The Heiress (Book 2 of the Forbidden Series)

11

Alexander laid a path of butterfly kisses down the column of Layla’s neck as he leaned her back against the hood of the black Porsche in the four-car garage. She had snuck in while he was tuning up her brother’s engine. Layla had sashayed in and pushed the button closing the doors to hide them from view.

Her slick attempt at seduction had made him chuckle, and Alexander had lifted her and planted her on the hood of the car. Her long legs had closed around his hips, and he let his mouth worship her body. It was all so hot knowing that they could be found out at any moment, that her father could come in and throttle him. He needed his job so much, and he knew the risks he took by messing around with Layla, but every time she was near he couldn’t control himself. His common sense always lost out.

Layla had just come in to tease him he realized as she swatted his hands away playfully each time they began to roam up her short-pleated school girl skirt. It was an intense make-out session and nothing more. “You are a tease.” He groaned against her ear rocking into her so she could feel how aroused she had gotten him.

“Bad boy you are on the clock.” She giggled.

“Give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll get right back to work Miss. Thompson.” He promised, reaching down to unbutton his pants.

“No.” She laughed slapping his hand. “I’ll come to your room tonight.” She promised.

“That’s hours away.” Alexander whimpered.

“Don’t pout.” Layla teased. “I have to get back inside we have company coming.”

“Company? Again?”

Layla laughed and slipped off the hood putting a few steps between them. “Yeah, we get together often. Here… there… mostly here. We went to Hawaii last month, and we’re planning another trip. We’re thinking about the beaches of Miami.” She said coming to kiss his cheek. “Why don’t you come with us?”

Alexander groaned a trip to Miami with second-generation rich kids. It sounded very frivolous and expensive. There was no way he could afford that kind of a trip there was no way he could financially keep up with Layla and her peers. Besides, unlike them, he had obligations. He had a limited time to come up with another payment to keep his mother’s house, and after that, he’d have to do it again. On top of that, he was on thin ice with her father, to begin with, and he highly doubted that David would give him the time off to go globetrotting with his daughter.

“I don’t think so, Layla.” Alexander frowned hoping she would understand. “Even if you could convince your dad to let me go I couldn’t afford it. That kind of trip would just cost way too much.”

“That is ok.” She grinned without a second thought. “I’ll pay for everything all you got to do is come. You won’t have to worry about a penny.” She promised.

Annoyed Alexander shrugged her off. Why was Layla so stubborn about it? He didn’t want to go. He couldn’t afford to go, and the idea of being a kept man was distasteful to him. He had too much integrity to live that way. “No.” He snapped walking away from her. “I’m not going. Deal with it.”

“Why are you mad at me? What did I do wrong?” She asked taking a step toward him.

Alexander gave Layla his back and started sorting his tools. “I have to get back to work. You better go deal with your company before someone comes looking for you.” He said coldly. He didn’t turn around. He waited until he heard the side door open and close and he knew she had left. Alexander threw the wrench he was holding against the workbench and swore. What was he doing getting involved with a rich girl? He knew better.

***

The town car came to a stop in a rather dingy neighbourhood. David looked at the old rundown one level house. Like the other homes in the neighbourhood the house’s windows were barred, and the yard was a mess. The address on the side matched the one in his hand. He wasn’t surprised; he had expected a guy like Alexander to have come from a shanty. Judging from what he saw Alexander fit right into this crummy neighbourhood.

“Are you sure you want to get out here?” Rolland asked looking back from the driver’s seat. “It is not exactly the Hilton.”

David grinned. “No, this is the address, I’m getting out here.” He said looking around at the area. “Just make sure you are prepared if need be.” He suggested reaching for the door handle.

“Yes, Sir.” Rolland agreed, opening the glove compartment and taking out a handgun in case he needed to negotiate with some of the neighbourhood’s less than reputable residents.

David exited the car and made his way up the walk to the door. He pressed the button for the doorbell but heard nothing. Assuming that the doorbell did not work David knocked and waited. No one answered, but he was not about to leave he felt it was safe to assume that Alexander did not live in this house alone. He was too young and broke to be able to afford to buy a house, even one as rundown as this. David knocked again and waited. Listening, he heard movement and murmurs coming from inside. Someone was coming to the door.

