by Maya Blake
‘I won’t shake your hand because this isn’t a social visit,’ he rasped icily to Theo. ‘And I won’t be dining with you, either.’
‘Perfectly fine by me. Frankly, the quicker we get this over with the better. But let me remind you that you’re here only because of Inez. She may be your daughter but she’s under my protection now. I suggest you don’t lose sight of that fact. What business you and I have will be finished by week’s end.’
Her father’s gaze swung back to her. ‘Are you just going to stand there and let him speak to your father that way? You disappoint me.’
‘That’s no surprise. I’ve been a disappointment from the moment I was born a girl, Pai.’
‘Your mother will be rolling in her grave at your behaviour.’
She raised her chin. ‘No, actually. Mãe told me every day she was proud of me. She also encouraged me to follow my dreams. She wanted to be a sculptor. Did you know that?’
‘What’s your point?’
‘She was talented, Pai. But she gave it up for you. It was her, not you, who taught me what loyalty and family meant. You were only focused on exploiting that loyalty for your own selfish needs.’
His face tightened and his eyes flickered to Theo, who’d been standing by her with his arms folded, a half smile on his face.
‘Is this what I came here for? To be lectured by an ungrateful child?’
Theo shrugged. ‘I’m finding it quite entertaining.’
Benedicto growled and shot to his feet. ‘If there is a point, son, I suggest you get to it.’
Theo grew marble-still, his smile disappearing in the blink of an eye. Pure rage vibrated off his body and Inez watched his nostrils flare as he sucked in a control-sustaining breath.
‘I am not your son. And you are not worthy to be a father. It’s a shame you didn’t learn how to be a better parent from the mother who gave birth to you in that favela you deny you grew up in. And don’t bother denying it again. I know everything there is to know about you, da Costa.’
For the first time since he’d walked in, Benedicto grew wary. He strolled to the drinks cabinet and took his time examining all the expensive spirits and liqueurs displayed.
Without asking, he poured a measure of single malt whisky and took a bold sip. ‘So I bent the truth a little. So what? You’ve already discredited my campaign. What do you want? My company? Is that your end game? You want to pick up the shares for Da Costa Holdings for peanuts? Well, over my dead body.’
Theo’s laugh was menacing enough to cause her skin to tingle in alarm. ‘Trust me, a few weeks ago it would’ve been my pleasure to grant you your wish. But you’re wrong on that score. Your company is of no interest to me.’
His wariness increased. ‘What’s changed?’
Theo’s eyes flicked to her and her heart thudded. ‘Your daughter.’
‘Really?’
Inez shook her head in astonishment. ‘Do you really not know who he is, Pai?’ she asked.
Theo’s mouth curved in a mirthless smile. ‘Oh, he knows who I am. He’s just hoping that I don’t know what he did twelve years ago.’
Benedicto swallowed, his gaunt face growing pale until he looked ashen. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking—’
She rushed towards him, anger, pain and disappointment coiling like poisonous snakes inside her. ‘Don’t you dare deny it. Don’t you dare!’ Her voice cracked and a sob broke through her chest. ‘You had a boy kidnapped and tortured! For money. How could you?’
Eyes she’d once thought were like her own turned black with sinister rage. ‘How could I? I did it for you. The fancy clothes you strut about in and that fancy car you drive? Where do you think the money came from? I needed it to save the company. Anyway, it was my money. Why did I have to go back to farming just because Pantelides couldn’t keep it in his pants or stop his bit on the side from blowing the whistle on him?’
Inez’s hand flew to her mouth, her insides icing over. ‘Santa Maria, you truly are a monster.’
Her father’s jaw tightened and he addressed Theo. ‘Is this the point where you hand whatever file you’ve gathered on me over to the authorities?’
Theo’s mouth twisted. ‘So you can bribe your way out of jail? No.’
Benedicto frowned. ‘Then what the hell do you want?’
