by Nora Roberts
“God bless us, every one.” She blew out a breath. “I could use a drink myself.”
“When this is over, we’ll kill a bottle of champagne apiece. Right now”—she gave Pilar a little nudge—“dance.”
It looked like socializing, but it was work. Putting on the confident front, answering questions, some subtle, some not, on the situation from interested guests and the invited press. Expressing sorrow and outrage, both sincerely felt, while getting the intended message across.
Giambelli-MacMillan was alive and well and making wine.
“Sophia! Lovely, lovely event.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Elliot. I’m so glad you could attend.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it. You know Blake and I are very active on behalf of the homeless. Our restaurant contributes generously to the shelters.”
And your restaurant, Sophia thought as she made appropriate noises, canceled its standing order on all Giambelli and MacMillan labels at the first sign of trouble. “Perhaps at some point your business and ours could work together on a fund-raiser. Food and wine, after all, the perfect marriage.”
“Mmm. Well.”
“You’ve known my family since before I was born.” To establish intimacy, Pilar took the woman’s arm, walked with her away from the music. “I hope you know how much we value that association, and that friendship.”
“Blake and I have nothing but the greatest respect for your grandmother, and for Eli. We couldn’t be more sorry about your recent troubles.”
“When friends have troubles, they look to other friends for support.”
“On a personal level, you have it. But business is business, Sophia. We have to protect our clientele.”
“As do we. Giambelli stands by its product. Any of us at any time can be the victim of tampering and sabotage. If we, and those who do business with us, allow the perpetrators of that to win, it only opens others up to the same risk.”
“Be that as it may, Sophia, until we’re assured the Giambelli label is clean, we can’t and won’t serve it. I’m sorry for it, and I’m impressed with the way you’re handling your difficulties. Blake and I wouldn’t be here tonight if we didn’t support you and your family on a personal level. Our patrons expect fine food well served when they come to us, not to gamble on a glass of wine that may be tainted.”
“Four bottles out of how many thousands,” Sophia began.
“One is too many. I’m sorry, dear, but that’s the reality. Excuse me.”
Sophia marched directly to a waiter, took a glass of red and, after turning a slow circle in case anyone was watching, drank deeply.
“You look a little stressed.” Kris sidled up beside her, chose a glass of champagne. “Must come from actually having to work for a living.”
“You’re mistaken.” Her voice might have frosted the air between them. “I don’t work for a living, but for love.”
“Spoken like a princess.” Pleased with herself, Kris sipped her wine. As far as she was concerned, she had one function to fulfill that evening: to dig under Sophia’s skin. “Isn’t that what Tony used to call you? His princess.”
“Yes.” Sophia braced for the rush of grief, but it never came. That, itself, was a sorrow. “He never understood me. Apparently neither do you.”
“Oh, I understand you. And your family. You’re in trouble. With Tony gone and you and farm boy in charge, your company’s lost the edge. Now you’re flaunting yourself in your evening gowns and your heirloom pearls to try to drum up business and cover up mistakes. Really, you’re no different from the guy on the corner panhandling. At least he’s honest about it.”
Carefully, deliberately, Sophia set her wine aside and edged forward. Before she could speak, Jerry strode over, laid a hand on Kris’s arm.
“Kris.” There was warning in his tone. “This is inappropriate. Sophia, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need anyone to apologize for me.” Kris tossed back her hair. “I’m not on company time here, but my own.”
“I’m not interested in apologies. From either of you. You’re a guest in my home, and as long as you behave as such, you’ll be treated as a guest. If you insult me here, or any of my family, I’ll have you removed. Just as I had you removed from my offices. Don’t delude yourself into thinking I’ll hesitate to cause a scene.”
Kris pursed her lips in a kind of kiss. “Wouldn’t that play nicely in the press?”
“Dare me,” Sophia spat back. “Then we’ll see which one of us spins it best tomorrow. Either way, Kris, you’ll be out on your ass and your new boss might not care for that, right, Jerry?”
