by Riser, Mimi
Molly knew she shouldn’t ask – she really didn’t want to know – but she couldn’t help herself. She opened her eyes once more to meet the dark, steady ones staring over the chair.
“How has he been scarred?”
And why should she care that he was?
“You’re too tender-hearted,” Steve’s voice mocked in her head. Darling Steve, he’d had a way with understatement, too.
“He had a…difficult childhood,” Carlotta answered slowly. “So did I, for that matter. It’s something he and I share. Maybe that’s why I’ve stayed friends with him all these years, even knowing what a bastard he can be. Because I understand why he’s a bastard. He grew up having to fight for what he wanted and never learned how to do things any other way. To him softness means weakness, and to love is to lose. We can blame his mother for that…partly. She left his father when Ty was small – only six, I think – ran off with another man, and he never saw her again.”
Molly’s eyes widened in horror. What kind of woman abandoned her children—
“Oh, I suspect she may have tried to contact him, but his father wouldn’t let her,” Carlotta added. “From what Ty has told me, he sounds like a cold, mercenary man, his papa – abusive – which is probably why his wife left him in the first place. Not that a child would understand that, of course.”
“No, of course not.” The words came out dry as dust. Pain twisted in Molly’s stomach like a knife. This was exactly why she had no choice. Tyler could so easily cut her off from the boys if she refused him. And would Stevie and Jeremy and Josh understand she hadn’t left willingly? Most likely not. They’d think she’d abandoned them, and could end up as scarred as their uncle.
“Mmm, yes, I can see what you’re thinking,” Carlotta murmured. “But even without you, your little charges would have it easier than Tyler did, I believe. He’s abusive in his own way, but not physically so. He’d never beat a child like his father beat him.”
Beat him?
This was going from bad to worse. The knife stabbed deeper. As angry as she was with the man, Molly ached for the boy he’d once been.
Carlotta continued. “And Tyler is generous with money as his father never was. The boys would never lack for what he could buy them. Himself, he had to wear every pair of shoes until they fell apart, regardless of how small they might have become for his feet by then. Papa James was a wealthy man in his own right, a millionaire. It’s his fortune Tyler has built into the billions, but he never saw a dime of that fortune growing up. That’s why he’s fixated on wealth now, but not for its own sake. Tyler makes money to spend it. His father pinched pennies so tight, he couldn’t let go of enough to decently clothe his own son.”
“Sons,” Molly corrected. She frowned at a sudden thought. “Um, look, I’m not doubting you, but is it possible Tyler exaggerated things when he told you about his childhood?”
The woman’s brows rose slightly, but she took the question in stride. “I don’t think so. You see, he told me these things before we were married. I was working as a…lady-of-the-evening in Europe when we met. Paris, Rome, Madrid…all the big cites. I traveled a lot.”
A little cat-grin curled her lips. “I saw him one night in a sidewalk café in Athens. Quite a catch, I thought. He looked so handsome, so wealthy… And so lonely. It was the loneliness, I think, that attracted me the most. So I, ah, invited myself to join him. We talked much before I took him back to my room. I think he needed the verbal release more than the physical. That’s how it often goes in that business. A man looks for companionship and a sympathetic ear as much as sex. And he’ll tell a whore things he might not tell his own wife. Sad, eh?”
She arched her spine and stretched, then sighed. “We were married soon after – much to my surprise. I was used to men wanting me, but not that way. I thought I’d found my knight-in-shining-armor. Then I discovered he was nothing but armor. The man’s locked in a shell so thick you couldn’t blast him out with dynamite. As a husband, I found him intolerable, but as a friend, I can accept him for what he is.”
Leaning forward, she rested her arms on the chair back again and searched Molly’s eyes. “Why did you ask?”
Good question. Molly riffled her brain for an answer. A little too much to ponder had been given too quickly. What had she been wondering before?
Oh, right… Steve. Damn.
