Nobody's Girl

by Love, Michelle

  “You know what? I might just do that. Things are…quiet, here at the moment.”

  “How is my darling ex-step-sister? Still breathing?” Tamara gave a grim smile. In her mind, Willa Black and Sofia were almost the same person – an annoying bug to be smashed against a windshield.

  “For now.” Grant’s voice took on an edge she couldn’t identify.

  “Christ, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for her sweetness and light as well?”

  Grant made a disgusted noise. “Of course not. My only regret is I’ll only get to kill her once.”

  Satisfied, Tamara switched back to her seductive purr. “Good. You know, she should really be our first kill here, don’t you think? The fun we could have with her before you cut her open.”

  She was getting turned on by the mere thought and she heard Grant’s breath quicken. “That would work. I know she’s into kink – I saw her and Zacca fucking for the world to see. Glass box, packed club. And she was loving it.”

  Tamara laughed aloud. “So, the perfect little princess is an exhibitionist, huh?”

  “Sure is. With that body of hers, she could rival you.”

  Tamar stopped laughing. “That little bitch has nothing on me, and don’t forget it.”

  Grant changed the subject. “The only thing is getting her back to the States, Tam. I think she and the Zacca asshole are pretty entrenched here.”

  Tamara winced. She hated being called Tam. “Well, there must be a way. She’s a burgeoning star in the art world, right? I’m sure some gallery owner here could be persuaded to give her crappy paintings a home for a while. Then we could take her.”

  She heard Grant sigh. “Tamara, do you not know who the Zacca’s are? She is protected. They have security…and when it comes out their son has married the burgeoning new star, she’ll be even more protected.”

  Tamara went very still. “What?”

  “Sofia married Ivo Zacca.”

  Tamara’s blood ran cold. “That fucking little upstart married a freakin’ billionaire?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck!” Tamara tried to calm herself down but the thought of Sofia hitting pay dirt made her rage boil over. “She is dead, Grant, I don’t care what it takes. Sofia Amory is dead. Agreed?”

  “Oh, agreed, but we have to be careful. See what you can do to arrange a New York installation for her – at least then we’ll have a starting point. And calm the fuck down. It’ll be okay.”

  Tamara hung up the phone, and took a deep breath. No. This would be better, she told herself. To take Sofia’s life just when she thought she had her happy ending. Tamara felt herself calm. This would be so much crueler and therefore more satisfying. She grabbed her iPad and Googled Ivo Zacca. Damn. Sofia knew how to pick them. Ivo Zacca even outdid Penn Black in the looks department. She gazed into the picture, at his gorgeous green eyes and smiled. She wondered how big his cock was, what kind of lover he was. She intended to find out before she broke him.

  I will bring your world down, Mr. Zacca, and break your heart. Her cell phone buzzed and she glanced at the screen, her heart lifting.

  “Hello darling, how have you been?”

  There was a muffled sob at the end of the line. “Tamara?”

  “She smiled. “Yes, darling…whatever is the matter?”

  “Can I come see you?” Penn sounded if he was barely keeping it together. Tamara panicked a little – usually they met at Tension, but somehow, she didn’t think that would be appropriate for his mood.

  “If course baby, but how about I come to you? You sound like you’re in no fit state to drive.”

  He gave her the address she already knew so well and she told him she would be there as soon as she could.

  Tamara grabbed her purse and stalked back through her almost-ready-to-open club and grinned. Everything was working out just perfectly.

  Penn was drunk and almost inconsolable. He fell into her arms once he had opened the door and Tamara had to wrestle him onto his couch. There were photos of Penn with Willa all around but Tamara said nothing. “Darling, what’s wrong? Let me help you. I’ll make some coffee and we can talk.”

  She went into the kitchen, and put on a pot of coffee, returning to check he was still with her. He was sobbing now and she went to the bathroom and ran a hot shower.

