One NIght With Pasqual (The Chevalier Series) Page 4

  Honestly, he hadn’t meant to be such a prick to her, he was just out of his depth here. Despite the vehement declaration her child was not Chevalier, Pasqual didn’t believe it. Maybe he didn’t want to. He found the whole situation cute, really. It was hard to keep his lips from quirking. Miss Rhonda MacDaniels was one hell of a woman.

  “Feel free to call the police, sweetheart.” Letting the pompous tone go, Pasqual strode over to her couch and proceeded to make himself comfortable. There was no point in keeping up the rich douche routine. It obviously wasn’t working. Maybe just being himself would get him farther. A little bit of a prick, yes, but also not nearly as conceited as he had seemed earlier. At least he hoped not. “The mayor is my cousin, you know.”

  Chapter Five

  Oh, God, what was he doing here, in her home? And where the hell had he gotten the idea she was pregnant with Rayce’s child? Nausea roiled in her stomach, threatening to erupt as Pasqual leaned back on her couch and took out his smartphone. This could not be happening.

  When she first opened the door, she’d thought Rayce had sold her out. Feeling betrayed, she’d prepared herself for accusations, even recriminations. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined Pasqual, who had always seemed to be such a nice, even-handed guy, would turn into a grade-A asshole. And for all the wrong reasons at that.

  Every second of that night had been burned into her memory as if it were a much-loved movie; not a sight, touch, or sound had been forgotten. At least not by her. Obviously, Pasqual hadn’t remembered a thing. Her one and only one-night stand, and the guy didn’t have a clue he’d been with her. What was worse, he’d showed up at her door accusing her of sleeping with his cousin.

  Sleeping with Rayce would just be gross. His sister Chloe had been her friend since grade school. Rayce was practically a brother by proxy, which was the only reason she had trusted him with her secret. It had been Rayce who had snuck her out of Pasqual’s townhouse early the morning after. Waking up to find Pasqual passed out drunk had been more than a little shock to her system. She hadn’t realized he was drunk. Maybe if the damnable man had acted like one typically does when sloshed, she would have never agreed to go home with him—not that she needed much convincing. And yeah, maybe she should’ve started asking questions when they’d taken a cab and left his car at the club, in a questionable part of town, at that.

  You wanted him too much to look too closely, she morosely admonished herself.

  “If you don’t leave, I’m going for my shotgun.” As if it would bolster her claim, Rhonda placed her hand on her hip and canted it to the side. It was her signature badass look that always did the trick with the kids she worked with. Sure, she was short, but she was sturdy. She could do intimidating. Right? Oh, God, please let him buy it. “I’m not kidding, you overprivileged ass. Get the hell out of my house, or I will blast a hole right through your precious behind.”

  The guffaw of laughter that preceded her declaration was not what she was hoping for. “Oh, sugar, you go right ahead and get it. I’ll even help you hold it steady so it doesn’t knock you on your cute little butt.”

  Why the hell did he have to sound so damn sexy when he was mocking her? This day had just gone from bad to worse! When he was being all lord of the manor, she could hate him properly and resolve to never tell him who the real father of the child she carried was. When he switched to Southern Scamp, all she wanted to do was crawl up into his lap and tell him all her troubles. That was something she could never, ever allow herself to do. Maybe she really should go buy a shotgun. Right after she got the transmission on her car fixed. And got a new stove. And fixed the roof.

  “You know what? Stay on the damn couch for all I care. I’m going to take a nap.” Wasn’t retreat better than surrender? Live to fight another day or something like that. She could have sworn she’d read something along those lines. In any case, she had to get the hell away from him. Being in the same room with him while he was being—well, not charming, just not a complete dick—was dangerous. “Lock up when you leave.”

  Not more than three steps out of the living room, she heard the sound of his voice on the phone, only it wasn’t coming from the couch where she’d left him. It was coming from the kitchen. As were the sounds of the refrigerator and cabinets opening and closing. How had he managed to move so fast, damn his hide?