“Sophia! How lovely you look.” Helen hugged an arm around Sophia’s shoulders, squeezing hard. “Excuse us, won’t you?” She said it brightly while she pulled Sophia away. “You want to turn down the kill lights in your eyes, honey? You’re scaring the guests.”
“I’d like to fry Kris with them, and Jerry with her.”
“Not worth it, sweetie.”
“I know it, I know it. She wouldn’t have gotten to me if I hadn’t already been steaming over Anne Elliot.”
“Let’s just take a little walk to the powder room while you calm down. Remind yourself you’ve put on a terrific show here. You’ve made an impression.”
“Too little, for too much.”
“Sophie, you’re trembling.”
“I’m just angry. Just angry.” She held it in as they walked down to the family level. “And scared,” she admitted when she slipped into a powder room with Helen. “Aunt Helen, I poured money into this event. Money, given the situation, I should have been more careful with. The Elliots aren’t going to budge. Then Kris drops down like a crow smelling fresh kill.”
“She’s just one more of Tony’s castoffs, and not worth your energy or your time.”
“She knows the way I think.” There wasn’t room to pace off the heat, so Sophia simply stood and simmered in it. “The way I work. I should’ve found a way to keep her in the company, a way to control her.”
“Stop it. You can’t take on the blame for her. Anyone can see she’s viciously jealous of you. I know things are shaky now, but I talked with a number of people tonight who’re solidly behind you, who are appalled by what happened.”
“Yes, and some of them may even be swayed to put their money where their sentiments are. But there are more, too many more, who won’t. I had reports from the wait staff that a number of guests are avoiding the wine or watching others drink it, and live, first. It’s horrible. And such a strain on Nonna. I’m starting to see it, and that worries me.”
“Sophie, when a company’s been in business a hundred years, it has crises. This is just one of them.”
“We’ve never had anything like this. We’re losing accounts, Aunt Helen. You know it. There are jokes, you’ve heard them. Having trouble with your wife? Don’t see a lawyer, give her a bottle of Giambelli.”
“Honey, I’m a lawyer, we’ve been jokes for centuries.” But she stroked Sophia’s hair. She hadn’t realized how much the child worried, hadn’t realized it went so deep. “You’re taking too much of this on yourself.”
“It’s my job to maintain the image, not only as the next generation but as an executive. If I can’t swing this . . . I know I put a lot of eggs in tonight’s basket, and I hate seeing some of them broken.”
“Some,” Helen reminded her. “Far from all.”
“But I’m not getting the message out. We’re the victims here, why can’t people see that? We were attacked. We’re still being attacked—financially, emotionally, legally. The police . . . For God’s sake, there are rumors drifting around that Margaret and my father were in some sort of conspiracy together, and Mama knew.”
“Just Rene’s blathering.”
“Yes, but if the police start taking it seriously, start questioning her as a suspect, I don’t know what we’ll do.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Oh, Aunt Helen, it could. With Rene stream
ing around from talk show to tabloid fanning the flames, and no sign of those responsible being caught, Mama’s top of the list. Right along with me.”
She’d thought of it, hadn’t been able to help it. But hearing it said so bluntly brought a chill to Helen’s skin. “Now you listen. No one is going to accuse you or your mother of anything. The police may look, but only to eliminate. If they step closer than that, they’ll have to go through James, through me, even Linc.”
She drew Sophia into a hug. “Don’t you worry about that.”
She patted Sophia’s back and stared at her own face in the mirror. The encouraging smile was gone, and concern had taken its place. She was grateful attorney-client privilege with Tereza prevented her from adding to the girl’s fears.
Only that morning, all financial records of the company had been subpoenaed.
Sophia freshened her lipstick, powdered her nose and squared her shoulders. No one would have seen the fear or despair now. She glittered, and glowed, her laugh warm and careless as she joined the guests.
