by Joanne Rock
Desmond spoke before Miles had a chance to ask about that.
“So Vivian must have known about Zach if you’ve been friends that long.” Desmond seemed to put the pieces together faster, but maybe it was easier to have more clarity on the situation than Miles, who’d lost objectivity where Chiara was concerned a long time ago. “Maybe she figured it was somehow helping you to keep Chiara from asking too many questions.”
Weston whistled softly under his breath. “She sounds like a piece of work.”
Alec bristled. “She’s smart as hell, actually. Just highly unethical.”
The conversation continued, but Miles couldn’t focus on it with the urge to see Chiara, to make sure she knew that her hacker was in custody, so strong. He wanted to share the news with her, to give her this much even though he’d failed their fledgling relationship.
“Why did she feel the need to post a picture of me with an old girlfriend on Chiara’s page?” he found himself asking, curious not so much for himself, but for Chiara’s sake. He’d known that image had bothered her.
And if he was able to see her again—or even just speak to her—he wanted to share answers with her. Answers he owed her after the way he’d withheld information from her before.
Alec took another drink of his coffee before responding. “I wondered about that, too. I guess Vivian was upset about a photo of me with Chiara from that night at your party, Miles. Then, when she saw the pictures of you at the police station with Chiara—looking like a couple—she figured the best way to hurt Chiara would be with an image of you and someone else.”
Miles remembered the jealousy that had gone through him when he saw Alec’s hand on the small of Chiara’s back that night, touching her bare skin through the cutout of her silver gown.
Weston spoke up. “For a smart woman, she definitely made some stupid mistakes. But lucky for us, right? Because now she’s behind bars.” He stood as if to leave. “I’ve got to get back to April to meet the car taking us to the mountain.”
Miles rose as well, edgy to be out of Tahoe. Now that he’d been relieved of his duties at Mesa Falls, he was free to use the afternoon’s flight to see Chiara. To share what he’d learned, at least. “Desmond, if you’ve got things covered at Mesa Falls, I’m going to head back home.”
“You’re returning to Rivera Ranch?” Desmond stood and walked to the door with them, though his question was for Miles.
“Eventually.” Miles could only think about one destination today, however. “I need to make a stop in Los Angeles first.”
After a quick exchange of pleasantries, Miles and Weston left the owner’s suite together.
“Los Angeles?” Weston wasted no time in posing the question.
Slowing his step in the long, empty corridor between the casino floor and the offices, Miles couldn’t deny the rare impulse to unburden himself. His brother, after all, owed him a listening ear after the way Miles had helped him patch up his relationship with April Stephens, the woman Wes loved beyond reason.
“I messed up with Chiara,” he admitted, done with trying to label what happened as anything other than his fault. “I was selfish. Stupid. Shortsighted—”
Weston halted in the middle of the echoing hall, clamping a hand on Miles’s shoulder. “What happened?”
Miles explained the way he’d withheld the news about the DNA evidence to give himself more time with her, to try to think of a way to make her stay, even though he’d known about her past and the way her own family had kept secrets from her. Even though she’d told him how hard it was for her to trust. When he finished, Weston looked thoughtful.
“You remember when I screwed up with April, you told me that I needed to be the one to take a risk. To put myself on the line?”
“Yes.” Miles remembered that conversation. Of course, taking chances was like breathing to his brother, so it hadn’t seemed like too much to ask of him to be the one to tell April he loved her. “I also told you that not everyone can be such a romantic.”
Miles knew himself too well. He had two feet on the ground at all times. He was a practical man. Salt of the earth. A rancher. He didn’t jump first and ask questions later. That had always been Wes’s role. But maybe it was time to take a page from his brother’s book, to step up and take a risk when the moment called for it. His gut burned to think he hadn’t already done so.
“News flash. What you’re feeling doesn’t have a thing to do with romance. It has everything to do with love, and you’re going to lose it, without question, if you can’t get your head on straight and see that.” Weston’s expression was dire.
Grave.
And Miles wasn’t too proud to admit it scared the hell of out of him. Especially if what he’d walked away from was love. But by the way the word encapsulated every single aspect of his feelings for Chiara, he knew Weston was right.
“You think I already blew it for good?” He wondered how fast his plane could get to LA.
“It’s been three days and you haven’t even called? Haven’t gone there to tell her how wrong you were?” Weston shook his head. “Why didn’t you call me sooner to help you figure this out? I owed you, man. Maybe, with more time, I could have—”
Miles cut his brother off, panic welling up in his chest.
“I’ve got a plane to catch.” He didn’t wait to hear any more about how much he’d screwed up. If time was of the essence, he wasn’t wasting another second of it to see Chiara and tell her how he felt about her.
That he loved her.
Thirteen
Seated in a low, rolled-arm chair close to her balcony, Chiara sniffed a small vial of fragrance, knowing she’d have a headache soon if she kept testing the samples from her perfumer. Although maybe the impending headache had more to do with all the tears she’d shed for Miles this week. Still, she needed the distraction from her hurt, so she sniffed the floral fumes again, trying to pinpoint what she didn’t like about the scent.
