Outer Core Page 5

  “Rafa?” Ian's lips rise up in obscenity. Tasha’s glare makes him turn my way. He smirks at me, the question seconds from leaving his mouth. I give him a hostile look to which he physically withdraws, saying, “Don’t give me that look. I sometimes have nightmares of that look.”

  . . .

  “Drive safe.” Ian closes Tasha’s car door. She rolls down the window to say good-bye. In succession, we both squat down to place noisy smooches on her cheek. When Tasha’s headlights fade out, Ian sees me to my car.

  “I want you happy,” I tell him, taking his hand in mine. We swing our joined hands, walking the last few steps to my car.

  “I am. Really.” Ian’s voice morphs thoughtful. “It’s just; it’s time I stop taking their shit.”

  “I agree.” I nod. Beeping my car open, I turn to hug my Ian. He squeezes me tightly, his lips descending to my hair.

  Keeping me in his embrace for a while longer, he whispers in my ear, “Daniel’s a great guy. That pep talk he gave me the other day . . . He’s cool.”

  I ease back from our embrace. “I know. I love you.” I send him a soft smile. “Please don’t hurt yourself.” He pulls me into a warm, tight hug, telling me good night.

  I don’t even make it out of the parking lot when a text message lands in my phone. I roll to a stop and read the message.

  Ian: Daniel is cool. Oh, and not to mention, he’s fuckable in magnificent and awe-inspiring proportions.

  I step on the gas. The amused headshake that follows is uncontrollable.

  Chapter 10

  Don’t Rain on My Parade

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” A firm, large hand traps mine, stopping me from getting out of bed.

  I turn to a luscious sight of a semi-awake Daniel. “Getting ready for work.”

  “Um, I don’t think so.” Daniel’s morning voice, this bass-coated voice with enough hoarseness that strums just the right chords in me.

  “Is that so?” I run my eyes over his toned chest and that heart-racing crooked smile of his.

  “C’mere you.” And I’m pulled back into our warm bed.

  I feign seriousness, trying hard to wipe off the smile blooming on my lips. “I need to be at the office in thirty.” My words fall on deaf ears, albeit a very attentive mouth. “I really . . .” I say futilely trying to wiggle out from under the divinely mass of man above me. “I-I, oh God.”

  “You were saying?” Daniel murmurs to the heated skin between my thighs.

  Threading my fingers into his morning hair, I close my eyes. “Daniel.” His name together with my resentment leaves my lips on a breath. I pull his head closer to me, inhabitations melting away by desire.

  Gazing at me with predatory eyes as I’m reeling from my ecstasy, Daniel says, “Stunning.” With the right amount of roughness, he flips me to my stomach, propping me on my knees before him. He teases me till I push against him in a plea, and with one fluid thrust, he fills me in the most delicious way. Daniel’s hands come up to grip my hips as he works his body to pleasure us both. Sounds of our drunken pleasure fill the room, matching our rhythm as it picks up. I push against him as he thrusts into me with great abandon until we’re both lying side by side, spent and blissfully sated.

  “Hey,” I say, retracing Daniel’s chest with the pad of my finger, trailing up to the spiral tattoo on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me about your new investment approach?”

  His features edge. “It’s just another thing we’re exploring these days.” As ever, Daniel downplays his generosity and benevolence. Turning to lie on my side, my head resting on my elbow, I look at him. His humbleness is one of his most attractive virtues. One of so many. Sensing my stare on him, he turns his head on the pillow to look at me.

  “It’s an admirable thing to do.”

  He shrugs. “Unfortunately, men have it easier raising funds. I just thought some balance was missing. Especially with the great ideas and innovation the women bring to the table.” His eyes soften. “The two most important people in my life are women. Incredible ones.” A gentle smile takes over my lips. For a brief beat, Daniel’s thoughts, once again, turn him somber. Before I’m able to comment, he shakes it off and turns back to me, this time with a suggestive, crooked smile. “Ready for round two?”

  “You’ll get me sacked.” I jump out of bed. I know better than to let him try to seduce me.

  “Sucking sounds just as good,” Daniel says, humor lacing his words.

