Mr. Forrester: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (4 page)

For Erica, it felt almost like a honeymoon as they engaged in almost every hedonistic pleasure imaginable, the highlight of which was when they made love underneath the stars in a clearing on top of the mountain that made up most of the island. She had howled her climax to the night air, not caring if the entire island heard her as she rode him, only aware of the pleasure flowing through her body and the feeling of him coming inside her at the same time. It was at that moment she realized that, despite every warning she had told herself, despite every caution that she was thinking just out of lust, that she admitted to herself that she was falling in love with Dwayne Forrester.

The next morning, Dwayne was leading her down the mountain path toward the hotel. They were walking hand in hand, and Erica could feel an almost stupid smile on her face. Thinking back, it had probably been there for days at least. She wondered if her face could actually permanently freeze that way, like she used to hear when she was a kid. "Penny for your thoughts," Dwayne said, shaking her from her inner dialogue.

"Oh, I was just thinking that these have been the best five days of my life," Erica admitted honestly. "I don't think I've ever had so much fun. This is so different from anything that's ever happened in my life before. We didn't get a lot of vacations growing up where I did."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. But I'd love to hear more about your background," Dwayne said, his voice dropping to the tender tone she had come to recognize more and more often in their interactions. When he was in public, especially when he was talking to staff, he wore the same powerful tone of command that she had seen sometimes when they had sex. It was a masculine, dominating side that she knew filled her heart with lust and left her moist with desire. When he was with staff however, there was also a hint of brashness, an arrogance that she knew was a bit of mental armor that he carried from his hell-raising days in his early twenties. "Tell me about what it was like growing up in Miami."

"Well, there were a few months when the rent was very late," Erica said, "and more than a few months that I went to school in third hand clothes and carrying lunches that consisted of two pieces of Wonder Bread with some ketchup or mustard in between."

"It's a wonder that you weren't stunted in your growth," Dwayne said. "How'd you get out?"

"I have to give a lot of credit to my mother," Erica said. "She worked her ass off trying to put food on our table. Unfortunately, when my father died, he left a pile of medical bills that were about as tall as I was, and even as she worked eighty hours a week we couldn't bring a lot home. She wasn't well educated either, having just a high school diploma. She insisted that I stay in school, and she tried her best to keep me away from the troubled crowd. In fact, it was Mom who entered me in my first modeling competition, a local pet store in Miami. She died before I opened EW, but she was able to see that I was getting out of the neighborhood.”

"She sounds like a remarkable woman," Dwayne replied softly. It was part of what made him so attractive to her, she thought. He was so powerful in public.

But there were other times, when he was with her in private especially, that he was tender, affectionate, and vulnerable. It was at those times that she saw the intelligent, thoughtful man he really was, and that was the man she knew she was falling in love with.

"So what's on our agenda for today?" Erica asked, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He returned it, looking her in the eyes as he stopped.

"Well, I was thinking after breakfast poolside, I'd like to take you jet-skiing if you don't mind," he said, holding her hands still. "I have some work I have to do this afternoon, so I want to have some fun beforehand."

"Fun?" Erica asked with a naughty smirk. "Don't you think someone will see us if we're on a jet-ski?"

Dwayne laughed, relaxed and open, causing Erica's heart to melt with desire.

"I wasn't thinking that, although now that you say something, I'll have a hard time not thinking about it."

"Good, because I wouldn't want to think you're getting tired of me already."

He pulled her in close, his hand wrapping around her waist as he kissed her tenderly. "Not in the least," he whispered, his forehead touching against hers. "In fact, I was thinking I will never....."

Dwayne's words were interrupted by the sound of a helicopter swooping low over the forest path, almost skimming the treetops before circling the hotel once, and then settling down in a large spot in the garden. Dwayne's eyes followed the helicopter with a sneer on his face, and Erica looked from the chopper to him and back.

"What is it? Who's that?" she asked, repeating herself when Dwayne didn't reply at first.

