by Dani Collins
Despite her aversion to shining brightly, Pia wore a silver dress covered in tinsel-like beadwork. It scooped across the tops of her breasts and ended midthigh. Her feet were in some sort of glass slippers that completed the icicle look.
He smiled darkly in the back of the car, beginning to enjoy the private knowledge that he alone knew how easily she melted under his kiss or caress.
“We have time,” he pointed out, glancing at the closed privacy screen.
It was an hour to her brother’s villa and, he discovered to his consternation, he longed quite badly to touch her. This afternoon’s meeting with her brothers had been tense, their contempt for him undisguised. He ached to fill his hands with her, catch her cries of pleasure in his mouth and reaffirm that she belonged to him. She’d seemed befuddled and distracted when he arrived home, but now...
“Come here,” he invited.
“I had a call while you were out,” she said in a hollow voice. “From Tomas Gomez. He asked about the jewelry.”
For a wallflower, she excelled at delivering a surprise crosscut that snapped a jaw. A nest of snakes came alive in his belly.
“What did you tell him?”
“That you left them with a security company. That’s what Melodie’s husband is, isn’t he? A security expert?”
Top in his field, globally.
“So you confirmed to Tomas that I had the jewels.” A call to Pia had been inevitable, he supposed. The scumbags wouldn’t confront him if they could unsettle a woman or turn her against him.
“He asked if I helped you retrieve them,” she continued in that empty voice. “Did I?”
A metallic taste filled his mouth. “Inadvertently,” he admitted.
“On the rooftop.” Her voice developed a pang that made him feel as though she was slipping through his fingers. “That’s why you seduced me.”
“Our lovemaking just happened, Pia.”
“Did it? He said you’re using me to climb society’s ladder. You knew who I was!”
“I have my own society. I don’t need yours,” he spat, even as panic dug talons into him. “Don’t listen to that piece of garbage. He’s a liar.” Don’t side with him.
“He called you a liar. And a thief.”
“It takes one to know one,” he muttered. White-hot anger grew into a spiked ball inside him, too painful to contain. “But I’ve never lied to you.”
“Only hidden the truth.”
“Do you want the truth?”
“I don’t know. Will it make me an accessory to whatever crimes you’ve committed? My brother bought the Gomez villa and its contents. If you took something more than the painting you purchased, you were stealing.”
“I didn’t steal anything. I retrieved something my mother left for me. I retrieved my mother.”
She snapped her head around to look at him. “Not the girl in the painting. She’s too young.”
“Her name is Angelica. It’s the only image I have of her. She was the daughter of the baron’s second wife from her first marriage and yes, she was far too young to be a mother. My mother.” Despite a lifetime of damming up the truth behind shame and anger, the toxic words spilled out of him in a torrent. “The accusation is that she took the jewelry from her mother’s bedroom,” he said, his voice low and gritty and brimming with three decades of helpless hatred. “I am quite certain it was all brought to her by my father, since it was kept in the safe in his office. He spent time with my mother when his wife, my grandmother, had gone out for the day.”
Pia covered her mouth, eyes wide with horror.
“I suppose I’m lucky I wasn’t thrown into a river or given away when she had me. At fifteen. I had six years with her in that moldy little cottage before they sent me to that prison they called a boarding school. I barely saw her after that. Don’t ask me why she stayed. To ensure my tuition was paid, I imagine. Maybe she felt too damned fragile to fight for a better life. All I know is that she killed herself shortly after my father died, well aware she would be turned onto the street otherwise. I was.”
* * *
Angelo’s acrid fury clouded the darkened back seat of the car.
Pia was speechless, utterly unable to form thoughts into words she was so anguished on his mother’s behalf. Pia was overwhelmed and frightened by her pregnancy and she was an adult with resources. She had a support system and her baby’s father was beside her in this journey, putting her down for naps when she was too overtired to see the sense in it.
“Did your grandmother know?” she managed to gasp.
“Of course she did. Everyone in the family knew. They also knew which side their bread was buttered on, so they let it go on.”
“That’s horrific.” She couldn’t grasp it. It was too awful.
“It is. And if my half brothers want the jewels back, they can damned well acknowledge how my mother came by them, not call my future wife and tell her I stole them. They can admit I’m as entitled as they are to a share in the family fortune.”
“But you could... I mean, wouldn’t a DNA test—”
“I could insist on a test,” he said, cutting her off with a biting tone. “This isn’t about proving our relationship any more than it is about the money. I hate that I carry any trace of their tainted blood. They can have the damned name and title. Protecting that is why her own mother allowed her to be abused. No, I’m quite content to remain an ugly family secret, but I won’t let them continue to enjoy the life they lead when it came at her expense. I’m taking it apart brick by brick.”
“Why can’t you...?” She balked even as she started to say it.
“Tell the world what happened? Put my mother on trial in the court of public opinion? My brothers will claim she instigated what happened to her. That’s what kind of people they are. My poor, upstanding, blameless father, a grown man, was helpless against a teenage seductress. Who are your parents going to believe, Pia? The bastard with a grudge? Or one of their own?”