  I take a step back, shaking my head. “I already had to cancel a meeting. Seriously, I’ll get fired.” I blow him a kiss over my shoulder and scurry to the bathroom.

  “Good, maybe then you’ll finally do something about your illustrations,” he calls after me.

  . . .

  Driving, I sing along to The Dunwells, loudly and ridiculously out-of-tune, smiling at the world. The effect of a Daniel-infused morning. With an intense caffeine craving, I check the time on the control display. I have more than twenty minutes before my next meeting. Just enough time for a quick stop at the nearest coffee place. Looking for a parking space, I put together a short list of perfect beverages to quench my cravings. Hazelnut and Caramel Ribbon Crunch Frappaccinos are head to head by the time I make my way to the archangel that’s smiling at me, the tall, head-to-toe black-clad barista.

  Stepping out of the sacred caffeine establishment, I take the first sip of my drink. Closing my eyes, I wait for the sweet, creamy pleasure to reach all the way up the straw, right into my waiting mouth. The moan I let out next should be rated PG13. The little things that can make a girl nearly climax. I don’t let my hollering phone kill the moment and let it go to voicemail. Whoever it is can wait for five minutes. This drink is all I can focus on right now.

  Passing a few cars, I make my way to mine and admire the brightness of the day. Snippets from earlier this morning flash before my eyes, adding some rosiness to my overall beaming. Daniel above me, hazel eyes wild with desire, sweat beads forming above a scarred brow, full lips hovering next to mine. With a silly smile, I let myself get carried away to the little porny world my mind is orchestrating.

  “Hayley Grace?” A voice brutally bursts my scrumptious bubble.

  Startled, I raise my eyes, the straw still held between my lips. A guy in a light blue blazer, brown corduroys, a trimmed beard, and a combed back ‘do, complete with the essential thick rim, plastic spectacles, smiles at me. My brows crease as I try to search my memory for any recollection of him. Nothing about the hipsterism epidemic victim rings familiar.

  “Miss Grace.” He extends his leather bracelet adorned hand for a shake. “Can I call you Hayley?”

  “Depends,” I say, giving him another overt examination. “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

  He chuckles lightly. “No, we haven’t.” His hand still hanging between us, waiting. “Byron, Byron Hobson.” I send a hesitant hand to meet his. “Of Celebrity Gabfest,” he adds.

  I jerk my hand back as though I just touched scorching curling iron. Sensing the forthcoming turbulence in my force field, I let my hand drop to my side and shake my head. “Oh, no. Whatever it is, the answer is no.” I’d rather have a thousand leeches suck my body cold than talk to any media parasite. Never again.

  “Hey, hold up, Hayley.” He hastens his pace to match mine. “Just a quick chat. Did you guys set a date yet?” His face is a display of amicable cajolery.

  Giving him a second side-glance, I raise a hand, signaling for him to stop right where he is. “Have a nice day, Byron Hobson,” I say and point the remote at my car, beeping it open. With my drink in one hand, I hurry to open the door with the other.

  “Hayley.” My stalker’s harsh tone demands my attention.

  I throw my purse into the passenger seat and crane my neck over my shoulder.

  His smile slowly crooks into a malevolent warning, one that I fail to arm myself against. “Are you going to raise the child together?”

  I spin back to fully face him, my eye
s wide open. How in the hell does he know about our plans? I just gape at him, a foolish, disconcerting smile frozen on my face. I’m too stunned for my vocal cords to catch up with the questions in my head.

  His frame-rimmed eyes join his disturbing smile. “Or is it true, is Daniel Stark indeed leaving you for Robin and their child?”

  I blink at him. And blink again. As though he just spoke in a foreign language. My mind works to translate the wording. I remain unmoving. Keep cool, Hayley. It’s not the first time; there’s always something on Daniel in the media, and it’s mostly well-fabricated nonsense. Or a very creative twist of the truth. I take a bothered breath. Queasy, I duck into the car. With frenzied taps on the lock pin, I bolt myself in the safe confines of my vehicle. Checking the rearview mirror, I follow the tabloid journo as he tucks his hands into his pockets and shrugs. His lips set into a pursed, narrow constriction, appearing to whistle as he turns on his heels.

