Chapter 2: Forgive Me Father For I Have Sinned...
"You should get those checked out," a female voice commented.
"What?" Devon asked, turning and looking at workout intruder, putting down GCAC's heavy black weights. She wore black sports bra, red sweatpants and athletic sneakers, golden eyes peering at him underneath blunt cut bangs.
"Those look like some deep scratches on your nape and spine," she added, pointing left handed purple dumbbell at noticeable scars, leaning in to inspect closer.
"Oh no, it's nothing," Devon said. He smiled, thinking perhaps he should start wearing t-shirts instead of tank tops. The world didn't need to know Hilary's secret talent as a pleasure releasing backscratcher.
"I'm sorry." She flushed, seeming to read his mind.
"You're the receptionist right? At Jabot?"
"I'm actually an administrative accountant, but yes I work at Jabot. I'm Gwen. You're Devon?"
"Yes. That's right."
She stared at him with timid interest, her flustered cheeks becoming more prominent. Manicured olive skinned hands almost clumsily dropped a dumbbell. He didn't need that to land on him. Anywhere.
"Well, I gotta run," he said, standing up and grabbing his damp white towel. "Nice seeing you!"
He rushed out and showered upstairs. In his private suite's lavish tub, hot, welcoming steam relaxed exerted muscles. Imaginary Hilary came inside, naked and eager, caressing him with calculated mahogany fingers. Alluring flower fragrance invaded nostrils, lulling and seducing him. She knew just where to stroke away palpating ache, a skilled temptress leading stress into sensuous calm. He relived sumptuous gift she gave that morning, awakening succumbing to blissful urgency before a rooster cried out for dawn. And he returned ardent affection, remembering taste of exotic vanilla and sugared honey sap, piquant fulfillment that could uphold a man's gluttonous lips and tongue.
"You almost made me late for work," she had sighed, luxuriously spoiled, spent.
"Do you have to go?" Devon whined, rubbing her smooth shoulders, praying that they could stay in their cocoon of crumpled teal and cream Egyptian cotton sheets. He liked how she looked, belonging, meant to be. Insatiable longing for her refused sating. She remained cemented in his brain, in his heart.
"Yes!" She exclaimed. "I have a mandatory board meeting."
Her voice said one thing. Her poised, fatigued body spoke another, refusing to move. They both looked at cherry wood nightstand clock. 6:49 AM.
"Babe, just when are you going to get ready? You know you take forever."
She had, however, enough energy to slap his bald head with a fluffy beige pillow.
"When my strength returns from the devil!" She screamed, laughing.
He crawled towards his satisfied lover, lying closer to smell and drown.
"Damn board meetings," he uttered against her ear, kissing and tickling bare skin. "And damn Jack Abbott for stealing my girlfriend at eight in the morning!"
"Devon..." She giggled, playing with his hands, playing coy game of wanting him to stop or continue.
"What?"
"I love when you call me your girlfriend."
Teasing humor melted into appeasing ardor. He touched her radiant face then and kissed her mouth, drunk on her unconditional love for him.
He smiled on this adoring reflection, ready to change her status, their status, sooner rather than later.
On the drive, with top down, warm sun shining on his face, Jazzy Jeff and Fresh Prince's "Summertime" blasting speakers, he wished to follow tradition. It would be nice to ask Hilary's father for his daughter's hand in marriage. He treasured Father's Day present she made him, especially poignant photographs captured of them together in the backyard tree tire swing, eyeing each other with connected hands on her belly. He couldn't wait to be a father, couldn't wait to build a family with Hilary. He also spent time with his dad all the while thinking about her and her absent parent. Was he alive? Was he dead? Were their terms terse as he was with Tucker, his own biological father? She obviously had a deep connection to her mother. As for her father...
"Ah, Mr. Hamilton, right on time," greeted salesman in Hugo Boss two button tweed, light blue shirt, and red and black striped tie. Short dark brown hair formed a thick and wavy crown around smooth pale face. He reminded him a little of Nicholas Newman.
