to fifteen. At sixteen, she shrugged her shoulders and tried to hide her relieved smile from Lola, who wasn’t even there to witness it.
She turned to walk away, satisfied she had done all she could. The man wasn’t there, a situation completely out of her control, and she could do nothing about it. There was a skip in her step as her nerves calmed down and her body thawed out. For a second, that was. A man, seemingly drunk, leaned against the wall. The bow tie that made his black tuxedo complete lay on his collarbone, undone.
Startled, Rayne jumped back, a squeal leaving her lips. He was looking at her, watching her, really. Rayne’s couldn’t call it a grin or a smile, but the ends of his lips curled to the right. With a slitted gaze, he gave her a head-to-toe perusal. He pushed off the wall and stumbled into Rayne. She pushed him and just as he was about to fall, she caught him, barely. He was drunk, properly sloshed. He managed to find his feet beneath him and stood steady. It was then that Rayne appreciated the full length of him. He was like a tower that never seemed to cease. She leaned back just so she could see his face. Ten seconds later, the strained pain in her neck forced her to take a step away.
Beautiful.
He was, though hazy from the effects of alcohol. His brown eyes, soft and somehow endearing, balanced out the sharp, bold edges of his jaw, nose, and lips. Beautiful, she sighed once more. She had never seen a man like him, or rather, felt one. Her right hand gently lay on the left side of his chest. Rayne took deep breaths as her thunderous heart threatened to beat its way up her throat and out of her mouth. Would he like it if I gave my heart to him, once I spat it out? What the hell? Rayne shook her head, trying her best to clear the fuzz that had already taken over her brain.
I have to leave, Rayne had to remind herself. She needed to get out of there before the owner of the room found her and then she would be compelled to fulfill her promise to Lola. After a few right-step, left-step dances with the stranger, she managed to get around him. What she didn’t expect was for him to walk right up to the door she had been standing in front of, just a few moments before. She froze as she listened to him curse at the key card, the door, and the hotel for his inability to access his room, never once considering that it might be his fault.
How would he? Why would he? He was the drunk one, and yet it was Rayne who was about to do something stupid. She took three steps back and five hurried ones forward. Guilt weighed down on her and she backpedaled and didn’t stop until she was against the hunched-up man, his sailor motor-mouth not slowing down.
“Let me,” she said.
He just stared at her blankly.
Rayne reached for the key card and he held it out of her reach. She reached for it again, but this time his antics got him a good shove. The man fell to the floor, a bewildered look on his face. Rayne reached for the key that had fallen next to her feet. She opened the door then stared at the drunk. She thought about it, about leaving him there. He was clearly in no state to go out. In fact, he looked like he had already been out. It was a waste of time, her coming here. But Rayne took it as crossing off one of the many favors she owed Lola. Actually getting him off the floor and safely into his room counted as five favors.
The man stumbled to his feet as Rayne caught him. She helped him into his room and tossed him on the bed. Rayne turned to leave, when he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to him, making her land on his hard chest.
***
He couldn’t remember her face, not really. His mind might have been forgetful, but Duke’s hands weren’t. Her body seemed vaguely familiar; he could recall her soft moans and even, somehow, the sweet taste of her lips. She had been his escort for the night. Laughable. A billionaire who couldn’t find a date who could match his social standings, and then hired a maid instead. He detested the fact that he was still single, and at his twenty-six years of age, his father would still not permit him to marry. It wasn’t that he had need for a wife and was exhausted by bachelorhood. Well, in a way it was. He needed someone on his arm, someone with more beauty that brains. Someone who would engage the wives at dinner while he strong-armed their husbands in business, someone who would warm his body every night, and be somewhat of a stress reliever. And most importantly, someone who would keep the hyenas away. They did say a man’s best defense was his wife.
A man, that was what he wanted to be. At the moment, his peers in business, ten to twenty years older than he was, did not regard him as a man, due to his bachelor state. His father did not see the importance of having a wife. But he didn’t have to bear the difficulties of fending off mothers who would shove their daughters in his face. Or wives who claimed to have their husband’s ear, and would convince him to take Duke’s deal, but only if he had one night of passion with them in exchange. Plus, he was a red-blooded man who needed sex just much as any other man in New York. Not having a wife was distracting him from work.
