by A. C. Arthur
“Probably because we did not support him when he told us he wanted to paint.”
Alex shook his head. “It’s hard for a father to hear his son doesn’t have the same career goals that he does.”
With that comment, Karena looked at her father. She did have the same career goals as him, she just wasn’t a son.
“Well, I’m glad this misunderstanding has been settled,” Noreen said, moving to stand beside Izabel. “Now you must let us show you our city. We can have lunch and get to know each other.”
Izabel practically beamed. “That would be nice. Thank you.”
“Yes, you can show them around, Noreen. I will stay here and deal with the remnants of this botched deal,” Paul said.
For a minute Karena’s heart sank. He was obviously talking about dealing with her. But then to her shock, Noreen touched Paul’s arm.
“No, I think it’ll be better if you join us, dear. Surely the prince would love to talk about your colorful history and business acquisitions.”
“I have to work, Noreen,” Paul said tightly.
“Work can wait,” she responded sternly.
Both Karena and Monica looked at each other.
“It will be great fun,” Felipe said finally.
And in the next instant, the foursome were headed out of the conference room.
“I guess you’re mother’s not as weak-minded as you think,” Sam whispered in Karena’s ear.
She was about to say something when Alex Bennett approached them.
“So you’re the one who purchased a stolen painting from my royal relatives?” he said, looking at her with a decidedly pensive glare.
Straightening her shoulders, she extended a hand. “Karena Lakefield. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Bennett. I wish it were under better circumstances.”
His medium-size lips spread into a slow grin as he took her hand, shaking it lightly. “The pleasure is all mine. When Sam called this morning, I could tell this was an important case to him. A personal case.”
Karena tried not to blush.
“Personal, huh?” Monica questioned.
His attention instantly taken from Karena, Alex said, “And who might you be?”
“I might be Monica Lakefield, manager of this gallery,” she answered in the frostiest tone Karena had ever heard her use. “Alex—”
“I know who you are,” she cut him off then turned her attention back to Karena. “Did he say ‘personal’?”
“Yes, I did say personal. But that’s just my assumption,” Alex jumped in, giving Monica a look to match her snippy tone.
Out of the corner of her eye Karena could see Sam covering his mouth to hide a chuckle.
“Please excuse my sister, Mr. Bennett. I appreciate your coming in today, although I’m not real sure of your involvement.”
“Let me clear that up,” Sam said, still trying not to grin. “When I found out it was the prince and princess in your office, I called Alex. I knew he had family in Brazil and was hoping for an inside track on what we were dealing with. I didn’t anticipate the prince and princess being so forthcoming.”
She nodded her understanding.
“I got hung up in traffic or I would have been here sooner.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing your assistance wasn’t really needed.”
“Monica,” Karena gasped.
Alex held up a hand. “No. Don’t apologize for her again. She’s not a child. She’s responsible for her own actions. Let her apologize for being rude.”
Monica lifted her chin. “Not rude, just honest. And not charmed by a name, a fake smile, a designer suit and shiny Rolex.” She turned to Karena. “I’ll be in my office. Come see me when you’re done here. Nice job, Sam,” she said with a frown in his direction before walking out of the conference room.
“Dayum,” Alex said once she was gone. “Excuse my language, but can it get any colder in here?”
“I’m sorry,” Karena said.
“No, I told you it’s not your place to apologize.”
“She’s not really that bad.” She defended Monica even though she wanted to strangle her for her behavior.
“She’s not?” Sam arched a brow.
Karena shot him a warning glare. “No. She’s not. This has been rough on all of us.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not that easily offended. But I’ve got to say the dude who rained on her parade did one hell of a job.”
“What?”
Sam and Alex exchanged a look.
“It’s classic,” Alex began. “A woman scorned will blister—again excuse my language—the balls off the very next man who makes her remember she’s a living, breathing female.” He shrugged. “But it’s okay. I’m a busy man. I came here as a favor to Sam and it was nice to see my relatives again and to learn that my little cousin is a talented artist. As for your sister, she can continue to hibernate. I’m not in the habit of working to warm women up to me.”
“I see,” Karena said slowly, not sure if she liked his candor or not.
“Thanks for coming down, Alex,” Sam interjected. “Can’t believe the great Leandro is a fourteen-year-old.”
“Tell me about it. My secretary sent me an entire portfolio on him. No pics. Just stats of how well his work is doing in the States and overseas. Felipe and Izabel better keep a close eye on him and his business dealings from now on.”
“Yeah, I think they’re getting it together now. Still want to know who actually stole the painting though,” Sam said thoughtfully.
“Well, I’ve got a full afternoon ahead of me, so I’m going to get back on the road. Let me know if I can help with anything else.”
Sam and Alex shook hands. “Will do.”
“Again, nice meeting you, Karena,” Alex said, leaning forward and kissing Karena on the cheek.
“Likewise,” she said with a smile. She’d been watching the ease with which Alex and Sam got along. Sam was just like that, a genuinely likable person who people seemed drawn to. Even her father didn’t seem as standoffish with him today.