"Hello, Mr. Walters, I presume?" Devon asked.
"At your service." Blue green eyes twinkled with delight, delight for a big sale.
Everyone in Genoa City knew Devon Hamilton Winters was a rich heir to Katherine Chancellor's vast fortune. To Devon the real fortune was his future, his future with Hilary and their child, no children.
Sterling silver and thin gold bands glittered with jeweled decadence, each huge rock attempting to outdo the other, catch his wandering eye like gaudy supermodels he used to "date." Yet Hilary a million paces above the rest deserved something far more original, something special. This eternity ring meant to be lodged forever on her elegant finger. She must have a ring no one else would have.
He suddenly dreamed that they would hold a modest wedding at the cottage. Lavender flowers, a small vanilla bean cake, perhaps stuffed with tuna fish. Hilary would walk down carpeted aisle with flowers in her hair, Parisian white lace draping around her body, her protruding belly enlarged with his child. Yet he grew disheartened. He wanted Neil for his best man, but Hilary still had doubts about his father despite reassurances. He wanted Charlie and Maddie as ringbearer and flower girl respectively. Lily would forbid his nephew and niece having a role in one of the happiest upcoming days of his life. If only he could his sister understand...
"Do you have anything in mind?" Mr. Walters asked, invading Devon's inner turmoil. "We have some rare unearthed rubies just shipped in from Italy."
"Hmmmmmmm..."
In his mind's eye, he could draw an intricate design, have sophisticated diamond notes play sweet synchronized melodies. His thoughts swayed to old hands tapping cold ivory piano keys which then warmed into soft, dewy skin of a goddess, queen of his heart. Instead of tapping old beloved musical instrument, caressing body took place, gentle, beguiling caressing that made them both release contented sighs. And that compelled reasoning. He wanted an engagement ring that awed her into infinity.
"Who are you trying to marry?"
Devon turned at the sound of familiar disgruntled voice.
"Mason? What the hell are you doing here?"
Mason leaned his tall, lanky body against door frame, smug and arrogant as ever. He dressed casual- navy blue polo shirt and pressed khakis. Hair cut short and face shaven clean almost made him look brand spanking new.
"I would ask you the same thing and all, but I know billionaires come through this joint like clockwork," he said, snapping his fingers for emphasis.
"Shouldn't you be in jail? In prison for stealing my identity!" Devon blasted.
"I got off on a technicality," Mason snarled, coming inside the jewelry store, eyeing expensive items he couldn't possibly afford.
He came close to Devon and brushed the lapels of Devon's gray Armani jacket.
"Better watch out Pretty Boy. One day I will pay you back for humiliating me. Don't think I will let you get away with that punch."
"There's more where that came from," Devon snapped, pushing back Mason's hands in disdain.
Mason laughed and shook his head.
"As much as a beat down sounds, I think getting you where it hurts the most." He smiled with brute cockiness. "That will be far more amusing to me."
He left.
Devon rolled his eyes and went right back to business.
"I apologize about the scene, Mr. Walters."
"Yes... right."
"Now where were we?"
/
"I want Hilary and Neil to fly to Los Angeles to pitch this new ad campaign this Friday," Jack announced at the board meeting.
"Neil and me?" Hilary gasped, shocked, almost dropping the everything bagel she was busily spreading whipped cream cheese on. Her gaze swung over to Neil. He was smirking, pleased and winking.
"Yes," Jack continued. "The fashion show was a great success thanks to Ashley and Chelsea. But I think you and Neil make a great team too. I think you two have what it takes to wow the Foresters with Ashley's new cosmetics line meant to coordinate with Chelsea's beautiful clothes."
"But Jack, I-"
"No buts."
She gritted and gnashed teeth together, brainstorming ways to get out of a weekend with her boyfriend's father.
Minute meeting adjourned, Hilary stayed back, needing to speak to her boss alone.
"If Chelsea and Ashley could fly back in February, why can't they now?" She asked.