“I was just thinking about Tyler’s brother.” She fidgeted in the bath as she spoke, absently flexing her ankles and feet, scarcely noticing the warm pulsing feel of the water. “Steve had the same parents, was raised the same way in the same house, I assume. But he was one of the kindest, gentlest people I’ve ever known. Sweet and caring… Everyone loved him because he was so open and easy to talk to, even when he was trapped in a wheelchair. If Tyler is so scarred by his upbringing, why wasn’t Steve?”
Carlotta’s sultry low laugh rippled out. “You make it sound like another point against Tyler, and maybe it is, but consider this…” She pursed her lips and narrowed her gaze, a curious look in her eyes. “They wouldn’t really have had exactly the same upbringing, would they? Tyler had no one but himself to rely on. Steve had an older brother. One who tried to protect him perhaps? Who was there to buffer life’s blows while he was growing up?”
Goddess… There was a thought. Tyler had been four years older than Steve. Old enough to stand between him and a brutal father?
Boy, that must have taken guts.
Molly shook her head, not in denial but confusion. “It’s possible, I guess.”
But she wished it wasn’t. The situation was complicated enough in black and white. Why muddy the issues with gray tones? She wanted to stay angry with Tyler, damn it. He’d be easier to deal with emotionally if she continued to view him as a skunk. If she started finding things about him to admire…
Carlotta’s lovely voice broke into the brooding. “I have an idea for you, if you care to hear it. Just some friendly advice, woman to woman.”
Molly forced a smile. “Since the only thing I can think of right now is drowning myself in this tub, I’m open to suggestions.”
“Killing Tyler would be more appropriate, but the man is made out of cast iron. You can’t dent him with a battle ax.” Carlotta grinned. “I know. I’ve tried.”
“That must have been a fun moment.” A light splash sounded as a set of five pink little piggies broke the water’s surface. At least they’d once been piggies. They now looked more like prunes. Molly frowned as she wiggled them. “Could you hand me a towel, please? I think I’ve stewed long enough.”
She stood up, like Venus rising out of the sea, and stepped into an aquamarine cloud. This was a towel? It engulfed her in heavenly plush. Oh boy, she was in trouble. All this sensual decadence was starting to feel a bit too good. Her mind was appalled, but her body said “Wow.” It had said even more about Tyler, hadn’t it?
Molly stifled a groan. Her body was becoming a big, big problem. Disgusted, she squeezed the water out of her hair and wrapped the towel, turban-style, around her head.
Carlotta held out a fleecy white robe even softer than the towel. “You won’t like my advice, but I think you should go ahead and marry him without argument.”
“You’re right. I don’t like it.”
Considering the bargaining chip he was holding to her head, like a gun, she might have to give in, but why the hell make it any easier on him than necessary. If you had to go down, do it swinging.
Girding her loins for battle, Molly slipped into the robe and tied its belt at her waist with a sharp yank, then snatched up her top and skirt and stalked through the dressing room into the saccharine-sweet boudoir.
With breezy elegance and swaying hips, Carlotta followed. “Trust me on this, I know Tyler. He’s not going to back down, and digging in your heels will only make it worse. If you don’t bend, he’ll break you. But either way, he’ll get what he wants. He always does.”
“That’s pathetic.”
“No, that�
�s Tyler. He can’t stand to lose.”
Her knees suddenly feeling like jelly, Molly sank down into one corner of a pink satin settee with a back shaped like – why not? – big butterfly wings.
Carlotta eyed the thing with distaste, then perched gingerly at the other end, as though afraid whatever it had might be catching. “He loses eventually though – with women, I mean. Every time. That’s what is pathetic, that he never keeps what he wins. His victories all turn to dust in his hands.”
Her gaze slanted to Molly. “But that is why you can marry him without any real fear. I guarantee it will be only…shall we say, a temporary inconvenience for you. His marriage to me lasted a year, but only because I’m the sort who considers murder before divorce. His other wives have gone easier on him and left after a few months. You will, too. And he’ll let you go then without a fuss. Tyler burns hot at the beginning, but he cools quickly. It’s the one thing about him you can depend on. He doesn’t feel anything for long. The poor man can barely feel at all.”
