Creed (The Marquette Family Book One) (18 page)

With a smile on his face that refused to dim, he kicked the bedroom door wide and started inside. “I hope you’re hungry, baby. I made—”

He stopped. Shada stood beside the bed, holding his cell phone and frowning down at the screen. She looked up at him. “I was groggy from the meds you gave me last night. When the phone started vibrating, I just assumed it was mine. I’d looked at it before I realized…”

She trailed off, but he knew there was more.

When he didn’t speak, she held up the phone and turned the screen toward him. He couldn’t see the words from so far away, but of course, he could guess what she’d found.

“You’re still talking to her. I wasn’t listening when you introduced her to everybody, but now I see her name is Madeline. She’s the one you’ve chosen to have your baby, isn’t she?”

“Shada, I didn’t cheat.”

She glared. “I didn’t say you cheated, did I?”

He set the food tray down on the table in front of the settee. He’d liked this master bedroom from the moment he saw it, because of its size and the fact that he basically had a sitting room in his bedroom. He and Shada had never needed to leave this space except when he prepared food for them. Now he’d lost his appetite. “But you’re angry.”

She gave a dry laugh. “Who’s angry? I asked you to fuck me. You did.”

He grunted at the coarse words, knowing she’d chosen them on purpose. She wouldn’t have said it the way she did if she weren’t angry. “Shada.”

“Shada, what? Is she pregnant yet?”

“Stop,” he snapped. “We’re not having this argument.”

“Oh, because you control everything?”

“I’m not trying to.”

“Yeah, right.”

He approached her, his own anger rising. “I don’t know what you’re so pissed about. You turned me down, remember? Both for having my child and for being my lover.”

“I said no because you thought you were going to have your cake and eat it too. Not with me you weren’t.”

The last of his patience evaporated. He snaked out a hand and jerked her to him. The move turned out to be a mistake, because his body lit on fire. Even angry at her, he wanted her. Maybe more. “You know it’s not like that. If you looked at the texts, she was asking why she hadn’t heard back from me after I brought her down here.”

“You brought her…” Shada shook her head and thrust at his chest. “You were already seeing her in New York?”

“No. Well, not recently. We had a thing a couple years ago. I invited her down to New Orleans after you and I broke it off.”

“But you introduced her to Damen and Stefan.”

“I don’t discuss my sex life with my brothers even though Damen tries to goad me into it. They hadn’t met Madeline.” He hesitated about how much to share, not wanting Shada to back off again. Something told him no matter what he said, this was a losing argument. “She wanted a closer relationship two years ago. I didn’t. I think, rather I
thought
, she might be willing to change the dynamics this time around.”

“And have your baby without having you.”

He scratched the back of his head. Her blunt way of putting it made him sound like a self-serving ass. Maybe he was. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

Shada managed to get out of his arms. She held out his phone, and he took it. Then she spun away. “I’m leaving.”

“Don’t go. I made breakfast.” He sounded like an idiot and cursed himself.

“It was a mistake coming here in the first place.” She pulled on the black dress she’d worn to the funeral a few days ago. “I shouldn’t have been leaning on you to get me through. I’m a strong woman. I can take care of myself.”

“You know I don’t mind.”

She faced him, barefoot, no underwear on beneath her dress. Yet, his focus wasn’t on getting her naked again. The night before, she had had another bout of tears, and he had held her until she stopped shaking. Then he had made love to her,
love
this time instead of raw, rough sex. They had both found pleasure in this method as well. What he most worried about was who would comfort her if she grew vulnerable again.

“Thank you for everything, Creed.”

“You don’t have to sound so damn formal.”

“You’re a good man in your way, a
really
good man.”

Creed dropped his shoulders in resignation. His anger drained away. “We’re not meant to be lovers or anything else.”

A flash of something lit her gaze, but then she smiled a little, the first in days. “True.”

He started to reach for her, and she went up to her toes, her hands rising as if they would wrap themselves around his neck. Then they both froze, and Creed took a step back. They couldn’t kiss good-bye or risk her not going at all. He shoved fingers into his hair.