She flirted, she danced and continued to campaign. Her spirits lifted considerably when she charmed and cajoled another major account into lifting its ban on the Giambelli label.
Pleased with herself, she took a short break to harass Linc. “Are you still hanging around this loser?” she asked Andrea.
“Well, he cries every time I try to dump him.”
“I do not. I just look really forlorn. I was about to come looking for you,” he told Sophia. “We’re going to take off.”
“So early?”
“The string quartet isn’t really my scene. I’m just here because Mom bribed me with pound cake. But I wanted to see you before we headed out, to ask how you’re holding up.”
“Oh, fine.”
He tapped her nose. “It’s okay. Andrea knows the score.”
“It’s rough,” she admitted. “Nonna’s having a hard time accepting what happened to Signore Baptista. He meant a lot to her. I guess we’re all feeling squeezed between the various investigations. In fact, I whined all over your mom a little bit ago.”
“She’s used to it. You know you can call me and whine anytime.”
“I know.” She kissed Linc’s cheek. “You’re not really so bad. And you have good taste in doctors. Go. Escape.” She stepped aside. “Come back,” she added to Andrea, and began another circuit of the room.
“There you are.” Tyler caught her, pulled her toward a corner. “I can’t take much more of this. I’m deserting the field.”
“Now, buck up.” She measured the crowd. Beginning to thin, she judged, but not by much. That was a good sign. “Hold out another hour and I’ll make it worth your while.”
“My while’s worth quite a bit.”
“I’ll bear that in mind. Go charm Betina Renaldi. She’s old, influential and very susceptible to rugged young men with tight butts.”
“Boy, are you going to owe me.”
“Just ask her to dance and tell her how much we value her patronage.”
“If she pinches my tight butt, I’m taking it out on you.”
“Mmm. I look forward to it.” She circled just in time to spot an argument brewing between Don and Gina. Quickly, she cut across the ballroom.
“Let’s not do this here.” In what would be taken as an affectionate gesture, she stepped between them and linked arms. “We don’t need to add to the gossip mill.”
“You think you can tell me how to behave?” Gina would have wrenched her arm free if Sophia hadn’t borne down. “You, whose father was a gigolo, whose family has no honor.”
“Careful, Gina, careful. That family keeps you in diapers. Let’s go outside.”
“You go to hell.” She rammed Sophia hard against Don. “You, and all of you.” Her voice spiked, causing several heads to turn. Sophia managed to drag her to the doorway of the ballroom before she broke free.
“If you cause a scene here,” Sophia said, “it’ll cost you as much as the rest of us. Your children are Giambelli. Remember it.”
Gina’s lip quivered, but she lowered her voice. “You remember it. You both remember it, and that what I do, I do for them.”
“Don. Damn it. Go after her, calm her down.”
“I can’t. She won’t listen.” He moved behind the doors, took out a handkerchief to wipe his sweaty brow. “She’s pregnant again.”
“Oh.” Torn between relief and annoyance, Sophia patted his arm. “Congratulations.”
“I didn’t want another child. She knew. We fought about it. Then she tells me tonight, as we’re dressing and the children are screaming and my head’s bursting. She expects me to be thrilled, and when I’m not, she rips at me.”
He shoved the cloth back in his pocket.
“I’m sorry. Really. Very sorry, but impressions tonight are vital. Whether or not you’re happy about this, you have to fix it. She’s pregnant, vulnerable and her hormones are raging. Added to that, she didn’t get in that condition by herself. You need to go to her.”
“I can’t,” he said again. “She won’t speak to me now. I was upset. All during the evening she sulked or reminded me it was God’s will, a blessing. I needed to get away from her. Five precious minutes away from that nagging. So I slipped out to make a phone call. I called— There’s another woman.”
“Oh, perfect.” She didn’t bother to curse. “Isn’t that just perfect.”
“I didn’t know Gina followed me. Didn’t know she’d overheard. She waited until I was back inside to confront me, to accuse, to claw. No, she won’t speak to me now.”
