“I’d love to, but I’m afraid it depends upon my schedule. I have a series of trips to Europe and South Africa over the upcoming months.”
She did her best to sound businesslike, talking about Tierra de Oro’s projected production and Hardcastle’s possible orders. Of course, she had no idea if any of it would come to fruition. Likely the DNA test and its resultant emotional fall out would determine Tarrant’s order one way or the other.
Did she regret what she’d done?
A little. She had a strange sense of having unleashed a genie. Exciting but scary.
Amado’s dark eyes still shone with desire. No doubt her own did, too.
Desire wasn’t something you could control. You could choose not to act on it, but you couldn’t make it go away.
If you did act on it, you could end up like Tarrant Hardcastle with a host of unplanned children and a lifetime of complications.
Misgivings tightened her muscles. She had a strange feeling she’d never forget her night with Amado. How would she feel now, alone in her bed, tormented by memories of intimacy and passion she could never have imagined?
At the security check-in, he held her face between his hands and kissed her full on the mouth. Arousal kicked through her as his tongue danced with hers right there in line at the ticket counter, surrounded by the swirling, impatient crowds.
Don’t think you’ll get off so easy, his kiss seemed to say.
Her mouth throbbed as he pulled back. Her stomach clenched and she wobbled on her heels.
Triumph glittered in Amado’s eyes. Then he frowned. “You’ll call me with the results?”
A cool shiver crept down her spine. “I suspect someone from Tarrant’s office will call you. I don’t usually have anything to do with his private business. I’m just here as an envoy.”
“An envoy of distressing news. You’re brave.”
“Or desperate to keep my job.” She attempted levity. “You can’t say no to Tarrant Hardcastle. But I doubt they’ll even tell me the results.”
Amado’s frown deepened. “I’ll tell you.”
That reassurance of future contact made her heart swell. The thought of just…leaving and never seeing him again was too grim to contemplate.
She was sure he’d call her to laugh and joke if the result was what he hoped for.
But if it wasn’t?
Susannah pretended to fumble with her ticket as Amado turned and strode away. She couldn’t help turning to catch a last glimpse of him as he disappeared through the door.
So tall and proud and strong, his passion evident in everything he did. His connection to the estate and his family so deep as to be unquestionable.
She chewed a manicured fingernail and hoped like hell that Tarrant was wrong.
Susannah’s heart thundered as she climbed the wide, polished stairs to the El Cubano cigar bar on Manhattan’s Fifth Avenue. One week had passed since her return from Argentina, and Tarrant Hardcastle had summoned her to his exclusive watering hole to thank her for retrieving—his word—Amado’s DNA.
She had no idea what the results were. But would he ask her here if the trip had been a waste of time?
She gave her coat to the stunning coat-check girl and followed the maître d’ into the hushed space. The lack of cigar smoke surprised her, since men sat all around, sunk deep into leather chairs, with expensive bundles of rolled leaves burning in their hands.
On the far side of the room they reached the imposing backs of a pair of chairs arranged in front of a window. The leather thrones enjoyed a spectacular view over Fifth Avenue.
“Mr. Hardcastle, your guest has arrived.”
Susannah sucked in a smoke-free breath as her boss rose and greeted her. Even rows of white teeth shone in his tanned face.
He was disturbingly youthful-looking for sixty-seven, in a way that could not be entirely natural.
Everything about the man was frightening.
She tried not to wince or fall over as he kissed her on both cheeks. An extravagant gesture of greeting for a boss she barely saw.
“Thank you, my dear.” His blue-green eyes glittered with emotion.
Uh-oh.
“Thank you for finding my son.”
Susannah’s mouth fell open and her stomach plummeted.
“He is your son?” she rasped.
“Ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain. It doesn’t get more definite than that.” He gestured at the plush leather armchair opposite his. “Sit.”
Susannah practically fell into it.
Tarrant summoned a waiter with a wave of his hand.