"Ashley is tied up right now and Chelsea is ... well it's complicated."
"Jack, I don't think this is good for the baby. The risks of traveling..." She tried personal situation approach.
"I have that covered," he said, refusing to be strong armed. "Gillian is flying with you to and fro."
"Wow. I've never... Jack, are you sure? I mean..."
"You've gone aboard and beyond for me, Hilary. At least let me do the same for you in return. I know that together you and Neil will blow Forester Creations away."
"I'm glad that you have such high confidence in me."
"Of course. You wouldn't believe how much faith Neil has in you, Hilary. I think he profoundly appreciates you sometimes more than I do."
"Is that a fact?"
"Yes. He just happened to come up with a genius idea that might put a real smile on your face."
She smiled as he walked out. That smile quickly turned into frowning.
"Neil, I know you arranged this," Hilary groaned, barging inside his office.
"I think this is a remarkable opportunity for you, especially with your talents." From his black swivel chair, his gaze swept down her body, inciting nausea.
"I'm in a relationship, Neil." She slammed his door and folded her arms across her chest.
"I know that, Hilary." He stood and came from around his desk, nearing her personal space, dropping his lips near her ear, whispering, "I'm in one of my own, a secret just like yours."
She slit her eyes, hoping that for once he read message loud and clear. Her lips curved in a sly manner.
"Well, I guess this weekend is just me and you... and Gillian."
"Gillian," Neil growled, letting his seething show. "Who's Gillian?"
She turned on her heel and made for the door.
"I see your ex is back in town."
She looked back at Neil, who still looked like he held a full deck.
"What? Who? Mason?"
The news daunted Hilary. Mason? The same Mason gave her everything she needed to know about a family she almost destroyed? What was he doing back in Genoa City? Evening out a score?
Much later, she and Gwen had lunch at Crimson Lights. She hoped food would soothe uncomfortable dilemma. Mason could cause trouble for her and Devon. A lot of trouble.
"What do you think about Chelsea's latest designs?" Gwen asked, sipping iced caramel latte with soy milk hold the whipped cream. "Any chance you'll be catwalking again?"
The fall show was in another few months. By then, Hilary would blow up to epic proportions. She hugged yellow cotton cardigan over expansive olive green dress, imagining how she would tell co-workers she was pregnant by her secret boyfriend.
"Probably not," Hilary replied.
"I wouldn't mind doing it."
She admired Gwen's small, narrow form, hugged by a pink floral dress. No belly. No stress.
"I'm sure Chelsea or Jack would let you model."
Hilary's mind wasn't on boosting Gwen's ego. She flashbacked to London. Horrors came bubbling up, rising. Mason...
"That Devon is something," Gwen admitted.
"What?" Hilary snapped to immediate reality. She quickly set her fork down, realizing that it aimed at Gwen's delicate neck.
"He is handsome and kind. Always smiles at me when he pops by to see his father."
"Yes and?"
"That's it. He has the best smile in the whole universe."
"Yes. He does."
"I saw him at the gym this morning. I think he's in a relationship or at least getting laid."
Hilary almost choked.
"What makes you think that?" She reached for water.
"The love scratches on his back. He must be with a wild hellcat or something. Looked like he came straight from the jungle."
Gwen laughed.
Hilary's brows rose, scandalized and insulted. She fought between blushing and fury. Devon was hers. He didn't mind nails raking his back, digging into strong, hardened flesh. After all, she arrived to work exactly at eight, instead of usual fifteen minutes early, thanks to his wicked ministrations. He deserved her claws. With him knowing her body inside and out, she couldn't control inner lioness assault, taking charge. He caused such tumultuous eruption and payback was a hot bitch.
"You know Gwen, Thomas in marketing likes you."
"He does?"
"How can you not know?"
"Are you trying to keep me from Devon?"
"Huh? Why would you ask me that?"
"You quickly change the subject and your face gets all weird. Are you interested in Neil Winters' billionaire son for yourself?"