They would distance themselves as much as possible, she suspected. Her entire body went cold.
“I wish you had told me sooner,” she said, projecting to the ramifications if this came out.
“When?” he demanded. “While we were two strangers having our tête-à-tête on the rooftop? When you were informing me that we’d conceived a child? Or do you mean before we publicly attached ourselves with the engagement photo? Frightened to be associated with me now, Pia?”
She looked guiltily to the window, heart clenching at his scathing tone.
“There’s still time to back out.” His gritty voice dared her to try. “I’ll make it very uncomfortable for you if you do.”
She glanced back to see him sitting with his clenched fists on his thighs, his profile cast in iron. How comfortable would he make it for her to continue forward and marry him, she wondered hysterically? Especially if the truth came out?
There might as well have been a wall of ice between them the rest of the drive. She didn’t know how to reach past it and wasn’t sure she wanted to. When he had asked her to trust him that first night, she hadn’t expected anything of this magnitude. She felt tricked, especially when he was speaking so ruthlessly about going through with their marriage. He was hardly motivated by any genuine feeling toward her, was he?
Her angst made her smile all the more strained when they arrived at Cesar’s mansion to find Rico and Poppy were already there along with her parents. The rest of the guests weren’t due for an hour, but Sorcha had wanted a chance to break the ice and get to know Angelo.
“Pia, would you be a love and pop up to say good-night to the boys?” Sorcha entreated while she was removing her coat. “Enrique found a shell the other day. He’s convinced you’re the only one who can identify it.” She took hold of Angelo’s arm. “You, however, look like a man who might be up for sampling my stock of Irish whiskey. Can I
tempt you?”
Pia was dying for a moment to collect her thoughts and the children always restored her. “I’ll join you shortly,” she promised Angelo, and veered up the stairs.
She had only been with her nephews for five short minutes, however, when Cesar came in.
“Tía is expected downstairs,” he told the boys in a gentle but firm voice, his affectionate stroke of his older son’s hair softening the blow.
“We’ll have a proper visit soon,” she promised them.
“Christmas,” Enrique whispered with a grin of anticipation.
“Exactly.” Pia couldn’t help cupping his little face and kissing his forehead. She did the same to Mateo and blew another kiss at them as she left.
Cesar stopped her turning down the hall toward the stairs, opening the door to the playroom across the hall and waving her in with an imperious look.
“Oh, I see. It wasn’t the boys who wanted to see me.” Why was that such a kick in the chest?
“They always want to see you, but so did I.” Cesar swung the door mostly closed.
Pia crossed a loomed mat imprinted with a town of roadways and buildings, stopped at the indoor slide and turned to face her brother, arms folded. Defensive? Absolutely. It was bad enough she hadn’t brought home someone from the preapproved list of bachelors. Her groom’s backstory was even more shocking than any of them imagined and she was pregnant by him. Which meant she’d had sex.
It didn’t matter that Cesar had been in this position himself. His role had been the other side and he’d never been as sensitive about having his private business strewn about, probably because he was secure in his place in the family and the world.
What made this confrontation particularly difficult, however, was the fact that she liked her brothers. Their marrying wonderful women had certainly helped her feel closer to them, but Cesar especially was the person she most hated to disappoint. He had suffered betrayals from other quarters and once his trust was lost, it was never regained.
She braced herself for his rebuke.
“You don’t have to marry him,” he said flatly. “Ignore whatever Mother has said about how things look. I will always look after you.”
She was too shocked to react. They never spoke from the heart. The most sentimental thing he’d ever said to her was his sincere thanks for her presence at his wedding because it had meant so much to Sorcha.
This conversation instantly became uncomfortable. She reflexively pointed out the obvious. “I’ve been living independently for five years. I can take care of myself.”
“Clearly,” he said, which was a rebuke, but a gentle one.
“Lovely glass house you live in,” she retorted.
“It is,” he agreed, nodding with gravity. “Which is why I’m telling you to do what’s right for you. I will back you up with Mother, support you in any and every way you need. How well do you even know this man, Pia?” Now he sounded like the clichéd big brother. “The gaps in his background report make me suspicious.”
“You had him investigated?”
Cesar snorted. “If you think he doesn’t have a hundred-page dossier on every single one of us, you really do need someone to start looking after you.”
Maybe she did, because her first thought went to how badly it would hurt Angelo to have his mother’s pain uncovered by some paid snoop, then subsequently held up as a blight on his character. That poor young girl had been in an untenable situation. She had given birth to a baby she shouldn’t have conceived and loved him enough to protect and provide for him the only way she could. Pia’s heart fractured thinking of her.
“His lawyers are sharks,” Cesar continued. “Negotiations have been heated.”
“Our lawyers are sharks,” she dismissed. She’d been copied on everything and thought it was going as well as it could, given both sides had proprietary interests to protect.
“How long have you known him? Are you in love? Don’t tie yourself to him because you think you have to. I want to hear it from you that this is what you want.”
She parted her lips, but discovered it was only to draw in a deep sigh.
