Worth Everything: Worth It, Book 4

by Karen Erickson

  “Misunderstandings are futile.” He tried to smile, but it wasn’t sincere. It didn’t even reach his eyes. “Perhaps we can start over and discuss the matter in a more…civilized manner.”

  She remained quiet, contemplating him. He seemed like a man who preferred polite conversation. Who did everything by the book, never diverting, never daring to break the rules or do something that would damage an attorney/client relationship.

  A few minutes in her presence and it was as if he was ready to throw away the veneer of perfection and argue with her until they ran out of breath. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. His reaction to her, their reaction to each other, made no sense.

  “I agree,” she finally said, noting the relief softening his otherwise stern expression. “I think we’re both on edge and we’re—taking it out on each other. We need to put that past us and focus on what needs to be done.”

  “And what is that exactly, Stasia? Tell me what you want from me, what you want from the Worths.”

  “I want a sense of family. I want…” She sighed, the sound so full of wistful longing it sent a pang straight to her vulnerable heart. “I want to belong. To someone, somewhere. I need to.”

  Now it was his turn to study her, not saying a word, though she saw the surprise in his gaze. He believed her some sort of she-devil out to take the Worths for everything they had when that wasn’t her intention. Money didn’t matter. A person could have all the wealth in the world, but it still didn’t make them happy.

  She’d been happy, once upon a time. Successful at her job, excited to start working on her own jewelry line, and part of a family that had been in the fashion accessory industry for generations. With three brothers who loved her, a father who doted on her and a mother who thought she was completely spoiled.

  That had been wiped from her life with her father’s shocking will.

  “I think we need to go farther back.” He cleared his throat, his gaze, his face so utterly serious, she leaned toward him, eager to hear what he had to say next. “I think we need to find your mother and talk to her.”

  Stasia reared back, emphatically shaking her head. “No. That’s impossible.”

  “Why? Why won’t she talk to you? Have you tried?”

  “Of course I’ve tried. She refuses to talk to anyone. She’s staying in Italy as if she were exiled.”

  “We’ll go see her, then.” He cocked his head to the side. “Don’t you want to learn the truth? The details as to how you…came to be?”

  Her chest tightened. What if those revelations, those stories, were too painful for her to endure? Then what? She’d have to live with them the rest of her life. She didn’t know if she was ready for that yet.

  Would she settle for the unknown, though? Perhaps it was better, knowing exactly how her mother could betray her “father” so completely.

  “Are you afraid, Stasia?” His voice lowered a notch, so husky-deep it seemed to reach inside her and touch her quivery heart. “Is that it? Are you too scared to face the truth?”

  “No.” She blew out a harsh breath, hating how her voice trembled. “I refuse to be afraid. Then I’ll turn into my mother, all alone and refusing to talk to anyone.”

  “Exactly. You need to be stronger than that. And I know you have it in you.” Gavin then did something so shocking she thought she might jump out of her skin. Reaching across the table, he rested his hand atop hers in what seemed to be a comforting gesture.

  He had no idea his touch seemed to reach something dark and forbidden deep within her. Desire swirled, gathered low in her belly when she felt the gentle sweep of his thumb across her sensitive skin.

  “Let’s go to Italy and talk to her,” he murmured. “Find out everything she knows before we go to the Worths. It might be smart, strategically. We could fill them in with the details as well. Don’t you believe they’re just as curious?”

  Were they? She hadn’t a clue, since they refused to look at her, let alone speak to her. Besides that one moment with Rhett, which felt like a lifetime ago. “What if my mother tells us nothing?”

  The smile that curved his generous mouth was a real one this time, and absolutely devastating in its power. It sent a spark of heat whispering over her skin, along her nerve endings. “If we go all that way to question her, I believe you’ll get her to talk.” He removed his hand from hers, leaving her a little lost without his touch.

  The relationship she’d shared with her mother prior to her father’s death had always been a little troublesome. She’d always felt as if her mother were the teeniest bit jealous of the closeness Stasia had with her father.

