The Suite Life (24 page)

In the weeks that followed Alec seemed beyond happy, vowing that we'd have the best ob-gyn in the city and the best help money could buy. Christmas at Alec's parents' house was a joyous
occasion, with many blessings and extravagant baby gifts from Giovanni and Filomena, and the following week, as we ushered in the New Year at the Rainbow Room, high above Manhattan, it seemed to me that the entire world was at my feet.

Alec greeted the New Year by immersing himself in his work, and I immersed myself in my pregnancy. I was constantly aware of being responsible for everything that would happen to my child in the foreseeable future. I became more vigilant than ever about healthy eating and did everything in my power to make sure that peace reigned in the DeMarco household. I listened politely to the advice of friends and family but secretly knew that my parenting plan meant doing everything exactly opposite to the way my mother had handled it.

Meanwhile, I vowed to continue doing whatever I could to help my husband achieve his goals. If I wanted my home to be happy and harmonious when this baby arrived, there would be no complaints from me about anything related to my pregnancy or to his preoccupation with his work. Most of all, there would be no complaints about the unread manuscript on his night-stand. In fact, after seeing it lying there for another couple of months, I quietly put it back on the closet shelf. Playing dutiful wife to Alec had left me with no time to write or revise, anyway.

Alec was still micromanaging our life together, but I told myself that he was doing it to protect me, not to put me down, as my mother had. Although he could certainly be heavy-handed, even dictatorial at times, I didn't resent his control. I liked my life, I believed his intentions were good, and I knew he had a concrete and laudable goal. So what if he preferred going out to cuddling on the couch; so what if he always had something to say about the styles and colors of my clothing? After all, he did have impeccable taste, and he had the right to showcase his wife the way he wanted.

I kept telling myself that I was one lucky girl who was blessed beyond measure, and those blessings seemed to grow month by month. When I hit my second trimester, the flirting that had come my way courtesy of some of Alec's associates totally stopped. It was a pleasure not to have to deal with their veiled sexual innuendos, but Alec might well have missed the attention his competitors gave me as additional proof of the winner he was.

Winning for Alec also meant the ability to pick up and leave for some exotic location pretty much whenever he wanted, and when he suggested a winter getaway just for the two of us at the Ocean Club on Paradise Island in the Bahamas, I agreed without a moment's hesitation. Although we were both excited about our impending parenthood, our life was still extremely stressful, given Alec's ever-escalating financial battles and my ever-expanding body. It was a blessing to be able to leave New York in early February for a few days in the tropical sun and sand.

Our private villa was set among luxurious gardens inspired by the grandeur of Versailles. Alone on our lanai after checking in, Alec and I soaked up the ocean breezes perfumed with hibiscus and bougainvillea, getting a full dose of stress-relieving tranquility to kick things off.

Of course, Alec also kicked things off with the local drink, called a Bahama Mama, made up of coffee liqueur and two kinds of rum, while I just had coconut and pineapple juice with a hint of grenadine.

Over drinks and our first serving of conch fritters, we talked about family, and I felt blessed that Alec didn't bring up business even once. The evening gave me hope that once the baby was born, Alec would slow down, not be so career-driven, and devote more of his time to his family. I knew that he was looking forward to being a father; I just couldn't be certain how he would interpret the role.

By the time our last full day in the islands dawned, we were
both in a Zen state. I could have pitched a thatched hut somewhere close to the beach and stayed forever. I even thought for a brief moment that I could convince my husband to stay with me, but, serene as he was in our surroundings, he was already being drawn back into the world we would be returning to the next day. On the lanai at sunset that night, he lit one of the joints he'd gotten from a solicitous bellhop and waxed expansive about his work.

“I'm responsible for the supply-and-demand formula for pricing stocks,” Alec said. “What I'm doing now, Sam, will lock up becoming a partner.”

He had my full attention, although I had no idea what he was talking about, which did not go unnoticed by my joint-smoking husband.

“I won't burden you with the details, Sam,” he said, pausing to take another drag, “but Malchek has some very rich friends, guys like Miles Blackmon, who want to manipulate buys of their company stocks.” I didn't know a lot, but I knew Blackmon owned one of the largest media companies in the world. “That's our specialty. What I'm doing may fall into a gray area, but everyone everywhere does it, and no one raises a stink.”

It's pimping of a different stripe.
“Are you in any danger of being carted off in handcuffs, Alec?” I asked.

“You can't say no to Miles Blackmon, Sam, and you can't say no to Malchek. Besides, if they lock
me
up, he'll be going before me.”

Just like the hookers would be ahead of him on the chain gang.

Alec took another drag from the joint, held his breath for a moment, and watched the exhaled smoke waft into the island air. “I'll admit it gets pretty hairy at times, especially when we have to deal with a kingpin who threatens to take his company to NASDAQ, Malchek's competitor, like Peter Vici did.”

I gasped softly.
Maybe I know more than I want to know.
“He's
that cell phone company guy who got pinched for insider trading, right?”

“Yup.”

“And that can't happen to you?”

“Vici got caught because his greed crossed the line.”

That didn't make me feel any better, as Alec's prodigious appetites flashed through my mind.

