Always in My Heart Read online

  ALWAYS IN MY HEART

  A.C. Arthur

  Dear Reader,

  I had not intended to write Rico Bennett’s story just yet, but after WRAPPED IN A DONOVAN, I began thinking about him and how and when he would find love. I’ll warn you upfront that his story is short—a novella—as will be all of the Donovan Friends books. These will be complete stories, with no cliffhangers and there is no definite schedule of which friends will receive a story and when.

  Each time I’ve written about Rico in previous books I’ve always felt that he was struggling with something. I imagine there would be a certain amount of pressure on a person born the son of a Brazilian princess and a communications mogul. While the other Bennett siblings, aside from Gabriella, seem to know their direction and follow it regardless of the repercussions, Rico never struck me as the same type of person. Sure, he’s working at the family company and doing everything that is expected of him, but there’s so much more to him than just his job and his family, so much more that he’s kept carefully hidden throughout the years.

  Evangeline “Eva” Romaine Miller had a perfect life. Then tragedy struck and in the blink of an eye she was tasked with not only surviving on her own, but taking care of her younger brother as well. Every choice she’s made since her parents’ death has been with Makai’s best interest in mind. She’s given up her own dreams and walked a path she never imagined she would, just to ensure her brother’s education, something she knew her parents would have done for both of them had they lived.

  This is the story of two people coming to terms with who and what they are and learning to love themselves on the inside and outside, regardless of what anyone else thinks. For Rico, this journey is challenging. For Eva, it’s eye-opening. For them, together, it is the love of a lifetime.

  I hope you enjoy going on this journey with them. As always,

  Happy Reading,

  ac

  Chapter 1

  “You’re just going through a mid-life crisis. Go have a few drinks, get yourself some smokin’ hot sex and chill out for a week or two and you’ll be just fine,” Gabriella said as she continued to move.

  Rico’s shock and dismay must have appeared clearly on his face as his youngest sister stared back at him through the mirrored wall of the in-home gym of their parents’ mansion.

  “Don’t look at me like that, I’m dead serious,” she continued, stepping furiously on the elliptical machine. “For the last few weeks you’ve been a brooding irritable mess. And don’t think I’m the only one that notices your condition. Bree said something the other night when you walked out of the room because the triplets were crying.”

  “I didn’t walk out because they were crying,” Rico replied, immediately defensive. “I had an important phone call to take.”

  Gabriella’s lips twisted upward in her ‘tell me another one’ facial expression. “I didn’t hear your phone ring.”

  “Ever heard of vibrate?” he snapped back, thrusting his hands forcefully into the front pockets of his slacks. “Besides, I came right back and when I did, I held Daniel until he fell asleep clutching my tie.”

  “And that may have been the most relaxed I’ve seen you in months,” she said when the machine beeped and she slowly stepped off.

  “Relaxation is overrated,” he replied.

  “It should be a priority, especially to someone your age.”

  “What? My age?” Rico was frowning again as Gabriella casually walked past him leaving the gym.

  He was walking right behind her as he argued, “I’m only thirty-nine. You’re the one who just had a birthday, not me.”

  Her hair was pulled up, a long ebony tail bobbing back and forth as she moved.

  “I turned twenty-seven, you’re about to be forty. There’s a difference, big brother. Deal with it.”

  She continued down the hallway until she came to the break in the wall. She could either go down the three steps taking her into the sunken family room, or to the right and up more stairs to where the bedrooms the Bennett children used to occupy were housed. At this point, Gabriella was the only one of them left living in this house. All of the others—Alex: lived with his girlfriend, Monica Lakefield, Renny: lived with his wife Bree Desdune and their triplets, and Adriana: lived with her fiancé, Parker Donovan.

