A New Year's Surprise Read online

  “‘Tis the Season to be jolly” her ass! What was so jolly about finding out that your college sweetheart turned husband of three years and father of your six month old is a low-down, dirty cheater? So jolly? No. Pissed? Yes. Heartbroken? Absolutely. Looking for answers? Most definitely. With her two best friends at her side, and a whole lot of righteous anger, Catherine “Kat” Rochester confronts her husband and his mistress on New Year’s Eve.

  A New Year’s Surprise

  By

  Violette Dubrinsky

  A New Year’s Surprise

  Copyright © 2013 by Violette Dubrinsky.

  All rights reserved. The illegal distribution of this book by any entity (individual, corporation or robot) will be deemed fraudulent.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/)

  Editor: Legacy Editing (Sonya Mott Young)

  Cover Artist: Mina Carter

  Interior book design: Bob Houston eBook Formatting

  Any resemblance of characters to people, living or deceased is unintentional. All trademarks herein are the property of their respective owners and used only for the sake of creating a believable work of fiction.

  Acknowledgment

  I am such a big fan of Christmas and New Year’s that I wanted

  to create something that would take you through various emotions

  for the Holiday season.

  Hence, A New Year’s Surprise was born.

  This story was originally published on TST as a free read.

  Dedication

  To my fans.

  You inspire me to continue writing.

  HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

  Chapter 1

  Long Island, New York

  New Years Eve

  “I told you the motherfucker was cheating!”

  Zaire White’s voice was like a cold dash of water over Kat’s already chilled body. The “motherfucker” in question was Damien Rochester, Kat’s college sweetheart turned husband of three years, the father of her six month old, and the only man, outside of family, she’d ever loved. He’d also just left his new and quite identifiable, metallic gray Jaguar XF in the parking lot and headed into an apartment complex sans briefcase. For a few seconds, he’d paused at the double doors and looked around in a manner Kat found suspicious, before pushing the door in and disappearing from her sight.

  Stunned, she continued to watch the empty space her husband had vacated. Kat and Damien had gone through their eight year relationship happy and with hardly a fight, but the last half of the year had been strained. The birth of Sophia Nicole Rochester had been a precious event, with Kat bawling when she’d first laid eyes on the seven pound, blue-eyed angel who’d stolen her heart. Damien, too, who rarely wore his emotions on his sleeve, had teared up as he looked down at the new addition to their family. What followed, however, had put a significant damper on their relationship.

  As first time parents, Kat and Damien had been so nervous about doing right by their baby girl that they’d allowed their parents, mainly Sophia’s grandmothers, reign on teaching them how to raise her. Like ancient dust in a mummy’s coffin, old family wounds had been stirred and before long, bad blood surfaced. Kat had thought that years and the birth of a grandchild would have cooled the dislike the two matriarchs had for each other. It hadn’t. The last straw had been watching the two throw veiled insults at each other over everything from race to parenting skills, or a lack thereof. By the time Kat and Damien sent the overbearing matriarchs back to their respective dens, there was a dent in the relationship.

  That was the reason why Kat was sitting in Zaire’s new car, in the parking lot of a high rise apartment complex, hoping her best friend was wrong.

  “Just because he went into some apartment complex, doesn’t mean he’s cheating!” Those semi-reassuring words came from the backseat, where Curtis “Princess” Rivera sat. Princess had been her friend since college, when she and Damien had gone to a frat party at a local club and found him being harassed by a group of jocks. The obnoxious jackasses hadn’t been thrilled about Princess being out, proud, and so hot in that J.Lo. mixed with Nicole Scherzinger way they hadn’t known he was a guy until he threw it in their faces. Damien and his best friend, Gavin Locke, had stepped in and between the two of them, they’d broken a few tables and chairs and a few jocks over them. Since then, Princess had been half in love with Damien and Gavin, and completely biased in their favor.

  “Damn, Z! I swear, you’re just bitter at all men after that Gavin episode you instigated. If a man so much as looks at a girl, he’s cheating. Never mind they’ve never met, or he’s gay, or maybe his ass is cross-eyed like a mofo! Cheating! That’s the first thing your fucked up mind goes to.”

  Whipping around so fast her long braids fell around her neck and face and giving Princess all sorts of cut-eye, Zaire snapped, “First of all, don’t talk about shit you don’t know! Second, this isn’t the first time this idiot’s come to this same apartment complex and I bet he’s at apartment 13C visiting that bleached-blond slut, just like Angie told me he’s been doing for the past month!”

  Kat flinched. She’d recognized her husband coming in later and later, but had been too afraid to truly question it. Once, she’d mentioned it and he’d responded that he was closing a deal for the company. He’d closed deals before, and hadn’t been gone for so long. Still, Kat had been afraid. She hadn’t wanted to face the possibility that her husband was cheating. She hadn’t wanted to go there...that place of no return.

  “Never mind the Christmas season and Jesus getting up on the cross and dying for adulterers everywhere, this asshole been up here at all sorts of times, even Christmas Eve!” Pausing Zaire was about to turn around again when she decided to add a parting shot, “And call me bitter again Curtis, we’ll see who the real bitch is up in this car!”

