Topaz Heat (Christian Romance) (The Jewel Series) Page 11

  Darlene held herself stiffly, her frigid stare doing nothing to conceal the heat of fury that seethed in her eyes. “I will not stand here and be spoken to like that by my own daughter.”

  Sarah pulled herself up to her full height and stared her mother down. “Then kindly leave. Feel free to return when you’re ready to apologize for being so rude this morning.”

  They stared at each other until the older woman finally pressed her lips into a thin line and gave a stiff nod of her head. She retrieved her bag from the table and left the room without any further words being spoken.

  CHAPTER 12

  DERRICK heard everything. He couldn't help but hear. The apartment was a good size, but the hardwood floors and old walls did little to muffle sounds. He stood next to the closet containing the washer and dryer in the hallway and listened to every single word while sincerely trying not to overhear.

  He had never fooled himself into thinking that most people would accept him with open arms if they knew his past. He had perfected the right accent, the right clothes, the right way to carry himself so that the clientele, even the employees, at his hotels would never suspect his roots, the things he had done, the way he had lived, the raw desperation that had driven every action and reaction for the first eighteen years of his life. The knowledge of such prejudice being likely didn't stop the churning of emotions he felt at Darlene Thomas' words.

  He fought a mixture of pain, anger, shame …things he thought he'd put aside a decade ago. He closed his eyes and, with purpose and precision, addressed each emotion and fought it back. Losing his cool and transforming into the hood Darlene Thomas accused him of being would do no one any good. His past was forgiven – redeemed. He knew that. It didn't matter what she thought.

  After the sound of the door slamming finished reverberating through the house, he debated what he should do next. Then he decided that he would let Sarah take that lead. She could either kick him out or fall desperately into his arms. He preferred the latter, but would accept whatever came. He slipped his shirt on and buttoned it as he moved through the house.

  She sat at the table, facing the door, across from the seat he had occupied mere minutes before. He knew if he touched his cup of coffee that it would still be hot. Yet, somehow, it felt like a lifetime had passed since he made Sarah laugh.

  Her face looked even more drawn than it had the previous night, and though tears threatened to spill from her eyes her cheeks remained dry. He could see the effort she was putting into not crying, not giving in to her emotions. Quietly, he pulled out his chair and sat across from her.

  "I guess you heard," she said in nearly a whisper.

  Derrick shrugged. "I didn't try."

  "I know." Sarah took her glasses off and scrubbed at her cheeks with both hands. "She said terrible things."

  "She's had a rough time lately."

  Meeting his eyes, she tilted her head and looked at him quizzically. "How can you hear what she said about you and … and everyone and say that so calmly?"

  "Do you remember when we first met?" The tinge on her cheeks told him that she remembered more than her shrug did. "You really, really didn't like the fact that I was there."

  "Yeah. I'd had a bad day." Sarah ran her tongue over her lips nervously. "And you were …"

  He filled in the blank for her. "Crude?"

  She raised her eyes in surprise. "No. I …"

  "It's okay, Sarah. It's what I lived with until the day I turned eighteen. I'd walk into a store and the clerk would wait for me to steal something. And the thing is, I was probably there to steal something. I didn't make the changes to my accent and appearance out of any sort of pride. I did it so that no one would suspect who I was or what I did or what I might have been willing to do at some desperate moment. The way your mother classified me in her mind – the way you thought of me that first day we met – was something I was used to and something I even expected."

  Sarah cleared her throat and stood. With nervous movements, she grabbed her mother's tea cup and carried it to the sink. "I walked in that kitchen and was immediately attracted to you. But I knew who you were and where you were from."

  Derrick felt his heart rate increase just a little bit. Of all the possible things she could have said, that was absolutely the last thing he expected. He stood and followed her to the sink. "And?"