Thinking of her father had her mind reverting to her mother and the way she’d stood up to her father just moments ago. She wondered what was going on there.
Unfortunately, she had other pressing matters to deal with.
Chapter 19
“How about lunch?” Sam asked the moment they were alone.
“Ah, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she replied quickly, as if she had no intention of even considering his question. “I’ve got a ton of work on my desk.”
He should have known she’d say that. “How about dinner?”
“Sorry, Sam. Not tonight.”
Not the answer he wanted.
“You have to eat,” he countered.
She was moving just for the sake of moving, possibly to keep from moving directly to him. Sam watched her as she went around the large conference-room table, pushing in one chair after the other as if this, too, were her job.
“I know what I have to do, Sam. Despite what you may think, I don’t need you to dictate my every move.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
Her back had been facing him and she whirled around with her answer. “It’s what I know you’re doing. Have dinner, Karena. Don’t worry, Karena. Come to my house in the country, Karena. Every time you see me, you’re giving orders.”
“I’m suggesting dinner and you’re accusing me of something else. Are you sure it’s me you’re angry with?”
“I never said I was angry,” she said, standing behind a chair. She probably could have pulled off the look of indignation but for the way her fingers were digging into the back of the chair.
She wore a pantsuit today, navy blue. The waist-length jacket molded to her arms while the slacks fit her lower body like a glove. A thin silver blouse broke the monotony of the dark color, adding a flash of something fierce in her eyes.
During the meeting she’d been nervous and anxious. He’d wa
nted nothing more than to console her and for a moment thought his touch, his presence had done just that. But right now he wasn’t entirely sure.
“Headache?” he asked when he saw her squinting, her shoulders slumping slightly.
She sighed. “I’m just tired.”
He nodded and took a couple of steps until he stood beside her. Reaching out a hand, he rubbed the nape of her neck. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.
It took a moment but finally she acquiesced. His fingers moved slowly, methodically over the tightened muscles. Coming to stand fully behind her, he put both hands on her shoulders and began to knead.
Initially she jumped, but he made a shooshing sound in her ear and she tried to relax. Beneath her clothes, he felt the taut muscles giving slightly to his ministrations. She was wound so tight it was a wonder she could stand or even think straight.
His fingers feathered over her neck, his thumbs pressing into the nape. She moaned and he pushed harder, letting her body’s reaction guide him further. Her head lolled forward, and he rubbed with a little more pressure.
“I know you’re going to fight my words, and that’s not my intent,” he began, talking slowly, his voice moving right along with the movements of his hands. “You need to take better care of yourself, Karena. None of this is worth your health, your sanity.”
Her shoulders began to tighten and he bent his head forward, kissed her temple. “Relax, baby. Just relax and let me take care of you.”
“I…can take care of…myself,” she said.
“I know you can,” he responded, his lips moving over her temple. “But I want to. Let me, please, Karena, just let me love you.”
She jerked then, moving quickly so that she was out of his grasp and his hands were still in position as if her neck were just beneath him. Sam blinked, trying to regain the moment he feared had been lost. “Baby,” he began.
She held up a hand. “No. I’m fine.” She licked her lips and took another precautionary step backward. “Really. I, um, I just have some things to catch up on.”
Running, again. Sam sighed. “Karena.”
“We’ll have dinner,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “Just let me finish up some things in the office and I’ll meet you for dinner. Where do you want to go?”
Her gaze held his, her body standing defensively about three feet away from him now. He wanted to grab her, to hold her to him until she was soft and yielding in his arms again. But he knew better. He knew Karena.
“Meet me at Lucien’s,” he said, wanting her once again on his turf.
She nodded. “Fine. I can be there probably around six.”
“Six it is,” he agreed, and because he did want to take care of her, because he did—even though this was the first time he’d admitted it to himself—love her, Sam backed away. He moved to the door, turning to her once more and saying, “Get something for lunch, even if it’s just a sandwich. Put something in your stomach and take something for your headache before it gets too bad.”
Again Karena nodded and watched as he left her alone in the conference room, while her insides swirled like a building storm.
Let me love you, that’s what he’d said. Was it really what he’d meant?
“So anyway, when I went into her room, Mama was packing. I asked where she was going, and she just said away.” Deena was talking in her quick, rushed tone.
Karena rubbed her temple as she held the phone to her ear. Two hours ago she’d taken aspirin; now she wondered if she’d taken enough. “Away?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Deena continued. “She said she and Daddy needed to talk, to work some things out.”
“Work what things out?”
“I was wondering that myself, so you know I asked. She assured me it was nothing like divorce or anything. She just said it was a conversation long overdue. And I thought, wow, I wonder what this is all about. But then Daddy came in, you know all serious with that big vein in the middle of his forehead bulging. So I was like, well, when are you coming back? Daddy shrugged and said, ‘Whenever your mother feels she’s said her piece, I guess.’” The last had been said in Deena’s husky imitation of Paul Lakefield.