Molly’s stomach clenched. So did her jaw, making her voice tight. “Carlotta, why do I find no comfort in any of this?”
A knowing laugh sounded. “Because you worry what you may feel for him?”
Defensiveness rose at the question. “And what would that be? Anger? Contempt? Pity?”
Carlotta shook her head and sighed. “Molly, you’ve just made love with the man. You’d have to be made of stone to not be feeling something more than pity right now. But believe me, that will pass. Look at me.”
She spread out her arms. “I sit here as proof that there is life after Tyler James. A good life. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been. Married to him, I could never have had a career beyond being his wife. That was one of the things we fought about. After the divorce, he actually helped me start LFF. Why, I’m not sure. Perhaps it was his way of apologizing. Perhaps he simply viewed it as a good business venture. Whatever.”
Her shoulders lifted in an eloquent shrug. “What you must think of are those three sweet muchachos. Tell me, do you truly want custody of them?”
The clenching in Molly’s stomach moved into her chest, squeezing her heart like a fist. “They’re the only reason I’m here. But if I marry Tyler to keep them, and then divorce him…” The fist squeezed harder. “He could still cut me out of their lives, couldn’t he?”
“Quite possibly, yes.”
Carlotta seemed frighteningly unconcerned about that. But then, those sweet muchachos weren’t her responsibility, were they? Molly huddled deeper into her robe, shivering as cold dread chilled her blood. A no-win situation. Tyler would toy with her till he grew tired of the sport, then cast her off like he had his other wives, and she’d still lose the kids in the end. If she were a fairytale witch instead of the real life variety, she’d turn him into a toad.
No, wait, that wouldn’t work. He already was one.
“But that’s precisely why you are going to surrender peacefully to him. For the children,” Carlotta said.
“I am?” Molly glowered. Nope, she’d changed her mind on that. Surrender wouldn’t gain her anything. There had to be another way.
“You will if you’re smart.” The cat-grin appeared, curling the corners of red-painted lips into an expression of pure scheming. “Listen now, and I’ll tell you how to play this game.”
Chapter 7
Tyler tried to ignore André D’Leon as he stepped around the man at the foot of the stairs. Not an easy task. André’s glare was a bit distracting. So were the hot pink cowboy boots. The castanet-like clicking of heels followed Tyler down the length of the ballroom. A flash struck behind him, like lightning, just as he reached the door at the far end. André’s booming baritone voice rattled the crystal chandeliers.
“Bravo! Another masterpiece! I shall call it ‘The Devil’s Departure.’ You will sign for me a model release, Monsieur James, no?”
“No,” Monsieur James said, then pulled open the door and escaped into the poolroom.
A rather dubious escape, as it turned out.
He pushed past a curtain of vines and stopped short, blinking in the afternoon light streaming through the glass dome. The courtyard echoed with laughter and the sound of splashing. Tall, willowy forms crowded the sparkling sand beach – some, the expected palms with their long trunks and swaying fronds; the rest, a surprise gathering of females with long legs and swaying hips. Blondes, brunettes, redheads… All nubile young nymphs, ripe and frothy. And nearly naked.
A bevy of beauties?
A gaggle of girls?
Whatever you called them, they were a royal pain in the ass at the moment. Damn, he must be getting old when a display like this tightened his gut instead of something a little farther south. Who were these bimbos? Who let them in?
Carlotta, probably, which meant she was here for a fashion shoot. Peachy keen. Just what he needed. Where were his nephews? And where the hell was Barry?
Tyler’s hands itched to slug someone. Carlotta would be the obvious choice, for dumping this crew on him, but he didn’t hit women, so Barry would have to do. Cursing under his breath, he strode forward.
“Tyzie!”
The high-pitched squeal, like a sow in heat, halted him in mid-step.
Aw shit, no. Please, no…
“Tyzie” winced at the sight of a six-foot platinum blonde in a pink polka dot thong bikini bouncing toward him across the sand. And he did mean bouncing.