  She turned her body toward him and he could see the tears filling her eyes again. "And my mom had made me so afraid." A tear spilled out of her eye and ran down her cheek. "Afraid that I would become like her – like my real mom. She made it seem like I almost certainly would, so I did everything in my power to prove to her that I was good and perfect and chaste and clean." Another tear fell, and another, wetting her eyelashes and streaking her cheeks. "And I walk into a kitchen and here's this tattooed, unmannered, unchurched boy who made my heart go pitter-pat. Being rude was the only way I could battle the fear that everything I'd worked toward really meant absolutely nothing."

  A little glimmer of hope sprang from the frantic beating in his chest. Derrick reached forward, wanting to touch her but afraid to shatter the moment. Instead, he put his hand on the edge of the sink, gripping it, leaning toward her.

  "You became my adversary." She admitteed. "As long as I didn't like you, and you didn't like me, there was no worry that I could be like her. I never saw the change in you. I never saw Christ enter your life. I never saw the love you had for my family. I never saw your success. I just saw that barefoot, tattooed kid in my brother-in-law's kitchen."

  Sarah took a step forward so that he just had to let go of the sink for his arm to be around her. He watched as she bowed her head and leaned her forehead against his chest. Certain she would be able to feel the furious pounding of his heart, he slowly brought both arms around her and breathed in deeply, both in an effort to control his heart rate and to smell her hair. She turned her head until her cheek lay against his shirt. He felt her arms go around his torso and for the first time in his life, felt utter and complete contentment.

  "I've never treated you well."

  Derrick turned his head so that he could lay his cheek against the top of her head. "It's okay. I instigated most of our arguments. I knew your buttons and how to push them."

  Sarah pushed far enough away to tilt her head back and meet his eyes. "It doesn't seem fair. If I hadn't been afraid …"

  "Sshh." Derrick cut her off and put a hand on her damp cheek. "We have to trust God's timing, which is absolutely perfect." She stared up at him with her warm wet eyes and he felt himself drowning in their honey depths. Thoughts fled, and whatever he might have been talking about no longer made sense.

  It was hard to say which one moved first. Derrick slid his hand from her cheek to the back of her neck about the same time Sarah stood on her toes and wrapped an arm around his neck. Before either one knew the decision had been made, their lips met. Derrick pulled her closer as Sarah stepped closer, and he lost himself in the perfect feel of her against him, of her lips on his.

  Her body pressed against him felt so wonderful, so right. Her lips moved against his as if they had been designed for him. A buzzing started in his ears. Heat rushed through his body. He wanted to get closer to her, even closer, feel her skin against his.

  Even as he deepened the kiss, he knew he needed to back off a little bit before he lost control all together.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry."

  Sarah jumped and pushed away from Derrick. She looked scared and horrified and incredibly sexy. He smiled and faced Melissa. "Good morning."

  Melissa stammered and stopped, then took a step backward. "I heard the yelling and came out to see if Sarah was okay." Her eyes darted between the two of them. "I'll just go back to bed now."

  "No worries. I need to leave anyway." He looked back down at Sarah and ran a finger along her cheek. "When you want to talk, you know where to find me."

  Sarah licked her lips nervously and nodded.

  “WOW.”

  Sarah loo
ked at Maxine and took another sip of heavenly vegetable soup. She wiped her lips on the napkin and nodded. "I know, right?"

  "So what are you going to do now?"

  Sarah sighed and put her spoon down. "I don't know. He wasn't coming here to ask me to dinner Friday night. He had a ring in his pocket!"

  Fighting a surge of panic, Sarah pushed the bowl away and took another sip of water. Maxine leaned across the table and patted her hand. "It's Derrick, honey. Just talk to him. He's like your brother."

  "Is that remark designed to make me feel better?"

  Maxine laughed. "I guess not." She stood and took the bowl to the sink. "Listen. Just go talk to him. Tell him you need time to get your feelings in order but would be open to dating him."

  "You're assuming I would be open to dating."

  Maxine turned and looked at her. "Tell me you're not. Be serious."