  Rico had an apartment closer to the city because he was far too impatient to sit in traffic. Driving from the part of Greenwich where his parents and Renny lived, into the office everyday was a thirty minute ride, one filled with unpredictable traffic from all the other weekly commuters. Alex usually worked remotely as the condo he shared with Monica was in Manhattan, just a few blocks away from the Lakefield Art Gallery that Monica, along with her sister, Karena, managed. Since Bree had the triplets and Karena was married to Bree’s brother, Sam Desdune, most weekends Alex and Monica were in Greenwich spending time with their nephews and nieces. That made Rico wonder when his older brother would finally marry Monica and start a family of his own.

  Adriana was in Miami, happily planning her wedding to Parker Donovan, so Rico had no doubt she’d be pregnant and glowing soon after that big day. He wasn’t terribly thrilled by that thought as Parker Donovan and his family seemed to have a dark cloud looming over them. There had been one incident after another lately with the Donovans, from the lunatic that had attacked Adriana, to the same idiot guy getting himself killed and Savian Donovan being accused—but eventually cleared—of murdering him. Just a couple of months ago Adriana had told them about another disturbance at Savian and Jenise Langley’s wedding. Rico had a feeling this was only the beginning and he hated that Adriana might get caught in the cross fire of whatever storm was brewing within the Donovan family.

  Then there was Gabriella, the energetic and sometimes flighty youngest child of Marvin and Beatriz Bennett. It had taken her almost twice as long to finish college as any of the other children because she couldn’t figure out what she wanted to do with her life. Just a year after her graduation when Marvin had finally decided that she would work at Bennett Industries, the family’s communications and technology company, she’d surprised them once again by announcing instead that she wanted to pursue a career in interior design. Nobody was certain whether or not that would stick, or how good at designing Gabriella would be, but for now they’d all decided to support her.

  At the moment, however, his youngest sister was doing a pretty good job of annoying the hell out of Rico.

  “Look,” she said calling his attention immediately back to her smirking face, only slightly damp with sweat. “I know you’re the big brother and you like to think you have all the answers, but what I’m telling you is true. Look it up on the Internet if you don’t believe me.”

  “I’m past the midlife crisis age,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Gabriella shrugged. “Late bloomer.”

  “You’re ridiculous,” Rico said and moved past her to go down into the family room. As she was on the steps, he figured she was going up to her room to shower and change, or to find some other way to irritate someone else. He didn’t care, so long as she got away from him for a while.

  “I’m right and you’re pissed off about it,” she shot back. “You’re pissed off about everything lately. If the sun shines too bright. If a baby cries too loud. When Adriana announced she’s getting married. Even when mom went back to Pirata to visit her family. You’re in a constant crappy mood and we’re getting tired of it. So like I said, have a drink, get some sex, go on a vacation. Do something and get over it already.”

  With that she was gone. As if her words were that heavy and truthful that all she needed to do was speak them and drop the damn mic. Rico grit his teeth remembering that it was perfectly natural for little sisters
to be a pain in the ass.

  What wasn’t natural was for them to be right. At least partially anyway.

  That conversation had taken place on a Wednesday afternoon. On Friday night, Rico had driven up to New York and was now sitting in the classically decorated lounge area of The Corporation.

  The Corporation was an elite private sex club. There were facilities located all over the world, its clientele reaching as high up as the White House staff, to as low as everyday businessmen committing to pay the exorbitant membership fees. It was all for the pleasure of having any and everything they desired sexually without any recriminations or judgments.

  That’s how the club had been pitched to Rico when he’d been offered a year’s free membership. The offer had come last summer when Rico had traveled to Los Angeles for Jackson Carrington, his college friend’s, wedding. It was during the wedding reception that Jackson’s brother, Jerald, spoke to Rico about the club. The black pamphlet with THE CORPORATION printed in gold block letters across the front had been in Rico’s top left desk drawer for months, before he’d finally picked it up again. That had been around nine hours ago, Rico recalled as he now stood staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the high-rise building. There had been pictures in the brochure of a few of the more popular Corporation locations—New York, Beverly Hills, Turks and Caicos—so he had noticed the different themed décor in each one. New York was definitely the hip and trendy locale as evidenced by the black painted walls, white tiled floors and contemporary gray and black furniture.

