“Good morning.” She desperately tried to keep her voice neutral, couldn’t help the trace of warmth creeping in. Just looking at him made her insides flutter in anticipation. Not a good thing considering they were trying to have a professional relationship.
“Can I join you?” When she nodded, he sat in the chair across from her, deliciously rumpled in the same pair of jeans that he’d worn last night, though at least now he concealed his mouthwatering chest, donning a light gray T-shirt. It did nothing to detract from his handsomeness, though. The man looked good in just about anything.
“How did you sleep?” she asked politely.
He smiled, rubbed his stubble-covered jaw. “Great. Woke up to a freshly brewed pot of coffee too.”
“Ah, that was Renzo’s doing. He’s very courteous like that.”
“He snuck into my room then. I never heard him.”
“I hope you don’t mind.” She never thought of Renzo as invading anyone’s privacy. He was always just…there.
“No, I appreciate his thoughtfulness. I’m not usually such a heavy sleeper. Might’ve had something to do with what—happened last night.” He shot her a wicked smile.
Which in turn made her blush furiously, damn her fair skin. “About that. Maybe we should—”
He lunged toward her, taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth so he could press a gentle kiss to her palm. “Do it again?” he asked hopefully.
She laughed weakly, her bones melting at his possessive touch, the flare of heat in his beautiful eyes. “I don’t understand the change in you.”
“I don’t understand it either. I’m going to blame the Amalfi Coast.”
“What happens on the coast…” she started.
“…stays on the coast,” he finished with that same naughty smile.
Disappointment wound through her, but she pushed it away. This was the smarter approach. Once they returned to New York, they returned to their business-only relationship. “If that’s the way you wish to conduct it.”
“It is. If that works for you.” He nodded, satisfaction clear in his voice. “Have you spoken to your mother this morning?”
Oh, that sounded familiar. “Not yet.”
“Did she already turn you down?”
“I haven’t gone to her rooms yet today.” She ducked her head, tugging on her robe belt. “I slept in late. Must’ve been jet lag.”
“Or a really great orgasm to help you sleep,” he suggested not so helpfully.
He was downright jovial this morning, which went against his usual sour-faced role. “Perhaps,” she said, trying to keep it light.
Desperate to keep it light.
“Well, you should try and talk to her now.”
“After I shower,” she answered, saw the flare of heat rise in his eyes. He probably liked the idea of her naked in the shower. Would probably invite himself to join her if she didn’t watch it. Deciding it best to deter him for the moment, she stood, ready to make a dash for the main house’s doors. “How about we meet at the house for lunch? Hopefully I’ll have something to report to you.”
“Wait a minute.” He snagged hold of her hand, stopping her from fleeing. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She smiled, her voice sounding false and she wanted to kick herself. “Really, I am.”
“Stasia…”
“Meet me for lunch, twelve-thirty or so, yes? I’ll have Renzo let you know if there are any changes.” She tugged her hand from his grip and headed toward the house, keeping her head held high. Wanting Gavin to know he didn’t affect her at all.
“You can’t run and hide from me, you know. Not here,” he called after her. But she ignored him.
It was easier that way.
Stasia rapped determinedly on the door yet again. If she had to beat on this door until her knuckles were raw and bloody, she’d do it. She was like a woman possessed. Demanding someone open the door after fifteen minutes of incessant knocking did that to a person.
There was still no reply.
Slumping against the door, she thumped her forehead against it once. Then once again for good measure. Maybe it would bash some sense into her, or maybe it would bash all the sense out of her head and she could stand there for the next hour banging against the door.
God. Her mother was being so damn selfish. She rapped on the door once, as hard as she could and decided to hell with it. She was going to scream.
“Why won’t you open the door?” She grabbed hold of the handle and rattled it, frustrated to find it locked when she shouldn’t have been. Her mother wasn’t so stupid as to leave the door unlocked. She wanted to keep everyone out at all costs.