  My eyes drop to the cold drink wedged between my thighs while my stomach attempts to keep what I’ve managed to consume so far in. The thing about spiteful, yellow journalism, even though you clearly know that it is what it is – “yellow” – ignoring it is easier said than done. The words “leaving you, Robin, and their child” keep smarting in my head, repeatedly, like some psychedelic hypnoses. And I do something that I know I shouldn’t do. At least not before talking to Daniel and finding out what it’s really all about. I get my phone out of my purse and type: Daniel Stark, Robin, Child into the search engine.

  The first headline that catches my eyes manages to empty my lungs of oxygen. The photo of the beautiful redhead further down the page assaults my stomach like a nasty punch. I skim through the content. “. . . of course, I would like the father of my child to be a part of his life. I know he is in a relationship, but it has never before affected our long and strong friendship.” My heart drums in my ears as I try to digest what I’ve just read. I look at the image of the elegant redhead in the A-line dress and it feels like the image burns into my eyes. This Robin person is pregnant with Daniel’s child? They are friends? This is insane.

  I’m uncertain how much time passes till I’m able to unglue my eyes from the photo. I need to shake it all off before driving to work and actually beginning this day. I shouldn’t let this thing evolve into something it might not be. Probably isn’t. I take a deep breath, doing my very best not to freak the hell out, jump to conclusions, or drive home, pack my things, and move out. This would never happen. Daniel would never be unfaithful. He’d never sleep with someone else. Never. Except for the one time, he did . . .

  I start the car and slowly roll it to the nearest trashcan where I bring it to a stop again. Stepping out, I chuck my drink with a great vengeance into the can. A splash of liquid mocha sloshes back out, missing me by an inch.

  The pulse in my head turns into a migraine by the time my first meeting finishes. The rest of the day passes with me policing myself not to go through the rabbit hole that is gossip websites or call Daniel and confronting him.

  Chapter 11

  Fait Accompli

  The jingle of keys coming in contact with the glass bowl shakes me out of my brief bubble of contradictions. Daniel’s voice, speaking to someone on the phone, echoes from the living room. I give myself a quick peek in the mirror, agitated, running a hand over my loose waves, and switch the light off.

  I make my way to the living room. Needless to say, I’m one tight spring of edginess and apprehension. Earlier today, I decided to find out what’s really going on over a face-to-face conversation. Color me conservative, but I don’t think that a, “So hey, have you knocked up someone else lately?” is the kind of conversation one should have over the phone with her significant other. And since we haven’t talked thus far, I had the entire day to try not to obsess too much over my morning’s encounter, and not to come up with the worst scenarios. The “try not to” part didn’t work too well.

  Noticing me entering the living room, Daniel closes the distance between us. Still on the phone, he bows to kiss my lips. He gives my waist a small squeeze and passes by me, unbuttoning his shirt en route to the hall. I follow him to the bedroom, glaring at his back fairly astonished by his inability to read the blizzard in my eyes. Seems like the only time men are really in-tune with our emotions is when we emit pheromones into the air.

  Finishing his call, he drops the phone on the bed and resumes unbuttoning his shirt.

  “So how was your day?” I say.

  With his fingers still working the last button, his eyes lift to mine. His special smile comes before he answers. “It was. Yours?”

  At their own volition, my arms wrap around my waist. I stare at him, taking an inward “try to bridle all the crazy” inhale and tread forward with caution. “Everything’s fine?”

  I’m not certain if my eyes are playing tricks on me, or it’s just my overloaded distressed mind, but for a fleeting moment, he appears distraught. When his eyebrows rise in question and in tandem to his arms folding over his chest, said worry I thought I might have noticed is gone. “Yeah. What is it, Hales?” His demeanor may transmit confidence and nonchalance. However, the tick of the muscle above his jaw tells me otherwise.

  “Funny, earlier today I was asked whether you’re going to have a child . . .” His eyes hone in on mine, his features hardening. “With someone called Robin, and whether you are leaving me. So I’m a bit curious, you see.” True or not as this might be, every word leaving my mouth is a stab in my stomach. Together, they feel like a merciless slaughter.