“I'm not really worried, Sam,” he continued. “Transglobal is too smart for that, and nobody is going to go to Yale.”

“Yale?”

“Code for jail,” Alec said with a chuckle.

A shiver ran up my spine.
The Brooklyn Boys always said they were so cool they could get by in Yale or in jail.

“You don't have to worry, either, Sam,” Alec continued. “We follow SEC rules to the letter and buy stock at the going rate, fair and square. That props up its value for guys like Blackmon, but who cares? It's strictly legit, even if it costs us a bundle sometimes.”

“I didn't think you were in business to lose money.”

“We're not. We treat it as an investment.”

“In what?”

“Going public.”

“Selling your own stock?”

“Right again, buttercup. That's the real game being played,” Alec, titan husband, said with a self-satisfied grin.

“And you play to win.”

“My team won't come in second, especially to Ted's boys. He's helping Blackmon, which has nothing to do with me, but we're both on the floor of the exchange, so we're both working for Malchek in the end. I won't be coming out with the short end of the stick going up against that Italian.”

“I always forget they changed their name from Rossi way back,” I said.

“I never do,” Alec said. “And I always bust Ted's balls about it.”

We spent the next day soaking up the sun, until it was time to get ready for our evening flight. Relaxed and content as I was, I still wasn't ready to get back to reality, back to the Wall Street world that was still so foreign to me.

As the weeks passed, I now had a definite bump. Even though I wasn't bloated or carrying any extra pounds, none of it seemed to matter to Alec, who was growing less and less interested in having sex with me. According to Sofia and Lena, that wasn't unusual, so I followed his lead and settled for a contented cuddle, telling myself that as an Italian Catholic expectant father he believed in keeping hands off when it came to the holy goings-on in my body.

I nurtured myself by mastering the culinary tips my girlfriends sent my way: I'd feed Alec food I'd ordered in and reheated to perfection in the microwave on only the finest china. And I fed my soul by joining the board of the foundation for at-risk children and using my newfound clout to do some good in the world.

Hercules, however, wasn't adapting as well as I was. He started urinating a lot in his crate, probably in defiance of his captivity, and when I allowed him to roam the apartment when Alec wasn't home I was terrified that he would pee on the rug. Alec rescued me by hiring a dog walker to take him out for four hours a day, which also went a long way toward assuaging my guilt about leaving Hercules alone so much.

By the time I was in my sixth month it was harder for me to keep up with Alec's hectic entertainment schedule, but I put on a cheery face when he mentioned that a big-shot client had invited us to a Knicks game at Madison Square Garden in mid-April.

“Emmanuel and his brothers, Spiro and Sal, ran an oil
tanker business along with their father and uncles. The Greeks are very tight that way. They like family businesses and don't let outsiders in much,” Alec said. “I'm helping him on some futures contracts, and Stavros Shipping is going to take a nice position in Transglobal.”

“Sounds like more teamwork.” I smiled.

“Game on,” my husband-competitor said.

Of course, whether it was Wall Street money or oil money, we wouldn't be taking in the game with the peons in the nosebleed section. For us it was the private box owned by Stavros Shipping. I wasn't surprised by the royal treatment, although I was somewhat taken aback by the youngest brother, Spiro, who appeared to be about my age. Instead of the expensively trimmed hair and conservative business suit I'd grown accustomed to seeing on all Alec's clients, Spiro was wearing jeans and a black silk jacket over an open-necked white silk shirt. He was also sporting a full beard and wore his gleaming chestnut hair in a ponytail.

“So pleased to finally meet the woman who made Alec here legit.” Emmanuel smiled with one arm draped across Alec's shoulders as we were introduced. “Why don't the two of you take a seat,” he went on, nodding toward my bump and waving toward one of the suite's leather couches. “Just let me know what you want and I'll have it brought over to you.”

“Thank you for the hospitality,” I said.

“Don't mention it—Alec is a tremendous asset to our firm,” he replied, echoing Hans Voorhees. “Nothing is too good for him and his family.”

Hors d'oeuvres were served and everyone in the small crowd save yours truly had champagne and cocktails as we watched the shoot-around on the hardwood floor below. I thought the view we had was spectacular, but Alec pointed out that the only way to see a basketball game was from the folding chairs at
courtside—which is exactly where he and Emmanuel headed as the game was about to tip off.

By the time June rolled around, all I was looking forward to was having my baby. I couldn't wait to get rid of those extra twenty-plus pounds and to get started on my ever-growing mental list of what I would do with and for my child. I wasn't in the mood to go anywhere, and I begged off both daytime outings with Sofia and Lena and every evening event that I could. And it took all the self-discipline I had to make it through the family gatherings with a pleasant expression on my face.

What wasn't hard to take was Alec's suggestion of another extended weekend getaway, this time to the Ram's Head Inn on Shelter Island, off the eastern end of Long Island. He said it would be an ideal place to start the summer, and a great way to rest up before the blessed event scheduled to take place in a few more weeks. Enraptured with helicopters, he added that taking the 120-mile trip in one would be the perfect way to go.

I didn't put up any resistance to that suggestion, either.