by Sam Cheever
“If it’s true then why did they throw me away twenty-three years ago?” Her voice broke on the last word, the rashly uttered question clearly coming from some deep spot of pain she hadn’t known she’d had.
His face softened. “I don’t know. I’m sure there’s a rational explanation. You need to find a way to listen with an open mind, Nic. It’s the only way this can go down.”
She pushed to her feet and started pacing. “Not the only way.”
He stepped into her path and Nici slammed into him. He reached out, spanning her waist with his big hands.
Pulling heated air into her lungs, she stilled like a deer in a hunter’s sights. “I’ve known these people for six years. They’re not monsters. If you don’t want to stay here they won’t make you. But I can assure you the danger they’re talking about is real. I’ve seen it first hand with you and I’ve been protecting Elena from it for years.”
“What danger? Who’s it coming from and why me? I’m nobody.”
“It’s not my place to tell you. Gordon will explain everything.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go back down there and I’ll listen to what he has to say.”
Franco shook his head, moving toward the door. “Not a good idea. There’s only one thing Gordon loves more than his kids and you just stuck a knife in her ribs. I need to talk to him about what happened at the motel and finding Elena now that we know you’re not her...” He hesitated, his gaze filled with questions, then shook his head. “I can’t believe you were telling me the truth.”
She crossed her arms and glared at him.
“Anyway, give him some time to cool off and then we’ll try again. Maybe after dinner.”
“Dinner? I can’t stay for dinner. My parents will be worried sick.”
He opened the bedroom door and stepped through, sliding her a last look. “Gordon will talk to them.”
“Absolutely not. They’re my parents. I have to be the one to tell them.” Though she had no idea what she was going to tell them. It was all so impossible.
“Nic, do you really believe the Roches don’t know?” He closed the door softly behind him, completely oblivious to the fact that she’d been punched in the gut a second time.
As she fought to breathe, Nici let her knees bend out from under her and she slid bonelessly to the soft carpet, her back resting against the side of the oversized bed. She sat there, tears sliding silently down her face, and considered his carelessly flung statement.
He was right. If she was adopted her parents probably already knew she was Gordon DeVitis’s daughter. And the fact that they never told her was the worst kind of disloyalty.
If they’d only been truthful...
She sniffed, dragging the back of her hand beneath her eyes. Then what? she asked herself in a moment of honesty. What would she have done if she’d known? She’d probably have spent her adult years trying to find out everything she could about her birth parents, instead of being happy and feeling loved by the two people who’d given her a home when the DeVitis’s had cast her aside.
Pain blossomed in her chest and she lost control of the sobs she’d been holding back. That was the nub of it. They’d kept Elena, who apparently looked enough like Nici to be a twin, and discarded Nici. Why her? Why hadn’t they loved Nici enough to keep her?
And then she recalled the bits and pieces of Elena’s story she’d gathered over the last couple of days. Despite her feelings of rejection, maybe she had been the lucky one.
Nici shook her head and rose to her feet. She stood in the center of the room and looked around at the pristine, expensive furnishings. It was a space fit for a princess. But she was no princess. Her mood darkened with the thought. She was a girl who’d grown up knowing how to take care of herself. And she’d be damned if she’d become the terrified victim now.
If Gordon DeVitis thought he could keep her under his thumb like he had her sister...
Every bit of anger she’d nurtured fell away. She had a sister. Two in fact. Dropping to the side of the bed with a sigh, Nici had to smile. She’d always wanted a sister. She’d begged her parents to give her one. But they’d only smiled and told her they didn’t need any more daughters because they already had the perfect one.
She knew now what they hadn’t been telling her. She already had siblings she hadn’t met. And they probably realized the day would come when she’d insist on meeting them.
Then a horrible thought occurred. Elena was out there somewhere, alone and in danger. And Nici suddenly knew what she had to do.
She had to find her.