"Gwen."
"Word around the office is that you're in a secret relationship anyway."
"So? It's none of anyone's business."
"Well, if you are interested in Devon, I don't think you could. Not after what you did to his family."
"Excuse me?" Hilary slammed used napkin onto finished lunch. One would have thought armored fisticuffs were being displayed.
How did this seemingly nice girl even know Hilary's history with the Winters?
"Look I'm not trying to stir the pot. Devon is a nice guy and all, but he's way out of your league."
They both rose and headed outside to Gwen's red Mazda.
Hilary smiled tightly, wanting to throw her relationship in Gwen's taut face then and there. Miss Moffet had no idea who sat on her strumpet. For Hilary held more venom than a spider.
/
"Neil, I don't think Hilary is the right person," Jack disagreed on Neil's calculated proposition. "She's kind of at a crossroads in her personal life."
"I want her," Neil growled. "She is perfect. You've seen her in meetings. She's brilliant. Smart, beautiful, articulate."
"Yes. She is all those things. I recall your recommendation."
"Let her sell Ashley's makeup. In fact, let her model the line."
"Neil..."
"I'm serious Jack. We should not only pitch this great natural, organic line, we should promote diversity and Hilary's face can be our goldmine. Think about all minorities buying us up."
"Well now. That's a good point."
"Yes."
Jack nodded and slapped Neil on the back, commending his idea. Neil smirked. A weekend with Hilary and the baby problem would be gone.
As for Mason Wilder...
Easy to pay off the sleazebag. All sleazebags wanted money and would sell their demented souls for it. Part one in a quick, expensive scheme, the hungry leech set free to jeopardize puppy love.
"And the worm takes the bait," he said, smiling and raising glass of orange juice to the air.
Neil paid guards, paid dirty scum to get Mason free. He couldn't get the bastard out of probation, but probation was better than jail. Now Mason was set up with a fat bank account and living in a nice hotel- not GCAC, but posh enough to satisfy greed. It came with a hefty price tag.
"I got some serious dirt, Boss," Mason revealed on a burner.
"Spill it," Neil said, eyeing Hilary typing away. He chewed his pen, staring and staring...
"I spied your money bag son buying an engagement ring."
"What?" Neil almost dropped Los Angeles layout he had mapped out in concrete detail.
Marriage! No!
Neil's eyes were tired of sipping them parade around in their home, unprepared for their world to crash. He was thirsty. Bloodthirsty. More than ready to help Hilary pick up the pieces once his son was good and gone. Neil was ready now. The baby plus a wedding would not happen. Not if he had the power to stop it all.
"On for lunch?" Devon asked, knocking on opened door.
"Sure Son, let me sign off on the rest of these papers and off we can go." On his phone, he whispered, "thanks" and smacked it shut.
He and Devon walked towards the elevators. Unfortunately, they physically bumped into returning Hilary and Gwen.
"Excuse me," Devon said, brushing Hilary's hand, touching her mid section longer than necessary.
"Sorry about that," Hilary sighed, breath panty and annoying.
Neil wanted to vomit, shooting daggers into them, biting his inner jaw flesh to keep from lashing out.
"Hilary," Devon greeted.
"Devon hi..." Hilary smiled, pretending to be shy and hesitant.
"Neil," Neil almost said aloud, angered by sudden invisibility.
Hilary took her glued eyes off Devon and gestured towards companion. "You know Gwen right?"
"Yes," he said, shaking Gwen's hand. "Saw you earlier at the gym."
"Nice bumping into you again," Gwen said, flashing a flirtatious smile.
Hilary stared. Neil then had reason to smile, sensing jealousy crackling in the air. Maybe the goofy grinning accountant could be of use. After all, her little crush on his son seemed like great distraction.
"Is the relationship getting serious?" Neil asked, sitting on GCAC's sophisticated leather seats.
"Well, yes," Devon said, joining him. "In fact..."
