Creed (The Marquette Family Book One) (13 page)

“I wasn’t asking you to have my baby, Shada.”

“Well, why are you telling me about it?” she snapped.

He took her hand, but she jerked out of his hold.

“I didn’t mean it that way.” He spread his hands in supplication. “I meant, I wouldn’t
presume
to think you were open to it.”

She calmed down, and her hurt feelings settled. Getting hurt over the misunderstanding in the first place made no sense.

“I think I’m handling this wrong.”

She couldn’t help him and just sat waiting for him to choose his approach.

“First, tell me why you don’t want children.”

She shifted in her seat and glanced out the window. He was asking a question she wasn’t comfortable getting into. “Not everyone wants children.”

“Shada.” He touched her hand. This time she didn’t pull away. “If we’re going to continue, we have to be honest with one another.”

Continue what? she wondered. “When I was thirteen, my parents died in a car wreck. I was at school, and I remember what it felt like when the school counselor came personally to my classroom to get me. We walked together on the school grounds, just talking about my life and family. I thought it was odd, but hell, I was in math at the time and was glad to get out of there. After a while, we came back inside, and I thought she was going to let me return to class, but she took me into her office. That’s when she told me the news that destroyed my world.”

Creed laced his fingers with hers, and she drew from his strength. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Why did it ache so good when he called her baby?

“What happened then?” he coaxed.

“I went into foster care, because I didn’t have any other family. I was an only child, a spoiled only child, who was close to my parents. They were like my best friends, and they were gone. I thought I would die, and I had nothing to live for.”

His grip tightened on hers.

“Then I met Marisa. She was eight, sickly, and her parents neglected her. She was so smart and happy, despite her circumstances. It got on my last nerve.” Shada laughed. “I started taking care of her just because it seemed wrong not to. Right away, she started calling me her sister, and I appeased her by getting into the habit of calling her sis. Eventually, I loved her as much as I had loved my parents. So you see I don’t want children.”

He frowned. “People can love more than one person, Shada.”

She sputtered, amused, and then grew serious. “I know that. I meant… I can’t—I
won’t
—expose a child to the kind of pain I experienced back then. If something were to happen to me when he is young, he’ll be all alone. The thought of it kills me inside. I just can’t do it.”

“Shada.”

“I know my reason is weird, and it makes no sense.”

“No, I respect your decision and understand it, even if I don’t agree. You also had the feeling reinforced by seeing what Marisa went through.”

She had thought of that too, like what would have happened to Marisa if she had never come to their household, or if Marisa was a foster child. There were plenty of nightmarish experiences in the world, and maybe it wasn’t logical to think the same thing that happened to her parents could happen to her. Yet knowing the truth had never changed her decision. She never wanted to get married or to have children. She never wanted to fall in love at all.

“So you’re not asking me to have your baby. What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I want you to keep seeing me.”

She blinked at him. “I know you aren’t asking me to cheat on your wife with you, because that will get you a black eye to match your brother’s chin.”

He chuckled. “Damen will never live that one down. No, I’m not asking you to commit adultery. I don’t plan on getting married either.”

She gasped. “In vitro?”

He hesitated. “No, I don’t want to trust my son or daughter to a lab. I want to find someone to have the baby, someone I can get to know. Ideally, she would be involved in the baby’s life as his mother.”

Shada shook her head. This was the way rich people thought? She didn’t get it, but like he didn’t judge her, she wouldn’t judge him. Creed had a right to do what he wanted with his life, and from what she knew, he was a good man. He loved his brothers. He would probably be a good father. The thought threw her, and she pushed it away.

“Shada, I’m asking if you will consider continuing to be with me, if I’m honest with you and with the mother of my child. I won’t have a relationship with her. I’ll get her pregnant, but you alone will share my bed for our mutual pleasure.”

His proposal was the most unorthodox thing she had ever heard. On one hand, she wanted to just cuss him out and storm from the café. On the other, neither of them were looking for a real relationship or love, so what harm would it do? Then again, while Shada was sure he could find a woman to agree to his terms, there was no telling if she’d secretly think she could keep him. Not to mention all the other kinds of baby-mama drama that could develop in such a situation.