However, Duke never thought that there would be a young woman trembling in his office, crying, and claiming she was pregnant.’
This was it, that moment he’d thought would never come. A once-in-a-lifetime chance to give validation to the phrase “be careful what you wish for.” He had hoped—no, hope was too big of a words: its weight gave this moment more importance than Duke was willing to give it. In an instant, he was going to be everything that he had wanted, everything that his father didn’t want. He was going to be a husband and a father, a mere distraction for someone his age, according to his father.
Duke wasn’t an idiot: he wasn’t going to immediately take her word for it. He didn’t get to be where he was by blindly trusting and being taken in by a pretty face and tears. Duke had a vague memory of that night. He did remember a woman, only because something had happened to him when he spent the night with her. Yes, he’d been drunk and he’d told himself numerous times that the out-of-body experience he’d experienced was the result of one too many Irish whiskeys. But it wasn’t in his nature to have a random night linger in his mind. His ego was reassured when he’d found the note by his bedside table. All it said was “thank you,” so Duke was glad that, even drunk, he’d been able to accomplish—something.
Accomplish.
He’d been an overachiever since birth. It had to do with how hard his father pushed him, and how much people demanded from him. But this was laughable. One night, and a few weeks later, he had a girl he didn’t know personally—but had apparently known biblically—in his office, claiming to be pregnant. Duke only had once choice. Right now he had to take care of the most important thing and the rest would fall into place.
Duke gathered up his coat, his phone, wallet, and car keys. He walked up to the girl, grabbed her arm, and pulled her to her feet. He then led her out the door and straight into the arms of his worst mistake.
***
Five years later...
Duke leaned back in his office chair, staring at the portrait of his wife and son on his desk. Each and every time he looked at it, a weird sensation claimed him, like a snake slithering up his spine. The two, mother and son, didn’t seem right in the same frame. Duke shook it off as one of his crazy thoughts after pulling a forty-eight-hour shift. He missed his son. As for his wife...well, the feeling was mutual. She didn’t interfere with his work hours and he didn’t lower the limit on her credit card. They had been doing this for five years now and the relationship benefited both of them. It worked, somehow. Duke had someone semi-intelligent but very beautiful on his arm during work functions and she did whatever the hell she wanted to do. It was a mystery to Duke what his wife did with her time; he didn’t really care, either. As long as he was not in her to-do list.
A knock on the door made Duke lean over his documents. He didn’t need to see who it was. At six a.m., it could only be his personal assistant, Jessica. Blood red stilettos, his favorite. Staring from under his lowered gaze, Duke watched and pretended not to see as she walked up to him and moved to his back. From the corner of his eye, he saw more than felt as she laid her hand on his shoulder and tried to push her fingers through his jacket and into his flesh.
Duke pushed his chair back and pulled her into his lap. He watched her for a second, how hard she was trying to seduce him, and Duke wondered why. What exactly was so special about him that this woman was ready to risk her job just to sit in his lap? He also wondered how come his wife didn’t notice these apparent charms.
Every day, Duke regretted his rash decision of cohabiting with a woman who’d claimed she was pregnant with his baby. He didn’t doubt the child, not since he had done a DNA test to confirm the boy’s parentage. But he did wonder if he should have handled the situation differently. Duke didn’t want to look irresponsible in front of his business peers. Plus, his father was not above killing him for his reckless decision.
He remembered that night he’d walked into his family home during dinner with his wife in tow. “I’m married,” he’d announced. Complete silence. Even the maids froze, and stared at him with mouths agape. “And she’s pregnant.” He delivered the final blow as nonchalantly as he could. He then took his place at the dinner table and the maids hurried to make a place setting for his new wife. That was how they sat during every family dinner at his family home for five years now. His family still stared at his wife out of the corners of their eyes. Duke knew what they were thinking. How the hell had she managed to fool the great Duke? He hadn’t thought about it then, but it made him wonder now.
It had been his youthful eagerness. Duke blamed it on that. What else could it be? A man who had been making the right decisions since he was a child, according to his father, all of a sudden made a decision of his own and it was his biggest regret.