“Tell me about him, my dear. My son, what is he like?” A beaming smile lit his tanned face as he settled back into his chair.
Amado isn’t the son of Ignacio Alvarez. His mother had an affair.
The reality of the situation chilled her blood. How had Amado reacted? How had his parents reacted? He hadn’t called her with the news, as he’d promised.
“He’s nice,” she stammered. “Very smart.”
Tarrant waved his hand impatiently. “Does he look like me?”
Susannah frowned. “You both have strong features. I can see a resemblance around the nose and cheekbones. He’s darker, though, with dark eyes and hair.”
Tarrant smiled. “Like my son Dominic. I never could resist the allure of a dark young beauty, back then.”
Susannah tried not to recoil. Tarrant’s steady gaze made her uncomfortably conscious of her own dark coloring. She so did not want to think about Tarrant’s sexual exploits of thirty-odd years ago.
It was downright hard to imagine Clara Alvarez being a beauty, dark or otherwise. Didn’t she have blue eyes like Tarrant?
“His mother was such a stunner. Sharp as a cracked whip and with a fire that…” He blew out a breath and shook his head.
“Clara is well and healthy, too.”
“Clara?” Tarrant sipped a clear drink. Martini probably. “Who’s that?”
“Amado’s mother.”
Tarrant put his drink down. “Amado’s mother is dead.”
A chill crept up her spine. “But I met her.”
“Hardly. I was called to identify the body.”
Susannah swallowed hard. Her blood seemed to stop flowing. “But he called her ‘mother.’”
“I don’t know who the heck Clara is, but his real mother was Marisa Alvarez and she died giving birth to her son.” He tapped his cigar. “Tragic. The whole situation was a nightmare.”
Susannah blinked, unable to make sense of it.
Amado very definitely believed himself to be the son of Clara and Ignacio Alvarez. Now he wasn’t related to either of them?
Tarrant studied the end of his cigar. “My son, Amado, will unfortunately not return my calls.”
“How did he learn the news?”
“My daughter Fiona managed to get him on the phone long enough to share the happy news, but he hung up on her. She’s not terribly subtle, but I had hoped that the blood ties would…”
He let out a long sigh. “I’m truly impressed that you managed to coax him into providing a sample.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re a quiet one, and I can tell there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
Susannah shrank into her chair, feeling guilty.
“So I need you to go back to Argentina and bring my son home.”
Icy shock rushed over her. Back to Tierra de Oro? “You want me to bring him to New York?”
“I need to meet him. To show him the business. To welcome him to his place in it.”
A sharp flash of adrenaline stung her muscles at the prospect of seeing Amado again. Then reality set in. Tarrant wanted his son to join the business like his other newfound son Dominic.
Her stomach clenched and she recoiled at the prospect of trying to convince Amado to leave the home he loved so much. No matter how much money was involved, that would be wrong.
“He’ll never leave the estancia.” The words flew from her tongue. “It’s everything to him, his life’
s work. He loves it like…” Like a father loves his son.
She held her tongue. Regretted the passion with which she’d spoken.
Tarrant frowned and studied her. “Bring him here just long enough to meet his old man before I die.”
Susannah blinked. No doubt he was confident that once he got Amado in his reaches he could talk him into anything.
Tarrant was such a force of nature it was easy to forget he was dying of cancer. The disease was so advanced that his doctors had advised him to avoid debilitating treatments and to enjoy his last months—or weeks—as best he could. Already he’d outlived their predictions.
Pity trickled through her, despite her misgivings. “I don’t know if he’ll come. It was hard to persuade him to part with the sample.”
“I know you can do it. My assistant has booked you a flight to Santiago this evening. You’ll be back in Mendoza by morning.”
“But I’m supposed to fly to Johannesburg tomorrow.” She had eleven vineyard tours lined up.
His face closed over. “Johannesburg can wait. I can’t. You must bring him here this week. At once.”
