APRIL IN ROME
Chapter Eleven

"Sweetheart, you were marvelous. I’m so proud," Don Hockley’s chest was stuck out like a preening rooster as he and Fabrizio joined Rose backstage after her performance.

"Yes, Rosa, you were magnifico!" Fabrizio boastingly added.

Rose’s insides were quivering more now, after the fact, than when she was actually singing on stage. However, she eerily sensed it was more than just the excitement or exhilaration—it was that elusive feeling she had once had many nights ago at an opera in Rome. Then, she had been in someone else’s "spotlight". She felt it now with an overwhelming certainty. As a matter of fact, it had actually started before she had even taken the stage. While sitting in the audience between her father and cousin, she had the tingling sensation of being visually caressed. She involuntarily shuddered at the ridiculous notion. Pregnancy was not only making her change physically, but also emotionally!

"Rose, I have to go to the press room for pictures and a short interview. You and Fabri wait here and we’ll have a late dinner as soon as I’m finished," Don suggested.

A short time later, Fabrizio and Rose were engaged in idle chitchat, leisurely strolling down the back hallway when she heard it.

"Rose…wait! I’ve got to talk to you."

Rose’s head snapped up and she whirled around in slack-jawed astonishment. Her huge emerald eyes stared at him wondering if he was real or merely the ghost of her heart’s desire. She couldn’t manage to swallow the thickness that had instantly risen into her throat. She turned aside, blinking against the sudden blurring of her vision. After a pulse stopping moment with her heart violently thudding against her ribs, she barely regained a semblance of her dubious composure to respond shaking her head from side to side with a panic-stricken voice.

"No, Jack. I can’t do this."

Jack would not take no for an answer. She was going to hear him out. There were no acceptable alternatives. He had to see her, talk to her, hear her, touch her!

"Excuse us," Jack somberly apologized to an equally stunned Fabrizio as he grasped her delicate wrist to pull her with him so they could have some much needed privacy. Yet, Rose stubbornly tried to shake lose.

"No, Jack. This is impossible. Wait, Jack, NO!"

Not letting her go, Jack pierced her heart with pleading shards of blue, "Why not? You love me, not him."

Jack’s words never fully registered in Rose’s scrambled brain. Yes, she did love Jack but he loved another.

"You don’t understand, but please let me alone. It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?" Rose’s voice was quivering with both nervousness and excitement at seeing him again. Inwardly she prayed, please let it matter!

"I won’t let you go with him."

Interlocking hungry gazes with his soulmate, Jack couldn’t restrain his heart’s urgent need another second. He gently pressed her against the wall and greedily devoured her with his mouth. His virile masculine frame sealed her petite frame to the wall. He had forgotten how well she fit his body—her incredible softness, her sweet smell, her delicious taste. All doubts and suspicions were completely thrown to the wind. They were in Rome again and she was his—he was hers. His rasping breath inhaled her through his flared nostrils. His voracious tongue made love to her mouth as never before. And Rose never resisted. She welcomed him back to where he belonged—inside her mouth—inside her heart.

Their blood turned to molten fire and pumped long repressed desire into their love-starved bodies. Her arms pulled him closer and he heavily leaned against her. His physical strength held her prisoner and she reveled in it. He inclined toward her until they were touching full length, breast to knees.

Their mouths mated, slanted, stroked and probed while their senses reeled out of control. They needed each other and desperately clung to that need. They couldn’t get enough of each other. It had been too long for neither could communicate with words right then—just their bodies. Their hands held each other tightly—never wanting to let go. Both were moaning deep in their throats and tears of relief stung their closed eyelids. My God, finally the elusive treasured moment of their long sought after reunion.

"Get the hell away from her!"

The harsh, chilling voice of Don Hockley dripping in rancor forced their mouths apart. Jack was too full of rage and jealousy to comprehend the full magnitude of the dangerous situation. Rose felt the muscles in his back stiffen and grow taut. His hand on her shoulder had instantly stilled, then clenched into a hard fist. She watched the muscle in his jaw line tighten and quiver in barely suppressed fury. She could hardly believe the hate and hardness she read in the white-hot glint of his icy blue eyes.

