Worth Everything: Worth It, Book 4

by Karen Erickson

“Your young man is lovely.” Claudia smiled at her daughter as she held her wineglass poised before her lips. “So handsome and articulate.”

  “You really think so?” Stasia glanced in Gavin’s direction. He stood at the opposite end of the table, engrossed in some sort of business conversation on his cell. He’d asked for her permission to take the call earlier, a request that had surprised her, and touched her as well. He was showing polite deference, like they were a real couple and he didn’t want to disturb what should be an important night for her. Considering the meal had long been over and they were sitting around chatting outside in the darkening night, she didn’t have a problem with his taking the call.

  Considering he wasn’t her real boyfriend, she really shouldn’t have a problem.

  “Don’t play coy with me, Anastasia.” The firm tone in her mother’s voice made her jerk her gaze away from Gavin to find her mother watching her with a bemused smile. “You seem quite entranced by him.”

  “Well, he is, like you mentioned, handsome,” Stasia said somewhat bitterly.

  Her mother laughed. “And he’s quite taken with you as well.”

  Stasia waved a hand, dismissing her words yet asking, “How can you tell?” Her mother would concoct some sort of romantic story, no doubt. Of true love and meaningful looks and how they went hand in hand. Utter nonsense, but Stasia would humor her, agree with everything Claudia said because how could she argue?

  She didn’t want to arouse suspicion, especially since tonight had gone so well.

  “He’s completely smitten, considering the way he looks at you, no? He clearly adores you.” The secretive smile curving her mother’s lips made her nervous. “Are you two in love?”

  “Mama,” Stasia quietly chastised, hoping Gavin hadn’t heard that particular question. “We’ve only started dating.”

  “Hmm, you’ve said that already. But there seems to be such a strong connection between the two of you. It’s so sweet.” The wistful expression on Claudia’s face was unmistakable. “To be so young and falling for each other, falling in love. There is no other feeling like it, is there?”

  Stasia remained silent, believing it best she not acknowledge the statement. Like she’d know. She’d never been in love in her life and she certainly wasn’t falling for Gavin. Oh, she carried a healthy dose of lust for him that she couldn’t deny. Lust mixed with irritation because they still argued.

  Argue and arouse. That was their pattern. It set her on edge, made her nervous, made her uncomfortable, made her…feel.

  They’d done their best to pretend they were a couple for her mother’s sake, she and Gavin. He’d been agreeable, had even made up a story of how they first met as they drove back to the villa so they could have the facts straight. Pretending to be the attentive lover when introduced to her mother, he never left Stasia’s side throughout the meal, idly touching her in the most casual yet intimate ways. Grasping her hand, pressing his hand to the small of her back, tangling his fingers in her hair at her nape. She’d worn her hair up in a high ponytail, held her breath every time he touched her neck, the stray tendrils that rested there. Having her hair stroked was a secret weakness and it was as if he sensed it.

  Lucky her.

  She touched him in return, feeling downright possessive as the night went on. Looping her arm through his when they walked outside onto the terrace, resting her hand on his thigh for that one brief moment, feeling his hard muscles beneath her palm. Wishing she were brave enough to slide her hand up further.

  Her cheeks heated and she shook her head. That she could have these thoughts while sitting with her mother proved Gavin Westmore held some sort of sexual magic over her. A rather disturbing, potent magic that both captivated and revolted her.

  “He’s very successful, isn’t he? I sense he is a young man who’s worked extremely hard to get where he is,” her mother observed.

  Stasia nodded absently. She didn’t know enough about his past to confirm or deny. “He’s very good at what he does.”

  “I’m sure.” The amusement in Claudia’s voice was clear. “I am so happy you’re not alone during all of this, my darling. And I am so terribly sorry I have run away from it all.”

  The jovial tone disappeared, replaced by utter sadness. Reaching out, Stasia rested her hand over her mother’s. “Come home with us.”

  “I—I couldn’t.”

  “You should. You have been missed. And I need your support.” The admission had been particularly hard to make, but her mother should know how much she needed her. The next stage they were about to embark on was probably going to be the most difficult.

  It would make an immense difference, having her mother by her side.

  “I need time to prepare,” Claudia said after a long, quiet moment. “Please don’t push me, Anastasia. This is very difficult for me.”