David prepared himself to face off against a drunken fool or some ex-con of a father type of Alexander’s. He postured himself to portray a more confident and intimidating persona. The door opened, and David was taken aback by what met him.

She was short and frail, barely flesh and bone beneath her dress and sweater. She wore a kerchief to hide the fact that she was balding or bald, he couldn’t tell beneath the patterned fabric. Her eyes were dark, worn, and sunken, but her smile was warm and welcoming. “May I help you?” She asked wearily. David could hear the hint of Spanish accent in her soft voice. It was clear that unlike Alexander she had most likely not been born in America. He was about to speak when he saw the friendly look on her face turn to that of excitement. “Oh, sweet mother of god, David Thompson.” He chuckled she was a fan. “Oh my, Alexander will never believe this.” She giggled touching his sleeve to be sure he was real and not a dream. “I would not believe me if I were not here.”

“Mrs. Sinton, may I come in?” He asked with his most charming smile.

She giggled like a school girl and then nodded. “Oh, wow you know my name. Please do come in.” She offered going inside. David followed her inside the little house. It was small and cluttered inside. The furniture was very old, and duct tape seemed actually to be holding a plaid armchair together. In the living room, he saw an old record player. He didn’t think that anyone these days still had LP’s. On the walls were many family pictures of a child growing up. He assumed this child must be Alexander or a sibling, but it looked like the same child in each picture. The other constant in the pictures was a beautiful young Cuban woman in ballroom dresses and dance competitions. It took a moment to realize the pretty face in the pictures was the same sickly one smiling up at him right now.

She blushed at the state of her home. “I wasn’t expecting anyone; please excuse the mess.” She said weakly. She casually tidied up taking some dishes to the kitchen and moving some half-empty pill bottles to the top of the fridge. David sat down at the table which was covered in numerous bill statements stamped past due or final notice. There was a stack of opened envelopes from HMO’s and the local hospitals. The calendar on the wall covered with doctor appointments and chemo dates that looked as if they had been scratched out. He felt his stomach knot with sadness. Alexander’s mother was ill, he realized picking up one of the letters from the HMO’s and briefly skimming it. She was dying, and their HMO had denied her claim.

There were many medical bills and disconnection notices. David pushed aside the papers and saw the foreclosures. “Let me get you something to drink.” She offered, opening the fridge to look inside. “I know my son keeps a beer or two in here.” David leaned over a bit and saw that the interior of the fridge was fairly barren. David sat up straight when she turned around and brought a cold beer can to the table. “Oh, dear let me move these, I am sorry. I’m often too tired to bother tidying up. My son does it when he comes home on weekends.” She apologized gathering up all the bills and envelopes from the table and placing them in a heap on the counter.

The back and forth of tidying up caused her to go into a coughing fit. The force of the coughing caused her to double over. David stood up and came to her side offering her some stability he guided her back to the table to sit. She covered her mouth and kept coughing for another minute or two and then she closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the wall weak from the exertion. When she opened her eyes, she blushed again with embarrassment as she looked at the blood in her hands. “Oh dear.” She wheezed and reached for a towel to wipe the blood away. “How embarrassing.”

David was concerned, what should he do? “Do you need to go to the hospital?” He asked.

“No,” she sighed with a smile, “there is no point. I am dying.” She admitted. “There is nothing more the doctors can do I suppose.”

“What about treatment?” He inquired.

“We tried it. My son worked his fingers to the bone to pay for the treatment, but it only made me sicker. No, I’m afraid there is nothing left to do but wait.” She took a deep, weary breath and then pointed to the chair beside her. “Please sit. Enough depressing talk. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? I don’t recall entering any contest.” She asked pleasantly.

She was miraculously accepting of her condition, even somewhat at peace. David couldn’t imagine being so calm about it if their roles had been reversed. David did not assume that he would handle death well. He took the seat across from her and opened the beer she had handed him earlier to be polite. “Mrs. Sinton…” He began.

“Please, it’s Maria.” She corrected.

He smiled. “Maria, you know who I am…”

“Who doesn’t? I have every one of your albums; I am a very big fan… along with half the plant I assume.”