“But I don’t understand,” Karena said.
“You know what, K? I don’t think we’re supposed to under stand. They’re our parents after all, and it’s common knowledge that kids don’t understand their parents.”
“We’re not kids, Deena. We’re grown women. It’s not a stretch to know that something’s going on between them.”
“I know that, K. I wasn’t saying it like we’re too young to know or should be too young to care. All I’m saying is that whatever it is, it’s between them. Clearly Mama has it under control, so I really don’t think there’s anything for us to worry about.”
“If you didn’t think we should worry, why’d you call me right away with the news?” Because really, Karena could have gone for the next twenty-four hours without any more major revelations.
“Because they’re our parents and I felt you should know they’d be out of town. What’s with this crabby attitude of yours? And where’s Monica? I called her office but she wasn’t there. And for the life of me I can’t imagine where else the Ice Queen would be besides work.”
Karena sighed. “Don’t call her that. She’s our sister.”
“And that’s why I’m allowed to call her that. Now, the minute somebody else calls her out of her name, it’s on.”
The smile crept across her lips, the chuckle erupting from her throat on impulse. Deena was impossible.
“So they left town. Did you manage to at least get their destination?”
“You know I did,” she said with a smile.
Yeah, Karena did know. When Deena wanted to know something, there was nothing any of them could do to keep it from her. “Well?”
“Oh, they’re going to the vacation house in Martha’s Vineyard. But we’re not to tell any of Daddy’s business associates and we’re not to disturb them unless one of us is bleeding from the head and knocking on death’s door. Mama’s orders.”
Again Karena chuckled. “I know Mama did not say that.”
“Nope, I added that part, but you know what I mean.’
“Yeah, Dee, I know what you mean.”
“So what’s going on with you? You sound terrible.”
“Gee, thanks,” Karena answered glibly just as a knock sounded at her door. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
“How about breakfast tomorrow? I’ve got news to share,” Deena offered.
“Sure, since you’re home alone, I’ll come by the house.”
“Sounds good, but bring food. I’m not cooking and I’m not keeping that silly housekeeper in the house when Daddy’s not here.”
“I feel you on that one,” Karena said, never understanding why her father hired a housekeeper when her mother still did all the cooking and cleaning herself. “So I’ll see you around ten.”
“Cool. Be safe.”
“You, too.” Karen disconnected the phone, saying, “Come in,” simultaneously.
She hadn’t expected who walked in.
“I’m sorry to disturb you. This morning you looked as if you were still perplexed, and I had some free time while Felipe took care of some international business at the embassy. So I figured I would come by and talk with you.”
Izabel de Carriero stood in her doorway, looking as if she really thought she was intruding. Karena hurried from her chair around the desk. “Oh, please, don’t apologize,” she said, motioning for Izabel to take a seat and closing the door behind her. “You’re quite welcome here.”
“Thank you,” Izabel responded as she sat.
Going back around her desk, Karena took her seat. “So the grand tour of Manhattan is over?”
“Yes. Your parents are delightful people.”
“Ah, my mother loves to play hostess. My father, on the other hand…”
“Actually, your mother was most v
ocal and wanted to know just as much about my home as I did hers. A very intelligent woman, I think she is. Your father is very formidable, as well.”
Formidable seemed to be an understatement but at least, Karena thought, he’d been civil to her.
“I’m glad to hear that, Izabel.”
“Yet, you are still worried?”
“No.”
“You are. I see the lines of worry on your face.”
Karena wished a hole would miraculously appear and she’d be gulped into the dismal abyss of embarrassment. She really had to do something about these frown lines. “I’m fine.” She heard herself saying this and grimaced inwardly as it sounded like a recording.
“You want to know who stole Cezar’s paintings and sold them to you.”
She could have continued to deny anything was wrong, could have called on her business training and familial etiquette. But she sensed the princess would see right through the charade. “Yes,” she answered honestly.
Izabel nodded. “His name is Eduardo Matos. He is the brother of the woman, Iracema, who first sold Cezar’s work.”
Karena was appalled. “Why? How?”
“You must first understand that Pirata is a small town. We are granted self-administration by the República Federativa do Brasil. This means that we abide by the federal constitution but our local law is separate. And just like in your country, there are the rich and there are the poor.”
“And Eduardo is poor?”
“He is not royalty. His family, however, lives in one of the larger villas near the shore. His mother used to work for the battalion chief who lived there. When he died he left the villa to her. She raised her two children there until her death several years ago. Eduardo and Iracema live there together. He is good with his hands, so he takes odd jobs in the village to help make enough money to keep the villa intact. Iracema sews well and makes her living this way.”
“So they stole Cezar’s paintings to make money to take care of their home?” Karena didn’t understand. In her mind, stealing was a crime, no matter what the reason. And it was one of the worst crimes, right up there in her book with lying, because she felt they were both so damned unnecessary.