  Maybe now she knew why. Did her mother secretly laugh at them, knowing they weren’t bound by blood? Did she think it amusing, nursing such a powerful secret all these years? Had she hoped to get away with it forever?

  Stasia didn’t know. But she did know Gavin was right. She needed to find out. Everything.

  Taking a deep breath, she exhaled loudly. “When do you want to leave?”

  The smile grew, became even more devastating, if that was possible. The man wielded a power he seemed unaware of, which was scary, especially for the well being of her extremely fragile heart. “I can have my assistant make travel arrangements first thing tomorrow. Whenever you can get away, we’ll leave.”

  “My schedule is completely clear,” she said wryly. “I have no commitments.”

  “Good to know. I have a few, but I can rearrange them. Fortunately, it’s a quiet period for me.”

  “My luck, then.” She smiled wanly. “Yours as well, I’m assuming. So. Have you ever been to Italy?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve never been to Europe at all.”

  That was surprising. He had a sophisticated air, urbane and immaculate in appearance, what with the precisely tailored suits, elegant in cut and style, the perfectly cut dark hair, the expensive watch that circled his wrist. She believed him the typical attorney who had too much money and spent it on luxurious trips across the continent. She’d known quite a few of them. Had dated some as well. Yet every last one of them had been too slick, too shallow for her to consider them long term.

  Gavin, though, had that untamed air about him. As if it wouldn’t take much to reveal the real man beneath the smooth mask.

  “You have a passport?” she asked.

  “Of course.” Ah, there was her irritated lawyer, though he seemed to realize his mistake quickly. His expression smoothed, his voice returned to that calm, modulated tone. “I figure we can leave by Wednesday at the latest.”

  “Sounds perfect.” She sipped from her glass of water, refusing to have any more wine. Too much alcohol and this man would be a heady combination, one that might leave her open and vulnerable to just about…anything.

  A thought she shouldn’t be having. He was her attorney. She’d hired him to help her discover the truth about her heritage. No way could she entertain thoughts of indulging in some personal time with the deliciously handsome, secretly sexy Gavin Westmore.

  Chapter Five

  Gavin felt as if he’d been transported to another world, where the sun was more intense, the colors more vibrant and the native language lyrical and mysterious. Everywhere he looked he saw couples that appeared happy, full of love. He’d never been what he considered a romantic man, nor one who entertained fanciful thoughts. Hell, he hadn’t realized the word “fanciful” was in his vocabulary until this very moment.

  Perhaps spending too much time with a too beautiful woman did that to a man.

  They’d left New York first thing Wednesday morning, as planned. Seven hours later and they were in Italy, specifically the Amalfi Coast, Stasia behind the wheel of a tiny red car driving way too fast for his comfort.

  The roads wound tight around the mountains, the sheer cliff that shot straight down into the ocean on the other side giving him a minor panic attack, not that he’d ever admit it. He’d grown up tough, had carried a knife on him walking home from school when he was in junio
r high, for Christ’s sake. He thought he’d seen it all, could endure anything.

  Yet he wasn’t sure if he’d survive the drive to Stasia’s family estate, what with the reckless speed she was going, how she whipped the car to and fro on the narrow road. She was a spectacularly shitty driver.

  “Slow the fuck down,” he muttered, finally vocalizing what he’d been chanting in his head since the moment she got behind the wheel.

  She flashed him a cheeky smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Did I just hear what I thought I did?” When he ignored her, she burst out laughing. “I’ve been driving these roads since I first got my license. Trust me. I’ll get us there in one piece.”

  “Yeah, right.” He said it under his breath, but the look she shot him told him she’d heard it. Not that he cared. She drove like a crazy woman, the windows rolled down, her long dark brown hair blowing everywhere, probably obscuring her view, not that she seemed to care. She looked carefree and beautiful with it. The complete opposite of the woman he’d been working with the last few days.