Thank you, Carlotta, for warning me she was here.
He braced for impact as she crashed into him, flattening against his chest – well, as flat as she ever got, which wasn’t much – and caught him in a hard hug around the neck. Then she pushed back to advertise thousands of dollars worth of dental work in a dazzling smile.
“Tyzie sugah, it’s so nice to see you!”
It was? The last time he’d seen her was when they’d signed their divorce papers, and she’d barely spoken to him then – for which he’d been truly grateful. Why the about-face in attitude? And why the return to modeling after swearing she was through with the profession? She hated modeling almost as much as she hated him.
Easy questions and the same answer to both. She must need money. Run through your divorce settlement so fast, doll? All those drugs and her lazy-ass boyfriend were expensive habits to support, weren’t they?
He gritted his teeth into a grin. “Hi, Bambi. It’s, um, nice to see you, too.”
Liar. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he tried to move past her.
Bambi blocked his path. One acrylic-nailed finger rose to trace a line down his arm.
“You’re lookin’ good, Tyy-zie.” She stretched out the syllables, her southern drawl dripping with honey, her heavy perfume clouding the air between them.
Tyler wanted to gag.
“Um, yeah. You, too.” His eyes flashed about, searching.
Barry? Where are you, Barry?
Bambi took a deep breath, expanding her chest. He prayed to God she wouldn’t pop out of her top, and focused on her head to keep his gaze from falling into the silicon-valley framed by the spandex pink polka dots below.
“I, ah, see you cut your hair,” he offered conversationally, and felt really stupid saying it.
Barry, get your ass over here, damn it. I need you!
“Why, how sweet of you to notice.” She ruffled the short fluff framing her face and pursed pink-glossed lips into a perfect Cupid’s bow pucker of a pout. “You don’t think it’s too short, do you? Too boyish?”
“Bam-Bam, I don’t think you have to worry about anyone ever mistaking you for a boy,” a new voice assured her.
Finally. Tyler heaved a silent sigh of relief at the sound of rescue.
Barry winked at him over Bambi’s shoulder and added into her ear. “Hey, hon, the Myna bird has been calling for you. You’d better see what he wants.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened. “And he only just met me, too. That bird is absolutely amazing!”
She fluttered her l
ashes at Tyler. “You and me need to talk, sugah. I’ll see you later, ’kay?”
Without waiting for an answer, she swiveled about and trotted off, her thonged bottom jiggling like Jell-O.
“Not if I see you first,” Tyler muttered. He turned an evil eye on Barry. “The bird is calling her? That was the best you could do?”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Barry shrugged. “Anyway, it’s true. He’s been singing ‘June Is Busting Out All Over.’ I figured he meant her.”
Tyler resisted the urge to throttle him. “Where the hell have you been?” He blinked as his gaze raked down the lanky form before him. “And why are you wet?”
“To answer both questions, at the far side of the pool, refereeing a water-basketball match. Tough job, but someone had to do it.” Barry paused to pull off his sopping polo shirt and kick out of squeaking shoes. “Man, I never realized what a vicious sport that is. Some of those girls can really slam-dunk.”
“I should slam-dunk you. Why didn’t you tell me Carlotta was coming for a fashion shoot?”
“I did. During our little discussion here earlier. But perhaps your mind was elsewhere at the time? Huh?” Barry waggled his brows up and down.
Tyler hated it when he did that, but not as much as he hated the knowing look that went with the gesture. Sometimes he felt Beanpole could read his mind.
He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and beamed a warning look back. “Okay, forget it. And, no, I’m not going to tell you what I’ve been doing.”
“Hey, did I ask?”
“No, but you were going to.”
Breaking the eye-lock, Tyler scanned the busy beach, feeling something tense, something uncomfortable gnawing him inside. Something he might have called guilt if he didn’t know he was doing the right thing. Molly wanted him, damn it. Wanted him as much as he wanted her. If he had to use a…um, slightly questionable tactic to make her understand that, it was for her benefit as much as his. The end justified the means.