The setting sun smudged the western sky with lavender and pink as lights glowed in the valley below her Hollywood Hills home. The glass wall was retracted between her living room and the balcony so that the night air circulated around the seating area where she tested the samples. She’d adored this property once, so modern and elegant, but it felt incredibly lonely to her since she’d returned to it earlier in the week. As for the fragrance vial in her hand, the hint of honeysuckle—so pleasing in nature—was too heavy in the mixture. She handed it back to Mrs. Santor, her housekeeper. In addition to her regular duties, she was giving her input on developing a signature fragrance for Chiara’s brand.
“I didn’t like that one, either,” Mrs. Santor said from the seat beside her, packing away the vial in a kit Chiara had received from a perfumer. “You should call it a night, honey. You look spent.”
Amy Santor was Jules’s mother and a former next-door neighbor in Chiara’s old life. Mrs. Santor had cleaned houses all her life, and when Chiara’s business had taken off, she would have gladly given Mrs. Santor any job she wanted in her company to repay her for kindnesses she’d shown Chiara in her youth. But Jules’s mom insisted that she enjoyed keeping house, and Chiara felt fortunate to have a maternal figure in her home a few times a week.
“I shouldn’t be. It’s still early.” She checked her watch, irritated with herself for not being more focused.
She’d given Jules a much-needed night off but hadn’t taken one herself, preferring to lose herself in work ever since the heartbreak of leaving Lake Tahoe.
She’d heard from a detective today about arresting the woman who’d hijacked her social media, so it should have felt like she had closure. But that conversation had only made her realize how much more losing Miles had hurt her than any damage a hacker could wreak.
At any rate, she’d tried to lose herself in work since that had always been her escape. Her purpose. Her calling. She’d b
uilt it up in spite of the grief she’d had for Zach, trusting the job to keep her grounded. But it didn’t provide a refuge for her now.
“I’ll make you some tea before I go,” Mrs. Santor continued, putting away the paperwork from the fragrance kit. “I know you don’t want to talk about whatever happened on your travels, but trust me when I tell you that you need to take care of yourself.”
And with a gentle squeeze to Chiara’s shoulder, Mrs. Santor started the kettle to boil in the kitchen while Chiara tried to pull herself together. Maybe she should have confided in her longtime friend. She hadn’t talked to Jules, either, refusing to give the people she loved the chance to comfort her.
For so many years she’d been an island—isolated, independent, and no doubt taking too much pride in the fact. But what good was pride when she felt so empty inside now?
Walking away from Miles was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Second only to the restraint it took every day—every hour—not to call or text him. She wondered if he’d returned to Mesa Falls by now or if he’d gone back to Rivera Ranch. Mostly, she wondered if he ever missed her or regretted the way they’d parted.
A moment later, Mrs. Santor returned with a steaming cup and set it before her. “I’m heading out now, hon. I’ll see you Saturday, okay?”
Grateful for the woman’s thoughtfulness, Chiara rose and hugged her. “Thank you.”
Jules’s mother hugged her back with the same warmth she gave her own daughter. “Of course. And don’t work too hard.”
When Mrs. Santor left, Chiara settled in for the evening. But just as she took a sip of her tea to ward off the loneliness of her empty house, the guard buzzed her phone from the gate downstairs. She picked up her device.
“Ms. Campagna, there’s a Miles Rivera to see you.”
Everything inside her stilled.
There’d been a time he could have had security toss her out of his home for invading his privacy, but instead, he’d listened to her explanation. For that alone, he deserved an audience now. But more than that, she couldn’t resist the chance to see him again. She’d missed him so much.
“You can let him in,” she answered, feelings tumbling over each other too fast for her to pick through them.
She’d been thinking about him and wishing she could see him. Now that he was here, was she brave enough to take a chance with him? She didn’t want to let Miles go, either. What good did her pride do her if it left her feeling heartbroken and lonely?
Chiara resisted the urge to peek in a mirror, although she may have fluffed her hair a little and smoothed her dress. Who didn’t want to look their best in front of the one who got away?
She rose from the seat to stand out on the balcony. Even though she was staring out at the spectacular view with her back to the house, Chiara could tell when Miles was close. The hairs on the back of her neck stood, a shiver of awareness passing over her. She pressed her lips together to ward off the feelings, reminding herself of what had happened to drive them apart.
“I’ve never seen such a beautiful view.” The familiar rasp in his voice warmed her. Stirred her.
Turning on her heel, she faced him as he paced through the living area and out onto the balcony. With his chiseled features and deep blue eyes, his black custom suit that hinted at sculpted muscles and the lightly tanned skin visible at the open collar of his white shirt, he was handsome to behold.
But she remembered so many other things about him that were even more appealing. His thoughtfulness in watching out for her. His insistence she go to the police. His touch.
“Hello to you, too,” she greeted him, remembering his fondness for launching right into conversation. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I wanted to be sure you heard the news.” He stepped closer until he leaned against the balcony rail with her. “That your harasser is behind bars.”
