True Bliss

by Cameron, Stella

  "Make sure you don't hit my truck on your way out, Winters."

  Bliss gaped at Sebastian.

  Her father swept past them both and went into the lodge—and a familiar dark green limousine crawled onto the property. Masked in dark glasses and a red head-scarf, Maryan Plato got out before the chauffeur could come to her aid. The same shiny raincoat she'd worn on her last visit was in place, but this time her high-heeled shoes were red.

  Sebastian crossed his arms and waited until she reached him. "What the hell are you doing here, Sis?"

  "Trying to save you from yourself," she said, ignoring Bliss. She flapped a newspaper. "Have you seen this?"

  "Bliss and I have already had a very long, very difficult day."

  "There's a photo of you with all those bleeding-heart, save-our-children types screaming at you. She's in it." Maryan pointed the paper at Bliss. "That bitch O'Leary scored a great point. She said Bliss Winters is a rebel who'd do anything to hurt her father. She said she's deliberately hanging out with you to try to hurt his political career."

  "Maryan. I want you to get back in that car and go home."

  "Don't you tell me what to do," Maryan shouted. "Don't you understand the inference. She can hurt her daddy's career by being photographed with a man who lures nubile girls to their deaths, a man who feeds them like tadpoles to his shark buddies in the porno biz. She's using you."

  A queasiness attacked Bliss's stomach. Her head buzzed.

  "Notice she's not saying anything," Maryan pointed out. "What the paper doesn't say—because they don't know—is that she's paying you back for having the sense to duck out on her years ago. So don't fuck everything up now, Bro. We've been through too much to get where we are. What do you think you're

  doing? Chasing your lost youth? You need some entertainment— real entertainment. I'll make sure you get some. Now, let's get out of this dump."

  "Bliss!"

  She heard Sebastian say her name and realized she'd clutched his sleeve. "Sorry." She started to let go, but he covered her hand on his arm.

  Without replying to Mary an, Sebastian led Bliss inside the lodge. "You don't look good," he said, as if Morris Winters weren't pacing the shabby great room, and as if Maryan hadn't followed them into the building. "I want you to go upstairs to your room. I'll help your father calm down."

  "Help me calm down!" Morris all but charged Sebastian. He halted inches in front of him, his hands opening and closing at his sides. "You upstart. You piece of trash. You are nothing. I know it and you know it. And if you don't gather up your marbles and get out of town I'm going to make sure you get kicked out of every game in the country. Do we understand each other?"

  Bliss watched, paralyzed, as Sebastian narrowed the distance between himself and her father to a short breathing space. "I know who I am—and what I am. Do you know who and what you are, or would you like me to explain those details to you?"

  "Get out of Washington State." Morris's voice had lost a trace of its certainty. He was a tall man, but not as tall as Sebastian. Suddenly Bliss's father seemed smaller than he ever had—and older.

  "Darn it, Dad. You're making a fool of yourself—and me."

  Her father turned an even darker shade of red. "Don't you ever speak to me like that, my girl."

  "Bliss isn't a kid you can push around anymore," Sebastian said. "I'm here and I'm staying. I'm staying until I decide I don't want to stay anymore. And as long as Bliss is here that won't happen, so I guess you're going to have to get used to knowing we inhabit the same territory."

  "I'll put you out of business." Morris saw Maryan. He stared at her. "Big sister to the rescue as usual?"

  Sebastian eyed Maryan. "Have you two met before?"

  "Not in the flesh"—Maryan showed her sharp little teeth— "fortunately. I called his office earlier and asked for a few words with the great man. I was told he wasn't in, but evidently he just wasn't in to me."

  "You've got it, girlie."

  Bliss sat down hard on the couch. "Girlie, Dad? For God's sake."

  "Peddle your politically correct crap somewhere else, Bliss. And remember whose side you're on."

  "Mine," Sebastian said calmly. "I'd have thought political correctness came pretty high up on your list."

  Morris rolled from his heels to his toes and back. He sniffed. The color in his face notched down from puce to pink. "Okay. Okay, let's back off and calm down. Tempers got a bit out of hand for a moment there. We're reasonable men. Let's talk." A gesture of his left hand took in Bliss and Maryan. "Why don't you two gir— You ladies must have other things to occupy you. Run along. I'll say good-bye before I leave, Bliss."