Dwayne shook his head, and started walking towards the hotel again, this time not holding her hand. "It's my parents. My fucking parents."

T
he entire twenty
minute walk back to the main resort building, Dwayne was silent, brooding, a manner in which Erica had never seen him before. Entering his office with him, she could see two people seated on the sofa that she could only assume were Dwayne's parents. His father was tall, almost as tall as his son, with facial features that made him look kind of like Robert Vaughn. Dwayne's mother on the other hand screamed blue blood, with a high patrician nose, pursed lips, and the sort of artificially created seamless
perfection
that said she had seen the inside of a plastic surgeon's office more than once. She'd seen too many models, girls who were past their prime and too desperate to walk one more runway with the same look. It never really worked in her opinion.

"Father, Mother," Dwayne said in way of greeting. He might as well have been talking to strangers, there was so little warmth in his words. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on my investment, naturally," Dwayne's father replied, standing. "While you are the largest shareholder, I still own forty percent of the shares in this venture."

"Your point being?" Dwayne replied venomously, moving around to sit at his desk. "You could have read the financial statements just as easily from Chicago without having to come down here."

"True, but I'd heard some reports from friends that you have been distracted recently," his father replied, his eyes turning meaningfully towards Erica. "It seems that those reports hold some truth. Are you going to introduce us to your new fling?"

Erica felt like she had been slapped across the face with the man's choice of words. She was many things, but fling was not one of them.

"I'm sorry, but what gives you the right to speak to me in such a manner?" she seethed, her fists clenched at her sides.

"I have about two billion reasons why, miss," Dwayne's mother replied, "as well as a few others. Despite what you may think, I’m only looking out for my son, who should not be cavorting with women of ill breeding such as yourself. So what refuse pile did my son pluck you from? Did they call it a barrio, a ghetto, or just the wrong side of the tracks?"

Erica didn't know what to say. Her entire career, she'd tried hard to not look like she had come from nothing, while still remembering the lessons not having money had taught her. She knew she didn't have the same bloodlines as the one percenters, but with Dwayne she didn't feel like it mattered. For Dwayne's mother though, she felt like she was right back where she had once been, a common gutter snipe hustling for another few dollars.

"That's enough!" Dwayne thundered, slamming his fists on the desk. "Miss Williams is a personal guest of mine at the hotel, as well as the consultant on the new men's uniforms. She will not be spoken to in such a manner and you will treat her with the respect she deserves!"

"Last I checked son, your father and I still own forty percent of this hotel. You can’t remove us from the premises without legal cause. As for respect, that’s something that is earned, not given. You of all people should know that."

Dwayne's eyes blazed, and Erica could see him struggle to maintain control of himself.

"You may be right Mother, but you have no right to speak to her that way. She has more than earned professional respect, and is one of the best designers in America. Erica, I apologize for my rude parents."

Erica swallowed her reply to Dwayne's mother with an effort. Part of her, the part that grew up on the wrong side of Miami, wanted to leap across the room and rip the woman's dyed roots right out of her head. But that same part of her knew it would only cause trouble for her if she did. It was always the same when the social classes fought, she had found. The old Golden Rule came to mind. They who have the gold make the rules. Her lips narrowed to a sharp line, and she looked at Dwayne.

"It's not your fault. But, if you would excuse me, I don't think I can enjoy the rest of my vacation as long as your parents are here. If you could arrange a boat or a seaplane for me back to Miami, I would appreciate it."

Without another word, Erica turned and left the office, desperate to get out before the tears fell from her eyes. She had encountered prejudice before, it was endemic to the high fashion world, where the rules were written by skinny European men who held everyone who wasn't a waif in slight disdain. While models were allowed to come from humble beginnings, you were supposed to ignore that fact as soon as you had money, and designers were to have never come from poverty at all. But Erica was proud to have come from where she did, and had fought her way up the ranks as a designer even while staying honest about who she was. She thought she’d developed a callus over her feelings when it came to such attacks, but it seemed that the past few days with Dwayne had opened a hole in her armor, one his mother had exposed with ease.

