"I don't want there to be any animosity between us," she said in a soft tone. "We're having a baby, and I want to raise our child in a two-parent home...."
Rafael gripped his armrest, clutching it so tightly his knuckles throbbed. He wanted to yell at Cicely, to call her every name in the book, but realizing there was nothing to gain from being petty and vindictive, he swallowed his retort.
"Are you willing to take a paternity test?"
The question caught him off guard. He could do the DNA test on Friday, before he left with Paris for Miami, but he didn't share his thoughts with Cicely quite yet. He didn't trust her. He worried if he told her about his plan, she'd show up at the hospital. Rafael couldn't let his ex-girlfriend worm her way back into his life. He'd take the test alone, on his terms, or not at all.
"We can have it done this afternoon at Washington Medical," she proposed, her eyes bright with excitement. "The sooner the better, don't you think?"
"I can't. I already have plans."
"Okay, then, I guess I'll just take my check and be on my way."
Rafael opened his side drawer and stared at his checkbook. Conflicted, he struggled with what to do. What if Cicely was telling the truth? What if she really was strapped for cash?
"I don't need much," she said, leaning forward expectantly in her chair. "Just a little something to tide me over until I get paid for the shampoo commercial I did last month."
His gaze fell across the family portrait on his desk. He had taken a few at Demetri and Angela's extravagant engagement party in Chicago last summer. His parents had raised him to be compassionate, to show kindness to others. So he felt compelled to help Cicely one last time. His mind made up, he grabbed his checkbook and flipped it open.
"I have an audition on Friday for a romantic comedy that begins filming at the end of the year. I'm super excited." Pride filled her eyes and brightened her face. "This could be the big break I've been waiting for and a huge payday, too."
"This is a onetime gift, so use it wisely," Rafael said, offering the check.
Cicely plucked it out of his hand. Her eyes darkened and the smile slid off her face. "Five thousand dollars? That's it? I was expecting six zeroes, not four."
"Of course you were. You're never satisfied, and nothing is ever good enough for you."
Cicely rubbed her hands over her stomach, slowly stroking her belly, and Rafael watched her with growing interest. He was curious about her pregnancy, couldn't help but be.
"This little one is very active today," she said, with a girlish laugh. "Give me your hand. The baby's kicking up a storm right now. It's the craziest thing."
Rafael wanted to feel the baby move, but shook his head. He didn't want to encourage Cicely's advances or make her think they were one big happy family. In fact, he wanted his ex to leave before his assistant returned from lunch. He didn't want anyone at Morretti Incorporated to know about Cicely's pregnancy, and decided it was time to end the visit. "I have to go." He rose to his feet and slammed his briefcase shut. "I'll walk you out."
"Great idea." Cicely plopped her purse on her lap, unzipped it and whipped out her oversize sunglasses. "I'm starving. How about lunch at the Four Seasons?"
"Not today." Not ever, he thought to himself, shrugging on his suit jacket.
"What about tomorrow?"
"I'm not available."
Cicely flinched, as if she'd been slapped, and squirmed in her chair. "Oh, no...."
Rafael grabbed his car keys off his desk and marched toward the open door. He wanted to get to the Women's Business Expo early, so he could spend a few quiet moments with Paris before she took the stage. "I don't have time for this," he said, tapping his foot impatiently. "I have somewhere important to go, so grab your things and get going."
"I can't." Cicely sniffed and raised her gaze to his eyes. "My water just broke."
Chapter 19
Paris stood on the balcony of her twelfth-floor suite at the W Hotel, clutching her BlackBerry in her sweaty palms. She couldn't help worrying about Rafael, couldn't help thinking the worst. He'd been a no-show at the Women's Business Expo yesterday and didn't even call to cancel their dinner plans. Paris was hurt that he blew her off, but tried to make light of the situation while having drinks with Cassandra at Dolce Vita Washington last night. But when Rafael didn't answer any of her calls or texts over the course of the night, panic set in. That was completely out of character for him. He was never too busy for her, always responded to her messages and called her every night before bed. So, why hasn't he called? she wondered, unable to calm her fears.
Every minute that ticked by felt like an hour. Her instincts told her something was wrong, that Rafael was in danger. And she couldn't shake the feeling. Has he been in a car accident? Was he seriously injured? Is that why he hasn't returned my calls?
Memories flooded her mind, but Paris pushed them away. She had to stay positive, had to keep the faith. Just because her mom and her fiancé both died unexpectedly didn't mean her college sweetheart had suffered the same fate.
Paris hit Rafael's contact number in her phone and prayed this time he would pick up. But he didn't. The call went straight to voice mail, and since his message box was full, she couldn't even leave a message. She tried his home number and listened with a heavy heart as his phone rang. It's like he dropped off the face of the earth.
Suddenly, her BlackBerry rang, but when Paris saw her father's number on the screen, her heart filled with despair. She didn't feel like talking to her dad, not when she was worried sick about the man she loved. She made a mental note to touch base with her father after she tracked Rafael down. "There must be something I can do," she said aloud.
Paris considered calling both hospitals and police stations in the area, but thought better of it. She couldn't take the risk. Rafael was one of the most successful businessmen in the country-and a millionaire bachelor who cherished his privacy and hated the paparazzi-and if the press ever got wind of a possible story they'd have a field day.
Ice spread through her veins and a cold sweat drenched her skin. Her vision blurred and a cry escaped her lips. Tears splashed onto her cheeks like raindrops. Thoughts of Rafael and all the good times they'd shared bombarded her mind. Haunted by images of him-feeding her strawberries, massaging her feet and cradling her in his arms-she struggled to control her emotions. She hadn't seen him in twenty-four hours, but it felt like weeks since she'd heard his voice and felt his tender caress.
Their last conversation played in her mind. Remembering how they'd laughed and joked and teased each other on the phone yesterday afternoon brought a sad smile to her lips.
"Wear your red Chanel suit," he'd said smoothly. "And leave your panties at home."
Paris looked at the sky, staring aimlessly at the thick, fluffy clouds. It was another windy, overcast day, and the bleak weather mirrored her crummy mood. Her eyes burned from fatigue, her bottom lip trembled, and it took all her effort not to burst into tears again. Sadness engulfed her heart and mind. Rafael had renewed her faith in love and given her hope for the future, and Paris didn't know if she could live without him. He was the man of her dreams, her soul mate, and she felt fortunate to have him in her life again. Reuniting with him in Venice had been the best thing to ever happen to her, and she thanked her lucky stars every day for bringing them back together.
Her thoughts momentarily quelled her fears, and that sickening ache in the pit of her stomach subsided. I have to do something, she decided, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. Paris marched back inside her suite and locked the balcony doors. No more sitting around twiddling her thumbs. She was going down to Morretti Incorporated, and she wasn't leaving until Rafael's assistant answered all her questions.
Someone banged on the door, interrupting her plan. Palms wet, her heart beating wildly, she raced through the sitting area. God, please let it be Rafael, she pleaded. Please.
Paris yanked open the door, saw her father standing in the hallway and strangled a groan. He glared at her and she glared back. Paris knew her hair and clothes were a mess, but she didn't care about her disheveled appearance. She'd lain in bed for hours last night thinking about Rafael, so anxious and afraid she couldn't sleep, and by the time the sun peeked over the horizon she was in the kitchen making coffee. Paris was determined to find Rafael, but first she had to get rid of her father.