by Julie Leto
With her small fingers, she raised his knuckles to her lips and pressed a soft kiss on his skin.
“Thank you, Grey.” A wave of moisture, dammed by her lashes, turned her eyes to pools of emotion. “You are very good at what you do, aren’t you?”
He bit the inside of his mouth, willing himself to not take her into his arms and kiss away the tears she so valiantly kept at bay. “I’ve been told.”
His wink produced a smile, however small, on her bow-shaped lips. He forced himself to leave before he changed his mind, knowing she had to find closure in this part of her life before she could make any decisions about him.
Pilar had stalked through the kitchen and now reclined on the wicker chaise in the solarium, her arm draped dramatically over her eyes, her long, flowing skirt hiked to show what he supposed was meant to be an alluring view of her shapely legs. Grey shook his head and set about making a pot of coffee. His shoulders ached from his long day hunched over his computer, putting his interview with Claudio into words that were worthy of his talent and the Masterson name.
The Weekly Confessional had been a brainstorm. A good one. Zane’s column had given him the idea for something new. Something his. And for the first time in years, he was excited about a project—truly, totally invigorated by a business venture that wasn’t weighed down by a century of tradition and family responsibility. No, the building blocks of The Weekly Confessional came from his twin’s inventiveness and Grey’s need to find a way to tell Reina the truth she desperately needed to hear.
He knew he could have just told her. He could have simply encouraged Claudio to meet with the daughter he hadn’t known existed until a few months ago and tell her the story of Claudio’s affair with her mother. He didn’t know why he’d been compelled to put the complicated tale into words first, but figured he’d resorted to his comfort zone.
Grey knew words. But, until today, he’d honestly forgotten how to use them for anything other than reporting some facts and making a buck. The Weekly Confessional would change that, make his work interesting and unpredictable for the first time in his career. He had his best team of marketing gurus and accountants working out a business plan. Grey had no intention of letting the newspaper go, but he hoped The Weekly Confessional would become a regular Friday supplement, another asset to add to the burgeoning Masterson empire. One that could be his from the inception. One that would complement and enhance the legacy left by the Masterson men before him.
And if Zane wanted, he could be involved however he desired. In fact, Grey hoped his brother would jump at something along the lines of creative director. He and his twin had never worked on anything together except switching places. They’d always been intent on proving that their differences somehow canceled out the fact that they looked exactly alike. Grey prayed that would change, the way his whole life had changed since he’d slipped into his brother’s life and discovered the woman of his dreams.
How Reina fit into the entire scheme of things, he didn’t know. He had no idea how tonight would change who she was. For all he knew, she’d leave New Orleans. Leave him.
He held the coffee carafe under the faucet, filled it, then emptied the water into the machine and shoved the pot back in place beneath the brew basket. He concentrated on the task, knowing if Reina would read what he’d written, she might—just might—come out of this mess without her heart broken in a million pieces.
As he set the coffee to brew, he leaned against the counter, ignoring Pilar’s pathetic groan, just as certain that she wanted him to talk to her as he was that he wasn’t about to say one word.
“YOU WERE THE FIRST IMPRESARIO, weren’t you?”
Reina clutched Grey’s article in her hand, wanting desperately to read what he’d written in her attempt to understand, but somehow knowing that she wanted the details from Claudio first. In his own words. While she watched his eyes for signs of honesty. Regret.
“Impresario is a big word. I was a child like she was, a boy with big dreams. Pilar was the most beautiful girl I’d ever met, and her talent for acting was unbelievable. I wanted a life in the theater and she could have helped me as I wanted to help her. If she’d given me the chance.”
“How old were you? She told me she was fifteen when she met the man who discovered her.”
The memory cast a sweet nostalgic glow in Claudio’s dark eyes. Eyes the same hue and glossiness as polished ebony. Eyes exactly like hers.
“Seventeen, maybe? I’d been traveling through Spain as the assistant to a man who produced plays all over Europe. We were in her village on vacation when I met her, and I promised to introduce her to my employer. I don’t remember why, but he left suddenly. Before I could fulfill my promise. So I stayed behind with Pilar.”
“But you didn’t love her?”
Claudio shook his head, then met her gaze directly. “I was seventeen, Reina. What did I know of love? No more than Pilar knew, I promise. She didn’t want me to love her, anyway, at least, not in the beginning. She wanted me to make her a star.”
“And you tried.”
“I took her to Rome, I introduced her to everyone I knew. We were young, enamored of each other. It was an adventure. Then she left me for Salvatore Balducci, an older man with real connections. He arranged her first roles in the theater. Started her career.”
“And she never told you about me?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’d been together for three years before Balducci finally took her seriously. She came to me with a choice. If I married her, if I loved her, she would stay—go back to Venice with me and be my wife. If I wouldn’t marry her, she would go with Balducci and be a star.”
“Was she pregnant with me at the time?”
He shook his head. “No, no. You’d be much older if that were the case. But I didn’t love her, not enough to make her my wife, but enough to know she had to follow her dream. So I told her to go and she did.”