  She laughed. She couldn't help it.

  No one laughed at Morris Winters. "Get a hold of yourself. Damn it, you were a difficult child and you're still difficult. You've got a lot of growing up to do. Good thing your aunt made sure you couldn't get your hands . . ." He twisted his neck inside his collar. "We'll talk about that later."

  "Maybe you should talk about it now," Sebastian said, all silk.

  Maryan met Bliss's eyes and the message was clear, / told you he wanted your money

  "Dad," Bliss said. "Maryan can go where she pleases. This is my home and I'm not going anywhere."

  Maryan started a slow hand-clap.

  "Shut up," Sebastian said. "And either go to the office, or wherever you're supposed to be, or sit down and be quiet."

  Morris's withering glance in Maryan's direction was a wasted effort. She took off her coat, left on the glasses and scarf, and arranged herself at the opposite end of the couch. A red tank

  top clung to her breasts and pouted over her nipples. A matching, rib-knit skirt barely covered her panties—also red from where Bliss sat.

  A police officer tapped the door and entered, taking his cap off as he did so. He nodded at Bliss, cast a speculative eye over Morris and Maryan, and beckoned to Sebastian. "Could I ask you to step outside, sir. Just one or two more questions have come up."

  Maryan made to get up. A glance from Sebastian subdued her.

  "Can we talk some sense now?" Morris asked when Sebastian had left the lodge. He spoke as if Maryan were absent or deaf. "Your mother took time out of a busy schedule to come and see you."

  "Made her late for a hair appointment did I?"

  "Don't put your mother down to me."

  "Sorry." She wasn't.

  "She told me what she found here. What happened."

  When Bliss didn't respond, Maryan said, "What did happen?"

  "Be quiet, or get out," Morris told her.

  Bliss smiled sweetly and said, "Mother was a bit surprised when Sebastian came down from my bedroom—it was early in the morning and she has such a suspicious mind."

  Maryan's already thin mouth all but disappeared.

  "Disgusting," Bliss's father said. "A woman of your background fornicating with a—"

  "That's enough," Bliss told him. "Don't talk about Sebastian like that. You don't know him."

  "I don't want to." His eyes returned repeatedly to Maryan. "I didn't get your message until I'd already left to come here. If I'd known you'd called, I'd have made a point of speaking to you. Maybe you can help me sort out this mess."

  Maryan crossed her legs.

  The glimpse of red satin between her thighs wasn't wasted on Morris. "You left a number. Can I be forgiven for being an overbearing male? Will you allow me to call you later and discuss our common interests?"

  Once Bliss would have wilted in the presence of her father's blatant sexual overtures to women other than her mother. At this point, his apparently flourishing appetite simply interested her—and disgusted her.

  "We can talk," Maryan said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts with predictable results. "My brother is a hothead. He doesn't always think, but he's a helluva businessman—a natural—I'm sure he'll come around."

  And she, Bliss thought, might as well be an annoying piece of wallpaper that needed to be hidden by a coat of fresh paint
.

  Sebastian returned with a deep frown line between his brows. "Are we finished, Mr. Winters? Yes, we're finished. Good. Have a great day."

  Maryan rose from the couch and went through the pointless exercise of smoothing her almost nonexistent skirt. "I'll be at the office later this afternoon, Seb. We both need some time to cool down. Be there, will you? Around, ooh, four?"

  "Bye, Sis."

  "Four?"

  "Bye, Sis."

  Turning her mouth down, Maryan swept up her coat and flung it around her shoulders.

  Pounding footsteps of the small, bare variety, made their way through the kitchen and exploded, with their out-of-breath owner, into the great room. "Sebastian!" Bobby yelled, and threw himself at his new favorite person. "Mom's coming. She wouldn't let me out till those police cars left. I wanted to come and see."

  "Your mom knows best," Sebastian said, swinging the boy off his feet. He hiked a delighted Bobby onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around the child's legs. "This is my buddy, Bobby," he told Maryan, whose mouth appeared likely to remain permanently open.