  Sarah felt the heat that tinged her cheeks. "Maybe I am."

  "Of course you are." Her sister came back across the room and knelt by her chair. "Listen. Derrick has loved you forever. He went to New York to try to forget you, but it didn't do him any good. He loves you like Tony loves Robin, like Barry loves me. But I'm sure he'll be able to tone it down a notch so that you can see if you reciprocate that love."

  "I've never talked to him away from absolutely having to. There was a decade between private conversations. I don't really know how to approach him."

  "He's waited for you forever, honey. His entire life, in fact. I have no earthly idea why you would want to make him keep waiting but he'll wait as long as you need, I imagine." She stood and rubbed her hands together. "In the meantime, we have to finish the final preparations for your thirtieth birthday party." She clapped her hands. "Hey! I know! Let's go look at the hotel ballroom and make the final plans. It's just four days away."

  "I don't know –"

  "Oh come on. How many times are you going to have your thirtieth birthday, anyway? I was doing this without you, but you might want to see what we have planned."

  "Well –"

  "And you can talk to Chef Rupert about your vegan cake. You can probably even convince him to let you sample it."

  Her stomach rolled. With a hand pressing against it, she shook her head. "Uh, might be a little soon for tasting."

  "Of course. You're right. But you can still talk to him about it."

  Sarah pressed her lips together and fought an internal battle that lasted about two seconds. Then she nodded. "Okay. Let me take a shower and get dressed and I'll go with you."

  Maxine clapped her hands. "Wonderful! I'll call Chef Rupert now and reschedule the meeting I'd set up for tomorrow."

  CHAPTER 13

  DERRICK signed the letter in front of him and set it in his OUT box on the corner of his desk for his secretary to mail. As he reached for the next piece of correspondence requiring his attention, his phone beeped. “Mr. DiNunzio? A Detective Wilson and Detective Beaumont are here to see you.”

  With a quick flip through his mind seeking anything hotel related that might have recently warranted two detectives showing up, he looked at the phone quizzically. Nothing immediately came to mind, so he said, “Please send them right in, Andrea.”

  He stood and walked around his desk as his door opened. The first man who walked through the door wore black jeans, a black leather jacket over a white turtleneck, and boots. He had blond hair and a face that looked drawn and tired. Derrick guessed he was maybe fifty. The man held his hand out and smiled a smile that barely showed teeth and did not reach his eyes. “Mr. DiNunzio. I am Jerry Beaumont, Boston PD. This is my partner Nick Wilson.”

  Derrick shook his hand and turned his attention to the younger man who had just entered his office. He was tall, thin, smooth shaven with dark hair and dark eyes. He wore his blue suit well, pairing it off with a white collared shirt and a maroon tie. Derrick knew good fabric and custom tailoring when he saw it, and filtered his mental database, running through all the Wilsons he knew, stopping at Nicholas Henry Wilson, Sr., sailboat mogul. “Junior?”

  Wilson’s lips thinned before he nodded and held out his hand. “Mr. DiNunzio.”

  Something about his eyes tickled Derrick’s memory, but he didn’t take the time to explore it. After shaking his hand, Derrick said, “Please come in.” He gestured to his sitting area. “What can I do for two of Boston’s finest today?”

  He took the armchair while the two detectives took the couch. Beaumont took the lead. “Mr. DiNunzio, we’re here about Gianni Castolli.”

  Derrick felt his insides go cold, but kept the smile firmly on his face. “I’m sorry?”

  Wilson spoke. “I think you heard us.”

  “I did. I just don’t understand. What do you mean?”

  “There was a time when you … worked … for Mr. Castolli, is that correct?”

  Derrick fought the urge to stand and pace. Instead he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands together. “That is correct. While I understand that exemplary wouldn’t actually describe my life all those years ago, I’m certain that nothing I did would warrant two detectives from our fine city’s police force to take time out of what must be a busy day to come talk to me.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” This time, Beaumont showed some teeth. “We’d like to discuss in detail some of those things you might have done.”