  “You need to relax. You’re too stuffy in your business attire. We’re at one of the most gorgeous vacation spots in the world, no? Enjoy it.” She waved a hand at him, nearly giving him a seizure since she was now clearly driving one-handed.

  “I’m dressed like this because we’re here on business,” he reminded her, sounding like a stuffy old man, just as she’d accused.

  “I know, but you’ll worry my mother, looking like you do.” She met his gaze, her smile growing, most likely because she saw the panic flare in his eyes. She needed to pay attention to the road, not him.

  “And how do I look?” He glanced down. At least he’d shed the jacket and tie, wearing a white dress shirt and charcoal gray trousers. He’d been going for business casual.

  “Like an intimidating lawyer out for blood.” She shook her head, downshifting so the car’s engine whined as she came around a particularly tight corner. “You do realize I haven’t spoken to her since the night my father died. She might not approve of me showing up with someone like you.”

  His jaw dropped open in shock. “No, I hadn’t realized.”

  “It’s true. She was with him when he took his final breath. She emerged from their room, pale and shaking, and announced that he’d died. Not one tear, nor did she offer any explanation, though we knew he was terribly sick. The cancer diagnosis had been such a shock. But still.” Stasia shook her head. “She isolated herself in her room and refused to come to his funeral, which surprised us all, but we assumed she was taking it particularly hard. She talked to my oldest brother once, when he requested she come for the reading of the will. She left for Italy that very same day. No one has spoken to her since.”

  Claudia Renaldi was clearly a selfish woman who ran away from her problems. “Ignoring everything and everyone isn’t the solution.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “What I’m trying to say is, she might not know we’re coming.”

  “I figured.”

  “I spoke with Renzo. He’s managed the villa for years. I let him know when we were flying in, and the house is prepared for our arrival. I would assume he’s informed her we’ll be there.”

  “Did you explain who I was?” Hmm, if she did, there was the possibility that Claudia had lawyered up in preparation.

  “No. I told Renzo you were a friend.” She shot him a skeptical look. “A stretch, I know, but I didn’t want my mother aware of anything. She might flee, or worse, find her own attorney.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. Smart move on your part.” He had to give it to her. Stasia wasn’t a complete idiot. Nor was she leading solely with her emotions, which would be so easy to do considering her circumstance.

  “We’re almost there.” She made a sharp left and started up a steep hill. “Wait until you see the view. It’s spectacular.”

  His view at this very moment was pretty damn spectacular. The oversized black top Stasia wore sloped off to the side, revealing one smooth shoulder, the bright pink strap of her bra. Cropped jeans and casual black woven sandals completed her look, accentuated with a delicate gold chain hanging from her neck, a matching chain around her right wrist.

  So effortlessly put together, she was beautiful. Women were most likely jealous of her and men without a doubt lusted after her.

  Much like he did.

  He was grateful for the wave of lust. It momentarily distracted him from her grinding the gears as they headed up the hill toward the Renaldi Villa. Kept him from thinking too hard as to how high they were climbing, or how close to the edge of the cliff she was driving. One wrong move and they’d be pitched into the Mediterranean. Not the way he’d want to start this business meeting/semi-vacation they were embarking on.

  “I wish we were staying longer,” she said with a wistful sigh as she turned onto an even narrower street.

  He finally glanced around, relieved to see nothing but elaborate gates that most likely hid gorgeously expensive homes. Well-manicured flowerbeds lined the street and bushy olive trees offered plenty of shade. They drove through a small, affluent neighborhood, so at least it didn’t feel like they were gripping the edge of the mountain.

  “I can’t get away for longer than four or five days. Shouldn’t that be enough time?” he finally asked.

  “Oh, for talking to my mother, definitely. Now that we’re here, though, I’m realizing how much I missed it. I’d love to stay here for a few weeks. It would be so relaxing.”