“Yes. Well, I’m here about Alexander.” He admitted, and her smile faded, she turned her eyes to the table for a moment and then looked up again.

“Has my son done something?” She asked pleasantly.

David did not wish to offend her in her frail condition by calling down her son, but he needed to answer her in a way that was still honest. “You see Maria; I have a daughter…”

Maria smiled her eyes bright. “Say no more.” She teased, David couldn’t help but chuckle. Apparently, this was an ongoing issue with her son. “That must mean that Layla is your daughter. I knew I had seen her somewhere but it just never dawned on me until now.” She sighed exasperated, and David couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. “Well, at least you didn’t try to shoot him.” She teased, bringing a smile to David’s face. “This always happens, Alexander has a certain look about him that parents just don’t seem to approve of, I suppose that beat up old bike of his doesn’t help that.”

“It’s just that Layla and Alexander are from very different walks of life and as her father…”

“You feel the need to protect her from herself and men that may take advantage of her.” Maria finished. He was pleased that she was the one to have said it and had saved him the uncomfortable task of trying to find the right words.

“I just want what’s best for her,” David said.

“And you don’t think that is Alexander.”

“I’m sorry.”

Maria sat forward and folded her hands on the tabletop. “I know I may be biased because I’m a mom, but I can assure you Alexander is a good boy; and if it’s not meant to be why not let the kids just have some fun.”

“Bad thing can happen from fun,” David answered. He did not wish to become a grandfather too soon. Unfortunately, he feared the pitter-patter of little feet should Alexander and Layla be given free rein.

Maria nodded knowing exactly what he feared. “Oh yes, it can. Alexander would do right by her if it came to that, but I don’t think he would let it. He is too responsible, and he has too much to deal with as it is.” She sighed looking slightly ashamed. “When my husband died he left us in terrible debt. Alexander was only twelve. He took on four paper routes every day on top of school to help me pay the bills. When he was fourteen, he lied about his age to get a job busting tables so we could make the mortgage payments. He worked two jobs at eighteen, so he could pay for his apartment and each week he would come over and pay my bills whether I let him or not. When I got sick, he moved back in to take care of me. When I could no longer work, he took on any job that came his way.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, and her bottom lip quivered as she tried to keep her emotions under control.

“My son, my baby boy, took a job as a male stripper to help me pay my medical bills and keep my house. He doesn’t think I know.” She paused trying not to cry, her gaze lifted to look David dead in the eye. “My son is a proud man. Do you know what it feels like to know that he has had to demean himself over and over again to take care of me? And after all this, after everything he has done, I will die anyway, and he will be alone. It is a pain I would not wish on any parent. Believe me, Mr. Thompson, when I say, my son has a good heart, and he does not mess around frivolously. He will do his best to make her happy, and if she tires of him, he will bow out gracefully. You have my word.”

David was speechless; he blinked to keep the tears that threatened to fall at bay. David finished his beer and offered his hand in friendship. Maria took his, and he shook it gently. “Thank you for the drink and the conversation Maria.”

“It’s not every day a rockstar shows up on your doorstep.” She grinned.

David chuckled. “Retired.”

“Makes no difference.” She smiled and walked David to the door.

“It was truly a pleasure to meet you.” He said opening the door and stepping outside.

“The pleasure was mine.” Maria smiled.

David walked back to the black town car that was still sitting out front. Climbing into the backseat, he shut the door and looked toward the driver’s seat where Rolland had been reading a book. The old man placed the book on the seat and started the car. “Did you find what you were looking for?” Rolland asked as they pulled away.

“I got more then what I had bargained for,” David admitted feeling somewhat like a heel. He still was not too fond of the idea of the boy dating his daughter, but he had misjudged Alexander’s character. Worse Maria was a sweet woman that reminded David of his mother, and the poor thing was suffering. She would die with so much to worry about. It was a shame she could not find peace before the end.

“Home Sir?”

David stared out the window thinking about his depressing visit. “No,” he decided, “go downtown I have some things I want to take care of before I leave for Paris.”

***

Layla’s parents had set out for Paris early that evening on a private jet.

In a way, Layla was grateful to have a week to spend with Alexander where she did not have to deal with her father glowering at him. After their tiff earlier, that day Alexander had gone about his business and Layla had not seen a sign of him all day.