  “I need to order groceries for delivery, and I will pay extra due to the area...”

  She hated him.

  Stomping the rest of the way into the bedroom, she slammed the door behind her, then locked it. Too bad she couldn’t push a chair under the knob. Damn him.

  As soon as she was alone, the tears that she’d managed to fight back since that night five months ago started to silently fall. This had to be some kind of punishment for wanting what she couldn’t have. One night of living out her own personal fairy tale and she was going to have to pay for it for the rest of her life.

  Losing her parents in a horrible accident just when she was starting out on her own had been a horrific blow. Losing the money hadn’t really affected her as much as people thought it had. Rhonda loved her parents; they had been good and decent people, and in some ways, her very best friends. Not being able to call her mom when she was feeling down, like now, was a gaping wound she feared would never heal. Not being able to lean on her dad for strength and wisdom left her feeling lost, without an anchor. After the funeral, she had retreated from most of her old friends. Not that they had been beating down her door. Loss of money meant loss of status in the world where she used to live. Chloe and her family had certainly never treated her like that, but Rhonda had felt like a charity case. Rightly or wrongly, she had seen pity in their sad gazes. It was very possible she was imagining it; it was hard to remember the early days after her parents’ deaths clearly.

  Seeing Rayce and Pasqual that night had been a shock to her system. Careful to never venture into the areas that had been her regular haunts before the death of her parents meant she never ran into anyone she knew from her other life. Seeing them both on her turf seemed like a sign. Silliness at it’s worse, but that was what she’d told herself. So, she let herself be social, to pursue Pasqual in a way she would have never dared had she been the quiet young woman she used to be.

  And now she was pregnant and terrified. Her job barely paid enough for her to keep this house over her head, and now she had a baby to worry about. Pride wouldn’t allow her to go back out there and confess the truth to Pasqual. He probably wouldn’t believe her anyway.

  That hurt. Knowing the man who had been running through her mind day and night for the past five months not only didn’t remember being with her, but assumed she’d slept with his cousin was humiliating. Dropping down on her bed, she allowed herself the luxury of crying this one time. Not since the day after her parents’ funeral had Rhonda allowed herself to wallow in her own misery. There had been no point; life would move on with or without her. Instead she’d set about trying to pick up the pieces and making a life for herself. And she’d done a decent job, up until she managed to throw caution to the wind and end up pregnant, alone and so scared she didn’t know what to do.

  Biting her pillow to muffle the sounds, Rhonda cried for all the dreams she’d had to let go, for all the time she spent struggling only to royally screw herself over, to wish over and over again she’d managed to make it down to the clinic to get the birth control shot she was more than a month overdue for. But more than anything, she cried for what would never be. Her child would never know the kind of love and security she’d had growing up. It was possible that once the father found out, he would hate her.

  Rhonda cried so hard, she cried herself to sleep.

  *****

  She was crying. She probably thought she was being quiet, maybe even crying into her pillow, but Pasqual grew up with two little sisters and a multitude of female cousins. The sound of muffled tears wasn’t foreign to him. What surprised him was how much he hated that sound. Hearing
or seeing Marie or Lisette crying tore him up, but listening to Rhonda hurt him in a way he wasn’t accustomed to. With his sisters, it had been fairly easy to figure out how he could make it better, or at least who to beat up.

  With Rhonda, he didn’t know what to do. Worse than that, he had the sinking feeling he was to blame for her tears. Sure, he had been a complete jackass when he first got here, but he’d corrected course soon enough. Sort of. For the most part. Shit, he was a dick. His mother would drown him herself if she ever caught wind of what he was doing. But it wasn’t like he didn’t have Rhonda’s best interest at heart. Hers and the baby’s. Sure, she could live here and struggle, but there was no reason to.