Even her daughter.
“Go away.” The softly spoken words were hard to hear through the thick wood and Stasia paused, pressed her ear against the door.
“Mama?”
“Go away, Anastasia. I don’t want to talk to you.”
Her heart dropped into her toes. At least her mother acknowledged her, but not quite the way she was hoping for. “That doesn’t matter. I want to talk to you. We need to discuss what happened.”
“No.”
Stasia growled in frustration. “You can’t avoid it forever, you know. I need to know the truth. I need to know what happened and why Father did this to me. You can’t leave me hanging like this.”
She heard a lot of sniffling coming from within the room but nothing else.
“I have no one else. I’ve been disinherited. I have no job, no family. I don’t have you and you’re my mother. Please talk to me.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she was hardly aware of them. “Please. I can’t go on like this.”
Something heavy settled against the other side of the door and Stasia backed away, startled by the movement. Slowly the door cracked open, and she caught sight of her mother peeking through. “You’ll hate me,” Claudia whispered hoarsely.
“I won’t. I swear it.” Stasia grabbed hold of the door and pushed, her mother stepping out of the way with a squeal. She shoved her way into the bedroom and shut the door behind her, turning the lock. “Oh, Mama,” she whispered when she got a good look at the woman who’d given birth to her.
She was painfully thin, with thick, dark circles heavy beneath her eyes and her skin deathly pale. Her hair was disheveled, she appeared as if she hadn’t taken a bath in days and she wore a large, pale green satin robe that hung off one too-slim shoulder, revealing the bones of her chest. “Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped, full of fire. Sounding like her old self, though Claudia Renaldi had changed plenty since her husband’s death. She was a shell of a person, a ghost.
It sent a ripple of worry through Stasia, so strong she wavered on her feet. “When was the last time you ate?”
“Bah. You sound like Renzo. That old man is nothing but a mother hen.” She paced the room, her bare feet kicking at the overly long hem of her silky robe as she walked. “So I’m a little thin. Giorgio always said I had a tendency to turn to fat.”
Stasia sighed. “You were never fat. Not that I can remember.”
“You don’t remember much, do you?” Claudia sent her a faint smile. “Your father was very hard on me. He wanted me to look a certain way.”
“You were always beautiful. You still are.”
“Don’t lie, child. You’re terrible at it.” She waved a hand, draped herself across a pale yellow settee that sat close to an open window that overlooked the ocean. “You are here with many questions. I’m not sure if I can answer them all.”
“Mama…”
“But I will try my best,” Claudia interrupted. “You’re right. You deserve to know. So I will tell you.”
Nerves clamored in her stomach, having an all-out war she wasn’t sure she’d survive. “Then tell me. Please.”
Her mother leveled her with a single look. “We separated. Long, long ago, when Vincenzo was about three. I had three boys keeping me busy, a husband who was never home and I was so young. Not much ol
der than you are now. I had no life beyond dirty diapers and screaming boys.”
“I thought you had a nanny.”
“Not then. Your father wanted me to be with the children. His mother did it, he told me. Raised six children with no help while his father steadily built the business. It was the least I could do.” Her mother shook her head. “His expectations were too high of me. I couldn’t take it any longer. I told him I wanted a divorce.”
Stasia’s mouth dropped open. “A divorce?”
“He denied me. Told me I was being too rash. He was much older, you see. Almost fifteen years were between us, and he knew best. Or at least, he thought so. He decided I needed some time for myself. He took the boys to his mother’s house—to this very house, as a matter of fact—because heaven knows she was more than capable of taking care of her grandsons, unlike me. He bought me a plane ticket to New York, told me to stay in our apartment there, and that was it.”
“So…what? You went to New York, sought out Michael Worth because you knew they didn’t like each other and decided to have some sort of revenge affair? Is that how it happened?” Disbelief coursed through Stasia. She’d had no idea her mother had wanted a divorce. That she had felt so pressured by raising her three sons, all born so close to each other. That she had felt so young and alone and unable to keep up.