  “Oh, sweetie, we all know the only bitch up in here is you. I am not trying to get all this pretty scratched up for that title.”

  “Stop! Can you two just stop for one goddamn night?” Kat placed her head in her hands. God, she felt lightheaded. “My life’s about to fall apart and all you two can do is bicker about who’s the baddest bitch in this stupid car!”

  She felt two sets of comforting hands on her shoulders.

  “Sorry,” they both chimed, one after the other. Kat would have smiled if she could have found an ounce of happy in her body. Zaire and Princess, though her two best friends, were always at each others’ throats, especially after the incident with Zaire and Gavin. Their mutual ceasefire was soon ignored as her thoughts went back to Damien.

  Why—how could he do this to her? To their family?

  She knew she’d gained weight with the pregnancy and was no longer her usual 5’7 at 140 pounds, but Damien hadn’t seemed to have a problem with it. Hell, she’d asked him, revealing one of her insecurities almost as soon as they were home from the hospital, and he’d assured her that he liked the extra weight. And then there was the no sex thing. The doctor had advised no sex for at least the first six weeks until her post-natal checkup.

  Kat had been glad. She wasn’t feeling sexy anyway and God had she been sore. But as the weeks passed on, she’d begun to feel guilty. Damien had always been sexual. He’d taught her all the pleasures to be found between a man, a woman and an occasional toy. Every day, sometimes twice or more and barring forces of nature, D
amien could be found inside her. She knew he was hurting from the lack of sex. Sometimes, late at night she’d hear him in their private bathroom…

  It also didn’t help that her husband looked like he belonged in Hollywood with his tall, athletic frame, long, straight lashes that fell around pale blue eyes, strong masculine jaw, and thin, harsh lips that when smiling, could melt even the iciest of hearts. Almost every time they went out together, even with Sophia, holding hands and looking like a family, some desperate, but extremely attractive woman always managed to make her way to them, introduce herself to Damien, and have to be checked by Kat or Damien that she was intruding on a family outing. It had gotten so ridiculous that Kat, by nature a calm, non-violent person, had almost snatched up one particular woman who’d gone so far as to refer to her as the baby nurse and ask what had happened to his wife. An irritated Damien had sent the woman scurrying as he held his child with one hand and restrained his wife with the other. Later, he’d confided that her reaction had turned him on and it had been Kat’s turn to be frustrated with the no-sex thing. That had been when Damien had still wanted her...

  “Kat, what do you want to do?” Zaire’s voice was low, her hand tightening on Kat’s shoulder in a way meant to give more comfort. Kat knew that whatever she said, her friend would be ready for it. She and Zaire had been friends since middle school, though Kat’s mother had never approved.

  Zaire was from the hood, the daughter of a crackhead and a deadbeat father she’d never known. Through her smarts, she had managed to find her way into the elite St. Francis Preparatory for the children of rich folk. Though one could ever tell from her dress or how she spoke, Zaire had tested 170 on an IQ test when they were freshmen in high school, was a Science/Math nerd who currently was doing research on a cure for cancer, and had graduated summa cum laude from their prestigious college. It wasn’t so much her background that made Catherine Harrison dislike Zaire, but the fact that despite her education, Catherine could “still see the hood inside of her.”

  “I don’t know,” Kat replied softly. She wanted to trust her husband, to go into the apartment building confident in her knowledge that Damien would never cheat on her, but she wasn’t sure. They hadn’t had sex in six months. The first six weeks, Kat had ‘helped’ her husband with her hands and mouth. After her six week checkup, the doctor had given his approval for anything her body could handle, but that had also been the beginning of the arguments. Her mother and Damien’s mother were like two lionesses clashing over the right way to raise Sophia, and with their constant bickering, she and Damien had grown frustrated and eventually angry at each other for taking sides.

  Damien’s work as the Vice President of Mergers and Acquisitions of his father’s company started keeping him longer and longer. Kat’s own mother, the poster-child for all things proper and bourgeois as the socialite married to the retired judge now seeking public office, had felt compelled to tell her daughter that if a man isn’t getting it at home, he’s getting it elsewhere. After two months of their parents, both had agreed to raise their child without the added help. Even with the two matriarchs gone, Damien had seemed more distant.

  “There’s only one way to find out for good, sweetie,” Princess said from the backseat. “Let’s go inside, knock on the door and see what’s going on. It’s probably nothing, but at least then you’ll know for sure, and y’all can take it from there.”

  “And if we do go in there, and it is something,” Zaire began, instantly adding, “Not saying that it is, just in case, it’s not the end of the world, okay?”

  There was a loud sound of the kissing of teeth from the backseat but Princess said nothing.

  “Kat, tell me when you’re ready,” Zaire continued, completely ignoring Princess.