It was late now, and the house was quiet, everyone was either in bed or the game room drunk and betting on pool. Layla had slipped off with the excuse of a headache and was off to bed. Her excuse acceptable, she slipped through the lower level of the house with a brief stop in the kitchen to collect a bottle of red wine and two glasses. She made her way to Alexander’s room. As she passed the dance studio, she heard music. Cracking the door open she peeked inside and saw Alexander.

He wore nothing but his jeans as he moved around the floor. He was watching himself through the full-length mirrors that covered the entire third wall. He suddenly stopped and then moved back a few steps and started over again. He was choreographing she realized, and he was very good at it. It wasn’t the same sultry moves she had watched him perform when he danced for her. They were more defined and purposeful like in a musical theatre or the ballet.

Layla entered the studio, and Alexander paused when he noticed her. “Are you auditioning for something?” She asked walking across the hardwood floor.

“No.” He smiled as he accepted the glass she handed him. “It’s just good exercises, besides if you don’t practice you get rusty.” He explained. “It’s my off hours I didn’t think anyone would mind if I made use of the studio.”

Layla poured them both a glass of wine and then she placed the bottle on the floor beside the stereo. Sipping the wine, she asked. “Where did you practice at home?”

“I would do odd jobs for studio time, but most of the time I would use the garage. Except when I had my apartment. I didn’t have much furniture, so there was plenty of room.”

“What were you doing just then?” She asked curiously.

“Nothing really, it was a blending of contemporary and ballet.” He explained. “Would you like a lesson?” He offered.

“I don’t think I could do that.”

“Well how about something different. We will start with the basics.” He said taking her glass and placing the two beside the radio. Alexander took Layla by the waist placing his right hand at the small of her back. He placed her left hand on his shoulder and then took her right hand in his left. “Follow my lead.” He instructed. “Ready? One, two, three. One, two, three.” He counted as he slowly walked her around the floor. Once she had the hang of it, he smiled down at her and said. “Now faster.” With a firm, sure hold, Alexander danced Layla around the floor. It was exhilarating with a swing and a spin and being held fast in his embrace. “Very good.” He praised her. “This is the waltz.”

“This is fun.” She laughed. It was not the type of dance she would normally be exposed to at a club or in her parents’ rockstar world. It was elegant and energetic. Alexander brought them to a stop and adjusted the songs that were playing. “Let’s try something harder.” He suggested turning on some Latin music. “He turned around and took Layla in his arms. “This is called the Rumba.” He said placing his hands firmly on her hips and forcing her to move as he did. “It is more in the hips, unlike the waltz.”

They spent the night sipping wine and dancing. By dawn, Alexander had taught Layla three new dances. It had not been how she had intended to spend the evening, but they had been enjoying the time so much she had seen no need to ruin it. At dawn, Alex had retired to bed to get a few hours of sleep before he had to start his daily duties. Layla had not wanted to leave, and with the wine clouding his better judgment Alexander allowed her to stay. She crawled into the tiny bed beside him and fell asleep in his arms.

It amazed her how something so simple, so insignificant could feel so right. Alexander was a light in her life, a connection to a world beyond hers, full of experiences and feelings she would not have known. A man of simple pleasure and ideals. He was a muse. When Layla woke the next afternoon to find herself alone in Alexander’s bed, she hugged his pillow. She could still smell him, a giddy excitement gripped her, and she popped out of bed. She was having yet another novel experience… inspiration.

***

The week passed quickly, and when David and Kat returned from Paris, they were astounded to find Layla and Dane in the soundproof studio in the lower levels. Rolland explained that they had been locked away in the studio for days, coming out only to eat and sleep. David stood by the window looking in on his children. Layla had one of his guitars strapped on and plugged in. Her fingers flew over the strings. Dane sat behind the drum set laying out the beat she played off.

Kat strolled down the hall peering around David to view the scene inside. She was as surprised and excited as he to see their daughter with an instrument in her hands. She hadn’t touched an instrument or sang a note since she was a child. She had not shown one ounce of inspiration, and the couple was starting to lose hope that their child would make anything of herself.