“I don’t know. It seems risky,” she said. “Not much for me, but a lot for you, because of who you are.”

He agreed. “True. I can’t say I’ve thought this all the way through yet. What I do know is I want you. I’m not willing to give you up yet.”

Warmth spread through her system despite the matter-of-fact way he said the words. “Can I think about it?”

“You can.”

“Good. Well, I have to go. I’ll see you later at the restaurant.”

She fled, shocked, confused, even excited for some stupid reason. Myriad thoughts swirled through her head, foremost of all being Creed’s long-term lover and having exclusive rights to his body.
Well, not
exclusive
, and there’s the problem!

Chapter Ten

Shada strode along the walk with a lazy step. From the moment she passed through the arch into the French Market, the oldest market in the United States, her intention of getting in and out quickly faded away. Over the last few days, she had thought about what she and Creed discussed, but she still couldn’t pin down her emotions and decide what was best for her. Granted, she wanted to be with him, but looking the other way while he got another woman pregnant didn’t feel right. She still managed to feel used and a little betrayed.

Walking under the covered pavilion where she had bought fresh produce plenty of times for the restaurant and for home, she lost herself as she stopped by the booths where she could peruse locally crafted jewelry. She made sure to pick up authentic New Orleans spices, again for home and the restaurant, and stopped to listen to a live duo. One man played drums, and another held an odd instrument she had never seen before. Looking like a giant guitar but held in an awkward position at the front of the man’s body, the instrument produced music reminiscent of steel drums. Of course, that was weird, considering he plucked strings. Either way, she loved the tone and melody, as it soothed her spirit.

Shada must have had a questioning look on her face, because a woman with a friendly smile walked over to her. “It’s called a kora,” she explained, pointing toward the instrument Shada had wondered about. “A West African version of the harp and guitar.”

“Wow, I had no idea,” Shada said. “He plays it well, and the music it makes is incredible.”

“I think so too.” The woman went on to share a few more tidbits of trivia with Shada, and then she drifted away. Learning about the instrument, the history behind it, and the woman’s friendliness were further reasons to love New Orleans.

Farther on, she stopped cold, staring at the man before her. She hadn’t seen Damen since shortly after she had punched him, but here he stood at the French Market with a little girl. Neither had spotted Shada yet.

About seven, with dark hair down her back and almost black eyes, the girl pointed at a doll wearing a Mardi Gras mask. “Get me that, Daddy.”

Shada started. Daddy? No one had said he had a child, and they had all worked together for a few months now. She hadn’t seen the girl either. Granted, Damen flew back to New York regularly, just like Creed and Stefan, but still, he lived in New Orleans more often than not.

“Nita, I’ve bought you three already, and one is similar to that one. Plus you have a room full of dolls at your mom’s house.”

“So what?” The little girl’s voice rose. “I want that one. You said you would buy me whatever I want. That’s what I want, so get it for me. Now, Daddy, now!”

Oh no she didn’t just stomp her feet and take that kind of tone with her father.

Shada waited for Damen to spank her ass or at least smack her lips for speaking to him that way.

“Fine, this is the last one,” he said with mild annoyance. “I mean it, Nita.”

“‘I mean it?’ Are you serious?” Shada tried to bite her tongue, but it was too late. Both Damen and Nita turned to her. She strode over to them. “You’re going to let your daughter talk to you like that?”

Damen cast her a wary glance. She didn’t blame him. Last time, she’d belted him. While she knew nothing about kids, she wouldn’t humiliate him like that in front of his daughter.

Nita looked up at her, and Shada caught a glimpse of Marquette in the cheekbones and jaw. That was all, because it was obvious Nita was mixed. She looked Mexican, but with paler skin. “Do you know her, Daddy?”

“Hello, Shada,” he said. “Yes, we work together. Nita, this is Shada. Shada, my daughter, Nita.”