  “Come on, baby.” She managed to get him undressed and into the shower, stripping herself and stepping into with him, mostly to prop him up. His mouth tasted of scotch and cigarettes – surprising Tamara – she hadn’t known he smoked but clearly, he was in such distress that he was looking for any comfort. When he started to kiss her, she didn’t pull away. Even hideously drunk and so distraught his eyes were almost swollen shut, she still wanted him. They made love on the floor of the bathroom, then again in his bed, Penn taking her roughly, first reaming her cunt into submission, then her ass. Tamara was used to angry sex, but this was on a whole other level. They fucked until dawn then Penn fell asleep in her arms.

  Tamara’s body ached and when she knew he was deeply asleep, she eased out of his embrace and went to the bathroom. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled. Her make-up was smeared, but her eyes were alive with excitement. I did this…I made this happen. Tamara ran the tap and splashed water on her face, wiping away the smudged eyeliner from her eyes.

  She heard Penn call for her. “Just peeing, darling, I’ll be right there.” She used the toilet and washed her hands. Climbing back into his bed, she pulled him into her arms, resting his head on her chest. “Are you okay?”

  Penn looked up at her, his dark eyes full of pain. “No. I’m not. I came home a few days ago and found her. I called the paramedics but it was too late for her. She was pregnant and…oh god…”

  He was about to break down again but Tamara wanted him to say the words out loud. “Who, darling? Who died?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and wrestled with his emotions before finally meeting her gaze. “My sister. My sister died. They think she fell down the stairs but I don’t know why she was even using the stairs, the elevators were working and…oh my god, Tamara, how the hell am I supposed to face this? Face her husband when he comes home?”

  Tamara was in shock. His sister? Oh Jesus H. Christ…not his girlfriend …or his child… She didn’t have to fake the shock on her face and Penn, misreading it, fell into her arms again. “I wanted her to meet you, to know you. She would have loved you. She and I…we were all each other had until she met Jake. Our parents were long gone, and finally she had found him, married and got pregnant all in a year. He’s military, stationed in Afghanistan. I spoke to him yesterday. He’s destroyed.”

  “I’m so sorry, my love.” Tamara didn’t know how she felt – her victory was lessened, certainly, but now, she knew…Penn had no-one else but her.

  As her distressed lover buried his face in her neck, Tamara Rutland began to smile.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Adria wrapped her son in a warm embrace. “Darling, it’s so good to see you. How was the honeymoon? And where is my beautiful daughter-in-law?”

  Ivo tried not to show how shock he was at his mother’s appearance. In the two weeks since he’d seen her, at his wedding, she seemed to have lost more weight. Her cheekbones were prominent and there was a grey pallor to her olive skin. He tried to smile. “Sofia’s just down the hallway, talking to her ex-step-father. She wanted to tell him herself that she wanted nothing more to do with him. She’ll be along soon.”

  “Good, good. I have missed the two of you.”

  Ivo looked around. “Where’s Dad?”

  Adria rolled her eyes. “Out buying me gifts, I should think. Poor Walter, he really doesn’t know how to handle my illness, so he tries to do what he does best. Spoil me. It’s very sweet, but I really don’t need any more diamonds.” She sighed and sat down. Ivo sat opposite her, his heart thumping uneasily against his ribs.

  “Mama…don’t hide from me. The cancer is worse, isn’t it?”

  Adria
hesitated then nodded. “I’m afraid so, Piccolo. Darling, it’s spread to my liver, and to my brain.”

  Ivo closed his eyes, fighting back a roar of grief. His beloved mom was telling him she was going to die. “How long?” His voice was scratchy, gruff. Adria took his hands.

  “A year, maybe less. Darling, all I ask if that we make my time as fun as possible. You have given me so much joy all of your life, and now with your lovely Sofia, and my grandchild soon to be born.”

  “God, Mama, I wanted mine and Sofia’s children to know you too. This isn’t fair.”

  “Ivo Zacca…life isn’t fair. You should know that by now. It doesn’t work out the way we plan. Do you think I wouldn’t have rather stayed married to Walter? Yes, we both were unfaithful, but we should have fought to stay together, maybe in an open marriage. Such things were frowned upon though.” She drew in a deep breath as Ivo studied her.

  “You still love Dad.”