  For about the hundredth time Rico wondered what the hell he was doing here. It had been an impulsive act as he’d shut down his computer for the day and pulled open the drawer to see the brochure staring up at him. At first he’d thought he couldn’t go. There had to be a meeting of some sort taking place over the weekend, because Rico worked seven days a week unless there was a federal holiday or a family catastrophe. But no, his calendar was empty. That had been the first sign.

  Surely the family—either the Bennetts or the Desdunes—were doing something this weekend. An anniversary party at Lucien’s, the Desdunes’ family creole restaurant, or perhaps his mother was watching the triplets again and subsequently wanted all her children at the house. There had to be something to do in Greenwich, something he was used to doing and that didn’t take him totally out of his comfort zone. But after a call to Alex and Renny, he was assured there was nothing. Sign number two.

  With nothing keeping him in town, Rico had grabbed the brochure and went to his apartment to pack a bag. He’d spend the weekend in New York, see some sights he hadn’t seen in a while, and maybe catch a show. He didn’t have to actually go to The Corporation. Yet, here he was, at almost ten thirty on a Friday night, wearing navy blue slacks, a white shirt and a Tom Ford suede blazer. The floor attendant who had greeted him with a gorgeous smile when he’d stepped off the elevator and walked up to the white marble desk, had taken some very personal information from him about fifteen minutes ago. Shortly after he’d walked away, another staff member, dressed in all white—pants that were so tight there was no way she could be wearing anything beneath them and a shirt that was basically the same fit, her jacket not as snug, added a touch of class to the otherwise blatantly sexual look—had approached him with a drink in hand. A Ketel One martini with a twist, exactly what he’d informed the floor attendant was his preferred drink.

  Now, as he sat there enjoying the perfectly mixed beverage, he wondered again about the decision to come here. Rico had plenty of women he could call if “smokin’ hot sex” as Gabrielle had referred to it, was all he desired. It wasn’t as if he never dated. He just did so sparingly because work was a priority. Spending time with his family was a priority. Just about anything came before long-term dating in the priority department for Rico. Still, there were some pretty memorable women he’d slept with that he knew for certain would be game for another tumble. Only Rico wasn’t game, not for them, not tonight.

  He wanted autonomy tonight. A mind blowing sexual connection—actually mind clearing—was what he was aiming for. Rico wanted the sex to be so good that it would clear Gabriella’s words of a mid-life crisis from his mind. So great, that the worry about Adriana’s safety would vanish, at least temporarily. So damn fantastic, that he could have just one weekend without thinking about work, getting back to work, or finishing work. All he would manage to do after the sex would be get up, get dressed, get something to eat, get some sleep, get up the next day and repeat. He’d set aside three whole days and hoped like hell it could be achieved.

  Then he saw her and everything he wanted, the way he’d anticipated feeling, the pleasure he’d envisioned, all of it, vanished.

  She was the third sign.

  #

  This was a bad idea.

  Eva knew it the moment she’d finally caved in to Kenya’s request.

  “Come on, Eva. I just don’t want to go alone,” her best friend insisted.

  They were in Eva’s studio—or rather, the second bedroom of the apartment she rented on Banner Avenue in Brooklyn. Makai, her twenty-year old brother stayed in the other bedroom while Eva used a pull-out bed in the living/dining room area. It was a small sacrifice to have the two open windows and space to paint using the natural light. The room also gave her privacy to work when Makai had company or she just wanted to tune everything else out and focus on her craft.

  Right now, with one of the bulbs from the ceiling fan light unit flickering and Kenya’s persistent chattering, focus wasn’t a possibility.