  “It’s difficult for me too, Mama. I have lost my father.”

  “And I have lost a husband.” Claudia lifted her chin, defiance firming her delicate jaw.

  “I have lost my entire identity. Who I am, where I belong. Everything.” She spat the words out, full of angry passion. “I was a Renaldi. I had a career. I was an important part of the Renaldi empire. And he took it all away from me.” Her entire body trembled, she was so angry.

  “Don’t take your anger out on me. I will not allow it.” Claudia leapt to her feet, her eyes blazing. “You cannot blame me for your father’s actions.”

  “Actually, I can.” A sort of calmness settled over Stasia as she rose, facing her mother down. They were of similar statures, but Claudia was shorter and much thinner. Stasia stepped closer, wishing her mother would realize. Wishing her mother knew how her actions all those years ago changed her daughter’s entire life. “You should’ve never had an affair with Michael Worth.”

  “And if I hadn’t, then you wouldn’t be here. Is that what you wish I would think? That you’d never been born?” Her mother’s voice had gone shrill.

  Stasia recoiled, nausea sweeping over her. “Of—of course not.”

  “I never meant for this to happen. It was supposed to be a secret. How was I supposed to know your father was going to become so shrewd during his last days on this Earth, eh? He became obsessed with the idea that you didn’t belong to him. It was too deep a betrayal for him to deal with. He didn’t even want to look at me those last few days. I forced him to. Made him talk to me, see me, and I begged him not to do anything rash. But he didn’t listen.” Bitter tears flowed now, and Claudia shook her head. “He never listened. Just like you don’t listen.”

  “What is going on here?” Gavin approached, slipping his arm around Stasia so he could pull her close. “Is everything all right?”

  Clearly, it wasn’t, but his appearance, his question diffused their argument somewhat. Stasia sagged against his solid warmth, thankful for his nearness. He was a steady anchor in this turbulent storm of emotion, strong and real for her to cling to.

  And she did, unabashedly. Resting her hand on his shoulder, she gazed up at him, blinking back the tears that threatened. “I need to get out of here,” she whispered.

  “Excuse us, Claudia,” he said politely, steering Stasia toward the guesthouse. He didn’t ask, didn’t consult, merely took over as if it was his right and took care of her.

  She appreciated it more than he’d ever know.

  “What the hell happened between you two?” Gavin asked when he got Stasia into his room. One minute, mother and daughter were getting along, chatting amicably while he had to take a call from a client which had taken longer than he anticipated.

  The next thing he knew, he’d finished the call and the two women were in a stand off, looking ready to take each other down. Murmuring hurtful, terrible things to each other that neither of them could ever take back.

  He’d interfered immediately, without thought. Pure instinct had him whisking Stasia out of there before it got any uglier, though he wasn’t sure if that was possible.

  It had
sounded pretty damn ugly already when he broke the two women up.

  Stasia settled into a chair, exhaling a shaky breath. “She doesn’t think what she did is wrong. She’s blaming it all on my—father, Giorgio Renaldi, whatever you want to call him.”

  “He’s your father. He’s the one who raised you.” Gavin stood just behind her, thankful he could study Stasia without her noticing. Her bent head, the elegant curve of her neck exposed, those stray wisps of hair brushing her skin a temptation he could hardly withstand. “Who do you believe is at fault for this?” He asked the question quietly, not wanting to upset her more.

  She whirled around, her eyes wild, her face flushed. “Both of them! She’s the one who had the affair and kept her suspicions of who my real father was from him my entire life. Then he finds out the truth and punishes me. Me! It’s not my fault.”

  “No, it’s not,” he agreed.

  “So why am I the one left carrying the burden? Why am I the one who’s looked upon with disgust by everyone? Why am I the one who’s been stripped of her family and heritage? What did I do wrong?” She dissolved into tears, great wracking sobs taking over her body as she slumped over. He ached to comfort her, tell her everything was going to be all right but he didn’t know that. Didn’t know how everything was going to turn out for her.

  He wanted to solve all her problems but he didn’t know if he was capable. He had no control over the Worths. And the Renaldi business structure was locked tight by the ironclad will Giorgio Renaldi had drawn up.

  She might end up the lost little princess forever.

