by Lara Hunter
He was quiet, thinking it all over. “I had no idea,” he finally murmured.
“How could you know?”
“I know. Still. I guess nobody really knows what goes on in other people’s lives. We can assume all we want, but there’s no way of knowing sometimes until people open up.”
“Very true. I never would have guessed that you were such a nice person,” I admitted.
“You’re just saying that.”
I sat up, gazing at him in the moonlight. “I wouldn’t just say that, Lucas. I mean it. I assumed you’d be a nasty, self-centered creep when I first heard about you. Handsome, filthy rich. Probably full of yourself, the sort of man who used women and threw them aside when he got bored with them. I admit it. But you’re not that person. I was wrong about you.”
“I guess I was wrong about you, too,” he said after a beat, reaching toward me. When his hand touched my face, I thought my heart would stop beating. My breath caught in my throat, adrenalin racing through me.
We kissed, our mouths touching tentatively before pressing together with deep urgency. Like we needed to get past that first breathless moment before being sure of what we wanted.
We were alone on the beach in the near-total darkness, clouds concealing the moon as Lucas lowered me to the sand. I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him close, kissing him with all the strength and passion inside me. He understood me, and I understood him. If we worked together, we could make anything happen. I knew in that moment that everything would turn out all right, even if I didn’t quite know how.
We made love right there on the sand, quietly, slowly, being careful not to make too much noise or attract attention. When it was all over, and I saw Lucas smile down at me, I knew I couldn’t just let him go when we solved our problems. I wouldn’t be able to walk out of his life. It was too late for that.
We went back to the mansion, once we’d shaken all the sand we could out of our clothes. Every once in a while, we’d laugh, remembering how daring we’d been together. I liked it. I never would have taken a chance like that if it hadn’t been for him.
We shared more about ourselves as he drove, then as we made our way to the bedroom. I told him about how I’d studied journalism, and he told me how he’d once considered becoming a journalist, too. He’d wanted to make the world more aware of the poverty he’d grown up in, to tell the stories of the people he’d known.
We fell asleep in each other’s arms, still talking into the wee hours of the morning, telling secrets, whispering, laughing softly. It was that sweet, special time a couple experiences in those first sacred days together. Learning about each other, amazed at how similar we were even though we’d grown up so far apart, in such different worlds.
There I was, comfortable, relaxed, happy. The warmth from his body, curled up beside mine, was like a miracle. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d fallen asleep in a man’s arms. But that night I did, and with a smile on my face.
SIXTEEN
I was still smiling when I woke up in Lucas’ arms.
I was sure he would never understand what he’d done for me. How long had I been afraid to make a connection with another person? I couldn’t remember. After all, I’d spent so much time going from place to place, doing the dirty work of my clients and disappearing afterward, there was never any way to form attachments.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed out on in those years of work, before my “getaway” to Brazil. I didn’t have any real friends. I didn’t have a boyfriend. I didn’t have hobbies or interests the way Lucas did. There was nothing in my life but my parents, and even they were thousands of miles away. I had nothing.
He stirred beside me, still asleep. I had my back to his front as he spooned me, and I could feel his warm, steady breath against the back of my head. It was bliss, the feeling of intimacy, of real connection between us. It wasn’t just sex. It was something so much more. The hours we’d spent talking had done more for me than even the best sex ever could—I felt even more fulfilled after hearing stories of the way he and Diego had grown up. It was so obvious how happy he was to be friends with his brother again. They had come up from nothing, both of them, and that would always link them together just as strongly as the blood they shared.
And somebody understood me for the first time in forever. That was the sweetest feeling of all. I didn’t have to lie. I didn’t have to feel ashamed of myself or the things I did. He got it. He knew I didn’t have a choice because I loved my parents, because they needed my help. It meant the world to me that I could be honest with him. I could unburden my heart, and he didn’t judge me. He could forgive me for what I’d tried to do because it wasn’t something I felt I could help.
Lucas stirred again, and this time he woke up. His arms tightened around me, and I sighed when he kissed my neck. I could have stayed there all day, letting him touch and taste me. And I had the feeling he would have stayed, too, if given a chance.
“It’s Sunday,” I whispered. “Can’t we stay here for a little while?”
“Mm, that sounds nice,” he whispered. “But I don’t know that we can do that.”
“Why not?” I pouted, even though I understood what he was getting at. We had work to do.