  “I never stopped, nor did he stop loving me. We just didn’t want to make our lives off-kilter, for you. We divorced because it seemed the best way, and then we were both free to sleep with who we chose without bitterness. But your father is and will always be my darling love.”

  Ivo nodded slowly. “I understand that feeling now. With Sofia.”

  Adria smiled. “You both have a lot of getting to know each other, but yes, I feel it in my bones. Sofia is the one for you.”

  “More than Clemence ever was?”

  “I adore Clemence, but no, you and she were not destined. She is a scientist, you are a man of the arts. Sofia is your true heart.”

  Ivo smiled at his mother, although his heart was breaking. “I still can’t believe you’re sick, Mama.”

  “The cancer hasn’t robbed me of my fight, darling. I’ll ignore it until I can no longer.”

  Ivo was quiet on the way back home later. Sofia held his hand. He had told her that his mother’s cancer was terminal and Sofia had mourned with him. He asked her what transpired between her and her step-father, but, with a haunted look in her eyes, she told him she didn’t want to talk about it. “Bad enough he came here. It’s over, it’s done. It’s time to carry on with our lives now.”

  He pressed his lips to her temple. He was so conflicted, it was exhausting. He was heartbroken about his mother’s illness and yet overjoyed being with Sofia. Becoming a father was exiting too, yet he was troubled about Sofia’s father and what he might do to take her back into the Rutland fold. He didn’t want Sofia anywhere near the Rutland’s especially after what she had told him about the clearly psychotic Tamara. The thought of harm coming to Sofia…god, it haunted him.

  And then there was his work – which he knew he had been neglecting. He had so many emails to reply to, and he had a commitment to Desiree and the gallery. She had approached him about expanding their partnership and that too was something he was excited about. For the first time in his thirty-seven years, he felt settled somewhere, in this beautiful city. He felt like Paris had always been waiting to welcome him home. Walter’s mother, Ivo’s grandmother, had been French, after all and now he could imagine raising his children here. Not yet, though, he thought, not for me and Sofia, not just yet. Sofia was only young and on the cusp of great things in her career. They had plenty of time.

  Back at their hotel, they ordered room service and chatted idly. “We really should start the search in earnest for our new home.” He grabbed his bag. “These are a few details I picked up but I’d rather we looked together.”

  Sofia took the papers and looked through them. Her eyes widened when she saw the price of them. “Ivo…there’s no way I can afford these prices. We need to look at a few that are affordable.”

  Ivo blinked. It had never even occurred to him that he wouldn’t be paying for the apartment. Now, he realized, that of course Sofia would want parity in their financial dealings. Still…

  “Darling, will you let me pay for the apartment? We need somewhere soon, and although I know you may feel awkward about it, I would like to. Just let me do that. Everything else, I swear I won’t argue, down the middle. Fifty-fifty. But we can’t ignore the fact I have more money than most people. It’s part of who I am.”

  Sofia looked uncomfortable. “It’s just…I don’t want to feel like a kept woman.”

  Ivo smiled at her. “Oh, you won’t be. Get back to work, woman. Look, we need a place that’s safe. Secure, and that has enough room that we can make a studio for you to work in. Call it a wedding gift.”

  He saw the uncertainty in Sofia’s eyes. “Can I think about it?”

  He sighed inwardly but then nodded, hiding his irritation. “Of course.”

  They ate in silence for a bit. “Ivo?”

  “Yes, cara mia?”

  “Don’t be mad at me. I still have issues, mostly of insecurity. I’m trying. And I know I can trust you, it’s just…what if something went wrong? I’d be homeless again. Not that I would care, because the thought of living without you makes me want to die, but…”

  “Don’t ever say that again,” Ivo said, more forcefully than he intended and Sofia rocked back a little. He tried to smile. “Sorry, darling. I just hate the thought of anything happening to you.”

  “It’s okay.”

  But there was a strange tension between them all evening, and for the first time in their relationship, they went to sleep without making love.

  In the morning, Ivo woke alone, a note from Sofia on his nightstand, telling him she had gone into work early.