“I didn’t know you had a child.”

“She’s been with her mother for the summer.”

His words took her by surprise. Nita lived with Damen full time? “Let me guess. She comes back giving you attitude after every visit?” she asked.

He appeared embarrassed. “It’s hard on her.”

“Doesn’t excuse disrespect, Damen.”

“I should get going. See you later at Marquette’s.”

“Sure.”

She let him go but noticed he didn’t buy the doll. Rather, he practically dragged Nita along as she fussed and complained about how unfair it was. Shada wondered if this would be how Creed’s child would end up when he found a mother. Well, it was none of her business. She should focus on her and hers, and nothing else.

With thoughts of Creed in mind, she finished her shopping and headed back to her apartment. After she had prepared lunch for Marisa and showered and changed clothes, she headed out again for the restaurant. Today, she determined, she would figure out what to tell Creed and let the chips fall where they may—whether it was to share her amazing lover for a little while or cut ties with him completely. The third choice was one she didn’t allow herself to dwell on for more than thirty crazy, scary seconds.

* * * *

The restaurant was packed, with every table filled, and Creed had booked a private room as well, so they were busy. In fact, he had arranged to bring on temporary staff to help in the kitchen and with serving. With the restaurant’s success, now they had to take reservations and fewer walk-ins. Shada loved the place jumping the way it was, because she worked fine under pressure. What she didn’t always appreciate were the constant interruptions, having to present herself to whatever self-important person had come in to dine with them.

“It’s all a part of the chef’s job,” Creed had informed her, and she’d glared at him in response. As she passed ahead of him for the fourth time that evening, he touched her lower back, and chills of delight danced through her system. She craved him, but he hadn’t said anything for several days except when it came to work. Neither had she, though, and she knew he waited for her decision.

“I need less of this part of my job and more standing over a hot stove, so to speak.”

She didn’t believe the look of sympathy he gave her when she peered at him over her shoulder.

“What about Rene?” she demanded.

Creed nodded toward the opposite side of the room. “He’s been out here twice as much.”

She rolled her eyes.

They arrived at the table, and Shada offered her best smile to the man who stood to shake her hand.

“You’re Shada Howard?” he asked, and pleasure lit up the baby blues trained on her. He wasn’t bad looking, with a thick-set, somewhat hard-looking body. His hair was thinning on top, which she could tell because she was inches taller than him.

“Yes, is that a problem?” She inserted a bit of teasing in her tone without thinking about it.

“Not at all. Arturo Benoit.”

He held her hand a little too long. At her side, Creed cleared his throat, but she ignored it. How many women had simpered over him when he charmed them? Of course, he never crossed the line, and she wasn’t the type to go crazy with jealousy. After all, they weren’t a couple.

In the middle of this extended justification inside her own head, someone called Creed away, and he hesitated as if he wanted to stay close by. In the end, he had to tend to his duties.

“So, Shada,” Arturo said. His smile seemed aimed to charm her, but all she thought about was how he kept her from her job. “How does a beautiful woman as young as yourself become head chef at such a prestigious restaurant?”

She tilted her head to the side and studied him. “Two things. I’m not as young as you think, and I’m not head chef.”

His eyebrows rose toward his hairline. “Oh?” Somehow it rang false. “In that case, I can steal you away. I’m sure you have dreams of being on top.”

“Who are you?”

“I told you. I’m Arturo Benoit. My restaurant has been in business since the eighteen hundreds. We’re looking for a new head chef, and I’ve had my eye on you. I want you, Shada, and I’ll give you whatever you want in order to have you.”

Her jaw went slack. Was he serious? Right here, in the competition’s dining room? He came to try to lure her away from Marquette’s? Wow, the man had balls. Before she could formulate a reaction to this phenomenon, she was bumped aside and found herself looking at the broad back of one angry Creed Marquette.

“She’s taken,” he growled, getting into Arturo’s face.

Shada darted out from behind Creed and grabbed his arm. “Hold on, Creed. You’re making it sound like… Well, hell, so did he, but…”