We end up escorting the two kids I care for way above my paygrade to Portland in the BMW hybrid Stone bought Cami for her graduation a few weeks later. We move them and Stallone into a dog friendly condo Stone bought in Cami’s name as a “first job gift,” then visit the girls every month like doting grandparents, until my expanding belly puts me in the no fly zone.
“Don’t worry,” Cami tells me on our last visit as we hug good-bye. “We’ll see you at Thanksgiving. This little bird might have left North Carolina, but I’ll always come flying back to you.”
Then she tells me not to cry. And I blame the hormones for making me too sentimental. But I get on the plane without a doubt in my mind, Cami’s and my unspoken mother-daughter bond is made of industrial elastic. It will stretch, but never break.
Luckily Stone really hated his dead dad. He breaks his “father’s grave” promise to become positively unromantic several times in the months to come.
We’re at four hundred percent love these days. I got one-hundred points after my pregnancy announcement, and the number still ticks up by five points, every time I give him head. He’s also taken on a rather unfortunate habit of introducing me as “the fucking love of his life,” at doctor appointments, at my work functions, and at Mass, which we begin dutifully attending once a month to keep Aunt Mari happy.
My Dominican family now welcomes him like a king at all our functions. Goodbye to only seeing them on holidays and Sunday dinners at our home. Shortly after Stone gifted Yara’s oldest daughter with a laptop for her quinceañera, Heaven and her maybe daughter, Alaysha, got a nail salon gang level of cousins together to inform us we were expected to attend all family functions from now on. Exceptions will no longer be allowed.
“See this is why you don’t stunt at quinceañeras,” I hissed at Stone after they left. “Now they’re going to invite us to everything.”
Stone, who I suspect, misses his big Italian Catholic family back up in New York just laughed and gave me so much wifeing that night, I began to wonder why I was so upset in the first place.
Yes, life is good. It’s so, so good.
Which is why it’s startling to be awoken by a middle-of-the-night phone call shortly before Thanksgiving.
“It’s me,” Stone says, sitting up in bed. Next, I hear the wooden slide of his nightstand drawer being opened.
I turn on the bedside light as he snatches up his phone. Not the iPhone I call him on, but the Samsung burner he uses for business. “What?” he answers with a surly growl.
However, his face drops when he hears the voice on the other side of the line. “Rashid, calm down, I can’t understand you. Talk slower…”
I don’t have to ask if everything’s all right. I already know that it isn’t.
This isn’t the phone people call when they need to talk to Stone. This is the one they call when they need him to do something dangerous. Or really, really bad.
I’m sitting all the way up in bed by the time Stone hangs up.
“Rashid? Isn’t that the friend who hasn’t returned any of your calls or texts since he lost his wife and daughter?” I ask, remembering the tragic story with a pang.
“Yeah, the freeze out’s over,” Stone informs me, his face grim. He gets out of bed, and starts pulling on pants. “He’s got a new woman now, and she’s in danger. So he needs my help.”
Who is this mystery woman?
Keep reading for a sneak peek at
the third and final installment of
the Broken and Ruthless series.
And checkout the entire Ruthless Tycoons series!
RUTHLESS TYCOONS
RUTHLESS TYCOONS: Broken and Ruthless
Thank you so much for reading, STONE, the second book in the Broken and Ruthless series. I think we all know a Naima. Someone who gives and gives, eventually becoming so insecure, she loses hope of ever finding true love for herself.
I’m so glad Nai finally received the love she deserved, even if it did come in one large, complicated package. And while I realize it’s no one’s job to fix another person, I do believe in the power of being fixed by the generous gift of love. These two healed each other, and I couldn’t be more thrilled that this mishmash family found their way to a happy ending.
I’d also like to give a huge shout out to all the big, noisy extended families out there. I’m blessed to hail from such a family, and even when it feels like an introvert’s curse, I know my ridiculously large fam is one of my best blessings.
If you loved Naima and Stone’s love story and their crazy patchwork family, please do them the further favor of leaving a review at your favorite vendor.
So much love,
Theodora Taylor
* * *
RASHID: We met. Our eyes locked. But I wasn’t free, and neither was she. I watched her walk away and her memory has haunted me ever since. We meet again in paradise. But by then, my life has been destroyed and I’m a ruin of what I used to be.
* * *
MIKA
“I don’t know about this, Mom…”
Albie looks up at me with unsure eyes, even though he’s been begging me to come back to Hawaii ever since we moved to Connecticut two years ago.
Truthfully, I don’t blame him for looking scared. I’m a little scared too as we stand under the lanai at the front of a long entryway leading to a huge multi-story Diamond Head beach estate.
The house isn’t quite as big as Holt’s compound, but it’s way more intimidating. All sharp edges and glass. I’m sure the architect had the spectacular ocean views in mind when he designed nearly every inch of the exterior with huge retractable window walls. But since all the windows are currently down and moreover, tinted, the huge estate comes off more like a scary mansion-shaped spaceship than open-air living.