  Sofia had attended to go the gallery first, but instead took a detour to Desiree’s apartment. She wanted to pick up some clothes, some of her books. The strange conversation with Ivo last night had left her feeling uneasy, and as she stuffed her clothes and items into her trusty backpack, she wondered if she had been right to be cautious. They were married, for crissakes, and they need a place. It wasn’t as if she could afford anywhere suitable for Ivo, so why not just let him pay for somewhere for the both of them? It just didn’t sit right with her – once again, a man held her security in his hands. But isn’t that what marriage is about?

  God. Sofia shook her head, berating herself. Ivo loved her…and she had to learn to trust again. Screw you Fergus, for making me feel like this.

  She was so deep in thought that she didn’t see Fergus Rutland himself waiting outside the apartment when she finally walked onto the street. She certainly didn’t see the hulking security guard who slipped behind her. She stopped when she saw Fergus, anger sweeping through her. “I told you to stay the hell away from me.”

  Fergus smiled but there was no warmth to it. “Time to stop playing make believe, Sofia. Your place is at home in New York, with your family.”

  Sofia felt someone grasp the tops of her arms and propel her towards the open door of the cab. “No! Let me go, motherfucker!”

  Fergus looked around, nervous. “Get her in the car, for fuck’s sake.”

  The security guard tried to manhandle Sofia into the cab and she screamed for help.

  “Hey!” Suddenly Felix was there and he tore Sofia away from the guard, who came at him. Felix easily side-stepped the large man then brought his elbow down hard into the man’s temple. Fergus Rutland cursed and leapt into the cab. It screeched away from the curb, leaving the unconscious security guard on the sidewalk. Felix wrapped his arm around a trembling Sofia and guided her away from the man. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

  Sofia shook her head, dumbly, too shocked to speak. Another man came over and Felix asked him to call the police. “I need to take her inside, give her some hot tea…could you stay with this asshole and make sure he doesn’t get away? We’ll be just inside, apartment number three.”

  Sofia let him steer her inside. His apartment was clean but sparse, lacking in home comforts but Sofia closed her eyes, not wanting to think about anything. Felix wrapped a blanket around her. Her arms ached from the guard’s hold on her, the shock of her near-abduction still vibrating through her body. Felix was back wi
th some hot tea. He crouched down in front of her, his blue eyes full of concern.

  “Sofia, do you need me to call anyone? Your husband?”

  Sofia blinked. “You know about Ivo?”

  Felix gave her a lopsided smile and touched the small white-gold band on her left hand. “Gives it away. Congratulations. Who was that guy out there?”

  “My step-father. He’s gone insane. I already told him…never mind.” She took a sip of tea. “Thank you, Felix.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Listen, I’m going to go back outside and talk to the police, make sure they take that guy in.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  When Felix had gone out, Sofia blew out a long breath and tried to calm her furiously beating heart. Really? Fergus resorting to kidnapping her? Why the hell was he so desperate to get her back home? She shook her head and pulled her phone out to call Ivo, then stopped. She didn’t want Ivo to get mad and go after Fergus – that way madness lay. She rubbed her face and looked around the apartment. It really was bare – old furniture which looked as if it came from a thrift store, no photographs, no books. Not even a television set or stereo player. It surprised her – Felix seemed such a warm, friendly kind of guy that she expected his home to reflect it. This place was cold. She shivered involuntarily and stood up. She took her mug of tea back to the kitchen and rinse it out, setting down on the drainer.

  A glimpse of something caught her eye and she couldn’t help but peek. Felix’s passport. Feeling guilty, she opened it, grinning at the photo. Felix looked hard and sullen in the harsh picture. But then again, who didn’t look terrible in their passport photo? Ivo, Sofia thought with a fond smile, Ivo looked amazing in his.

  Then she saw it and it made her skin prickle with shock. The name. Not Felix Hammond. Grant Christo. She read it again as if she couldn’t quite believe her eyes. Felix – Grant – had lied about his name. Why? Suddenly she wanted to turn back time, not look in the passport so she wouldn’t have to know. She flicked through the pages of it. He had certainly travelled widely – she was thankful to see, however, there were no passport stamps for Venice or Crete at the times she and Ivo had been away. God, paranoid, much?