There were moments he felt like he had married the wrong woman. Yes, in the broader sense of things she was definitely a woman not meant for him. But ninety percent of the time they were in the same room. Duke didn’t recognize her as his one-night stand He had been drunk that night. The woman’s face was a blur, but it was her touch he couldn’t forget. A touch that didn’t belong to his wife. He had once tried to make love to his wife, awaken the emotions that had managed to pierce through his drunken stupor, but nothing. It had turned out to be sex, wild sex. His wife was good at satisfying a man’s fantasies. Anyway, he had sex on the regular, and a son, to boot. There was nothing more he wanted from his family life. Now all he had to do was make sure he left his son, his only child, a great legacy. Duke had no intention of having any more children: he could barely keep up with this one. Plus, his wife had made it very clear she had no intention of having any more. It was fine with him: his wife barely paid attention to the one they had now.
“What are you thinking about?” Jessica asked.
Duke gently pushed her off his lap. “I have to get home to my kid.” He started gathering his things, packing his laptop and documents into his briefcase.
“What about me?”
“When are you going to stop playing this game with me?”
“When you stop having that sly grin and suddenly turn poor and ugly,” Jessica teased. “We’ve been playing this game since high school. When are you going to let me win?”
“I have a situation now.”
“I still haven’t forgiven you for that.”
“Why didn’t you take the job I got you? You are more than just a P.A.” Jessica redefined the word gumshoe. She had been following Duke their entire adolescent and adult lives. She should have been the one he married, but he hadn’t wanted to encourage her delusion. Jessica was the type of woman who would want to be loved back. At his age, Duke still didn’t know how that felt.
“I didn’t take it because you are not in London.” Jessica helped him put his jacket on. “We could—”
“I don’t cheat. Not in business or my personal life.” Duke stepped out of her reach. “Take the job in our London offices. You are much more than a puppy who follows me around.” He grabbed her jaw and placed a light kiss on her forehead. “Think about it?”
“If you ask me like that...” Jessica grabbed his tie between her fingers and seductively twirled it.
Duke took back the tie. “Seriously, think about it.”
“Yup.” Jessica sat back on his desk, a defeated frown on her face.
Duke chuckled and walked out.
––––––––
Silent. That was how the house usually was when he got back home in the early hours of the morning. A complete opposite of dinnertime. Little Duke and his father would have moments to themselves whenever Duke could squeeze in a few minutes. He was trying: he wasn’t perfect but he liked to think that he was present. It was with his mother that he never made an effort. It didn’t seem to bother his wife, either. He walked down the corridor of his New York brownstone. When he entered the living room, he noticed how cold it felt, cold but familiar. His mother had decorated their family home the same way. Like a home décor catalogue had been spat out into each room, turning it into a museum of cherished possessions. He hated how distant his home felt and wanted to throw every piece of expensive furniture his son wasn’t allowed to sit on out the window. It was ridiculous that a man and a boy were not comfortable in their own home.
Duke was just about to head to his bedroom when he heard shuffling sounds, then the kitchen light turned on. Quietly, he walked over to the kitchen and froze at the door, dumbstruck and in awe. A wave of déjà vu hit him. It was the way her hair fell to the front and partially covered her face as she reached for something in the lower shelves of the fridge. The light shining from the other side of her head completed the picture. Kay was beautiful. He wondered why he had never noticed that before.
Duke balled his fingers into a fist and shoved them into his pocket to restrain himself. Never in his life had he wanted touch something so desperately. Her hair was driving him crazy. Duke never indulged in his personal desires, neither did he allow himself to go off script. It usually took someone to drag him off the path his father had designed for him, in order for him to have a selfish moment. His wife was one of the people who’d managed to accomplish that, the other was Jessica. Kay didn’t seem like one who would force anyone to do anything. For her, he might follow willingly.
Just this once.
Duke took a step forward and a crunching noise filled the whole rom. He lifted his foot and saw his son’s toy car reduced to a flat wreck. He frowned and nodded. This was what happened when you tried to do something you were not supposed to. Duke had no idea what he was about to do. He wanted to be close to her, first. He lifted his gaze from the miniature accident and met her eyes.
Hypnotizing. The word didn’t even do her round, deep brown eyes justice. Compelling was another description that came to mind. But Duke settled on beautiful. He drank in her beauty, unable to comprehend the emotions stirring inside him. He stood still, and waited. He had known of Kay for five years. It was weird that he had never once really looked at the woman who took care of his son. Duke always saw the swish of her ponytail as she quickly moved away from him.