Shada spun away, gathered her panties and bra, and hooked a finger in the straps on her heels.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” he said.

“Thanks.”

Creed drove her, both of them silent the entire way. At the street outside her apartment, he glanced over at her, but Shada was already reaching for the door to get out. He ground his teeth and turned back to face the street. The passenger-side door opened and closed. He slammed a fist into the steering wheel, and the horn blared. Creed threw the car into gear, and from the corner of his eye, he saw her turn around at the noise, but he kept going. Protests from other drivers lit the air at his sudden invasion into the traffic. Creed swerved to keep from being mowed down and headed toward Marquette’s.

When he arrived at the restaurant, which was closed for the day, he used his key to let himself in. The wine cellar drew his steps, although even as he headed there, he wondered if he shouldn’t go for something stronger.
One to shut out the noise and the images.

Creed found a bottle of vodka and frowned at it. This would do the trick, he guessed, and he confiscated it to take to his office. Voices reached him as he walked down the hall, but he ignored them. When he opened the door to his office, he found Damen and Stefan there, and he swore. Stefan smiled and greeted him. Creed offered a grunt in response.

“Don’t you two have homes?” he growled.

Damen’s brows rose. He sat on the side of the desk, hands shoved into his pockets. Stefan stretched his long legs before the chair Creed usually occupied. They had discussed remodeling a couple of the other storage rooms into offices for his brothers but hadn’t gotten around to it. Neither Damen nor Stefan liked to hang out in one long, which had always required him to chase them down in New York.

His middle brother’s gaze lowered to the bottle in his hand, and Creed considered hiding it behind his back like a child. Instead, he frowned and stood taller. Damen’s displeasure became obvious as he stood and approached Creed. By the time his brother reached him, all Creed could do was release the bottle as Damen took it.

“So you let her go,” Damen said.

Creed tensed.

“I would have done anything,” Damen said.

Creed opened his mouth to tell Damen this wasn’t about him and how he handled his failed marriage, but Damen kept walking out the door with the vodka.

Stefan swung his feet to the floor, walked around the desk, and patted Creed’s shoulder on his way out.

Creed moved to the window and stared out at the empty alley. He didn’t stir for a long time, didn’t think, and definitely didn’t feel.

* * * *

Creed set a hand at Madeline’s lower back and pulled out her chair. She sank into it with graceful ease and crossed her long legs at the ankles. He noted the way her already short form-fitting dress rose higher and showed off sexy slender legs. Smooth and milky white, she didn’t seem to have tanned yet beneath the Southern sun.

“Is there anything in particular you want to eat?” he asked as he perused the menu.

Madeline smiled and lowered her lashes. “You always did like to order for me.”

He clenched his jaw. “You only have to say no for me to back off, Madeline.”

“So sensitive.” She tittered, a sound he had once found appealing.

Pull it together, Creed. This what you want.

They ordered, Creed choosing a random dish because food was the farthest from his mind tonight. He just wanted the preliminaries out of the way so he could get down to business. When the waiter had brought their order and Madeline had consumed about a third of her meal—her usual—he figured he didn’t have to delay any longer. “I assume you accepted my invitation to come to New Orleans because you’re not seeing anyone, or at least anyone serious?”

Pink tinged her cheeks. “Nope, not presently. Good timing.”

He nodded and considered whether he should spend a few minutes trying to soften her up with compliments. Then again, why do that when he didn’t feel it? He had never been misleading to a woman about his intentions and didn’t want to start now.

“Madeline, I want you to have my baby.”

Her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened. “You…?” She fanned her face, and the slight pink transformed into full-on red. “You’re asking me to marry you?”

“No!”

“But you said you want me to have your baby.” Some of the enthusiasm left her demeanor, but her eyes still twinkled.

Creed ignored the less than happy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t touched his food other than to shift the contents around the plate a few times. “I want a child, and I need a mother. It’s as simple as that.”

Madeline laughed, her tone full of disbelief. “You sound like one of these women who feel their eggs drying up and are desperate for kids.”