Theo glanced over at her and a look of almost relief washed over his face, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. ‘That’s up to Inez. And only her. I’m done with you.’
Inez raised her suddenly heavy head and looked from one man to the other.
One stood tall, proud and breathtaking. A man she’d been so determined not to let in. But whose tortured vulnerability had drawn her to him, made her see beneath his skin to the frightened child who was desperately seeking answers.
Choking tears filling her eyes, she turned to the monster who was her father. ‘I have nothing else to say to you. I don’t want to see you ever again. Goodbye.’
Turning sharply from both men, she rushed out of the room and fled up the stairs.
* * *
Theo wasted no time in throwing Benedicto out once Inez left the room. He’d meant what he said—he was done with seeking retribution…had been done almost from the moment he’d met Inez.
Perhaps unwisely, he’d thought the meeting with Benedicto would be swift and cathartic. Instead, he’d brought Inez even more anguish.
He slashed his fingers through his hair as he vaulted up the stairs that led to his third floor suite. Perhaps she’d been right. He’d ambushed her in his rush to get this situation sorted between them.
But he would make it right for her. They would get through this. They had to. The feelings he’d tried hard to smother had blown up in his face when he’d woken on the plane this afternoon. With the absence of anxiety and fear, the purest reason why he wanted to wake up each morning with Inez had shone through.
The feelings had been so intense he’d almost blurted it out. But he’d decided to wait until she’d confronted her father.
Now he wished he hadn’t. He was wishing he’d provided her with that additional support of knowing how much she meant to him before he’d let her father loose on her.
Pursing his mouth in determination, he pushed the bedroom door open. ‘Inez, I’m sorry for—’
The sight that confronted him silenced his words and turned his feet to clay. She stared at him, eyes red-rimmed with freshly shed tears.
Because of him. But even that pulse of deep regret couldn’t erase the sight before him.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, although the part of his brain that hadn’t frozen along with his feet could work it out.
Two suitcases were open on the bed, one filled with her clothes. She was packing…
The silk top in her hand trembled before she turned and threw it in her case. Then her fingers curled around the edge of the lid.
When she looked at him again, more tears filled her eyes.
‘Thank you for opening my eyes to what he truly is,’ she murmured huskily.
‘Shelve the thanks and tell me what you’re doing,’ he replied tersely.
One hand swiped at her cheek. ‘I’m leaving, Theo.’
‘You’re what?’ His voice rang with disbelief. ‘You’re going back to your father’s house?’
She shuddered from head to toe. ‘No. I could never live there again.’
He frowned. ‘Then where are you going?’
She gave a tiny shrug. ‘I’ll stay with Camila.’
He finally got his feet to work and paced to where she stood. When she grabbed her shorts, he ripped them from her hand and threw them on the bed. ‘I seem to be missing a link somewhere, sweetheart. Why don’t you take a beat and fill me in?’
‘I can’t stay here.’
A merciless vice squeezed his chest. ‘Why not?’
Her face creased in fresh anguish. ‘Because he is right. The food he put on our table; the clothes on my back; our fancy education. They
all came from your suffering.’
‘For God’s sake—’
She carried on raggedly. ‘I never stopped to think about it but I remember the day he came home twelve years ago and told my mother our troubles were over. We weren’t exactly poor before then, but after he pressured my mother into selling the ranch he made some bad investments and the company suffered for it. They argued a lot and I used to go to bed every night praying for a miracle just so they’d stop arguing. Can you imagine how I felt when my prayers were answered? And now, all these years later, I find out that what I’d prayed for came at the cost of your—’ She choked to a stop, then frantically threw more clothes into the case.
Theo couldn’t find an answer as desperately as he tried. He was watching her torture herself and he could do nothing to stop it. ‘Anjo—’
‘No. I’m not an angel, Theo. I’m a child of the monster, a heartless devil who tortures children and doesn’t feel an ounce of regret for it. How can you even bear to look at me?’