  “I’d never leave you.” Curt and fierce. Not the answer I was hoping for, though. Denial would have worked better here. He takes a step toward me. I hug my waist tighter, defensive.

  “Daniel.” His name scrapes out of my lips. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s nothing.” He takes another step. Reflexively, I signal for him to stop. “I didn’t want you involved in this.” He shakes his head, cursing under his breath.

  My hand drops to my chest because, all of a sudden, it’s a little hard to breathe. “Involved in what exactly?” Uncontrolled, my voice is a few octaves higher. There’s smoke, there’s fire.

  “Fuck’s sake.” He inhales through his nose. “Hales, baby, believe me when I say, you should not be involved in this. It’s nothing.”

  “Can you stop for a second?” My quills stand at attention. “What in the hell is going on?” My eyes bore into his. “What shouldn’t I be involved in exactly?”

  He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Some gold-digger claims I’m the father of her child.” Daniel’s face stones over while his eyes take a quest to disclose what goes on in my mind.

  “Why would she even say, claim, something like that? Did you . . . D-Does she have, ah, anything to base it on?” I desperately wish I could close my eyes and erase seeing the flinch across his face I just witnessed. My body tightens as though preparing for the impending punch.

  “It’s that woman I—the one I was with when we broke up.” He takes a step toward me, and I take an involuntary one back. “Hales, I promise you nothing’s there but an attempt to get some money, or publicity, or I don’t know what.”

  “How can you be so sure? W-what if she’s really pregnant?” I blink at him, the words leaving my mouth tasting bitterly surreal. This can’t be happening. Not now, not when we’re . . . It’s supposed to be our child. I feel sick.

  “It’s not mine, Hayley. It's all about money.” His answer comes out coated with irritation.

  “How do you know? How can you be so sure? What if you’re wrong?” My eyes hold his, shooting unspoken warnings. I lift my hand. “Daniel, I wear this ring because I am planning to marry you someday. I want to know what I’m in for.” The intensity of our locked stare is about to spark by shorting. “Not that it would make me change my mind. But what if you have a child out there? What kind of a man, person, would it make you not to at least find out?”

  His teeth graze his bottom lip repeatedly, his eyes
narrowed at me. “It’s not mine, Hayley. You want me to go into details? I was covered when we . . .”

  I close my eyes. The content of my stomach shooting up my throat. I open them, giving him a hard look. “You can’t be sure! This is not a gut feeling situation.” I raise my voice. “Accidents happen! It’s something you have to find out.” I’ve long abandoned my attempt at keeping myself composed.

  Daniel’s eyes morph from riled to majorly pissed. “You know what, if it's so important to you, I'll have a goddamn paternity test.” His voice takes a louder, rougher tone. “Find out if by any miracle I'm the goddamn incarnation of the Holy Spirit and have impregnated this woman!” He takes another step and finally reaches me. Daniel sends his hand to my forearm. My physical response as I jolt back from his touch leaves us both in momentary shock. I give him another muddled look and turn to leave. My fleeting defense mechanism goes into gear. Not really knowing what I’m doing or where I’m going. Daniel follows me out of the room.

  “Hales, if you are running away again, I . . .”

  I spin to face him. “You’re what, Daniel?”

  He closes his eyes, hanging his head down. He takes a deep breath and looks up at me. His voice lowers as he says, “If you think for a second I'm letting you run away again . . . We're way past this.”

  His words sober me up. “I’m not going anywhere.” My words almost a whisper. I look behind him at some indistinct point on the wall. “Some masochistic part of me wants you to walk me through that night.”

  “Don’t.” He shakes his head. “How did we even end up here?” comes an exhausted murmur.

  My livid stare darts to him. “What can I say? What led us to this point, Daniel? Well, your successful endeavor is hard to erase given it is shoved in my face in the form of a child.” It’s safe to say, my irritation with the situation is back.

  “Alleged child, for fuck’s sake. Can you not be that girlfriend now, Hayley?” He echoes my gaze.