Finding her way back to the bungalow, she packed her things quickly, waiting on the sofa when Dwayne came back in a few minutes after she was done.

"I'm sorry for that," he said quietly, sitting down beside her and looking at the carpet. He reached to take her hand, but she pulled away. "You can see why I don't hold my parents in high regard."

"I know you can't control your parents, or their thoughts," she replied, for the first time wishing he wasn't there. When he was around, she couldn't control her emotions it seemed, and this was one time when she needed to restore her sense of iron-willed discipline. "But I was serious. I can’t here as long as they are."

"I understand," Dwayne said sadly, folding his hands between his knees. "I asked for a charter seaplane to take you back to Miami. It should be here within an hour. Would you like me to stay with you to wait?"

"No thank you. I'm sure you have things you need to do." A bitter laugh came from her lips. "Apparently I'm distracting you from your duties."

Dwayne turned to look at her, his mouth forming silent words for a moment, before he turned his gaze back towards the floor.

"Okay. At least promise me you'll call when you get to Miami?"

Erica nodded tersely. Dwayne got up, and made his way towards the door. Just before he went outside, he turned and looked back at her. "I know you're angry right now. I am too. I just want to say.... I just want to say I'm not like my parents."

He closed the door behind him, and in the silence, Erica was able to find the ability to release her tears.

A
fter getting back to Miami
, Erica threw herself into her work. She knew she was being snippy with almost everyone, to the point that even Tina was pulling back, afraid to cross the boss in any way. Erica knew she wasn't acting rationally, but seemed unable to do much more than keep a brittle veneer of control over her emotions on a daily basis. She felt like her control was being held together with cheap tape, and could fly apart at any second, shattering into a million pieces.

Her worries compounded when she missed her first period, still with no word from Dwayne. Suddenly, every tale of woe she had seen growing up, of the bright young women who were chained to a life of poverty through absentee fathers and new mouths to feed flooded her thoughts. She'd had too many classmates, good girls with good minds, get derailed by the single motherhood trap.

It's just one period
, Erica kept telling herself.
It could just be stress. God knows you've been under enough of stress this past month.

Her worries compounded again when she received a registered letter from Dwayne's mother a week later. While not saying anything that could stand up in a court of law as a threat, she more or less told Erica that if she continued to try and pursue a relationship with her son, that Candace Forrester would use every society connection to make sure that her fashion design business would fail.

Considering the money and influence that the Forrester name carried in New York and other major fashion centers, Erica knew it was no idle threat.

Worst of all was her own personal research. After London, she had blissfully ignored finding out anything more about Dwayne other than directly researching his hotels. Now, her research took her into the society pages and into his past. She felt a creeping horror as page after page of his antics in his early twenties flashed before her, each time with a new beautiful woman on his arm, almost all of them tall, blonde, and curvy. He'd spent three particularly memorable months raising hell around on the Spanish Main with another society billionaire who was a few years younger than him. Still, there were rumors however that he dallied with "gutter snipes" as one particularly seedy gossip rag put it with sneering tones.

Erica had spent an hour crying after reading that, and couldn't believe the fool she had been. Was that all she was to him, some "play sugar" to play with? And why the hell had she had sex without some sort of protection even? She had slept with a man whose little black book came in numbered volumes, for God's sake!

After her research and Candace's letter, a sort of creeping paralysis when it came to anything related to Dwayne Forrester settled over Erica's thoughts. She turned all communication over to Tina, and retreated back into her designs, trying to bury herself in colors and patterns for the fall line. Her work was crap, she knew, far too bitter and angst ridden for her brand, but she couldn't seem to break herself from her mood.