‘Because you’re not him!’ he interjected fiercely. He took her hands and forced her to face him. ‘You’re not responsible for his actions. Stay, Inez. We said we would talk about us once we were done with him.’
‘But there is no us, is there? We…we just fell into bed because of the circumstances that brought us together. If it hadn’t been for my father you’d never have set foot in Brazil.’
‘So you’re walking away because you think we were never meant to be?’ He watched her, forced himself to think how he would feel if she walked away from him. The realisation of what was happening washed over him and ashen despair filled his chest.
‘I’m walking away because you need to put everything and everyone associated with your ordeal behind you. Otherwise you will never heal properly.’
He dropped her hand and stared down at her. The ice that had started to build inside him since he’d walked into the room hardened. It crept around his heart and Theo swore he heard it crack. His eyes scoured her beautiful tearstained face, looking for a tiny chink. A tiny ray of hope that would offer deliverance from the quicksand of devastation he could feel himself sinking into.
‘So that’s it? That’s your final decision. You’re doing this for my sake but I have no say in the matter?’ He couldn’t stop the bitterness from lacing his voice.
Her answer was to step back and gather up the last of her clothes. With trembling fingers, she zipped up the cases and lifted them off the bed.
‘Inez, answer me!’
She stilled at the door. ‘Adeus, Theo.’
‘Go to hell!’ he snarled back.
* * *
‘Table Four need a second helping of feijoadas. And a bottle of Rioja.’ Camila bustled into the kitchen, checked on the bubbling pot Inez was stirring and nodded in approval. ‘Fantastico. I’ll be back in a minute for that order.’ She sailed back out on a giddy whirlwind.
Inez wiped her sweating brow and looked over her shoulder. ‘Pietro, you grab the bottle; I’ll serve up the feijoadas.’
Her brother rolled his eyes. ‘Who made you queen of the kitchen?’
‘I did, when I won the coin toss earlier.’
Her grin came easier today—much easier than it had for far longer than she wanted to dwell on. She still couldn’t go for more than ten seconds without thinking of Theo but if she could joke with her brother, that was a good sign that this hollow, half-dead devastation she carried inside her would eventually ease. Right?
‘I still think you cheated,’ Pietro grumbled.
She lifted one shoulder. ‘I’ll let you explain to Camila, then, why the Rioja isn’t here when she returns, sim?’
‘Tomorrow, I’m tossing the coin.’ He sauntered down the stairs into the basement that served as the restaurant’s larder and wine cellar. The smell of the cheese Camila kept in the small space could be overpowering and she smiled again as Pietro made gagging noises.
If there was a bright side to be seen, it was that, amid all the chaos and heartache, somehow she and her brother had grown closer than she’d ever dreamed possible.
They both were yet to decide what they wanted to do with their lives after choosing to walk away from their father and the company, but Camila had encouraged them to take their time. To heal. To reconnect.
When her mother’s childhood friend had offered them a job in her restaurant they’d both jumped at it. She’d worked it around her volunteer work and, between the two jobs, it kept her plenty busy.
Keeping herself occupied stopped the tight knot of pain inside her from mushrooming into unbearable agony. In the dark of the night when she lay wide awake and aching was time enough to suffer through the hell of wondering if she was doomed to heartache for ever.
Of wondering if Theo had left Rio in the three weeks since their final bitter encounter. Of wondering if his nightmares were gone for good or if her brief presence in his life had made them worse.
Her hand trembled and she immediately curled it into a fist. Theo was strong. He would survive…
Yes, but he called you his saviour. His angel. And you walked away from him.
‘No,’ she breathed through the pain ripping through her. She’d done the right thing—
‘No what? If you tell me I’ve got the wrong wine, you’ll have to go and get it yourself.’
She shook her head blindly and turned gratefully to the door as Camila walked in. Her quick but assessing glance at her made Inez frown.
‘We have a new booking. Table One. And an order of feijoadas for one.’
‘Wow, you’re on fire tonight, sis.’