Susannah opened her mouth to protest—then closed it again.
This was her boss. Everyone knew the company was his personal fiefdom and if he wanted her to cancel a week’s worth of carefully planned tours to go on a personal errand, she’d better do it.
“Reassure him that the visit will be worth his while.” Tarrant leaned forward, resting a gray-suited elbow on his chair. “Despite my reputation, I’m not such an egotist that I believe everyone on earth knows who I am. Tell him who I am. What I can give him.”
The emotion on his face surprised her. She was seeing another side to Tarrant Hardcastle. Under the brash tycoon exterior was a human being, fragile and insecure like everyone else. A man who wanted to meet the son he fathered before it was too late. Who maybe even craved affection and love that he’d forsaken for so long.
Her heart squeezed. She had to help him.
He grabbed her hand. “I’m a dying man. Don’t be afraid to tug at his heartstrings.” He squeezed, his bony fingertips pressing into her palm. “All men have them, despite what we’d prefer you women to believe.”
Five
Susannah, exhausted almost to the point of collapse, pulled into the driveway of Tierra de Oro the following afternoon.
She’d rented a larger car with a bigger fuel tank as a measure of self-preservation. But the way she felt right now, if Amado’s huge white dogs wanted to eat her alive, they were quite welcome.
She hadn’t called. Tarrant had been sure the element of surprise was in her favor and she suspected he was right.
She’d jumped a foot into the air every time her phone rang in the last twenty-four hours. But Amado hadn’t called her either, despite his promise.
She parked in front of the house. Inhaled deeply. Then she summoned her last ounce of strength to tug on the door handle, and stepped out into the blinding sun.
The first thing she heard was the high-pitched keening of a woman weeping.
Uh-oh.
She approached the door, wincing at the loud crunch of her shoes on the gravel drive.
Heart pounding, she knocked. Held herself steady as footsteps approached. The tall wood-paneled door flung open.
Amado.
For a second his face was blank with shock. Then his fierce black gaze hit her like a blast from a shotgun. “You.”
She swallowed hard. “Me.”
He was taller and more imposing than she remembered. More handsome, too. His hair hung in his eyes and made him look slightly wild. Uncivilized.
“Look what you’ve done.” His fierce whisper grated on her ears. He gestured inside the house. Racking sobs filled the serene, antique-filled space. “My mother is distraught.”
A strange expression came over his face.
She’s not your mother.
She kept silent as the thought passed between them, thickening the tension in the air.
The two big white dogs appeared, sentries at Amado’s sides. Their dark eyes peered up at her as if to ask “Why?”
Susannah took a step backward, and almost fell off the steps. Amado leaped forward and pulled her roughly back up.
Then he tugged his hand away as if the bare skin of her arm had stung him like a jellyfish.
“Thank you,” she stammered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you or your family…”
His eyes narrowed. “But you had a job to do.” She could hear the controlled rage in his deep voice.
She swallowed.
Another loud wail rang through the air.
Amado forced a grim smile. Gestured into the pain-filled interior. “Why don’t you come in?”
He disappeared into the cool gloom of the house. One of the dogs shot her an accusatory look over his powerful shoulders before following obediently at his master’s heels.
Every muscle in her body itched with the urge to turn and flee. But her parents had taught her to cope with tough situations, not run from them.
Susannah inhaled a shaky breath and stepped inside.
Clara Alvarez sat on the sofa, head in her hands. Sobs racked her solid body.
“Mamá.” Amado spoke softly.
“I’m not your mother.” Her meaty hands muffled the tear-thickened words. “I shouldn’t have played a part in this charade. I lied. God will curse me. I deserve to suffer.” Her fresh howl of pain ripped a hole in Susannah’s gut.
What on earth had happened here thirty-one years ago?
Amado shook his head.
“She’s so upset. My father has ridden off into the mountains. He won’t speak to anyone.”