  Ready? Kat almost laughed. She hadn’t been ready when Zaire pulled up to take her from her penthouse apartment in the city out to some Long Island complex that possibly housed her husband’s mistress. In fact, she’d never be ready for that, so she had to settle for willing. She was willing to find out, because no matter what her heart said, she couldn’t stay with a man who would do this to her. Not when she’d given her all of her love, and had brought forth that love in the form of the most precious child. No. If Damien Rochester was cheating on her, it was over. She’d take her child, and move on. Her parents had once warned her of this, stating that the difference in their races and cultures would eventually lead to the destruction of their marriage, but she’d ignored them. Now, she wanted Damien to prove them wrong again, but still, she prepared herself for disappointment.

  Removing her hands from her face, she wiped at her wet cheeks and said, “I’m ready.”

  Zaire punched in some digits on her phone. “Angie, hey girl, it’s Zaire. We’re outside. Can you let us in? Yeah, thanks.”

  Chapter 2

  The apartment complex was straight out of a Home and Garden Modern Luxury Apartments special. From the moment Angie let them in, Kat knew it rivaled the one she occupied in the city, which catered to a more conservative clientele. A security guard sat behind a mahogany desk staring at them, and the entrance and walkways were brightly lit with wall lamps and overhead chandeliers. Numerous cameras, all encased in black domes, looked down at them from their perch against the yellow-beige walls. Kat couldn’t help but wonder how many times these cameras had caught her husband walking into the building to visit this woman.

  Angela “Angie” Kenmore was Zaire’s friend. She’d met her at The White Bunny, a high priced escort service with a range of exotic looking women and a very exclusive clientele. Zaire had been one of their employees in college, though she’d promised Kat she hadn’t been into anything more than offering pretty and intelligent company at business events. Kat knew of Angie, but this was the first time she was seeing the woman. She was beautiful. She was obviously of mixed ancestry, looking both Asian and black, and very comfortable in her looks. Currently, she was a basketball player’s girlfriend and she certainly looked the part with her long, jet black hair or weave, designer clothes, and flawless makeup. If at any moment paparazzi jumped out, Angie would be ready for those cameras.

  “When did you first see my husband here?” Kat asked the other woman. They were in the large, gold-plated elevator heading to the 13th floor.

  Giving her a sympathetic look, Angie flipped some stray hairs out of her face and replied, “About a month ago, in the middle of November. I ran into them in the hallway. I knew he looked familiar. I was at your wedding. When I described him to Z, she made the connection.”

  Zaire had already told her all of this but Kat still wanted to hear it from Angie’s lips. She trusted her friend a hundred percent, but Kat also knew that sometimes things were lost in translation. It was always better to hear it directly from the source. “What were they doing?”

  “She was walking him to the elevator. They looked...cozy.”

  “How?”

  “She had her hand tucked into his arm.”

  “Did he look nervous when he saw you?” Princess chimed. Turning to her friend, Kat recognized the narrow-eyed look for what it was: suspicion.

  “No, he didn’t. He said hello and they kept it moving.”

  “Hmm.” Princess gave Kat a look that clearly said See, this might not be what you’re thinking but the question hadn’t put her at ease. Damien had always been able to hide his emotions. He was an incredibly passionate man to those who knew him. But as his father’s son, heir to a conglomerate that would one day fall directly to him, he’d been raised to easily hide his emotions as it could be used against him.

  “Is she beautiful?”

  Angie didn’t answer so Kat turned to look at her. She nodded.

  Of course she was.

  “Do you ever hear them? Zaire told me your bedroom is next to hers.” Zaire had never told Kat directly that Angie had heard her husband having sex with another woman, but she had implied it. When Angie lifted a brow and looked a bit confused, Kat clarified, “Do you hear them at
night?”

  Turning a dark shade of purple, Angie swung to face Zaire before nodding once more.

  Kat turned to the closed elevator doors feeling her heart break into a million pieces. So it was true. Her husband was having sex with another woman.

  An image of him above her, encouraging her to scream his name flashed into Kat’s mind.

  “No, Damien, they’ll hear,” she’d protested softly, breathlessly, trying to place her fist back to her mouth, where it could stifle her moans and whimpers, and prevent her college neighbors from knowing all the naughty things he was doing to her body. Damien had pushed her hand away and held it to the bed, above her head.

  “Let them. I want everyone to know this pussy belongs to me,” he’d responded in the low purr that usually drove her wild. Add to that the fact that Damien seemed to turn into a dirty-talking, sex god when they were alone, and she was practically putty in his arms.

  Without mercy, he’d proceeded to wring cry after cry from her, and when he’d been satisfied, had then made her scream his name, over and over again. Each thrust had been a reward and by the time they were finished, she’d been hoarse...

  She thought of him doing the same to another, to this woman. The image almost made her sick.

  The elevator doors opened to a long, spacious, and carpeted walkway. No one spoke as Angie stepped in front and led them along the hallway and down a shorter hallway. “13C” was the number in gold on the apple-red door.

  As Angie knocked using the gold painted, brass knocker and standing directly in the view of the peephole, Kat, Zaire and Princess stood off to the left. Kat’s heart thumped loudly and she wondered if anyone else could hear it.

  “Who is it?” A soft, accented, and very feminine voice called. Was she Russian? German, perhaps?