Duke was convinced he knew her, not as his son’s nanny but as someone else.
“Kay?” Her eyes grew wider when he took a step forward. The innocent, perplexed look on her face turned into fear. That confused him even more. “Can I ask you something? Have we ever met before?”
Kay took a step back. She turned her face away and pulled her hair to the front of her head, forming a curtain. She was obviously trying to hide from him, but he had no idea why.
***
Have we met before? Was he joking?
Rayne’s first instinct was to run and hide. It might have been because she hadn’t realized he had been standing there, watching her for God knew how long, or because he had seen her for the first time in five years. The first time they met...met might be too big of a word for what had happened. Rayne had seen him and he—through his alcohol goggles—had seen a female shape he’d led into his room. It was supposed to be simple favor for Lola. Hang on a rich man’s arm as a trophy girlfriend and have him show off in front of his friends. Rayne had gotten dolled up just for them. She’d worn a tight off-the-shoulder red dress with a mid-thigh slit and not much left to the imagination. It didn’t make her uncomfortable at all. She was used to that kind of clothing.
Lola had convinced Rayne to leave Hawaii for Vegas, not only because they weren’t making much hula dancing, and for the adventure. Rayne had never left the island since she’d been born. Her memories of her childhood before the orphanage were hazy; however, they weren’t good enough to lead her back home. For years, Rayne thought her family would someday come and find her. But it had been more than twenty years, and she’d finally convinced herself it was time to give up. And of course, there was another reason Rayne decided to follow Lola off the island...Lola’s schemes.
Lola had a way with men. She made them do what they normally wouldn’t. A seductress—no, actually a serpent—that was the best way to describe the girl she’d met at the orphanage when they were just thirteen. Lola got men to spend money on her, when all she did for them was blow them a kiss after getting them sexually frustrated. It didn’t help that Rayne and Lola resembled each other. It was that resemblance that had made them instant friends in the orphanage and family as they grew up.
Vegas was the place she wouldn’t have to suffer being grabbed on the street by some random man, have debtors banging on her front door, and it didn’t hold a single memory of the family who’d abandoned her. She was going to start fresh and use her God-given talent. She wasn’t book smart, but she was street smart, something she’d gained after aging out of the system at eighteen and hustling on her own on the street. Rayne’s body and beauty, they would have to work for her, somehow. And they had. They’d landed her a son and a home in one of the most exclusive areas in New York.
Yes we have met—in your bed, actually. We were kissing. You took off my bra, then you were on top...we were sweating and swearing. We both seemed to have a lovely time.
Was that what she was supposed to say?
“I’m RD’s nanny,” she said, in the calmest voice she could master.
“RD?” He asked with a perplexed look on his face.
Panic. That was the only message her brain was sending out. She racked her brain, searching for any pet names Mr. Henry had given his son but there were none. What did Lola call him? Meal ticket, reason for her cushy life, that little thing. None of that was worth saying out loud. So she came up with the closest one she knew: “Little Harry.” How did you name a child Harry? That was a grown-up name, suitable for his father and grandfather. But if it’s good enough for the royals, she thought. “I am your son’s—Little Harry’s—nanny. I’ve been working here since he was born. We just didn’t get a chance to meet properly. You’re never really here. Your work must be very important.”
“You met Jessica, though?”
Jessica, of course Jessica. His trusty sidekick who helped him raise his son through orders sent by text.
“Yup!” Rayne was getting upset thinking about the environment her son was growing up in. What was she supposed to do, other than bear it? It was out of her own will that she’d sold herself, that she didn’t terminate the pregnancy, and that for years she had taken the silly role of nanny so as to be in her son’s life. She’d made all those choices with a sober mind. Even though he was being ignored by his father, this life was way better than anything Rayne could give her son. The alternative would be starving on the street.
As she crawled out of the fog that her thoughts brought up, she noticed Mr. Henry had laid a weird look on her. It was like he was trying to figure Rayne out and at the same time wondering if it as worth his time at all. The latter, Rayne realized, when he turned from her and started toward the bedroom.
“Makuahine.” A little whimper came from the same corner Mr. Henry was about to take.
RD dragged his feet on the hardwood floors, his hands leading him as he walked past his father like a zombie and into Rayne’s arms.
