Chapter Four

Aurora laid her head on her mother’s lap and let the tears come. Her mother had been so calm. Even when she’d explained that she was pregnant, Cedalie LeMonde had opened her arms to her daughter, stroking her hair and holding her tight.

“Ça bon, piti,” Cedalie had said over and over in her native Creole tongue. It’s alright, child. It’s alright.

“You’re going to be fine,” Cedalie said again, working her fingers through Aurora’s hair. “I raised you alone and look how well you turned out. And you have so much more than I did.”

Aurora turned to look up at her beautiful mother. Beauty ran deep in their family. Even at 50, her mother could have passed for late 30s. She had the same gold skin as Aurora, but her eyes were blue and her features less sharp than her daughter’s. Even more than her mother’s beauty, however, Aurora hope she’d inherited her strength.

Her mother had been the next best thing to homeless when she’d given birth to Aurora. Knocked up and broke, no clue who the father was and selling fortunes on a street corner in New Orleans. And after Aurora had been born, Cedalie’s rise from the ashes hadn’t exactly been meteoric. They’d scraped and scrounged for every penny, every bite of bread. It had been exactly what had encouraged Aurora toward school, school, and more school. Thankfully, she’d convinced her mother to move to Los Angeles with her so that she could keep an eye on her while she was in business school.

Apparently, she should have had her mother keeping a closer eye on her.

As if reading her thoughts, her mother cupped her chin and lifted her face so their eyes locked. “You have a job and money and a place to live, Aurora. That’s already so much more than you and I started out with. This child is lucky to have a mama like you.”

“But what about a papa for my baby?” Aurora cried.

“Eh,” Cedalie waved her many-ringed hand through the air. “Who needs that? A man will just complicate the energy in the household.”

Cedalie was old school Louisiana Creole. Not voodoo exactly, but she subscribed to a very different school of thought than the average American. Aurora had long ago accepted her mother’s view of the world. One filled with auras and energies and spirits. In some cases, her mother had proved to be damn close to psychic. Whatever that meant.

Aurora had inherited some “vision,” her razor sharp intuition a huge part of the reason she’d done so well in the business world. But for the most part, she kept the mystical side of herself confined to moments when she was with her mother.

“I’m not worried about raising the baby without a papa. I’m worried about raising it with one.”

“What’s that, child?”

“The father of the baby. He’s…” Aurora trailed off, totally unsure what she even meant to say. “Not the man I love.” Even as she said the words, however, she was surprised that when she tried to think of Gio, Dante’s visage remained strong. Almost as if it refused to be pushed aside to let another man inside her head.

Or her heart.

“Hmm.” Cedalie eyed Aurora shrewdly and stroked one finger over her daughter’s eyebrows. “Tell me about the father, then.”

“His name is Dante. He’s huge. Takes up every room he’s ever in.”

“He’s loud?”

“No. No, not at all. He’s just the kind of guy that people pay attention to. He’s always looking for the joke. But he’s smart. A good businessman. He’s not like us, Mama.”

“In what way?”

“He’s rich. Very rich. And he’s used to people doing everything and anything he tells them to. He’s very bossy.” Aurora blushed and turned away from her mother.

“Would he be a good father?”

“I have absolutely no idea. He has a million women in the bull pen at all times. He’s a total player. Been after me for years and one night I just…”

“You just needed to be loved.”

Aurora sat up then. “No. No, that’s not it at all. I just needed passion.”

“And you sure got it, child.” Cedalie stood and poured out a cup of the tea that was steeping in a kettle on the kitchen table. She brought it over to Aurora. “That much is clear just from the look on your face.”

Aurora blushed further. There was no use lying to her mother, who would know she was lying anyways. “Well. Yes. He’s very passionate. Oh god, Mama this is awful, what is in this tea?”

“It’s for good fortune. For you and for the baby. Drink up. Passion is a good quality in a partner.”

Aurora released a mirthless laugh. “He’s never in a million years going to be my partner.”