She ignored Pietro. ‘Okay, I’ll serve it up and—’
‘No, I didn’t take a drink order. And I think they want an appetiser first too. Can you go take care of it?’
Inez’s eyebrow shot up. ‘Me? But I’m not dressed to serve.’
‘Pfft. This isn’t the Four Seasons, meu querida. Besides, it’s time you took a break from that hot stove. Tidy your hair a bit and go and take the order.’
Inez looked down at her black skirt and grey T-shirt. It wasn’t standard waitress attire but, as Camila had said, this wasn’t the Four Seasons. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and caught the worried look in the older woman’s eyes. It was an expression she’d spied a few times and she reached out and shook her head before the concern could be voiced.
‘I’m fine.’
Camila’s mouth pursed. ‘Good. Then go and attend to Table One.’
With a weary sigh, she washed and dried her hands on her apron. Unfastening it, she hung it on the hook and avoided her image in the small mirror by the door. Her red face from manning the stove for the last three hours would depress her even more.
Plucking a pencil, notebook and menu from the kitchen stand, she nudged the swinging doors with her hip and turned towards Table One.
‘You…’ she choked out.
Through the drumming in her ears she heard the items in her hand clatter to the floor. A couple of diners glanced her way. Someone picked up the scattered items and placed them in her numb hands. She opened her mouth to thank them but no words emerged.
Every atom in her body was paralysed at the sight of Theo Pantelides.
She heard movement behind her. ‘You can’t stand here all night, pequena. Life will pass you by that way,’ Camila said solemnly.
She exhaled shakily and forced herself to move.
Those light hazel eyes never left her as she approached his table. He looked as powerful and as magnificent as ever, even if his cheekbones seemed to stand out a little more than she remembered. His hair had grown a little longer and looked a little dishevelled.
‘Sit,’ he rasped.
Her heart lurched at the sound of his voice. Licking her dry lips, she shook her head. ‘I can’t. I’m working.’
‘I’ve received special dispensation from Camila. Sit,’ he commanded again.
She sat. He stared at her for a full minute, his eyes raking over her face as if
he had been starved of her… Or he was committing her face to memory one last time?
White-hot pain ripped through her. ‘Why are you here, Theo?’ she blurted.
His eyes rose from her mouth to connect with hers. The breath he took was deep and long. ‘I was clearing out the house and I found something you left behind.’ He reached down near his feet and laid her sketchpad on the table.
She stared at it, drowning beneath the weight of her despair. ‘Oh, thank you.’ She paused a second before the words were torn out of her. ‘So you’re leaving Rio?’
He shrugged. ‘There’s nothing left for me here.’
Tears burned her eyes as her heart shredded into a million useless pieces. ‘I…I wish you well.’
He made a rough sound under his breath. ‘Do you?’ he asked sarcastically. She glanced up sharply but he wasn’t done. ‘Problem is, I’d believe those blithe words from the woman sitting across from me. But the woman who drew these…’ he flicked over the pages of the sketchpad a few times before he stopped and pointed ‘…this woman has guts. She was brave enough to draw what was in her heart; what cried out from her soul. Look at her.’
She kept her eyes on his face, her whole body trembling wildly as she gave a jerky shake of her head.
‘Look at her, dammit!’
She sucked in a breath. And looked down. The first sketch was the one she’d made of him after they’d made love that first time on the boat. The ones that followed were variations of that first sketch. She’d captured Theo in various poses, each one progressively more lovingly detailed until the final one of him with his brothers, laughing together at the wedding. She’d drawn that from memory on their final night in Bermuda. Staring at the finished picture had cemented her feelings for him.
He turned the page and the image of Brianna and Sakis’s baby stared back at her. Dimitri already bore the strong, captivating mark of the Pantelides family. It was that template that she’d used in the following sketches, when capturing her own secret yearning of what her and Theo’s baby would look like on paper had been too strong to resist.
‘You must think I’m some sort of crazy stalker.’