Now here she stood passionately and exploded with creative energy. It brought a tear to David’s eye; a sense of pride filled him. What had created such a drastic change in her? What was her muse? David watched his children. He decided to go in. Opening the door, David entered the room. Dane stopped playing, a wide grin on his face. “Dad, you have got to hear this. Layla is on fire. You have got to produce this. Layla, from the top.”

David stood quietly listening to the collective creation of his children’s collaboration. David was blown away; it was sensational. She had incredible talent, her raw creativity and flair surpassed many of his productions. As the song ended, David stared at Layla with pride.

“What do you think?” She asked hopefully awaiting his opinion.

David stood for a moment contemplating the issue of Alexander. Layla had shown no drive until she started seeing that boy. If the boy could bring this out of her, who was he to stand in the way. Sooner or later she would bore of him anyway. The novelty of slumming it would wear off, and she would amuse herself in other ways. David smiled warmly. “I’ll make the arraignments. I expect to see you in your grandfather’s studio in the morning. We start production at ten.”

Layla squealed and threw her arms around him. The guitar strings dug into his waist. David exited the room looking into his wife’s smug, self-satisfied smirk. He was a big enough man to admit when he was wrong. “If he can bring that out of her I’ll kiss the boy myself.” He moved to warn her. “But so, help me, if he hurts her, I’ll kill him, and you know I will.” His voice was low and ruthless; it sent a shiver down her spine.

Kat knew what he was capable of; they had almost lost Layla when she was born two months too early. They had been attacked and, in the process, Kat had been shot by his enemies. The men evolved in the attack had been found dead the morning after. She had never confirmed it either way, but she knew deep down inside her David had been involved in some way. She had never known him to be a violent man, not before Layla’s birth and never after, but when his family was on the line, she would not put anything past him.

***

Layla went over the arrangements with her father the next day. Selecting back up musicians for the recording, discussing the time it would take to teach the pieces to them before they lay the tracks. Dane would record with them; he had been assisting his sister with the writing and already knew the songs. Plus, it would cut cost and reduce time. David predicted an eight-week release date. They would first cut a single and get it out in the media as a promotional gimmick. It would act as a sample, test the fan base and boost sales on the release date. David monopolized Layla’s time, skipping dinner the two worked into the night.

Alexander went about his business ever so often seeing David and Layla in passing. Through an open window or walking past his partly open study door. Alexander glimpsed the cold stares David cast him before shutting the blinds or doors. It was clear to Alexander that David did not approve of his involvement with Layla; it was hardly a secret in the house. He was starting to feel like an ant under a magnifying glass. The constant hush that filled the room whenever he walked in. The way the conversations abruptly ended or shifted once he was noticed. The polite small talk from the elders in the house.

Layla was the only one that made him feel slightly comfortable, and now with all the work, she was involved in he hardly saw her. Late at night, Layla would join him in bed, and in those brief hours, all the discomfort would fade. In her arms, it mattered little that he didn’t fit in. They worshiped each other in the twilight hours, and in the dawn, she was gone. Alexander sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands staring at the floor beneath his feet. He was starting to feel like a stud. Layla came to him with only enough time for one thing and then she left him again wrapped up in her new-found work.

On top of that, he had exhausted all his options and was at a loss as to how to come up with his next payment for the house, or how to keep the creditors at bay. Even working as much as he did he did not bring in enough money to get him and his mother out of trouble. She was going to lose the house, and he could not stop it unless he could come up with more money in the next week or beg for a stay of execution from the bank.

Alexander sighed and stood up from his seat to dress for the day. It was his day off, and still, he had a lot of work ahead of him. He only wished Layla had the time to go with him, his mother had liked her and would have very much enjoyed the visit. He wouldn’t have minded spending some time outside the bedroom with the lovely lady, but she was busy and getting time with her was next to impossible. A fact he was sure he had her father to thank for.

The day promised to be a horrendous nerve-racking experience he couldn’t avoid. Alexander dressed and headed out for the day trying to say good-bye or hello or anything to Layla in passing but was told she was extremely busy and not to be disturbed. Tired of being told not now, Alexander thought about forcing her to make time to acknowledge him by going down to the studio and briefly imposing on her work time. As he stood outside the soundproof door looking through the glass, he watched as Layla appeared to be tapping a beat out on her knee and singing while a few of her friends and her brother were settled in behind instruments. He had no idea that any of them could play, but he supposed it made sense that they would have picked up a few skills given their upbringing. He watched as they all seemed to flow together seamlessly, laughing and knowing what the other was thinking without having to ask.