“Keikikane.” Rayne crouched down and hugged him. “What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?”
“I’m thirsty,” he whined.
“Okay, let’s get you a sip of water. But you can’t drink too much or you’ll be up all night for bathroom breaks.” Rayne lifted RD to her hip as she worked with one hand to open the cabinet with the bottled water, open it, pour it into a glass, and give RD a little bit of it. In those few moments, caring for her son, she had completely forgotten about Mr. Henry’s existence and was practically oblivious to the fact he had been watching their interaction all this time.
“Why doesn’t his mother care for him?” he asked, out of the blue.
“I do!” What the hell was she saying? She changed the tone of her voice from offended to her normal response. “I mean, I do so that she doesn’t have to. The same can be said for you, right?” Rayne muttered the latter under her breath. She couldn’t push her luck too far.
Don’t look at him, just walk past him. Run if you have to. Don’t catch any more of his attention, Rayne said to herself as she tried to beat Mr. Henry to the corner he didn’t seem to be taking.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Shit! I didn’t make it. “I’m going to put him back to bed.”
“He seems fine where he is,” Mr. Henry pointed out. The truth was RD was perfectly okay with his nose nuzzled into Rayne’s neck as he drifted back to sleep. Rayne smiled as she felt the warmth of his little breaths against her skin.
“He is, isn’t he?” she said absent-mindedly as she enjoyed the moment.
“He is.” The suspicious tone in his voice drew her back to the present. “What did you mean by that comment?”
Rayne wasn’t about to try to explain or justify anything. He must know exactly what she meant. That was why his conscience was pricking him and he was cornering her with the same question.
“I spend time with him,” Mr. Henry said.
“When is that? You didn’t even recognize me as his nanny. I am with him every second of every day. Plus, two minutes every other day during breakfast doesn’t count.”
“I know you are his nanny. I make a point of knowing everything about everyone around me, on paper, at least. Jessica connects the rest of the dots,” he admitted. Until that moment, Duke hadn’t realized how much control of his life he had given to Jessica. A part of him was a little ashamed of not taking care of his home duties himself, but he remembered how Yvette had insisted on hiring the nanny herself, and all Jessica had done was run a background check. Yvette wanted someone from the island, a girl she would be comfortable around. Duke honestly didn’t want to fight her on it. He knew what he needed to know about the nanny—on paper. It was also a habit of his not to know his employees on a personal level He thought about this woman in front of him. “There is something about you. I know you from somewhere else. A different setting, or mood.” He scratched the side of his nose as he continued to scan her. “Your voice, especially.”
Don’t panic.
“Have you ever met Jessica in person?” he asked again.
Again with Jessica. “We know of each other. She is the one who sends me the messages when you are unable to show up for your son. But we haven’t actually shaken hands and met,” she rattled on, before taking a breather. “If that’s what you are asking.”
“How did you get into my house, then?” Mr. Henry slowly closed the gap between them. Rayne turned to ran but he caught her by the elbow. The recoil made her miss a step, and as a result, she shook RD awake.
“Makuahine?”
“Yes, baby. Look, Daddy wants to put you to bed.”
Rayne didn’t give Mr. Henry time to react. She placed RD in his arms and took a step back. The perplexed looks on both their faces were identical to each other. “You know where his room is, right?”
For a moment, Rayne felt sorry for both of them. The look of shock had quickly morphed to that of fear. Neither of them understood the situation, and neither knew how to react. But she was definitely not taking RD back. He was the best distraction to stymie his father’s trail of questions.
“Follow me. I’ll show you how.” Rayne quickly walked ahead of them toward RD’s room.
Rayne stood at the door, gesturing with her hand for Mr. Henry to walk in without her. “Just lay him into bed and tuck him like your mother used to do for you.”
Mr. Henry looked back at her, and for a moment, she caught a glimpse of sadness in his eyes. What it meant left her curious. He wasn’t warm with his son, possibly because no one had shown him the same love. His behaviors were just as confusing to her as this moment was for him. She watched as Mr. Henry laid RD in his bed, lifted the covers over him, and literally tucked him into the bed.
Rayne couldn’t help but laugh, especially when RD squirmed. “Not so tight,” she said.
Like an obedient student, he took lessons on one of the most important moments that created the parent-child bond.