Still time to back out, she heard Angelo saying. Those words had hurt because he hadn’t tried to convince her to stay with him. He had threatened to make her life difficult if she didn’t. One more indication his desire to marry wasn’t about her at all. No matter how great the sex, he was marrying her for the baby and possibly other, darker motives.
The irony was, his devotion to their child carried tremendous weight with her.
“He wants this baby, Cesar. In a way that—” She cut herself off, unwilling to go down the road of their father’s shortcomings. There was no point.
Cesar got there anyway. “That’s why you have to do what’s right for you,” he said gently. “I didn’t have the power to make things better for you when we were young. I do now. You do. Say the word and I will end this engagement right now.”
What could she say? That she wanted to marry a man who had stolen something that technically belonged to Rico? That she wanted a husband whose history could come to light and throw a shadow over all of them? That she hoped whatever scandal arose, it would blow over before their child was old enough to understand any of it and would never be harmed by it?
“Pia?” he prompted.
“Tell me something, Cesar.” She had to clear the huskiness from her throat before she continued. “Do you blame Sorcha for the fact her father had two families? That she was part of the illegitimate one?”
“Of course not,” he snapped. “Her father’s behavior had nothing to do with her.”
“Will you please remember that if anyone talks to you about Angelo?”
“What are you saying? Forewarned is forearmed. Tell me everything.”
“It’s not mine to tell,” she said as the door swung inward, silent on its hinges.
Angelo stood there, one shoulder negligently braced against the jamb.
She knew immediately he’d been there long enough to hear her comparison of his circumstance to Sorcha’s, maybe more.
Keeping his gaze locked with Pia’s, he said to Cesar, “Your wife does not have a promising career on the magician’s circuit. Her attempt at misdirection was blatant and obvious.” He held out his hand to Pia. “She is, however, an extremely charming hostess. I don’t wish to be rude. Shall we rejoin our party, querida?”
She knew her acquiescence would be agreement to more than a party. The engagement would proceed. The wedding would happen. Chips would fall as they may.
Cesar was wrong. She didn’t have the power here. Her baby did. And she genuinely believed Angelo would love their child. Maybe some hidden part of her even saw that as potential he might one day love her.
She moved to set her hand in his and they went back downstairs.
CHAPTER NINE
THEIR ENGAGEMENT EVENING went quite well, all things considered. Angelo hadn’t meant to tell Pia the truth so baldly, driving it between them like a wedge. Maybe he’d had to do it with anger in order to get it out and brace himself for what he expected would be a rejection.
Her family’s maneuverings, allowing her to slip away for an intervention from big brother, hadn’t surprised him one bit. He had accepted a whiskey and told himself he would be better off if she broke their engagement. He had no desire to become part of this stuck-up family and suffer their judgment for the rest of his life. He didn’t want to stare into her eyes across the breakfast table every morning and see—
With a choke, he’d set aside his drink and went looking for her, leaving a surprised pause behind him.
He had arrived at the cracked door in time to hear her brother’s script spoken exactly on cue. Pia quite easily could have spilled everything Angelo had revealed to protect her own family from future scandal, but she hadn’t. She had shielded his mother in the onl
y way she could, by maintaining her privacy.
That kindness nearly broke him. He had kept her hand in his the rest of the night, doing everything he could to ease her tension as they made the rounds with guests. When they made love that night, it had been with something new between them—the first strands of trust.
But it was immediately put to the test.
Now that Tomas and Darius knew Angelo had the jewels, their campaign to discredit him began in earnest. Rumormongering online suggested everything from accusations of child labor to tax evasion. Paparazzi began tailing them and a woman he’d never met claimed to be pregnant with his child.
Angelo took sensible steps. He had Pia’s housekeeper change the phone number and instructed her staff to screen all communications. His security team upgraded the alarm system on her house, a pair of guards began to shadow them when they went out, and another pair remotely monitored for suspicious activity.
None of that could protect them from the whispers and snide asides that followed them into cocktail parties and benefits. Much of the animosity was pure snobbery couched as concern for Pia.
“He’s American, isn’t he?” he overheard a woman ask Pia in an outraged whisper, because that was a crime.
“Spanish,” Pia said evenly. “America is where his head office is located. He has a home in California.”
“Are you moving there? Because if he isn’t part of this life, how will he fit in? I mean, have an affair. Look at him. But I can’t see you marrying him.”
“Is that a regret for the wedding? I’ll let Mother know.”
The woman’s face had dropped and Angelo had seized the opportunity to draw Pia onto the dance floor, taking dark satisfaction in giving the woman no time to rephrase after Pia’s cutthroat response.
Pia’s mother was concerned that RSVPs weren’t coming in thick and fast, though. It was another indicator that people were dragging their feet as they debated taking sides. So far, Angelo wasn’t winning.
Pia wasn’t winning, either. He’d thrust her smack in the middle of his war. Perhaps that should have prompted an apology from him, but he was so disgusted by her crowd’s desire to turn on what they perceived to be an outsider, he could only bite out, “Hypocrites.”