She might not know it, but her words echoed Damen’s. He resented the simile. “I’m not desperate. There is nothing wrong with wanting a child to carry on the Marquette name.”

She smirked, for some reason reminding him of Shada. A longing started within him that could be termed “desperate,” but he suppressed it. Madeline leaned forward and laid a willowy white hand over his. He wondered disjointedly if his enjoyment of her pale skin had gone because he’d experienced Shada’s deep mocha. Perhaps he had developed a flavor for black women. The shallowness of that idea annoyed him.

“I’ll do it,” Madeline quipped.

He stiffened. “I haven’t laid out the terms yet.”

She winced. “Do you have to sound so businesslike, Creed? Honestly.”

“This
is
business. I’m not asking you to have a relationship with me, Madeline. I need to make that clear from the start.”

He caught the disappointment in her gaze and the tinge of hurt. “You didn’t want a relationship two years ago, but you want a baby now.”

“Yes, and I want to be honest with you.”

Emotions flitted over her expressive face. “In vitro?”

“No, that’s not necessary.”

“Meaning you might as well enjoy yourself while you get what you want?” She preened. “Sure. Why not?”

“Don’t you need to think about it? It’s a big step to take, and there will be papers to sign.”

That took her by surprise. “Papers?”

“I will require full custody.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, Creed.” He sat in silence, and she sighed. “Are you going to push to get me to sign over parental rights?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that. The baby will know and love you as his or her mother.”

“Thank you for small favors!”

“You are free to turn me down.”

She glared at him. “I have loved you almost from the time I first laid eyes on you, Creed.”

Guilt stirred in his gut. He shifted in his chair and drew away.

She swore. “Jeez, I see you’re running away already. Always running away. I told myself to let you go two years ago, that anyone can see you’re not the kind of man who will fall in love. Your parents ruined you.”

He worked his jaw. “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Madeline.”

“Tell me it’s not true,” she demanded. “Have you ever come close to loving any woman? If you did, you wouldn’t be sitting here across from me, asking me to have your baby and then wanting to have a contract drawn up to make it all nice and tidy.”

“My corporation—”

“Bah! I neither need nor want your money, and you know it.”

Creed couldn’t argue. Madeline had spoken the truth. She commanded a six-figure income in her career as regional manager at a medium-sized corporation. In fact, that was how he met her, in the course of business. When they first became lovers, Damen had passed on what he’d learned of Madeline’s background. Madeline had inherited a respectable sum from her maternal grandfather after he passed a few years before. So she was right. She didn’t need his money. However, her assumption that he had never loved was wrong.

What the fuck? Where did that come from?

He cleared his throat and reordered his thoughts. “Why don’t you think on it a little while longer? I’ll call you in a few days.”

She pushed out a thin bottom lip. “You’re not going to comment on my confession?”

“Madeline—”

“Oh, forget it, Creed. I’ll do it. Yes, I’m sure. I’m not getting any younger either, and in my line of work, most of the men I come across are already married. Most also don’t mind a little playtime on the side, but none are going to offer me the chance to be a mother. So why not?”

Creed nodded. All of a sudden he was getting what he wanted, yet he questioned it. He had been thinking of having a child for a while now, and during the last few months in particular, about doing it this way. Why did it not appeal when Madeline said yes? He studied her flushed face as she searched her purse, and when she excused herself to visit the ladies’ room, he watched her go. None of the emotions and the ache he’d experienced with Shada surfaced. In some ways, that was a good thing. This was the way it should be. He would control every aspect of the process before, during, and after. Every contingency would be planned until he held his son or daughter in his arms.

Chapter Fifteen

Creed stood against the wall on one side of his restaurant, observing the patrons. Or rather, he pretended to observe his guests. His attention had wandered to thoughts of Shada. She had been called from the kitchen countless times tonight, more often than Rene. He knew there would be some ruffled feathers to soothe later. Yet Shada’s culinary creations were growing in popularity. He admitted he had allowed her free rein, and she used it to change up her offerings from week to week, sometimes night to night. Since they had separated and her sister had passed, she had thrown herself into her work. He knew in particular how that could help, and he hadn’t stopped her.