She cringed and her face paled visibly. Rose twisted away from him and cautiously backed away studying the two people that she loved most in the world who were locked in cold, mortal combat before her. Tears glittered in her frightened jade eyes and a trembling hand reached for her bruised lips.

"Is he the one, Rose?" Don heatedly fumed.

Not attempting to lie, Rose weakly admitted, "Yes, but…"

"Get out of here now. Take her to the car, Fabrizio! There’s only one thing that’s keeping me from killing him right now and you know what that is!" Don gravely thundered.

Yes, Rose knew exactly what that reason was—her baby! Because despite how overly protective her father might be, Don Hockley would not take the life of his grandchild’s father. And she knew without a doubt, if she were not pregnant, any other consequences that her father might have to pay if he did harm Jack-- would be damned.

Seeking to defuse the volatile situation and vicious temper of her father, Rose pleadingly implored, "Please don’t, D--"

Tragically, Jack never let her finish. He was so enraged and jealous of Hockley’s apparent power and possession over Rose, he quaked, "Who the hell do you think you are, old man? She’s not a slave you can command!"

"Like hell I can’t! Rose belongs to me…not you! Furthermore, and who I am? Well, I’m the man who’ll murder you with my own bare hands if I ever see you near her again. She’s mine to protect and I keep what’s mine by law!" Don’s hand was tightly clenched and his light green eyes shot poison arrows at the young man who he was convinced had ruined his precious daughter’s life.

In a hurt and wounded breath, Jack had to know.

"Rose, do you love this man?"

"Of course. He’s my…"

"That’s enough Rose! Not one more word. If you value his life in the least bit, get out of here…NOW!" Don icily warned.

Surmising her father was about to explode and the dire consequences that would bring forth, Rose took one last poignant, longing glimpse at her soulmate and ran unseeing, sobbing hysterically down the hall.

Jack’s hand clenched tighter and his heart turned to stone. So, Rose did love Hockley. Feeling the ultimate betrayal and thoroughly disgusted, Jack’s eyes turned to blue sparks of fire. Lashing out, he had to fight back and reap a bit of lasting revenge for his own pride’s sake. Laughing caustically, he cruelly taunted Don, "She may be yours now, but for April in Rome, she was mine. All mine! Ask Rose who taught her first how to love. Because I’m the one that taught her passion and that’s something you can never claim—old man!"

Stunned and grossly reviled by Jack’s boisterous stinging taunts, Don stammered, "You arrogant, ignorant filth, I’ll…"

Jack stabbed further with retaliation and selfishly bragged, "Think about it, Pops! I brought Rose to womanhood; I was her first, and second, and third, well you get the picture…not you!"

Don Hockley’s insides sickened. Aghast at the audacious filth that was coming out of his opponent’s mouth, Don began to realize what Jack was actually thinking—that he, Don Hockley, was his own daughter’s husband? Grinning wickedly, he coldly laughed a horrible evil sound. He decided right then to lead Jack down the path he so wrongfully had chosen to trod. To disarm and to humiliate the cocky young man’s pride, he coldly insinuated, "Maybe so, but she will always be mine, no matter what. You heard it from her own lips. She loves me and always has…Can you say the same, Dawson?"

"No, not in Rome she didn’t!" Jack hotly denied.

"Oh yes even in Rome! Always! You see, Dawson…Rose and I share a true bond that you could never break. But mark my words, gutter rat! If you even attempt to contact Rose again in any way, I will kill you next time," Don menacingly warned.

"Is that a threat, Hockley?"

"No, my undying promise."

At that moment, Helga Maguire and Gabrielle Astor approached the hate charged scene. Gabrielle instantly locked adoring glances with a shocked Fabrizio.

"What’s going on here?"

"Who’s this?" Don knew he had seen the taller brunette somewhere before but was currently too livid with rage to recall the exact moment in time.

Looking deeper into Fabrizio’s awkward countenance, Gabrielle softly mewed, "I’m his fiancee!"