  Polly came into the room. At the sight of Maryan she stopped as if stunned.

  "Hi, Polly," Bliss said, freshly angry at the memory of Maryan's previous callous behavior toward Polly. "Oh, I forgot

  to ask how you made out when you called Raptor. Polly's a singer, Sebastian. She's very good. Needs the right break, like most people. Maryan told her to call someone called Zoya? She runs the talent agency for you? Maryan said Zoya would arrange for Polly to come in to see if there might be something Raptor could do for her."

  Sebastian was staring at Maryan. "When would that have been? You were here before?"

  "Just stopping by to say hi to an old friend," Maryan said smoothly. "After all, it isn't as if Bliss and I are strangers."

  "No," Bliss agreed. "We met once before—for five minutes."

  "Why did you come here?" Sebastian asked Maryan.

  "I told you. To say hi."

  "Garbage," Sebastian told her. To Polly he said, "Can you be reached here?"

  "Y-yes." Polly's mouth trembled.

  He smiled reassuringly. "Zoya will call you and set up an appointment. This is a fine young man you're bringing up. You must be very proud of him."

  Bliss could have kissed him. She'd known for too long that Bobby's confidence was almost zilch. This afternoon, using Sebastian's ears as handles, he glowed.

  A swish of silky raincoat drew Bliss's attention back to Maryan. Fury drew her features tight. She spared Bliss a withering look that traveled her length, then made for the door, not, Bliss noted, without a parting glance in Morris's direction.

  "Thanks for coming," Bliss said, and instantly regretted her mean effort. "It'll be okay, Maryan. Trust Sebastian to do the right things for everyone."

  The sunglasses came off, revealing puffy eyes underscored with dark lines. "You trite bitch," Maryan said. "The first time I met you, I detested you for what you are."

  Such bald hatred stunned Bliss.

  Her father busied himself checking his pockets for some mystery possession.

  It was Sebastian who gave Maryan his full, furious attention.

  "That's really too bad," he said. "A real shame. It's going to make things pretty complicated."

  "Not from where I'm looking," Maryan said, replacing her glasses. "You're no fool, Seb. You know who your best friend is. You know who'll always be there for you—who'll make sure you get whatever you need."

  "I think I do," he told her. He lifted Bobby from his shoulders and put the child's hand in his mother's. "D'you suppose you two could track Beater down for me?"

  "He's—"

  Polly interrupted Bobby, "Of course we will. Come on. Bobby. We'll make sure he gets some water and food, too."

  Without waiting for the door to entirely close behind Polly and Bobby, Maryan swaggered to hang on Sebastian's arm. "I'll send the car back and come with you."

  Firmly, but gently, he disengaged her grip. "Go in the car. We'll talk later."

  Maryan's gray eyes sparked. "I need to discuss some things with you and they can't wait."

  "And I need to discuss some things that can't wait," Sebastian said. "But not with you."

  Bliss felt uncomfortable.

  "Morris?" Sebastian said.

  "I think Mr. Winters would be more appropriate."

  "You asshole."

  "Sebastian!" Bliss said.

  "Yeah. Sorry, Mr. Winters. Your daughter doesn't like me to swear—so I try not to."

  "Shit," Maryan muttered.

  "Do you have anything to say to me before you leave, Plato?"

  "Sure do, Mr. Winters." Sebastian smiled—the picture of charm and respect. "I'm going to marry your daughter."

  UTiireteen.

  Some might say he'd made a tactical error. Sebastian preferred to consider himself a brilliant wartime strategist. Bliss was definitely not dripping honey all over him in the wake of his announcement, but desperate conditions called for desperate measures and he'd been damned desperate. He'd risen to the occasion.

  She wouldn't look at him.

  Morris had been the first to thunder from the lodge, spewing threats—and assurances that Bliss would never be Sebastian's wife. Maryan had hung around a few minutes longer to question Sebastian's basic intelligence quotient, then, finally and blessedly, left in a shoe-slapping flurry.

  Bliss still hadn't said a word.

  But she hadn't told him to fuck off and die, either.