“You’re saying that dead girl’s dad owns all of this?” Albie asks beside me. “And he’s living here, even though his whole family is dead?”
“Her name was Aisha,” I gently remind him as I lead the way down the entryway towards the house’s huge front Balinese door. “And it wasn’t his whole family. You know, Holt’s friend Mr. Zahir? That’s his cousin, and he’s the one who offered me this job.”
I can tell Albie’s working hard to process all of this through his kid translator, and I’m trying to keep my voice reassuring. But the truth is, it really doesn’t feel right to be back here in Hawaii. Not right at all after more than a year of receiving Bible verse “you’re a whore” texts from 808 numbers. If both the Calson boys hadn’t decided to go away for the whole summer this year and Zahir hadn’t offered me a crapload of money upfront which I really need because of Dad’s medicine situation, I’d probably be on the first plane back to Connecticut.
“Did bad guys kill his family too?” Albie asks behind me.
My heart squeezes, trying to do the impossible math of figuring out how to answer that question without traumatizing him more. I’ve kept the details of his father’s death as murky as possible, and now probably isn’t the time to clarify that his dad was also one of the bad guys.
In the end, I answer, “No, it was an accident.”
“What kind of accident?” Albie asks behind me.
“A building collapsed.”
“How did that hap—”
“I’m still not clear on all the story details,” I admit as we come to a stop in front of the huge Balinese style door.
“So I’d have to ask him,” Albie says with a concluding nod.
“Please don’t,” I beg, cringing at the thought of Albie pressuring Rashid Zaman for every single detail of the tragic accident that took away his wife and daughter.
“But how can I hear all the story, if I don’t ask him?” Albie asks, looking genuinely confused.
Instead of answering that question, I clap my hands together. “Hey, how excited are we about being back in Hawaii? And living close enough to the beach to surf whenever you want?”
“Yeah, I can’t wait!” Falling for my subject change, Albie lets loose a sunny grin to reveal the dimples that pretty much disappeared during our last cold Connecticut winter.
He eyes the house again, this time with a reassessing scan. “Maybe it doesn’t look as scary on the inside.”
“I bet it doesn’t,” I answer, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible about the ominous beach house for Albie’s sake.
Taking a deep breath, I press the doorbell.
Only a few seconds go by before a tall man dressed in a white robe answers the door. I immediately recognize him as the same nameless servant who walked me home that night after I met with Rashid.
“Hello again!” he says, his face lighting up with surprise. “When Sheikh Zahir told me of the substitute housekeeper that would be arriving with her son, I had no idea it would be you. But it is good to see a familiar face. That might be easier on His Excellency.”
“I hope so,” I answer, relieved to be greeted so warmly by the nameless servant.
He’s strikingly handsome in a silverish fox sort of way, I notice now that I’m getting a good look at him in the daylight. Lean and wiry, he stands with an uprightness that gives away military background no matter where you’re from in the world. He also has light-brown eyes and cheekbones so sharp, I’m sure he’d get a “you’re absolutely beautiful” from Tyra Banks if he decided to quit his job and audition for America’s Next Older Gentleman Top Model.
“And, it’s so good to see you again, too,” I tell him. “I just wish it was under better circumstances.”
“As do I,” he answers with a somber bow of his head. “It has been a sad and terrible year for His Excellency.”
I can tell it’s been a hard year for him, too. I want to reach out to hug him, offer some comfort, but then I remember the many warnings we’d been given about how it was culturally inappropriate for an unmarried woman to touch a man for any reason back in Jahwar.
“This is Albie,” I say instead, using the introduction to finally get the name of Rashid’s attendant.
It’s Faizan, as it turns out, and he leads us into an architectural wonder of a house. None of the lights are turned on, but there’s just enough natural daylight for Albie and me to check out the downstairs’ impressive details. Teak and marble grace all the floors and the few parts of the walls that aren’t made out of glass. There’s a flagstone lanai off the oceanside glass wall with a saltwater infinity pool and steps that lead directly down to the beach. Also, a gym that Faizan says we’re free to use whenever we want.
And that’s not all.
“Are you serious?” Albie screeches when Faizan leads us upstairs into the gorgeous master suite where I’ll be living until Mr. Zaman’s housekeeper comes back from visiting her daughter, who just had a baby back in the UAK.
I’m speechless myself. Like Albie, I’ve never lived on the top floor of anything. Much less a master suite with its own lanai and both ocean and mountain views.
“Are you sure?” I ask Faizan after he shows us into the room Albie will be staying in. The floors here are simple teak instead of marble and it’s much smaller. But it has a queen-sized bed—another first for Albie and the same awesome ocean and mountain views. Basically, everything I’d heard about growing up further inland in Pearl City, but never got to experience unless we paid money to stay at a nice resort—which my penny-pinching parents never wanted to do.
“Why do we get to live upstairs in these bomb rooms while he’s downstairs?” Albie asks when Faizan shows him the huge closet.