She hurried to the door and turned the knob, finding it unlocked. Good. But when she opened it a crack she found herself looking into the broad back of a guard with a holster strapped across his chest. Bad.
Nici eased the door closed and looked around for options. There was one window and it was large enough for her to easily fit through.
Could she be that lucky?
A quick scan of the window put that plan to rest. She was on the third level of the house, too high to jump. The narrow concrete walkway at the bottom wasn’t empty either. Two dark suited men with telltale bulges under their coats walked back and forth along the tidy sidewalk, staring out over the extensive grounds with gazes that were hidden behind dark sunglasses.
“Men in Black,” she murmured. Sitting back on the window sill, Nici fought feelings of fear. Fear wouldn’t help her find a way out of her current mess. There was one more option. And Nici hated it. But if she couldn’t escape the mansion, she’d have to convince Gordon DeVitis to let her join the search for Elena. Once she knew her sister was okay, Nici could find a way to escape. Her chances outside the well-guarded mansion were much better than her chances within it.
A soft knock sounded on Nici’s door. She flinched, her first inclination to ignore it. But in the end she knew she’d have no chance of getting what she wanted if she didn’t at least try to play along. They had no reason to trust her if she didn’t appear to trust them.
Taking a deep, bracing breath, Nici called out. “Come in.”
The door opened inward and Anshelle DeVitis stepped through, smiling softly. “I know you must have questions and I understand that you’re angry. But I thought it might be easier to talk here...just the two of us.”
Nici frowned before she could stop herself. It wasn’t that she wanted to hurt the woman whose hazel gaze was filled with such a mix of fear and hope, but Anshelle was right. Nici was pissed. At all of them. “You’re right. I do have a lot of questions. Starting with the hardest one. What was wrong with me? Why was I the one you sent away?” Her voice wavered on the last word and Nici forced her shoulders back, mad at herself for showing weakness.
Anshelle stared at her for a long moment, her eyes shimmering with tears. Finally she inclined her head and clasped her hands in front of her, wringing the long fingers nervously. The mannerism surprised Nici. She did it herself when she was nervous. “You’re right, Nicola. That is the hardest one. The answer is even harder.” She lifted a shaky hand to her face, wiping away tears. “The truth is, I didn’t pick. I was a coward. I asked Gordon to do it.”
The response didn’t make Nici feel any better. “So I guess I have to ask him why he rejected me.”
The older woman shook her head. “There’s no need. He couldn’t pick either, so he just told the woman at the adoption agency to take one of you.” She offered Nici a watery smile. “You were so tiny then. You slept in the same crib together.” Anshelle shuddered out a soft sob and covered her mouth with her hand. If she was acting, Nici decided she was an astounding actress. Clearly Anshelle DeVitis was torn up by having given away one of her twins. She took a step closer and stopped, indecision tying her stomach into knots. “You didn’t want to give me away?”
“Oh God no!” Anshelle hurried forward and reached for Nici, then stopped, seeming to realize she didn’t have the right. Instead she took one of Nici’s hands and wrapped hers around it. Her ha
nds were soft and cold. “I loved you so much. But you were in danger and I couldn’t think of a way to protect you.”
Nici frowned. “In danger? As an infant?”
Anshelle nodded. “It’s the family treasure. There have always been those who wish to gain access to it. Since the moment you were born, you girls were in a special kind of danger.”
Shaking her head, Nici spun away, beginning to pace. “Why us? Why not Perry or Bridget?”
“They’re protected too...or at least little Gette is. Perry and the other boys are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.”
“So am I. My parents...” She hesitated but then decided not to alter her statement. The Roches were her parents in every way except apparently in blood. “My parents made me take self-defense. They taught me how to shoot and use a blade. I’m not some wilting flower, Mrs. DeVitis.”
“Please, call me Shelle. I know Mom is too much to ask but I’d like us to be friends if we could.”
Nici didn’t respond one way or the other. She wasn’t ready to be anything with the woman.
“Gordon and I were aware of your training. We actually made it a requirement of the adoption.”