  “To what end?”

  “Justice, Mr. DiNunzio.”

  Derrick raised an eyebrow. “While I’d guess that any of my petty activities would be cleared by statutes of limitations at this point, I’m actually quite certain that I don’t have to discuss any activities that took place prior to my eighteenth birthday.”

  Wilson pulled a notebook out of his pocket. “There is no statute of limitations on murder, Mr. DiNunzio.”

  His stomach twisted into a painful knot. “Murder?”

  “Yes.”

  “Whose murder?”

  “We recently discovered the remains of James Castolli. Gianni Castolli’s son.”

  “What?” The word came out on a breath, barely a whisper.

  “He had been missing for ten years. As far as our forensic pathologists can determine, he’s been dead for that long, too.”

  “I don’t understand. Why are you talking to me? I didn’t even know he was missing.”

  Wilson said, “You were the last person to be seen talking to him when he was still alive.”

  Memories started crashing in. Cold. Hunger. Desperation. Hopelessness. Prejudice. Cops always looking his way.

  Derrick closed his eyes and took a deep breath, praying for the memories to be held at bay for just a moment, just long enough to get through this interview. He opened them again and spoke very carefully. “If you will wait for a moment, gentlemen, I’m afraid I need to call my lawyer.”

  Beaumont said, “In my world, innocent people don’t need an attorney, Mr. DiNunzio.”

  “Coming from my old world, Detective Beaumont, no one is really all that innocent, are they?”

  SARAH pulled on the hem of her shirt as she got out of her car. She handed her keys to the valet attendant on duty and walked through the big circular doors into the grand luxury that was the lobby of the Viscolli Hotel, Boston. She couldn’t help but feel pride at Tony for creating this beautiful environment and at Derrick for running it. It wasn’t easy, his job, and she admired what he was able to do.

  She nodded to the desk clerk, someone who had worked there for years and knew Sarah by sight, then went down a hidden corridor behind the front desk and into the administrative section of the hotel. She passed the event coordinator’s office, the assistant manager’s office, the housekeeping manager’s office, and finally came to the end of the corridor. Double doors led into Derrick’s outer office.

  She tugged at her shirt one more time before opening the doors. She stepped in and nodded to the secretary. “Hi Andrea. How are you?”

  “Why, Sarah. What a surprise.”

  In a way, she’d hoped that t
he secretary would jump up and claim that Derrick had been waiting for her to come and that no matter what he was in the middle of, he was to be interrupted whenever Sarah showed up. She was amused at her own flight of fancy and smiled. “Is Derrick in? I’d like to see him.”

  “He is, but in a meeting just this second.”

  The doors behind Sarah slammed open. She jumped and looked behind her, surprised to see Barry storming in. He stopped short when he saw her. “Sarah. What are you doing here?”

  Sarah opened her mouth then shut it, confused by the aggressiveness emanating from the big guy in front of her. “I was just here to see Derrick.”

  He nodded and pulled the vibrating phone out of the front pocket of his suit. “Now’s not a great time.” He read whatever was on his screen, pushed a series of buttons, and then pocketed the phone.

  “I’m not sure I …”

  The doors slammed open again and Tony rushed in. “Have you been in yet?” He directed his attention to Barry and Barry only.

  “I just got here.” Barry gestured at Sarah. Tony looked at her with a harshness in his eyes she didn’t really understand. Sarah started to get a little bit worried about what was going on.

  “Hi,” she said, stepping forward for Tony’s customary cheek kiss and hug. Instead, he gripped her shoulders and looked down at her.

  “Now’s not a good time,” he said, parroting Barry’s words. “Best go on home.”

  “Tony, I…”

  He shook his head once, sharply, silencing anything else she was about to say. He squeezed her shoulders and released her. “Let’s go in,” he said to Barry. He looked back at Sarah. “Go. I’m sure Derrick will call you when he’s free to talk.”