Reina mulled over his words, superimposing them onto the stories she’d heard from Pilar all her life, stories that never once hinted that the man who’d toyed with her mother’s love had been the one who’d fathered her child. “You broke her heart. If my mother ever had the capability to love, you destroyed it. Didn’t you?”
He pursed his lips, considering her words with the seriousness only his age and personal hindsight could provide. “Perhaps. Perhaps, ultimately, this is all my doing.”
His voice faded with each word to a long silence. Reina glanced down at the newspaper, scanning the words, understanding how they matched what he’d already told her, then realizing if she wanted to know more, she’d either have to turn the page or ask him. Grey’s instinct to put all of Claudio’s claims in black and white struck her as brilliant for a thousand different reasons, not the least of which was that under the pressure of facing the daughter he’d never known he had, he might be tempted to lie. But, with the story in print, he would be unable to alter his original story and get away with it. And Reina trusted Grey’s ability as a reporter enough to believe every word he’d set to type.
So she kept reading. She scanned every word, searching for her answers, trying to ignore the arms of emotion reaching out to her from the pages.
“She came back to you…” Reina said, “later, when she was a star.”
Claudio chuckled softly. “The ultimate revenge, no? She wanted to show me all she’d become without me, how she could resist me now that she’d made a name for herself. But she didn’t count on my secret weapon—il Gio’s diaries. Our second affair became a conquest, a battle of wills. In the end, she still wanted me to marry her, but I still didn’t love her. She left. I never heard from her again. I didn’t even realize she’d stolen the diaries until months later and, by then, she’d gone to the United States.”
“Why would my mother take the diaries?”
“Revenge,” he answered stiffly. “She knew I planned to somehow use them to make my fortune
. When I wouldn’t marry her—because I didn’t truly love her any more than she knew how to love me—she wanted to hurt me.”
“But she didn’t do anything with them.”
“She didn’t need to. Taking them destroyed my dreams for a long while.”
“But you lived in Venice?”
He nodded.
“We vacationed in Venice. My mother had a home there. You said you saw me once. Didn’t you ever wonder?”
Claudio took the paper from her, scanned the page, then pointed to a paragraph near the bottom of the second column. “Pilar took lovers like a pickpocket takes wallets. I didn’t love her, but what man could help but desire her? Whenever she came to town, I found some reason to go away.”
“You saw me! You said so last night.”
“Sì, sì. But everyone who knew Pilar, who knew you, believed you to be the child of some foreign prince or Hollywood celebrity. The rumors were endless, but they never once pointed their fingers at me. Believe me, had anyone suspected, I would have found out. Pilar made sure no one ever knew.”
Claudio slipped his hands in hers again and when his eyes captured her gaze, she knew whatever he said next would be the truth.
“I was a fool, Reina. A young, reckless fool who never considered that Pilar would give me the rare and treasured gift of a child. I’m sorry. I should have known.”
Reina shook her head. How could he have known? And what was the point of belaboring the point now? The minute he’d found out he had a daughter, he’d left his country, traveled to the States and tried to help her out of the mess her mother had created. If he’d shown any hesitation to come to her aid, Reina had no proof of it. Dahlia called; he came. End of story.
“Why did Pilar finally publish the diaries?”
“You’ll have to ask her, but Dahlia talked about money.”
“And she arranged the robberies at my gallery?”
Claudio folded his lips inside his mouth as though unwilling to speak, but he nodded.
“Why didn’t Dahlia just tell me? I would have believed her.”
He shook his head sadly. “She didn’t know that. Your mother is a formidable woman. But I can’t tell you why Pilar did what she did. I’ve never understood her. I just know that with the diaries published, the only way I could help you was to have you rebuild the collection, try to protect you and the jewels with my limited resources. After the diaries disappeared, I became a private investigator. But I had no connections here. Luckily, you found Mr. Masterson to help you.”
“Lucky is right.”
Claudio snapped the newsmagazine straight, then folded it back with the cover on the outside. “He’s a good man, Reina. Very patient. Smart, too.”
“Sounds like he’s got an admirer,” she quipped, then smiled when Claudio responded to her humor with a hearty chuckle.
“Maybe he does. I think it’s you. I saw your eyes when you looked at him a moment ago. You’ve fallen in love with him.”
“I can’t think about that now. I finally found my father and I really don’t know you. I have the collection to finish and…”
“Stop,” he ordered, insistent.
“Excuse me?”
Claudio grabbed her by both shoulders, gently but with firm resolve. “You’re no coward, bella. All those things you mentioned can wait. Haven’t you learned anything from il Gio and Viviana? Didn’t you feel their regret when you read their words? They both would have traded their souls to be together for always, instead of just for brief moments of time. They lived in a different century, when such limitations existed, but you, you have the freedom to do whatever you want, take whatever you want from life. Don’t make excuses just to guard your heart.”
“I’ve never been in love before,” she admitted.
He smiled. “Neither have I, and it’s been my greatest regret, next to not knowing you. You have a chance, Reina. Take it. Find what neither your mother nor I ever did.”
Reina stood, cupped her father’s face in her palm and choked back another wave of tears. No wonder her mother had thought herself to be in love with him.
“We have so much to talk about,” she said.