“Seriously? Why?”
“We believed separating you was the safest thing to do. When you were born, the press had a field day spreading news of your birth. We tried to keep it quiet but someone at the hospital spoke out of turn. Once it was known we were bringing you girls home you were in danger. So we separated you and told the world you’d died. Even little Elena was shipped off to my sister for a while, and then when the eyes of the world were pulled in another direction we brought her back.” She settled a pleading gaze on me. “I hope you understand. I couldn’t lose everything. It wasn’t a conscious choice to pick one over the other. It just happened. I could have never chosen. Gordon knew that.” She smiled sadly. “He’s always protected me. Too much. He believes I’m weak. I’m not weak, but I pick my battles.” She wrung her hands, fresh tears flooding her eyes. “This is a battle I’m willing to fight, Nicola. I wanted to tell you that.”
Nici shook her head, unsure what the other woman was telling her. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“You clearly don’t want to be here. I can’t say I blame you. All of this has hit you so hard. I’m willing to help you leave if you’ll promise me one thing?”
Excitement stirred but Nici steeled herself against it, afraid to hope. “What is it?”
“That you’ll let Franco stay with you. As a bodyguard. And you’ll allow us to keep tabs on you through him. Just so I’ll know you’re okay. And if you need us we’ll be here for you. We can help.”
Nici shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Please, Nicola. Whether you believe it or not, I love you every bit as much as I love all my children. Gordon and I never stopped caring for you. We kept tabs on you as you grew up. When interference was needed to keep you safe, we provided it. We’ve been in your life the whole time and you didn’t even know we were there. This would be no different if that’s the way you want it.” She tilted her head, her gaze going soft. “But if you’d be willing to let us in, we’d love for it to be more.”
CHAPTER SIX
Franco stood at the door, legs spread, hands clasped at his back, watching the chaos at the long, wooden table. That wasn’t exactly true, he admitted to himself. He was actually watching how the dark-haired beauty at its center reacted to the chaos around the DeVitis’s dining room table.
He observed carefully as little Bridget handed Nic a strawberry dusted with sugar and smiled as Nici bit into it, giving the little girl a high five over the treat.
It was a stroke of pure genius for Anshelle to put the child next to Nici. It gave her a non-threatening presence to interact with and, unless he was horribly wrong about Nici’s personality, it would help her begin the long process of bonding with her blood family.
The rosy cheeked little tomboy was impossible to resist under any circumstances, but when Bridget decided to pour on the charm as she was so clearly doing for Nici, there was no point in trying to withstand her power.
It was a good thing, because the rest of the DeVitis family, all men, were an intimidating bunch. Good men...well the jury was still out on Perry...but forged of steel and iron from having to fight for their lives and family power since they were far too young.
Perry sat directly across from Nici, his hostile gaze judging her every move. He was even more intense than usual and, like he had in the limo when they’d brought Nici home, he seemed almost angry that she’d been brought into the fold.
Hank sat on Nici’s other side, another brilliant move by the DeVitis matriarch. Hank stood six foot five, had thick auburn hair that formed a question in Franco’s mind about his genetics since everyone else in the family had varying shades of blond to brown hair. He was built like a linebacker and had the DeVitis startling good looks, his jaw chiseled and his eyes more green than brown but still hazel like his mother’s. But unlike his intense, domineering brothers, Hank had a good sense of humor and, like his tiny sister, could be very charming when he wanted to be.
Nici had been quiet throughout the meal, but she’d actually laughed a couple of times at Hank’s antics. Like when he’d dropped a bead from the centerpiece into Perry’s soup and laughed when his brother bit into it and howled in rage.
Hank had also taken a slightly protective stance with Nic, his body language tending toward surrounding her whenever one of his brothers questioned Nici with rapid fire suspicion as they had a way of doing.