  No, he'd better try to stop even thinking those words. She hadn't told him she wouldn't marry him, or that he was all kinds of a fool, a presumptuous fool, for saying she would.

  "I think you've lost your mind, Sebastian. I'm not going to marry you."

  And that exploded whatever small reassurances he'd allowed himself until now. "Yes, you are."

  "No, I'm not." She delivered the statement with her pointed chin raised and mutiny in her blue, blue eyes.

  And he never backed away from what he wanted, and what he was going to get. "You will marry me. You may fight what

  you really want, but in the end you'll give up and give in. We're going to be married."

  "You're arrogant."

  He bent forward from the waist and went to her, brought his face close to hers. "Why don't you let it all hang out? Say something really terrible, like, mmm"—for an instant he couldn't find the words, then they came to him—"Like, you nasty man, you. Try it, babe. I promise you I'll still respect you, even if you do sully your pristine lips with such epithets."

  "I hope you never call me babe, again"—she tried to make more space between them—"Darn, you, Sebastian, you're so abysmally sarcastic."

  He frowned. "A-bys-mal? Great going, Bliss. That sounds really obscene. I'm proud of you."

  "I didn't believe Maryan when she told me you were having me followed."

  "Maryan"—he processed the comment—"Maryan told you that?"

  "Maryan's a miserably unhappy woman. Maybe you should give her a break. She obviously loves you too much. And yes, she told me you'd hired a private detective to follow me around."

  In other words, Maryan had come to Bliss to mix things up, to point out what a worthless shit he was, and how wise Bliss would be to wish him adios. His sister would get her chat, but she wouldn't like it.

  "You hired someone to spy on me," Bliss said, her voice rising.

  "I did do that. Before I got here to Washington, and for a while afterward. I needed to be sure I wasn't breaking in on you if you had a husband and ten kids."

  "I don't. You knew that some time ago. That poor man died last night and it was completely pointless."

  "And I feel partially to blame. I should have told him to"—he recalled the shadowy shot of the inside of Bliss's bedroom—"I intended to release him. The appropriate moment didn't occur before it was too late."

  "You don't like losing women, do you? It makes you angry and vengeful."

  "Where did that c
ome from?"

  "I don't know." She shrugged and turned a little pink. "Just an idea I had. Forget it."

  "I don't think so, Bliss. What do you mean?"

  "I don't know what I mean! Just drop it."

  "Was it something else Mary an said? Another of her persuasive arguments?"

  "Drop it, please. I don't know most of what I'm saying. I haven't slept in almost two days."

  "Neither have I."

  "Of course." Sliding along the couch, away from him, she pushed to her feet. "Are you in financial trouble?"

  She caught him off guard. "Huh?"

  "Financial trouble. Short of money."

  "Good God . . . No, I'm not short of money, Bliss."

  "Good."

  She made for the stairs.

  Sebastian cut her off. "Not good enough. Why would you suddenly ask if I'm short of money?"

  "I don't know. You did point out to me that I've got a trust fund."

  "When?"

  "I can't remember."

  To stop himself from touching her, he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Try."

  "Okay." She appeared short of breath. "We were talking about my having a tough time making ends meet here. You said I should go into my trust fund."

  "If you need money, I think you should. It's yours."

  "I'm going upstairs."

  The sound of his footsteps behind hers on the stairs didn't slow her down.

  She hurried.

  He speeded up and passed her, and reached the bedroom door in time to throw it open for her. "Allow me."

  "Thanks." She went inside and made to shut the door again.

  It was Sebastian who shut the door—from the inside. "What point are you trying to make about money?"

  She looked trapped. "Forget it."

  "My sister is . . . She's my sister. The closest thing to family I've got, but she's possessive. I don't even like thinking that. Saying it burns me. She's afraid someone else is going to hurt me."

  Bliss pushed at the bridge of her glasses. "I've got enough trouble all on my own. I'd like you to go."

  "I'm pissed, Chilly." He parted his lips over clenched teeth. "Now I remember when the subject of your trust fund came up. We were talking about that damned dangerous hole you've got out there. You said you'd fill it—"