“I assure you, His Excellency’s rooms are quite nice, as well.” A hint of amusement glimmers in Faizan’s eyes but the smile never quite makes his face. “But due to his injuries, he has taken up residence in one of the bedrooms on the bottom floor.”
Albie’s eyes light up. “Can I see his bedroom? And Ender says he’s probably got a lab where he’s working on exoskeletons. If he does, I want to see the robot stuff, too.”
It’s an innocent question, but all amusement fades from Faizan’s eyes. “There is no robot stuff, as you called it. You are allowed to go in the common areas and the kitchen whenever His Excellency is not occupying a room. But other than that, all downstairs rooms are off-limits.”
There comes a beat of awkward silence. Then Albie grins and says, “That’s okay. The beach and ocean are all I need. Mom, can we go get my old surfboard from grandma and grandpa’s house tomorrow? Please! Please!”
“We’ll see,” I say with a forced laugh. Wondering not for the first time since we stepped foot in Hawaii if coming back here wasn’t a big, awful mistake.
“I’m sorry if I sounded harsh,” Faizan says as we walk back down the stairs after leaving Albie to unpack in his room. “But it is very important that your son abides by the rules of the house.”
“I understand,” I answer, even as uneasy feelings continue to ripple over me. But Zahir is paying me a lot of money to do this job. Money that my family really needs right now.
Yes, Albie will be way less comfortable tiptoeing around this house in Hawaii than he was in playing with Wes and Ender in Connecticut, but it’ll only be for the summer. I’ll keep my head down and do my job and Albie will use the beach as his playground. Everything will be fine and both of us will make it through this summer without a hitch.
I tamp down the nervous feeling and tell myself that as Faizan goes over my duties. They’re pretty straight forward. Clean, cook, fetch when Faizan’s not available, and, “Only disturb His Excellency when necessary.”
Luckily for me, I’ve arrived just before lunchtime, so this is the perfect time to bring His Excellency his afternoon meal and pop my head in for a reintroduction.
Faizan walks me through the Rashid’s lunch preparations, and it doesn’t take long. Lunch is basically a smoothie filled with a variety of seeds, some veggies, protein powder, papaya, guava, and apple bananas with a slice of star fruit on top.
It’s very pretty, but, “That’s all he’s going to eat?”
Faizan gives me another somber nod. “I’m afraid that’s all he is willing to consume.”
Faizan said willing not able, I note as I carry the drink down a too dim hallway to his room to another teak door.
I knock.
“Come in.” The two words pierce the wood, sharp and rough.
Another deep breath and I open the door…
Darkness. I can’t see anything save the faintest outlines of furniture and a shadowy figure sitting behind the room’s only point of light: a glowing screen.
Whoa, had I complained about the hallway? This room makes it look bright. Which feels crazy, because who comes to Hawaii to block out all the sunlight?
I fumble on the closest wall for the light switch and push the first button I find.
More light than I’m expecting floods the room. “Sorry!” I call out, reflexively squinting against the suddenly too bright light.
“I did not give you permission to turn on the light!”
Eyes adjusting, I squint in the direction of the angry voice. “I’m sorry,” I say again. “I was just trying to see where to put…”
I trail off, my heart cracking at the sight of him rolling out from behind the desk to confront me, in what I can now see is a large garden facing bedroom with one simple wooden desk.
I knew it would be bad. Zahir told me as much and let me know that Rashid had only recovered to the point that he could move around in a wheelchair.
But he looks even worse than I imagined. Thin, bordering on emaciated. Sunken chest under a thin t-shirt, hollow cheeks, even hollower eyes. His dark wavy hair is now a lusterless mess and it’s easy to tell his tangled beard hasn’t been attended to since his accident. He looks terrible. So terrible, I barely notice the armless wheelchair he’s sitting on. Hints of his former beauty lurk underneath his ashen skin, but as for perfect?
No, he is definitely not that anymore. He looks destroyed, the handsome man I remember is completely ravaged.
I freeze, my army tough cheeriness abandoning me all at once. I don’t know what to do, what to say.
“Why are you here?”
His voice jolts me out of my vocal paralysis.
“Hi, I’m Mika,” I answer. “You probably don’t remember me but we met about a year ago after–”
“I remember you,” he says, cutting me off. His gaunt face darkens with what looks like barely-contained rage. “Why are you here?”
I swallow. “Oh didn’t anyone tell you?” I scamper forth with the glass and set it on the desk beside him. “I’m replacing your usual housekeeper until she comes back from Jahwar in late August.”
There comes a thunderous silence. Then: “No.”
The word hits me like a shove, and I blink, not understanding. “What do you mean, no?”
“I mean, NO!” he roars. “I will not allow this.”
Without warning, he brings a hand up and slaps the smoothie off the desk. I gasp, jumping back, but not before the dark red drink splashes on me and pretty much everything else within a one-foot radius.
“You’re fired!” His voice is little more than a feral growl. “Now get out!”