“No, no. It was nothing like that. I was in the Fashion District. Your father had asked me to stop by and see the latest jewelry designs at the office there and when I left, I ran into him.”
“Ran into whom?”
“Michael Worth.” Claudia shrugged, her robe falling off her shoulder, and she yanked it back up. “He was very apologetic. I nearly fell and he grabbed me by the waist, steadying me. So charming and sweet, he flirted with me, treated me so kindly, and I fell immediately under his spell. He asked me out for a drink.”
“Did he recognize you?”
“Of course not. Your father didn’t parade me around, not back then. I was too busy having babies to be paraded around like the pretty little wife.” Her mother sounded disgusted.
“Oh, Mama. It sounds like a set-up.”
“It wasn’t. I’m sure it wasn’t. Next thing I knew, I was spending plenty of time with Michael. He was calling me. Taking me out for drinks in quiet little bars where no one would know him. Inviting me out to dinner, inviting me to his apartment.”
“Did you go?”
“At first, I refused him. He knew I was married. I told him that upfront, though I did say we were separated, which was true. It was as if your father disposed of me and forgot I existed. He didn’t want to deal with my complaining, my unhappiness, all my tears. He was too busy working to worry about me.” Tears formed in her eyes, and she rubbed them away. “Now I realize I had postpartum depression. All those babies, all so close to each other. It was too much.”
Stasia sat on the edge of the settee and reached out, resting her hand on top of her mother’s. Claudia turned her hand palm up, their fingers entwining, and she gave Stasia’s hand a quick squeeze. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
“It’s not your fault, child. Now let me continue.” Taking a deep breath, she began again. “I realized soon exactly who Michael Worth was. And it gave me a secret thrill, I’ll admit it. That I was spending time with a man whom your father despised. I must say I enjoyed his company. He was so carefree, so fun. I was completely taken with him.”
“And so you became pregnant with me.”
“It wasn’t as simple as all that, my darling. But yes, I became pregnant with you, though I didn’t know it. I started to realize I missed your father and your brothers. So terribly, I ached with it. I knew I was being incredibly selfish, so I called your father. And he begged me to come back.”
“You returned to him knowing you were pregnant with me.”
“I never knew. Never. I told Michael I needed to return to Italy and he understood. I finally told him who I was married to and he became a little angry over that, which didn’t surprise me. I reassured him I didn’t know who he was when we first met and he said he believed me. He may have cared for me, but I don’t think I was his one true love. That was his poor deceased wife, Charlotte.” A fond smile came over Claudia’s features. “He was lonely and I filled in the gaps. He told me more than once I made him feel young again. That touched me more than I could ever describe.”
Stasia lowered her head, stared at her clutched hands. “It wasn’t a grand love affair, then.”
“It was a simple, sweet love affair. One I didn’t regret. Until now.” Claudia sighed. “I never expected your father to do what he did.”
“How did he find out?”
“I always, always assumed you were his. I never once thought you might be Michael’s during my entire pregnancy. But then you were born and Giorgio wanted to name you after his mother. He wanted to call you Anna, that was the plan all along if you were a girl.” Claudia paused for a long, heavy moment. “I took one look at you and knew you didn’t belong to Giorgio. You didn’t look like the boys. Your eyes were blue. Your hair wasn’t as dark. And your features…they looked more like Michael’s, especially as you grew older.”
“How did you convince Father to name me Anastasia?” She never understood how the name became hers.
“I was fighting with his mother at the time of your birth. I told him there was no way in the world I would name my precious only daughter after that devil of a woman. This was a sort of compromise. He swore he would call you Ana, but I started calling you Stasia instead and it stuck. He was completely enamored of you. You were his pride and joy, always.” Her mother smiled fondly.
Stasia filled with warmth at her mother’s words. She knew this was true. She’d followed her father everywhere growing up. Always wanting his approval, she’d strived to get his attention in any and every way. So why would he so ruthlessly reject her in death?