Claudio patted his chest with confidence. “I’m a fine specimen of an older man, bella. Healthy and, soon, thanks to your collection, very rich. We have all the time in the world to know each other.”
She rolled her eyes and huffed. “Even you aren’t that naive.”
“No, but I am…what is the word? An optimist. Go to your mother now. Find out the rest of the truth so you can put it behind you.”
She laughed. “You make it seem so simple!”
“Why can’t it be?”
Reina moaned, fighting the urge to bury her throbbing head in her hands. She combed her hair with her fingers instead, tugging at the strands to counteract the pressure building inside her skull. “Because I have to deal with Pilar.”
“Deal then, darling,” Pilar said, standing in the doorway as if it was a gilded picture frame and she was the subject of some priceless masterpiece, “because I’m tired of waiting.”
16
WITH ONE HAND ON HER HIP and the other draped languidly down her side, Pilar issued a challenge Reina couldn’t ignore. Accuse me now or leave me alone. Reina stood and tugged at the sash on her robe. Better than anyone, she knew how her mother operated, playing on emotions to wrangle her way out of trouble. If Reina showed any sign of regret for calling her mother to the carpet, she’d never get the whole truth.
Claudio stood and sidled in close, his hand on her shoulder.
“Sit down, Claudio,” Pilar sniped, her tone dismissive. “My daughter hasn’t needed you for thirty years. She doesn’t need you now.”
Reina cleared her throat. “As if my needs ever mattered to you.”
“Don’t be ungrateful. You know the sacrifices I’ve made for you.”
Reina paused, certain her mother had the capacity to act out of love—when it suited her. She couldn’t pretend that Pilar hadn’t been generous and affectionate as a parent any more than she could ignore the times she was self-serving and remote. With Pilar, you either accepted the good with the bad, or you sought therapy. Reina had never spoken to a psychiatrist in her life.
“Well, Mother, let’s hear it.” She motioned for Claudio to sit and then relaxed into the cushions on her couch, crossing one leg over the other. “I’m sure you have a wonderful performance planned. How should we start? I know—” she held out her hands, creating a rectangular frame around her mother “—action.”
Pilar narrowed her eyes, but didn’t respond to either Reina’s venomous tone or her condescending attitude. Right then, Reina knew her mother was as guilty as she believed. When all else failed, Pilar would resort not to lies, but to putting a positive spin on the truth.
“Don’t be disrespectful.”
“Don’t lie,” Reina said.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“When? All my life when you wouldn’t tell me who my father was, or before that when you didn’t tell him, or more recently when you arranged for Judi to steal jewels from my gallery?”
Pilar didn’t falter, at least not physically. Her eyes betrayed the sting of Reina’s words with a gloss of moisture, but Reina couldn’t believe even that. The woman could cry on demand and win awards for her emoting. Nothing would keep her from utilizing that talent now.
“Claudio didn’t love me. I had too much pride to tell him I’d gone and gotten myself pregnant. Instead, I concentrated on doing what I had to do, making myself a wealthy woman. You never wanted for anything, did you? Not even love. I may be shallow and self-centered, but you’ve always known love.”
Reina couldn’t contradict this. She knew her mother loved her as much as she could. And she had enjoyed a wonderful life of travel, adventure and education. Past sins were moot. She was more interested in why her mother had decided to destroy her business.
“Let’s focus on the gallery, then. How did you get the
combination to the second safe?”
“With my instruction, Judi seduced the guard. They used the cameras to watch you enter your code.”
She nodded, since Grey had mentioned that scenario. “Okay, now the big question. Why?”
Pilar waved her free hand, as if the query was inconsequential and painfully simple. “I needed the money.”
She knew that much, but even the letters she had found didn’t explain where her mother’s millions had gone. “Where’s all the booty from your love affairs? From your endorsement deals and long-running plays?”
Pilar glided into a chair and poured herself a brandy from the decanter nearby.
“I sank a great deal of my personal capital into my theater project and it seems that while amassing money is a talent of mine, investing it isn’t.”
“Why didn’t you just ask me for help?”
“You didn’t have it, either. You put every dime into your gallery, I knew that. Your cash flow was tight, even before Judi took the first set of jewels.”
“Did you ask her to steal from me?”
“I was desperate. She’s young and begging for approval. You had insurance. You were protected.”
Claudio asked his own question before Reina could protest her mother’s warped justification. “What about the diaries? You sold them to a publisher and the sales have been phenomenal. Why didn’t you use that money to pay your debts?”
Pilar sipped her drink. “The advance money was pitiful, there was no guarantee an obscure jeweler’s erotic diaries would sell. And I won’t see royalties for another three months, at least. I needed the money immediately or I would lose my home. Can you imagine how mortifying that would be? Me? Pilar Price? The tabloids would have had a field day.”
“That doesn’t justify stealing from your own daughter,” Grey said. Until that moment, Reina hadn’t noticed that he’d entered the room. Warmth washed over her. Relief, not because he’d arrived to intervene on her behalf, but because she knew that as long as he was nearby, she could triumph over the betrayal she now faced. He’d done it. So could she.