A hollow feeling consumed Alexander as he watched the scene through the glass. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong with these people. He didn’t belong with Layla. Alexander left without being seen. He had plenty of more important thing to be doing anyway.

Alexander was on his bike heading into the city in record time. First, he stopped at his bank to cash out the last of his money and then he was off to his local pharmacy. His mother had two more refills left on the account, and he was sure she was almost due.

He walked through the store picking up a few bottles of cough syrup to help control his mother’s coughing and some of her favourite magazines. He waited in line for the pharmacist and placed his usual monthly order. He waited another fifteen minutes for the order to be filled and then he opened his worn wallet and started counting out the large sum which he always had to part with to make his mother comfortable. The pharmacist put up his hand and smiled. “No charge.” He said.

Alexander looked confused holding the large wad of cash in his hand. “What do you mean no charge?”

“There is a credit on your account, so you don’t need to pay until the credit runs out.” The pharmacist explained looking at his computer and typing in Alexander’s information again to double check.

“Since when?”

“Since… yesterday afternoon. Someone came in and placed a rather large credit on the account.”

“Who?”

The pharmacist typed for a moment and then shrugged. “It doesn’t say.”

“How much?” Alexander asked curiously as to how generous the mystery person had been.

“Twelve thousand dollars.” Alexander couldn’t breathe, twelve thousand dollars? That was a year’s worth of medication. He took the bag of pills and left feeling somewhat numbed by the strange sudden charity.

Alexander drove over to his mother’s house, and as he pulled up, he saw the same slimy little suit that was trying to foreclose on his mother’s house standing on the doorstep talking to his mom. Alexander barely turned off his bike before he leapt off and rushed over shoving the suit against the wall. He flinched and dropped his briefcase putting up his hands defensively. “You jerk get lost, we still got another week stop harassing my mother.” He growled.

“Alexander let him go.” His mother ordered. “He is here to give me the deed signed and sealed.”

Alexander looked confused again. He looked at the frightened little man and then at his mother’s happy face. Alexander released the suit. “What do you mean?”

She held up the papers the man had brought her. “The house is paid for in full.” She smiled. “It’s our baby.”

“Wait, how is that possible?” He asked taking the papers and skimming through them. It was true, their house had been paid off, and it belonged to his mother outright.

“That is not all Alexander, this morning a big-time lawyer came by and told me that all our debts had been paid.” Alexander looked at her dumbfounded. “All the bills, all the medical and hospital expenses. Absolutely everything, we don’t owe a penny to anyone.” She cried hugging him.

“How is this possible? Where did this money come from?” He demanded, not liking loose ends.

“Who cares it is a miracle. We never have to worry about money again.” She chirped going inside the house.

Alexander apologized to the man and followed his mother inside. Shutting the door, he walked into the kitchen and placed the bag of pills on the table. “Did the lawyer say who he represented? This sort of thing does not just happen Mom.”

“What does it matter if he did or didn’t?” She sighed taking a seat at the table.

“It’s a lot of money Mom, and money comes with strings.”

“Not this money. He assured me it was free and clear and to enjoy my last days. Which I intend to do now that all our worries are gone.” She smiled.

Alexander frowned; he didn’t feel comfortable with this one bit. He was happy to see her happy. To know she would have no more worries but the whole thing didn’t sit right with him. “Fine if you won’t tell me who just tell me if you know who?”

She grinned up at him. “Yes, I do.”

“And you are not going to tell me?”

“Nope, because I don’t want you worrying about it.”

“If I promise not to mention it or do anything after will you satisfy my curiosity?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “I wouldn’t believe you.”

“My word.”

“No.” She smiled.

Layla, he snarled to himself, it had to be. Who else could it be? He was annoyed that she would go behind his back and do this to him. It was bad enough she wanted to turn him into a mooch, but now she was forcing him so far into her debt he could not find his way out. Maria patted her son’s hand. “Come dear let’s watch some TV.”