Fabri raised a questioning brow at her audacious remark, which was directed solely at him—Fabrizio Antonio DiStefano! Never in his wildest imaginings had he ever thought a woman would boldly propose to him! Nonetheless, he found it quite amusing and tempting…

However, both Jack and Don were so incensed and full of fury, they never realized Gabrielle’s dubious admission was not aimed at either. On one hand, Jack never heard the comment for he hardly ever paid her the least bit of attention any more. On the other hand, Don unfortunately did and mistakenly assumed Gabrielle was referring to Dawson.

With an incredulous expression of revulsion and hatred marring his face, Don thunderously accused, "You are a sick unimaginable bastard!" Turning on his heel before he throttled the man, Don stalked away in search of Rose, throwing back over his shoulder, "Let’s go, Fabrizio!"

Shaking his head in complete astonishment at the current course of events, Fabrizio announced, "I’ll be leaving tomorrow for Rome on a noon flight…see you there, Gabrielle!"

Yet, halting for an intense instant, he ruefully eyed Jack with an odd mixture of both contempt and sympathy and murmured, "You have no idea what you just lost—no idea!"

As Fabrizio turned the corner, the silence grew deafening.

Helga couldn’t hold her tongue a moment more.

"What about Rome?"

"Never mind, just a little indiscretion that involved a mutual acquaintance of ours…it was nothing," Jack uttered in defeat.

Gabrielle snidely added, "Well, I’m going back to Rome to get married to that mutual acquaintance’s handsome and rich cousin. Perhaps, I’ll send you all invitations."

"You do that…I hope you get what you deserve!" Jack coldly warned and left them all behind staring.

"Jack, where are you going?" Tommy sincerely implored becoming more afraid by the second for his best friend’s well being. The night had not turned out as he had hopefully expected by a long shot.

"New York City…to overindulge and purge!"

Late that night, Helga was gingerly massaging her husband’s knotted tense neck. A million conflicting emotions were racing through her muddled and perplexed head. Her fingers stopped their soothing ministrations and Tommy raised a wondering brow.

"Tommy, tell me about Jack and Rose. Everything you know."

Tommy had never taken his wife into his confidence about Jack and his unsuccessful search attempt for Rose. Thinking for a second, he helplessly shrugged and recounted Jack’s sad tale of lost love. Until finally, "So there you are…and to think she’s actually my idol’s wife now instead of my best friend’s. Uncanny, isn’t it?" Tommy ruefully commented.

"To say the least!" Biting her lip with a furrowed brow, Helga continued skeptically, "I don’t know, Tommy. Something is amiss here. I just don’t believe they’re married."

"Why else is she Rose Hockley now? In April, she was Rose DiStefano. Besides, if you saw the black rage that overcame Hockley when he found Jack and Rose together, then you’d have no doubt in that lovely blond head of yours, wife!"

"Still…I don’t think she lied to me, Tommy." Helga doubtfully suggested.

"Listen, Hockley said as much. Don said Rose was his…Besides, even Rose said herself that she loved the man. So…read between the lines, Baby and just forget it. Jack will be all right. Knowing him, he’ll be jumping from one hotel bed to the next "purging" himself as he so nicely put it tonight. So let’s you and I do a little mattress dancing ourselves, shall we?"

Ignoring his last comment, Helga curiously probed, "You don’t understand the whole picture, Tommy… Is Emma Dawson’s office still in Jack’s building in LA?"

"Yeah, but why?"

"Oh nothing. Come on and let’s finish that massage in our own room. I think I have a few kinks myself to be worked on," she softly murmured.

The next week in Los Angeles

"Helga! It’s been so long. And to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" A middle-aged attractive blond woman greeted a very hesitant and quite nervous Helga Maguire.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she jumped right down to the urgent business at hand. Emma Dawson was not merely a mother but Jack’s greatest influence and support in the world. She would know what was best in this difficult situation but first, Emma had to know—everything!

"Mrs. Dawson, I’m afraid I’ve come to gossip or bearing tales of woe, so to speak. But I had to talk with you. You’re so important and play such an integral part in his life." Helga rushed in.