  Dropping the brush she had been using into the jar of water sitting on the windowsill, Eva sighed. “I wasn’t planning on going out tonight,” she replied as she looked over to where Kenya was standing. “Besides, isn’t this your first night working there? Why would I tag along with you when you go to work?”

  “Because,” Kenya said tossing Eva an exasperated look over her shoulder. “You’re my friend and I need you.”

  Kenya DuMont a.k.a. Starshine, the most popular dancer at the TEASE nightclub, did not need anyone or anything. She was a thirty-seven-year-old bartender turned manager, turned dancer and now…companion. Yes, Kenya had accepted a job which she insisted was going to pay her a minimum of one thousand dollars per night, as a paid companion to rich and famous men. In Eva’s mind that was a lot of fancy talk for being a prostitute, and while she would be forever thankful to Kenya for suggesting she try her hand at erotic dancing, Eva was firm on drawing the line long before she was ever paid to have sex with any man.

  “I can’t go into the room with you and hold your hand while you have sex with a stranger,” Eva told her. “And seriously, I don’t know why you accepted this job in the first place. You make so much more at TEASE with all the tips and personal service you provide to your regulars, without having sex with them.”

  They’d had this conversation before where Eva felt like she was the older sister, giving out advice. When in actuality Kenya was ten years older than Eva’s twenty-seven. Eva had begun working at the sport’s bar where Kenya was a bartender and manager when she was eighteen. In the first two years they’d grown so close—with Kenya doing whatever she could to help Eva get custody of Makai and to make sure Eva got the lion’s share of the tips that were to be split between all of the wait staff—that when Kenya landed the dancing gig at TEASE in Manhattan, she’d insisted Eva join her. Five years of professional dance classes when she was a teenager added to Kenya’s vouching for Eva to the manager at the strip club, but their friendship had kept them close through the thick and thin times that came afterwards. They were as tight as blood sisters and that’s why Eva felt it her duty to try one more time to steer Kenya in what Eva thought was a better direction.

  “Yeah, after I let them grope and grab on me all night long. They pay very well for that,” Kenya said, her lips already upturned, neck swiveling with attitude. “This place is so much more upscale. Hell, it looks like a regular business building from the outside. And once you ge
t all the way to the top floors where they’re actually located, you still don’t know that you’re in an establishment where people pay for sex.”

  Picking up a towel and wiping her hands thoroughly, Eva shook her head adamantly. “That doesn’t change a thing. All that means is that now you’ll be groped and grabbed by rich men, who probably have rich wives and spoiled kids at home.”

  Kenya waved a hand. “You know I don’t give a damn about what happens once they leave the club. I taught you that a long time ago. This is business, not personal.”

  Eva smiled blandly as she slipped off the stool. “Right. It’s never personal. Get your money and get going. I remember and that’s why I’m still confused about why you’re doing this.”

  Kenya sighed this time, lifting both hands to tuck her thick straight hair behind her ears. “I’m not getting any younger, Evie,” she began.

  She’d always called her Evie, even after Eva had stated her real name was Evangeline Miller. Kenya hadn’t thought that was sexy enough, especially once they’d decided to work at TEASE. They’d come up with Eva Romaine – the nickname that her parents had given her when she was born combined with her middle name. Still, Kenya kept on calling her Evie.

  “You’re gorgeous,” Eva told her. “You look better than half these twenty-year-old girls we see down at the club.”

  This was the honest truth. Kenya still had butter smooth skin and no wrinkles in sight. As a result of her weekly standing appointment at one of the top salons in Brooklyn, her hair was always on point. And she dressed like a sophisticated socialite, not the stripper that Eva knew she was.

  “You don’t understand because you’re still so young,” Kenya continued. “But I want something a little more settled. I’d only have to work two or three nights a week at this place. I say which days and I say which clients. These aren’t ignorant, drunk men looking for a quick lay. They’re businessmen—doctors, lawyers, politicians—guys that have good heads on their shoulders.”