“Well, you both picked your moment.”
“Please, I know what I have to do, and I will. Promise me you won’t tell Zia Tereza of this.”
“Do you think I’d go running to Nonna like a tattletale?”
“Sophie. I didn’t mean it that way.” Relieved at her angry claim not to be a gossip, he took her hands. “I’ll fix it. I will. If you could just go after Gina now, convince her to behave, to be patient. Not to do anything rash. Already with the investigation I’m under such pressure.”
“This isn’t about you, Donato.” She pulled her hands away. “You’re just one more man who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. But it is about Giambelli. So I’ll do what I can with Gina. For once, she actually has my sympathy. And you will fix it. You’ll break it off with the other woman and deal with your marriage and your children.”
“I love her. Sophie, you understand what it is to be in love.”
“I understand you have three children and another on the way. You’ll be responsible to your family, Donato. You’ll be a man, or I’ll personally see you pay for it. Capisce? ”
You said you wouldn’t go to La Signora. I trusted you.”
“La Signora isn’t the only Giambelli woman who knows how to deal with cheats and liars. Or cowards. Cacasotto.”
He went white. “You’re too hard.”
“Try me, and you’ll see just how hard. Now, be smart. Go back in and smile. Announce to your aunt that you’re about to bring another Giambelli into the world. And stay away from me until I can stand the sight of you again.”
She left him there, quivering with rage. Hard, she thought. Maybe. And maybe part of her rage had been directed at her father, another cheat, another liar, another father who ignored his responsibilities.
Marriage, she thought, meant nothing to some. No more than a game whose rules were broken for the thrill of it. She hurried through the family wing, but found no sign of Gina.
Idiot woman, she decided, and was unsure who she disliked more at the moment, Gina or Donato.
She called out quietly, peeked into the nursery where the children and the young woman hired to tend them for the evening slept.
Thinking Gina might have taken her rage outside, she stepped out on the terrace. Music from the quartet drifted out into the night.
She wished she could drift herself, just leave it all to work itself out. Enraged wives, straying husban
ds. Cops and lawyers and faceless enemies. She was tired of it, all of it.
She wanted Ty. She wanted to dance with him with her head on his shoulder and all her worries in someone else’s brain for a few hours.
Instead she ordered herself to go back and do what needed to be done.
She heard a faint sound from the room behind her and started to turn. “Gina?”
A vicious shove sent her flying back. Her heels skidded, lost purchase on the terrace floor. She caught a blur of movement as she fell. And when her head hit the stone of the rail, she saw nothing but an explosion of light.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tyler decided to finish off his evening by dancing with Tereza. She felt small but reassuringly sturdy in her beaded gown. Her hand was dry and cool in his.
“Why aren’t you exhausted?” he asked her.
“I will be, when the last guest leaves.”
Over her head, he scanned the room. Too many people still left, he thought, and it was already after midnight. “We could start booting them out.”
“Unfailingly gracious. I like that about you.” When he grinned down at her, she studied him carefully. “None of this means anything to you.”
“Of course it does. The vineyards—”
“Not the vineyards, Tyler.” She gestured toward the terrace doors, the lights, the music. “This, the fancy clothes, the inane chatter, the wash of gilt.”
“Not a damn thing.”
“But you come, for your grandfather.”
“For my grandfather, and for you, La Signora. For . . . the family. If it didn’t matter, I’d have taken a hike last year when you reorganized my life.”
“You haven’t quite forgiven me for that,” she chuckled.
“Not quite.” But he shifted her hand and, in a rare gallant gesture, kissed her knuckles.
“If you’d walked away, I’d have found a way to bring you back. I’d have made you sorry, but I’d have brought you back. You’re needed here. I’m going to tell you something, because your grandfather won’t.”
“Is he sick?” Tyler missed a step as he turned his head to seek out Eli in the crowd.