He strode across the room, and Susannah followed, hoping to get out of earshot of the distraught Clara. Tension hummed in the air, and in her own anxious body. The estancia’s tranquil, nurturing atmosphere had been shattered. Possibly forever.
“Can we go out on the terrace?” she whispered.
Amado frowned at her, but opened the door and ushered her out.
The sun glared at them over jagged mountain peaks that suddenly looked like the teeth of a giant saw.
Susannah steadied herself. The situation really couldn’t get any worse. Now seemed as good a time as any to blurt out her request. “Your real father wants you to come to New York.”
“My real father.” The words tore from Amado’s lips like a foul curse. “How can you say that? A strange man who cared nothing for me. Who abandoned me to fate. Now he seeks to claim me for reasons of his own and doesn’t care whose life he ruins in the process.”
“He’s very sorry for how he treated his lost children.” Susannah twisted her hands together.
“Lost? I wasn’t lost. I was at home here in Tierra de Oro.” Pain shone in his eyes. “The estate has passed from father to son, for six generations. Now the chain is broken because my father has no son.”
He broke off and stared out at the mountains.
The acres of lush vineyards sprawled in a rich, striped carpet below them. The grapes no doubt growing and ripening, regardless of the human drama inside the house.
Susannah could hardly bring herself to look at Amado’s strained profile. “I don’t understand. Who was Marisa Alvarez?”
He didn’t turn to face her. “Marisa Alvarez was my sister.”
Susannah’s hand flew to her mouth. “A sister? I didn’t know you had one.”
“Why would you? She’s been dead for thirty years.” Now he turned. His dark gaze burned her. “And she wasn’t my sister at all.”
Susannah blinked, sure anything she could say would be worse than nothing. She couldn’t make sense of what he was saying.
She wanted to offer him something, maybe even a reassuring hand. But his rigid posture and proud expression prevented her.
She could still remember the powerful sensation of being held in his strong arms. Lying in his bed, suffused with pleasure and spent tension, more relaxed than she’d ever
been in her life.
That felt like a lifetime ago.
“Marisa, my sister, lived a quiet life here at Tierra de Oro. Her mother—Ignacio’s first wife—died in childbirth, so she was raised by her widowed father.”
He glanced at her. “I knew all this. What I didn’t know is that, when Marisa was seventeen, she grew tired of being sheltered and protected by her father. After spending a summer studying art in Mendoza, and secretly earning money from selling her paintings, she ran away to New York.”
Susannah blew out a breath. It was starting to make sense.
“My father,” he raised an eyebrow, “or should I say Ignacio, knows little about this part of her life. But she stayed there for over a year and during that time she met Tarrant Hardcastle.”
His words dripped with venom at the name.
“And they had an affair,” Susannah whispered.
“Yes. And she got pregnant. At which point he told her to get rid of it or he was done with her.”
Susannah winced.
Amado blew out a hard breath and shook his head. “Of course she couldn’t do that. She was raised Catholic.” Pain tightened the lines of his face. “And she didn’t dare tell her father. So she stayed in New York. She went through the pregnancy alone, and had the baby by herself.”
He turned and paced along the length of the terrace. His broad shoulders pulled the cloth of his shirt taut. “She died giving birth, just as her own mother had done eighteen years earlier.”
“Oh, no.” Susannah felt tears spring to her eyes.
“She died alone, afraid to seek help in a strange country where she had no true friends.” The horror of the situation was written all over his face. “And because her lover had abandoned her.”
He laid a fist on the terrace wall. Tension hardened every muscle in his body. “Someone, a neighbor, heard her…she must have been in terrible pain. They called an ambulance that was able to save the baby, but it was already too late for Marisa.”
His chest rose and fell beneath his shirt. Fresh tears glittered in his eyes. “They found her address in Argentina somewhere in her possessions and called Ignacio to the hospital to claim the baby.” He stared at her. “They’d already called Tarrant Hardcastle and he disavowed all responsibility.”
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