So we got up, showering together before dressing and going downstairs for breakfast. I couldn’t stop grinning. It felt so unreal, being with him. Being so happy. It felt natural, normal. That was the best part. Like we had been together for so long. He told the cook we’d take breakfast on the balcony off the library, then we stepped out there together. Lucas was right: there was something about the ocean. It was a beautiful day, bright and sunny.
Lucas stared out over the water, his jaw working. I could tell he was thinking about something, and I let him go. He needed the space.
Finally, after the coffee and food were delivered, Lucas cleared his throat. “There’s something that’s been bothering me,” he admitted. “Something Diego said last night. It’s been bouncing around in my brain ever since.”
“What is it? You don’t still think he’s responsible, do you?”
“Oh, no. Not at all. It’s something else.” He clenched his jaw, still looking out at the crashing waves. They reminded me of what must have been going through his brain. “The name he used. The name he said the voice on the phone used.”
“What name?” I couldn’t remember Diego saying anything out of the ordinary.
“Loco Lucas.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, I thought it was a little funny.”
He nodded. “I thought so, too. Especially since that’s a name I earned on the soccer team in college.”
I gasped. “That’s huge!”
“I know.”
“Who else would know about it?” I asked, my heart racing.
“Only one other person at the company. Ottavio.”
I let out a deep breath, feeling like a balloon losing its air. I thought I might collapse. “I never would have thought of him.”
“There’s a chance it’s not him. I hope I’m wrong, like I was about my brother.”
“Maybe he told somebody else about your nickname,” I suggested.
He smirked. “Maybe, but does that really sound likely to you?”
“Honestly? No, not really.”
“Not to me, either. It doesn’t seem like he would just randomly share that with somebody. It doesn’t make sense. He’s the only person who would know.”
“So it’s likely him.”
“Likely. I don’t understand why, of course, but what else is new.” He shook his head as he sipped his coffee. “I can’t believe I’ve been so blind. How do I not know when things like this are going on around me?”
“They’re a sneaky one, whoever this is,” I said, trying to ease his torment. “I mean that. He’s taken every single precaution to be sure nobody knows who he is. He’s thought this out, and I’m sure he’s taken every pain to be sure you don’t clue in.”
“I guess so. I just
don’t understand why he’d do it. We’ve been friends for years—at least I thought we were.”
“Tell me about him. What’s his story?”
“We’ve known each other since college. We were close back then. When my company started expanding, growing, I offered him a job. He wasn’t doing well in his job search.”
“I know how that feels,” I nodded. “It’s miserable.”
“And Ottavio was miserable,” Lucas agreed. “He didn’t need the money, mind you—he’s old money, from a long line of it—but his father wouldn’t let him live on his inheritance without a job, so he cut him off until he got one. I wanted to help, and I knew he was qualified. So I named him VP of Finance. I figured he’d do the same for me if the tables were turned, you know?”
As Lucas spoke, everything started falling into place for me. “He made sure I ended up on that yacht,” I realized. “I wouldn’t have gone to the party, since Dani didn’t secure me an invite. But he saw me and told me it was okay. He made sure I went.”
“So you could get information on me.”
“You’ve got it.”
“Damn him.” Lucas got up, pacing dangerously. I remembered seeing that same look on his face when he’d tied me to the bed. He was just short of undone. “I still don’t understand why,” he spat. “I tried to help him. I thought we were friends. I don’t get it. What did I ever do to him?”
I thought it over. “Maybe he’s jealous of your success,” I mused. “I mean, you had to give him a job because he couldn’t find one on his own. He needed to take you up on it, but he probably hated having to do it. You know?”
He nodded after a long time, thinking it over. “You’re probably right,” he admitted. “Not only that, but he’s always been sort of a snob.”
“What do you mean?”
“His family always looked down on new money, since they’re old money. He used to make fun of people who didn’t have the same pedigree. I never realized that he was being serious; there were lots of students from old money who made the same kind of comments.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I wrinkled my nose, glad that I’d never had to deal with things like that. I thought it over. “So it was even harder for him, then. He had to accept what he saw as charity from somebody with new money.”
“I never thought of it that way. I suppose, if I had, I never would have offered him the job.”
“Of course,” I said. “You were just being a good friend. You did what anybody would have done.”
“And I put my company in danger in the process.”
“You didn’t know that would happen. We can’t see the future.”
He sat down, taking my hand. “What would I do if you weren’t here?” he asked.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I replied with a smile.
SEVENTEEN
“I don’t think he’s going to show.”
I looked up from my seat at Lucas’ desk, watching him pace yet again.