"You mean, Jack, of course. I don’t know if I want to hear this because I know something has been going on lately. Ever since he got back from Rome he hasn’t been himself. Downright withdrawn, moody and melancholy. Does this have to do with that?"

At Helga’s nod, she prompted, "Well go on and lay it all on the table."

And she did. Everything she was privy to, including the Award Ceremony that happened the week before with Jack and Rose’s catastrophic "reunion".

Afterward, Emma wearily stood and walked to the window with a deep contemplative visage before she finally responded.

"And she married Don Hockley? Does Jack know she’s pregnant?"

"No, I never told him nor Tommy for that matter about her condition. I’m not even sure whose baby it is under the circumstances. But, I generally see people and I just have a nagging feeling that Don Hockley is not the father here, Mrs. Dawson. I don’t believe and don’t ask me why, that she’s really even married to him. Oh Tommy and Jack believe the evidence points to that fact but…I’m not convinced. Rose just seemed so genuine and honest when I met her. She doesn’t strike me as a liar and I can’t see her marrying a much older man to save honor. After all, this is the 21st century! And besides, I never saw a wedding ring on her finger. The guys never noticed that small detail but we’re women. We are a little more cognizant of certain things…you know? I never took store in fate or destiny before but can you imagine the odds of me running into Rose in a shop in Beverly Hills and her actually the one responsible for giving us the tickets for that tragic reunion?"

At that last remark, Emma’s brow crinkled and she emitted an irrepressible sigh. Rubbing her suddenly tired and worried eyes, she responded, "Thank you, Helga. I’m glad you told me this. I’ll find out for sure. You can bet your life on that!"

Immediately following Helga’s departure, Emma paged her personal administrative assistance and authoritatively directed, "Madeline, find out Don Hockley’s publicist for me right away and get them on the phone."

She sat back in her office chair and let her mind meticulously plan her next course of action. Her poor son…had he been used in some sordid little sick game? Was he to become a father and not even told? And if so, was another man to raise Jack’s child—her grandchild—as his own? And did Jack once love this girl or maybe even still?

Something innate was pulling her towards an unforeseeable destiny. She felt it with all her being—this magnetic impulse was calling her to Rose before she could speak with her son. She didn’t understand it, but Emma decided then she would follow that path and see where it led.

"Mrs. Dawson, Mr. John Calvert is on the line as per your request."

Lifting the receiver, Emma began in her most pleasant, business-like manner, "Mr. Calvert…Emma Dawson here. I have a business proposition for you. It is imperative that I reach Don Hockley immediately. I need his physical address in Texas."

"Yes, you know I despise the press and would never divulge such a strict confidence to anyone. Yes, I realize he guards his family’s privacy above everything, as he should, but this is extremely urgent or I wouldn’t be asking." Pausing for effect, she continued, "I’ll tell you what, Mr. Calvert, if his whereabouts leaks out, which I can positively assure you that it won’t, I’ll hire you to represent my son, Jack. Now, how’s that for a bargain?"

Letting her seriousness slip, she wryly laughed and picked up a nearby pen.

"I keep my promises, Mr. Calvert and thank you. If you ever need a favor, I owe you!"

Finally, after more prompting, "Out of the town of Jefferson in Marion County—far eastern Texas on Rosedale Plantation. Yes, I heard he was retiring; good for him! And thanks again, Mr. Calvert."

Taking a deep breath, Emma finished one last course of business before leaving for the day.

"Madeline, book me on the first flight out Friday morning as close to Jefferson, Texas as possible. Have a rental car standing by and reserve a room in Jefferson for Friday night. Oh and by the way, if my son should ask where I’ve gone…don’t tell him, understand? It’s a surprise!"

Staring at the ceiling, Emma Dawson closed her suddenly exhausted ocean blue eyes that were so much like those of her only child’s. Silently offering up a prayer, she pleaded for the discovery of truth and a peaceful solution for all in this web so intricately woven.

Chapter Twelve
Stories