It was only after her second missed period that she forced herself to go to the pharmacy, buying three take home pregnancy kits just to be sure. Holding the little sticks in her urine stream while she squatted in her office toilet filled her with horror as each little indicator turned blue. She was pregnant, it couldn't be denied any more. She kept the little stick in her hand with her as she slumped behind her desk, pale shock written on her face. Tina stuck her head in cautiously before closing the door behind her.

"Erica, we need to talk."

"Not now, Tina."

Her normally saucy assistant shook her head. "No Erica, now. This may cost me my job, but we've been friends almost since the time you opened this business, and our friendship comes first. You're all sorts of messed up, Erica, and you've been biting off heads left and right for the past two months. Now talk to me."

Erica talked, a flood of words and tears mixing until she felt herself sobbing in Tina's arms, who held her gently while she stroked Erica's hair. She took the pregnancy kit out of Erica's hand and held it in hers, looking at the blue indicator herself while Erica's sobs petered out.

"It's all right," she soothed, kissing her on the top of her head like a big sister, "we'll get through this together. Besides, who says Dwayne isn't going to want to be a part of his baby's life?"

"But he hasn't written or called this entire time!" Erica wailed, a fresh round of sobs ripping from her chest.

When she calmed down, Tina answered with a small smile. "I was going to tell you, I just got word from his office manager. It seems Dwayne has been in Chicago for the past month, something corporate, and he had shifted all of his e-mails to go to his assistants, which is why he didn't answer. Then when you turned the whole thing over to me, well...."

"Well I've been a damn fool, haven't I?"

"Kind of," Tina replied with her normal smile. "But I still love you anyway. Speaking of which, regardless of what happens, that baby is going to have plenty of family to support it. Who do you think gets to play Aunt Tina and take care of him when Mommy's busy?"

Erica thought for a moment, then her face settled in a look of determination. Tina's offer was kind, but she knew she needed more. "Tina, hold my calls. I'm taking my smartphone with me, but book me a flight. I'm going to Chicago."

"That's my girl. Go get 'em, boss!"

Tina watched Erica rush out the door, smiling. She was glad that her friend and employer was chasing her heart's desire, but she had to admit there was another reason she wanted Erica out of the way. For the past month, Tina hadn't been able to even sneeze wrong, it felt like. Having Erica out of the office for a while would let her relax. Reaching for her phone, she dialed up a number from heart, Enrico. An instructor at a local fashion college she had met when she was dropping off some reports for an intern he had sent EW, their relationship was casual, no-strings attached. He was compact, lean, and powerful, with a constant smirk to his features that made him look more innocent than he was. The only flaw, if she was looking at it from a fashion perspective, was that his face was nothing at all like what models were supposed to be, with a rugged face that looked slightly Neanderthalic. Two thousand years ago, Enrico would have been a celebrity, hacking limbs and crushing skulls in the sands of the Roman Coliseum alongside the other gladiators.

"Hey babe, what's up?" Enrico said, picking up. "I haven't heard from you in quite a while."

"Well, I've been rather busy," Tina replied, sliding down deeper into her chair. It was always naughty talking with Enrico in the office. His voice had just enough of an accent that it could turn her on while practically reading a laundry list, but she needed it so much right now she was willing to take the risk. "I hope you haven't missed me too much?"

"Oh, you know what I've been missing about you," Enrico purred in reply, a slight rasp in his voice. "Should I tell you, or should I show you what I've been missing?"

Tina smiled and thought for a second. "You know what baby? I think I need showing more than just telling. Think you can meet me for drinks at five thirty?"

"Five thirty? Your boss must be out of town if you're getting off work early enough to meet up at five thirty."

Tina chuckled. "That doesn't really matter, does it? Just bring yourself, and make sure the rest of your evening is clear."

"I can do that. Want me to pick you up, or should we meet there?"

"Meet me at Reflections at five thirty. You remember where it is?" she asked, naming her favorite little tapas bar. Not famous, but she didn't need famous for what she wanted to do.

"Of course. Okay babe. Five thirty at Reflections."