“Would you please sit down? You’re making me anxious.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, sitting behind the desk. His fingers tapped along its surface. “I don’t think he’s gonna show,” he repeated.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I know him. He’ll sense something is wrong. I never call meetings on Sundays.”
“It’s not a meeting as much as it’s a request to meet with you down at the office. There’s nothing so strange about that.”
“I should have invited him out to the house.”
“But you don’t normally do that,” I reminded him.
“No, I don’t.”
“So he would have sensed something was wrong then, too.”
“That’s true.” He checked the time. “Five minutes. He’s not coming.”
“Shh. Just try to relax.”
I did the best to take my own advice. I couldn’t stand not knowing what would happen. Would Ottavio take the bait? There were a half-dozen cops hiding out all along the floor, waiting for him to enter Lucas’ office before they descended on him.
“I’m doing the best I can. How would you act if everything hung in the balance?” He stood again, like he couldn’t bear to be still.
I bit my tongue to keep from asking him to sit down. It was useless.
Secretly, I agreed with Lucas. I didn’t think Ottavio would show up, either. After the phone call he’d made me the night before, things were tenser than ever. It was a little too big a coincidence that Lucas suddenly wanted to bring him into the office the next day, no matter what excuse he’d given him on the phone.
“That’s it,” he said, checking the time again. “It’s six o’clock. He’s never late. He’s not coming.”
“All right,” I said, standing. “Plan B.”
We left his office, then, walking out onto the main floor. The cops appeared one by one. Lucas nodded at one of them, who got on his radio and sent a message telling the others to move to Plan B. We hurried down to one of the police cars waiting for us outside, and took off, speeding for the airport.
“So you really think he’ll go there?” I asked.
“If he didn’t show up for a meeting, that’s because he knows we’re onto him and he’s running. There’s only one place he would run to. His family home.”
“You’re sure he doesn’t have another one somewhere?”
“No, just the one in Portugal. It’s more like a castle, passed down for hundreds of years. He’ll flee there. I’m sure of it.” Lucas chewed his lip, his jaw clenching. “I just hope we didn’t wait too long at the office.”
“The police at the airport will get him,” I reminded him. Lucas had foreseen Ottavio’s possible escape and had instructed the cops to wait for him there, just in case. They would have an eye out for his private jet, and a warrant to search it.
I didn’t dare wonder aloud what would happen if Ottavio had disguised himself. I didn’t think even he was sharp enough to put that much thought into things. He wouldn’t have done something like that. Or I told myself, anyway.
The ride to the airport seemed to last forever. It felt like we were crawling down the road, even though we were moving pretty briskly. It wasn’t enough. We had to get there in time. I wanted to see Ottavio when he thought he could get away with what he’d done. I wanted to see him when the cops took him away. I wanted to see his face when he realized we’d gotten the better of him. He wasn’t that clever. He couldn’t ruin people’s lives the way he thought he could, the elitist snob.
We zoomed across the tarmac on reaching the airport, following a line of police cars toward the area where private jets waited for departure. There was only one waiting there, and a tall, running figure headed in the direction of the stairs.
“It’s him!” Lucas shouted, pointing, and the police driver floored the gas pedal, sending us squealing up to the jet.
Lucas was out of the car almost before it came to a stop, running after Ottavio. I scrambled out, too, following him. I could only hope Ottavio wouldn’t try to hurt him in his attempt to flee. The thought sent me into a panic, putting extra speed into my legs as I ran. No way could I let that happen. No way would I let some embittered jerk take away the only man I’d ever really cared about.
I heard Lucas shouting, his voice almost lost in the sound of the jet’s engines roaring to life. Ottavio finally reached the stairs, but Lucas, the faster runner, reached them at the same time and pulled him back.
“I can’t let you do that!” Lucas held Ottavio still, waiting for the police.
“Let me go, you self-righteous bastard!” I saw pure hatred in Ottavio’s eyes, and his once-handsome face was deep red, screwed up into an ugly sneer.
“You have to pay for what you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done? I haven’t done anything, remember? I didn’t pay anybody. There’s no proof.”
“Sure there is,” Lucas shouted. “My brother can testify that you called him and used my nickname.”
His fa
ce changed. “Loco Lucas,” he spat. “Mr. Wonderful. You’re nothing but cheap trash who thinks money will make up for the dirt you came from. But it never will. You can’t buy breeding.”
“You’re evidence of that,” Lucas sneered.
“Don’t talk about me. You’d never understand what it’s like to come from a good family, watching somebody rise to the top when they don’t deserve it.”