  Then he remembered; Rhonda had more or less disappeared after the death of her parents. Chloe had made overtures, even sent her brothers to find her and try to bully her to let their family help. But Rhonda had refused, and soon they just didn’t see her anymore. A woman who wouldn’t accept charity when her world was falling apart probably wouldn’t accept it now just because she was pregnant.

  At the end of his rope, Pasqual furiously punched the numbers to Rayce’s private cell, even though he could have just pressed his cousin’s name. He needed to work out some aggression, damn it. If Rayce was really the father of Rhonda’s child, and he had to be, he needed to get his happy ass back to New Orleans and take care of this mess. Apparently Pasqual’s presence was unwelcome.

  “Did you finally go see Rhonda?”

  No hello, no how are you doing. Pasqual was almost physically taken aback by the vehemence in Rayce’s voice.

  “Why is this so important to you, Rayce?” Keeping his voice low, he decided to exit through the door in the back of the kitchen to speak to his cousin in as much privacy as possible in the backyard.

  As soon as he stepped outside, he wished he hadn’t. To say the patch of dirt and dead grass was a yard would be a stretch. No amount of watering would ever be able to bring back anything green. Off to the side was a sad attempt at a garden, but it appeared as if Rhonda was struggling to keep her little patch alive, never mind sprouting anything beautiful or edible. “You say the baby isn’t yours, so why are you pushing so hard when she obviously doesn’t want your help?”

  There was a full thirty seconds of complete silence.

  “You know what? Leave it. I’m coming back. It was a mistake to think you could ever care about anyone that wasn’t a member of your family.”

  What the hell was this about? Rayce wasn’t mad. That Pasqual could deal with. Instead the man he had considered his best friend, besides being family, was disgusted.

  “What the hell, man? You asked me to do you a favor, I’m doing it, but the damn woman threatened to shoot me with a shotgun!” And Rayce was disappointed in him? What about her? “She threatened to call the police on me, just because I was offering to help her. Do you know where your precious Rhonda is right now? She’s locked in her goddamn room like a five year old! What exactly do you expect me to do that you couldn’t? You’re the one who knows her better. And apparently you know her very well, don’t you? But don’t bother dragging your scrawny ass back to town. I will take care of it.”

  “First of all, you were probably an asshole when you showed up, weren’t you?” Rayce shot right back, veritably freezing the phone with frigid disdain. “And I’m willing to bet it took less than a minute before you started to accuse her of some scheme to get pregnant with a Chevalier baby to cash in, didn’t you?”

  “The hell I did!” Shit, he had implied it in a roundabout way. Man, he was dick. The more he tried to justify himself, even to himself, the smaller he felt. Rhonda really should’ve shot him. “I may have mentioned you, but I didn’t say she was looking for a meal ticket. A gold digger would’ve jumped at my offer.” God, he was so very stupid, so very pompous. He was going to have to get on his knees to get Rhonda to forgive his earlier transgressions.

  “Tell it to the the priest, Pas, I don’t believe you... Wait—are you still there?”

  Pasqual’s face burned hotly as he stared up at the clear, spring sky. “I didn’t know what to do, so I decided to wait her out.”

  Silence again. So not like Rayce. It was unnerving.

  “So, why are you still there instead of leaving?”

  Why, indeed? Pasqual searched his conscience but could only come up with the truth.

  “I figured I would threaten to stay until she agrees to move.” Seemed like a good enough idea. “So I ordered some groceries, I’ll make her dinner, maybe even breakfast and lunch. Got my clothes on the way. I figure by tomorrow afternoon she should give in and let me move her out of here.” There was nothing coming from the other end of the phone call. Just dead silence. “I’m planning on waiting her out because there’s nothing else I can do. So you stay wherever the hell you are. I got this.”

  Great. Now he was sounding just about as mature as his sister Lisette, who was a brat in the extreme.

  “Why?” Rayce finally asked.

  “Because you asked me to take care of her!” What an asinine question.

  “And where are you planning on moving her?”

