Sweet Deception. Rochelle Alers
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asking her to meet him for dinner at his apartment, she’d gone home to shower and change her clothes, then walked the short distance from the condominium where she lived with her father to Myles’s high-rise. The doorman at the luxury building had greeted her by name. Within days of Myles slipping the diamond engagement ring onto her finger, he’d given her a key to his co-op and had officially notified the building management to grant her complete access.
The sun slipped lower, taking with it the intense summer heat as a cool breeze swept over her face and body. Lighted votives that she’d positioned around the terrace flickered like fireflies with the encroaching darkness. Philadelphia had experienced the most brutal heat wave it’d had in years. A steady two-day rain had finally broken the ninety-plus-degree heat and the streets in the City of Brotherly Love once again teemed with residents and tourists taking advantage of the more comfortable summer temperatures.
Turning her gaze away from the panoramic view of the twin glass spires of Liberty Place soaring above the Philadelphia skyline, Zabrina saw Myles holding a shopping bag from which emanated the most mouthwatering aroma.
“Something smells wonderful.”
Myles leaned over and kissed the hair she’d brushed off her face and secured in a single braid. “That must be my linguine with garlic and olive oil.”
“Phew,” Zabrina said, pinching her nostrils. “Remind me not to kiss you.”
“What if I brush my teeth and use mouthwash?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll think about it,” she teased.
Myles sat opposite Zabrina, reached into the bag and took out a small container of Caesar salad, then two larger containers with his entrée and Zabrina’s Caesar salad with grilled chicken. “Wait, darling, we’re missing something.”
Zabrina examined the place settings. “What’s missing?”
“Wine and music.”
“What are we celebrating, Myles?”
He stood and leaned over the table. “My love for you, darling.”
Zabrina rose to brush her mouth over his, her eyes filling with tears. She never tired of hearing him say that he loved her. “And I love you, too, Myles Adam Eaton.”
Myles returned with a bottle of wine, glasses and a small portable radio that he’d tuned to an all-music station. He filled the wineglasses with a light rosé, raising his goblet in a toast. “Here’s to the sexiest and most beautiful woman in the world. I’m counting down the days until I can make you my wife.”
Zabrina paused, trying to keep her fragile emotions under control. She touched her glass to his. “Here’s to the man who makes me feel alive, look forward to tomorrow and to all my tomorrows as his wife.”
A wave of sadness came over her like a rushing wave. She didn’t know why, but she felt like crying. In exactly three months she would exchange vows with the man she loved beyond words. How many women, she wondered, were fortunate enough to marry the first man they’d fallen in love with? Not too many, so she’d counted herself blessed.
“Here, here,” Myles intoned before taking a sip of wine.
“I hope your client is toasting you for keeping his butt out of prison.”
A scowl settled across his features. He’d made it a practice not to discuss his work with Zabrina, but the name of his high-profile client was on the tongue of most Philadelphians after the aide to the mayor had been charged with a sex crime.
“Jack Tolliver was innocent and apparently the prosecutor agreed with me when he threw out the charges for lack of evidence.”
“But didn’t he admit to sleeping with the woman?”
Myles rolled his eyes upward. “Yes, baby.”
“So, who’s to say it was consensual?”
“He said he didn’t rape her.”
Zabrina gave him a quizzical look. “And you believed him?”
“Yes.”
“Just because he said he didn’t do it?” She gestured with her fork. “Darling, Jack Tolliver is a lying, cheating politician who wouldn’t recognize the truth if it jumped up and bit him on the ass.”
Myles angled his head. “Are you angry with Jack because he cheated on his wife with another woman, or are you angry because he’s a politician?”
“It’s because he’s a politician, Myles. I know he’s human, but when he stands up in front of millions of voters asking for their trust, the least he could do is not betray their trust—and his wife’s—by creeping with a married woman.”
“You’re too young to be so jaded when it comes to politicians, baby. Perhaps you should stay away from your father’s friends.”
He’d gotten the judge to dismiss the case because the plaintiff’s rape kit had turned up evidence that she’d slept with his client and with another man. If Myles was going to toast anything it was that DNA forensics had helped to exonerate or convict suspects in some of the most violent crimes.
“My father’s friends are just that—his friends. The only interaction I have with them is when I stand in as his hostess. Other than that, I loathe their fake smiles, weak handshakes, lecherous stares and the rare occasion when they brush against me pretending that it was an accident.”
Myles went completely still, his frown deepening. “Is someone bothering you?”
She waved a hand. “No, darling. Most of them are around the same age as my father, so I ignore them.”
Zabrina stared at her fiancé across the small space. Lately, she and Myles saw less and less of each other. Her eight-hour shift rotated every three months, and then there was overtime. Myles had passed the bar and clerked for a judge before becoming a trial lawyer for a Philadelphia firm handling high-profile cases. His ultimate goal was to make partner within ten years.
Swallowing a mouthful of pasta, Myles met Zabrina’s eyes. They appeared catlike in the candlelight. “Can you take a couple of days off?”
“Why?”
“I’d like for us to go away together so we can spend some quality time together.”
Reaching over the table, Myles grasped her hands. “I saw more of you before we were engaged than I do now.”
Zabrina sobered. He’d read her mind. “That’s because you’ve become a workaholic.”
“I want to make partner, Brina.”
She wanted to tell Myles there were no guarantees that he would make partner even if he worked ninety hours a week, while winning every case for the firm. But she held her tongue because she didn’t want him to think she wasn’t supportive.
“Where do you want to go?” she asked.
His grip tightened on her fingers. “I’ll leave that up to you.”
It took only seconds for her to make a decision. “I want to go to Buenos Aires.”
“Buenos Aires, Argentina?” She nodded. “What’s in Buenos Aires?”
“Tango lessons,” Zabrina replied. “I want our first dance as husband and wife to be a tango, and what better place to learn the dance of love and passion than in Argentina?”
Rising, Myles walked around the circular table and gently pulled Zabrina to her feet. He dipped his head and pressed his mouth to the column of her scented neck. “I happen to believe we dance very well together.”
She giggled like a child. “Are you talking about the horizontal mambo?”
“Yes, I am.”
Moving into his embrace, Zabrina wrapped her arms around Myles’s waist. He felt