She shouldn’t be disappointed that this practical man would be here for such a pragmatic purpose, yet she couldn’t deny she’d hoped for more than that. Should she tell him how much she’d missed him? How many times she’d thought about calling?
Absently, she drummed her fingernails against the polished railing, trying not to notice how close Miles’s hands were to hers. “Yes. A detective called me this morning with some questions about Vivian Fraser from our time together at Brookfield. I didn’t realize she worked for Alec now.”
“Were you aware she was jealous of you?”
“No. I don’t remember her well from Brookfield other than recalling she was a popular girl with a lot of friends. Our paths never crossed much, as she favored chess club and science over the art activities that I liked.” She’d been stunned to hear that Alec’s personal assistant had intercepted his messages and decided to “protect” Zach’s memory for him by attempting to scare Chiara away from her search for answers.
But apparently there was a clear digital trail that led to Vivian’s personal computer, and she’d admitted as much to the police. The woman was in love with Alec and would do anything to protect him. She’d also done her best to keep other women away from him since they’d had an on-again, off-again relationship dating all the way back to high school. It was sad to think a promising young woman had gotten so caught up in wanting attention from a man that she’d given up her own dreams and identity in an effort to capture his notice.
“I breathed a whole lot easier once I heard the news,” Miles said as he looked over the lights spread out below them now that the pink hues of sunset had faded. “I’m sure you did, too.”
She couldn’t help but glance over at his profile. The strong jaw and chin. The slash of his cheekbone. His lips that could kiss her with infinite tenderness.
“I guess.” She spoke quickly once she realized she’d stared too long. “But the whole business with my blog and Vivian were distractions from my real purpose. I really went there to find out about Zach’s final days.”
She felt more than saw Miles turn toward her now. His eyes looking over her the way she’d studied him just a moment ago. Her heat beat faster as a soft breeze blew her white dress’s hem against her legs, the silk teasing her already too-aware skin.
“I know you did, Chiara. And I’m sorry that I got in the way of what you were doing by not sharing what I knew as soon as I knew it.” The regret and sincerity in his voice were unmistakable. “You deserved my full help and attention. And so did Zach.”
Drawn by his words, she turned toward him now, and they faced one another eye to eye for the first time tonight. He seemed even closer to her now. Near enough to touch.
“I recognize that I probably should have been more understanding. Especially after the way you overlooked me trying to get into your personal files. I crossed a line more than you did.” She hadn’t forgotten that, and the unfairness of her response compared to his seemed disproportionate. “But I didn’t know you when I sneaked into your office. Whereas—”
“The situations were completely different.” He shook his head, not letting her finish her sentence. “You had every right to think I might have been a bad friend to Zach or even an enemy. But I knew you had his best interests at heart that day I kept quiet about the DNA. My only defense was that I wanted one more day with you.”
Startled, she rewound the words in her mind, barely daring to hope she’d heard him right. “You—what?”
“I knew that once I told you the DNA results you’d have no reason to stay in Tahoe any longer.” He touched her forearm. “And our time together had been so incredible, Chiara, I couldn’t bear for it to end. I told myself that keeping quiet about it for a few more hours wouldn’t hurt. I just wanted—” He shook his head. “It was selfish of me. And I’m sorry.”
The admission wasn’t at all what she’d expected. “I thought you were keeping secrets to hold me at arm’s length. It felt like you didn’t want to confide in me.”
But this? His reason was far more compelling. And it shot right into the tender recesses of her heart.
“Far from it.” A breeze ruffled Miles’s hair the way she longed to with her fingers. His hand stroked up her arm to her shoulder. “Talking to you was the highlight of my week. And considering everything else that happened, you have to know how much it meant to me.”
She melted inside. Absolutely, positively melted.
“Really?” She’d hoped so, until he’d walked away. But she could see the regret in his eyes now, and it gave her renewed hope.
“Yes, really.” He stepped closer to her, one hand sliding around her waist while the other skimmed a few wind-tossed strands of hair from her eyes. “Chiara, I got burned so badly the last time I cared about someone that I planned to be a lot more cautious in the future. I figured if I took my time to build a safe, smart relationship, maybe then I could fall in love.”
Her pulse skipped a couple of beats. She blinked up at him, hanging on his words. Trying not to sink into the feeling of his hands on her after so many days of missing him. Missing what they’d shared. Aching for more. For a future.
“I don’t understand. Are you suggesting we didn’t build a safe relationship?”
“I’m suggesting that whatever my intentions were, they didn’t matter at all, because you showed up and we had the most amazing connection I’ve ever felt with anyone.” His hold on her tightened, and she might have stepped a tiny bit closer because the hint of his aftershave lured her.
“I felt that, too,” she admitted, remembering how that first night she’d felt like the whole world disappeared except for them. “The amazing connection.”
“Right. Good.” His lips curved upward just a hint at her words. “Because I came here tonight—why I really came here tonight—to tell you that I fell in love with you, Chiara. And if there’s any way you can give me another chance, I’m going to do everything in my power to make you fall in love with me, too.”