  “I’m sure.” Jealousy coiled in his gut. He knew she’d worked since she was a teen, though it had been for the family company, so she’d been handed the position. And he knew she had nothing now, no job, no family support, no money besides whatever she might’ve had in her bank account when her father died. His feelings were irrational, he shouldn’t be jealous of her.

  But he was jealous—of her past. She’d grown up with everything her heart desired. Whereas he’d grown up kicking and fighting for every single thing he got. And when he’d been young, he hadn’t got much.

  “I spent many a summer here as a child, through my teens.” She sounded wistful. “I used to beg my brothers to take me down to the beach so we could spend all day there.”

  “Sounds amazing.”

  “Oh, it was. It still is.” She sent him a quick warm smile. “If we can, I’ll take you there. We should at least spend a few hours on the beach. You’ll never want to leave.”

  He should tell her no, he had too much work. It wasn’t appropriate. Spending a few hours at the beach with Stasia wasn’t proper business behavior. Seeing Stasia in a skimpy bikini? Because he knew she wouldn’t cover up that gorgeous body. The thought was tempting as hell, absolutely. Dangerous as hell?

  Also absolutely.

  “You’re probably not the beach type.” She wrinkled her nose. “You probably have legal briefs to read and phone calls to make.”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t know what else to say. She was one-hundred percent right. Though he hadn’t lied when he’d told her it was a slow time for him at the office, he always had work to do. Always. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a vacation. Not even a weekend away.

  He’d been accused more than once that he didn’t know how to relax. Past girlfriends had left him for that reason alone. He didn’t know how to make time for a relationship. Had worked too damn hard to get where he was to let it slide by for a vacation here and there.

  That had probably been a mistake. What the hell was wrong with a vacation? He was twenty-fucking-nine-years-old and he’d never taken one. Ever. The last time he’d left the city was for a weekend jaunt to the Jersey Shore in his early twenties with his college buddies, where they’d screwed women that they’d picked up at the local bars like wild beasts.

  After college graduation, he’d worked. And worked and worked and worked. He had a reputation at his law firm for turning in the most billing hours. He’d climbed the promotional ladder in record time. He was proud of that. Damn p
roud.

  But what sort of personal life did he have? None. He’d sacrificed it all for his career.

  “You probably don’t want to hang out with me at the beach anyway. You don’t even like me.”

  “I never said that,” he started but she cut him off with an unladylike snort.

  “You didn’t have to.”

  No, he supposed he didn’t. He couldn’t admit the reason he argued with her so much was as a defense mechanism. A way for him to avoid what he really felt for her.

  Not that he felt anything. It was based on attraction, nothing else. He’d been attracted to plenty of women before and never acted on it. Stasia was no exception.

  “Here we are,” she said brightly, thankfully changing the subject. She turned left onto a driveway and stopped before the massive, sleek wooden gate painted white. Within seconds it was opening, allowing them entry, and she pulled in, a large, two-story house looming ahead. As they drew closer, he saw the rounded arches, the bright flowers blooming everywhere, vivid against the stark white of the house. And in the near distance, the glimmering blue ocean, dotted with boats that looked like toys floating in the water.

  He whistled low, catching her attention.

  “I know, it’s gorgeous, isn’t it? I always forget just how wonderful the view is until I return. It takes my breath away every single time.”

  “I can see why.” It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Of course, he’d rarely been out of the city, so this was a new experience for him.

  Made him realize there was more to life than the four walls of his high-rise office in midtown Manhattan, that was for damn sure.

  She parked in an open carport, hopping out of the car the moment she put it in park and shut off the engine. He followed her and exited the vehicle, squinting against the intense late afternoon sun. He’d forgotten his sunglasses, a huge mistake.

  “I’m sure my brothers left a few pairs of sunglasses around,” she said when he shielded his eyes from the sun. “I’ll find you some.”

  “Thanks.” He was pretty sure the Renaldi brand licensed sunglasses, so he didn’t doubt she’d find some.