Pierce was Perry’s twin. His features were identical to his brother’s, but he made it a point to cultivate his own, unique look so it was easy to tell them apart. Where Perry wore his dark blond hair short and OCD neat, with nary a hair out of place, Pierce let his hair grow longer on the top and wore it in tousled waves that gave him a boyish, carefree look. He also eschewed the tidy polo shirts and creased slacks his twin favored for comfortable button down shirts, which he wore tails out over good-quality, loose-fitting jeans. Along with the external differences the twins were also different emotionally. Where Perry was judgmental, suspicious and hard to like, Pierce was kind and quiet, given to studying people and situations for a while before deciding how he felt about them. Pierce also had a good sense of humor, which was the most astounding feature in comparison to his perpetually grim twin.
Then there was Doug. The oldest DeVitis son, he sat at his father’s right hand, both figuratively and factually. They tended to put their heads together during a meal and talk business, only stopping when Anshelle gave them a quelling look or patted her husband’s hand and shook her head. Doug was a likeable enough guy, but the knowledge that the family business would one day be his responsibility clearly weighed heavily on him. He enjoyed the family dynamics, even breaking into a smile once in a while over something his brothers did to each other, but he rarely joined in the fun. Franco thought the man carried too much on his shoulders, taking himself much too seriously. It was hard to watch the twenty-eight year old struggle under the weight of a company that had been in the DeVitis family for several generations.
“Why is your hair so dark?” Bridget asked Nici with her usual brash innocence. Nici blinked at the question, seeming to flinch away from it for a beat before she visibly squared her shoulders and grinned. “I color it brown so people don’t think I’m stupid.”
A shocked silence swept the room and Nici’s face reddened as her gaze slid to Anshelle, whose very feminine blonde curls were a source of pride and pleasure for both her and her husband.
Anshelle’s lips quivered and Gordon leaned closer, dropping an arm around her slim shoulders. He murmured something in her ear and she burst out laughing, shaking her head. “She’s right. Men do think blonde women are stupid.” She gave Nici an encouraging smile.
Gordon nodded. “I learned the hard way that isn’t true, didn’t I mio tesoro?”
She twined her fingers through his and g
iggled like a schoolgirl. “He made the grave mistake of treating me like I had no brain exactly once,” she told her family.
They all chuckled, knowing her as they did.
Her husband lifted her hand to his lips, settling a lingering kiss there. “It is my curse to love a beautiful and intelligent woman.” He glanced down the table, addressing his four sons. “
“Si dovrebbe essere così fortunato nella vostra vita.”
Everyone at the table chuckled except for Nici. Franco watched as Hank noticed and immediately gave her his own, unique translation. “He said God help you if you find yourself in the same boat.”
The men all laughed heartily. Anshelle shook her head, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Tell her the truth, Hank, or you’ll be doing the dishes tonight.”
Hank paled. “You wouldn’t.” Anshelle turned to the housekeeper, who was lumbering into the dining room with a platter loaded with desserts. “Ciara, you’d love to retire early tonight wouldn’t you. You could put your feet up and watch your shows.”
Without skipping a beat the housekeeper nodded. “Me goiter is acting up something terrible. I could definitely use the rest.” She lowered the tray between Bridget and Nici, giving a red-faced Hank a wink.
Nici refused the decadent offering but helped Bridget snag a bowl of rich chocolate pudding before Ciara moved to the head of the table. When Gordon reached for an enormous slice of chocolate cake she slapped his hand. “Ladies first, Mr. Gordon. I thought I’d trained you better than that.”
Gordon chuckled darkly. “Maybe some concrete shoes would help that goiter, Miss Ciara.”
The older woman snorted. “You’ve been tryin’ to fit me for them shoes for years and I’ve always managed to jump in my chariot and escape ya. What makes ya think ya can get ’em on me now?”
Gordon looked smug. “That was because you had Hank running interference for you. I’m thinking you’d be an easier target now.”
All eyes slid to Hank and he lifted a dark red brow at the housekeeper. “I’m not feeling especially helpful at the moment, Ci.”