“Then what happened?”
“He met Hunter Worth somewhere, just before his diagnosis, and realized it was as if he was staring into your eyes, he told me. Out of the three Worth brothers, you look the most like him. Your father found it so odd, you see, that you looked so much like Hunter. And I had never confessed my affair to your father. I knew Giorgio had been with someone after I left him, something short and meaningless. I never confirmed or denied if I’d been with anyone, but he knew Michael and I had spent time together when I was in New York. I denied it at first, claimed it a silly coincidence.”
Stasia felt as if she’d been repeatedly punched in the stomach. Nausea threatened, her mouth went dry and her head spun. This was all…too much. Yes, she’d wanted to know everything, but it was still overwhelming to take in.
“He put it together. It’s easier when you have a lot of time on your hands, no? He was so sick with the cancer that had come out of nowhere. Sitting in those treatments, resting at home. His mind raced and he figured it out. When he came to me and asked if you weren’t his, I pretended I had no idea what he was talking about. He knew I was lying.” Her mother started to cry. “I only wanted to protect you. You were innocent in all of this. And now I’ve destroyed everything. Will you ever forgive me?”
“Oh, Mama.” She drew her frail mother into her arms and held her close, rocking her back and forth as their mutual tears flowed. “You didn’t know Father was going to do this.”
“I had my suspicions. But I couldn’t stop him. He was different these last few years, and it became worse when he grew sick. He was terribly paranoid, afraid everyone was out to get him, including me. Including you. And especially the Worths.”
“They didn’t know…”
“It didn’t matter. He still believed it.”
“Mama.” Her mother lifted her head so their gazes met, her eyes still flooded with unshed tears. “I wish you wouldn’t have hidden away like this. I wish you would’ve told me everything before the will reading. Before the funeral, even.”
“I didn’t know how.”
“You left me alone, M
ama. That hurts.” More than she’d ever know.
Claudia sniffled. “But I know you brought a young man with you. Renzo said you make a very beautiful couple and that he is very attentive of you. Tell me about him.”
Nerves made her stomach pitch and roil. God, she couldn’t lie to her mother, not after she just confessed everything. “I’ll tell you about him later. During dinner. You’ll join us for dinner, won’t you?”
“If…if you will have me.” She nodded and sniffled again, moving away from Stasia. “I know there is much damage I need to repair. And hopefully you will forgive me. Someday.”
Stasia didn’t know what to say. “I’ll see you later tonight,” she blurted, then fled the room, slamming the door behind her as she made her escape.
Her mind awhirl, she barricaded herself inside her room, not wishing to see anyone, not even Gavin.
Especially not Gavin. She wouldn’t know what to say. Needed to put her thoughts together first after the endless bombs her mother dropped upon her. It was so much to wrap her head around, she wasn’t sure if she’d be ready to tell Gavin all about it at lunchtime.
Or ever.
Chapter Nine
Stasia didn’t appear for lunch, which Gavin found odd considering she’d wanted to meet. He’d looked around for her, asked Renzo if he might know where she was, but he was just as clueless. So Gavin had been on his own, eating yet another amazing meal put together by the equally amazing Elena. His lunch was a Caprese Salad that had thick slices of mozzarella accompanied by juicy tomatoes from the garden, along with a tangy balsamic vinegar dressing and fresh basil. He’d become surprisingly full, when normally he thought of salads as meals were for sissies, but he could admit when he was wrong.
While eating, he’d made small talk with Renzo, trying his best to discover what he could about Claudia Renaldi. The older man had been close-lipped, which Gavin could grudgingly admire. At least he wasn’t blabbing and sharing every secret the family had. When he’d tried to find out information about Stasia, the old man turned the tables on him, starting to dig into the supposed relationship Gavin had with her.
Worth Everything: Worth It, Book 4 Page 8