"Wow." Neil stared at huge, likely overpriced engagement ring, wishing to throw it on the ground and crush it with his black loafer heels. "Just wow."
"I know right? I never thought I would be ready to settle down."
"How can you be? You haven't properly introduced her to the family yet."
"Well... it's just. We're private."
"But don't you think you should fill us in on her, Son? I think this may be rushing things a bit. Six months and marriage?"
"Dad, what we feel for each other is real. Unlike anything I ever experienced."
"Unlike Roxanne?"
"That was different. We shared something special, but what I have with... this is just beautiful, Dad. I'm in love with her."
"Who is this mystery woman? Invite her to dinner with the family before you pop the question."
"Dad..."
"Devon, I insist."
Neil unfolded his napkin, waving at Lily to come over. She just came in dressed in sparkling white sleeveless dress and cherry red high heels.
"Well, look here, Son. There's your sister. Let's share our plans to meet your mystery lady, shall we?"
He loved the uneasy look crossing Devon's face.
/
"What's for dinner?" Devon asked.
"What do I look like Avery Summers or something?" Hilary joked.
Devon laughed. Of course, Hilary could cook, sharing recipes handed down from her maternal family's side.
"I was thinking of this nice little Italian bistro on Tribeca Street." Devon took Hilary's hands. "I think it is the perfect place."
"Really?" Hilary wasn't too keen. A nice romantic restaurant to shatter his world. Devon could survive the weekend without her. Traveling with Neil to Los Angeles almost riled her despite Dr. Gillian coming along. She liked being a behind the scenes guru, still desiring to upstart Hilary Curtis PR Firm. Yet fronting Jabot's latest line tantalized a long buried little girl dream, not withering since walking February's catwalk for the first time.
"Yes," Devon said. "I'm so excited. Aren't you?"
He had a gleam in his eye, a pep in his step.
"Oh, by the way, guess who I saw today?"
"I already know you saw Gwen this morning. At the gym. I bet she was wearing tight clothes, showing off her thin figure."
"Hilary..." He massaged her hands. She closed her eyes, feeling it. "You're the only woman for me. The only one."
"Are you sure? Speak now or hold your peace. I will be a blimp soon."
"You will be the most beautiful pregnant woman on the planet. You're glowing more and more each day. Sometimes it hurts to look at you."
"Okay. Enough prose, Romeo or I will swoon before we eat. And I'm eating for two."
He laughed and shook his head.
"Well, what I meant to say earlier is that I saw Mason."
"Mason?" Hilary broke away and turned her back, shaking. "Where did you see him?"
"At the club."
"Did he... did he say anything to you?"
Devon came close, touching her shoulders, massaging them.
"No. What is it, Baby?"
The doorbell rang.
"Expecting company?" She asked, raising a brow. Apprehension wrapped and cloaked around her, making Devon's comforting touch dissolve. She couldn't feel him anymore. Fear took over, great and frightening, forming a huge barrier.
"No," Devon said, staring at the door. "You?"
She shook her head.
"Do you mind getting it? It's probably a package or something. Let me get the keys and we can head out."
Bell rang again. Intrusive. Rude.
There it came to Hilary. Dread. Strange, inhibited dread crawling up sensitive spine, giving her and Peanut simultaneous heebie jeebies.
"What is it?" He asked, worried and concerned, embracing her. She seemed to have seen a ghost.
"Nothing," she sighed, kissing his lips and breaking free from his strong arms. "Go get the keys and I will get the door."
"Hey! Don't boss me around. Peanut might get ideas."
She laughed, watching him leave.
Core logic shook.
She swallowed, expecting to see Mason behind the door, waiting to blackmail.
Instead someone else stood on the welcome mat, his black-brown doe eyes staring through threshold. His black-brown doe eyes similar to her own.
"Daddy?" She placed quivering hand over her mouth, tears forming and clouding vision, blurring figure, as the gushing wetness cascaded down cheeks and dripped off chin.
"Hello, Ann. Are you going to invite me in?"