  Man, he really wished Rayce hadn’t asked that. “My place. You know, until I can find somewhere or until you come back, or whatever.”

  “I see.” A few seconds of yet more silence. Pasqual didn’t bother filling it. He was scared of what might fall out of his mouth. “Well, Pas, I think you’re great.” Whiplash quick, all the anger and disgust was gone from Rayce’s tone. In fact, the other man sounded downright cheerful. “Keep up the good work. I’ll check in in a few weeks.”

  Rayce ended the call as soon as he was done speaking, leaving Pasqual to wonder why he’d called his cousin in the first place. And what the hell had he said that made Rayce suddenly so pleased?

  Chapter Six

  The bastard had picked the lock on her bedroom door. Rhonda knew that because she woke up long after the sun had gone down to find a covered dish containing the best dinner she’d had in a very long time. That, and she was covered with a soft down comforter that didn’t belong to her. Grumbling, she’d eaten the food and even considered taking the plate (which also wasn’t hers) and silverware (ditto) into the kitchen. Deciding against it, she went back to sleep. The afternoon had been traumatic enough—the last thing she wanted or needed was another confrontation with a spoiled asshole. One she’d slept with. URGH!

  Sleep had come surprisingly easy. Maybe she was just worn out emotionally. Opening her eyes to the early rays of sunlight, Rhonda breathed in deeply, thinking Pasqual had to be gone. He hadn’t come back into the room...but one look at where she’d left the plate and silverware on the nightstand told her he had indeed entered her private domain as if he had every right. But he had to be gone now. She would have woken up if he had dared to climb into her bed, and the couch had to be too uncomfortable for one as precious and esteemed as he seemed to think he was.

  And she used to have a painful crush on that—that— Words escaped her. Never once had she ever suspected Pasqual was just as stuck up and self-important as the kids she used to despise growing up. In fact, all the Chevalier kids she had attended school with had seemed so down to earth despite their privilege. Guess things like common decency had skipped Pasqual.

  And yet you still have a thing for him.

  Gritting her teeth against the voice inside her head, she threw back the comfy covers to get ready for work, but paused before her feet hit the ground. The shower was running. Un-freaking-believable. He was still there! There was no way she could get ready and sneak out, either. There was only one bathroom, and she’d be damned if she was going anywhere without freshening up first. She waited, and waited, and waited until she heard the door open and his footsteps travel the few steps back into the living room before making a beeline for the fogged-up restroom and locking the door.

  There was no time to work up a good froth over his commandeering her shower when she had to get to work. Rushing through her morning abl
utions, she threw on whatever outfit came first in the closet before rushing toward the door.

  “I don’t believe you’ve eaten breakfast.”

  Groaning, she slid to a pause. Of course, getting out scot-free was too much to hope for.

  “Look, thank you for dinner. Really, I mean that.” And she meant that. The food had been delicious. Probably ordered from someplace fabulous. “But I have no time to spar with you. I have a job that pays my bills. My family doesn’t own the company; my name is not on the building. I have to go.”

  That was probably way harsher than it needed to be, but damn it, the man was in her freaking home, uninvited. He had no right to be here.

  Oh, yes, he does.

  There were times when having a conscience really sucked.

  “I’m sorry,” she relented. “That was uncalled for.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I deserve it. I’m really sorry. But I have to insist you eat, for the baby’s sake. I’ll deal with your boss.”

  Okay, so who the hell was this guy? He was dangerously close to sounding like the Pasqual she used to trip all over herself to get a glimpse of. Grasping for something, anything she could, Rhonda seized on the boss comment to attempt to push him back emotionally.

  “While I am sure your name carries weight in many places, I sincerely doubt my boss will care.” It was really hard to sound bitter when she was melting a little inside. He had said for the baby’s sake. Not “your baby’s sake,” or “Rayce’s baby.” God, how sappy and pathetic was she? And, yeah, his stupid name would carry a hell of a lot of weight with her boss. The Chevaliers funded his business.