  “I hate feeling sorry for myself,” she choked out, wiping the tears away from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I hate all of this crying and carrying on. I don’t do this sort of thing, always prided myself on not being a weepy, weak female. But after the will reading, I cried for days straight. I thought all my tears had finally dried up, but being here, with my mother…hearing the entire story, hearing her apologize and then turn around and point fingers at my father, point fingers at me, I...” She shook her head, too consumed to speak any longer.

  That did it. He touched her, wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck, massaging her soft, sensitive skin. A shiver moved through her, and she whimpered, “I’m so tired of all this.”

  “You realize it could take years to clear everything up,” he said. She tensed beneath his hand, inhaling sharply. “Depending on what you want and what the Worths are willing to give you, the case could be tied up in the courts for years. And then there’s your fight with the Renaldi end.”

  “I’m not fighting Renaldi. Why would I fight my family?”

  “Why are you thinking of fighting Worth if they’re your family too?”

  “I don’t want to fight any of them. Can’t you understand that?” Fresh tears started, and he felt like an ass. Felt like it was his fault she was crying, which he knew was irrational. Unable to stop himself, he knelt beside the chair and reached for her, drawing her into his arms. Pushed gently on the back of her head so she pressed her face into his neck, her tears wetting his skin.

  He let her cry for long, quiet minutes. Held her there, propped against the chair, nearly toppling over a few times but he didn’t move.

  Didn’t want to let her down. Everyone else had in her life lately and he didn’t want to be another name she added to her shit list.

  She finally pulled away from him, her face red, her nose redder and her eyes still shiny. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? Getting the front of my shirt wet?” He was trying for humor, however weak it might be, and his question earned a small smile from her.

  “For falling apart on you. For making you pretend to be my boyfriend.”

  “It’s all right.” He slipped his hand over her hair, wanting to soothe. Wanting to…he didn’t know. Let her know she was in capable hands? After his shitty childhood he’d vowed never to become dependent on someone. Or let someone else become dependent on him.

  Funny how much he wanted Stasia to know she could count on him.

  “You’ve had to deal with a lot more than originally proposed.”

  He shrugged. “It happens. I’m used to thinking on my feet.” Should he tell her why? Share bits and pieces of his past so she understood him more clearly?

  Would she even care?

  “Of course, you are.” She shook her head, released a long, shuddering sigh. “My head hurts.”

  “Let’s take a swim,” he suggested.

  She reared back, her puzzled gaze meeting his. “What?”

  “Just for a few minutes. You need to clear your mind. You’ve been crying and then what, you’ll go to bed? Your head will be killing you in the morning.” He was trying to be kind. Trying to take care of her and be a thoughtful person.

  He wasn’t thinking of getting her naked and into that pool. Wasn’t thinking of getting himself naked and into that pool either. He was never one who thought with his dick, not normally. He was better than that, over that whole horn dog scene that had consumed him during his late teens and early twenties.

  She sniffed. “I don’t know if I want to swim…”

  “I’ll join you.”

  Her gaze turned skeptical. “I bet you will.”

  He chuckled. She saw right through him. “Nothing but swimming, I promise.”

  “What if my mother is still out there?”

  “I doubt that.” He released his hold on her and stood, went to the window that faced the terrace. The pool was lit, the water rippling from the faint breeze that stirred the air. No one was around. The terrace was abandoned. “She’s gone. No one’s out there.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Come on.” He smiled. Something he rarely did and he knew he’d shocked her. “I’m hot and tired and I know you are too. A quick swim will cool us off.”

  Or heat them up. Not that he’d mention that.

  “Fine.” She sighed, watching from where she sat as he stood. Seeing her like that, her head tossed back, her gaze imploring as she stared at him, sent a fresh wave of lust coursing through him.

  His timing was bad. Sex had to be the very last thing she was thinking of. For whatever reason, it was forefront in his mind. He couldn’t avoid it if he wanted to. And it was all her fault. This woman, who made him feel. Who made him think, who sometimes irritated the ever livin’ crap out of him.

  It made no sense. It made perfect sense.

  “Let’s go.” He started toward the door, stopping when he realized she wasn’t following. “What’s wrong?”

  “Are you going into the pool dressed like that?” She waved a hand at him, confusion written all over her face.

  He glanced down at himself before meeting her gaze once more. He wore khakis and a black button-down, had dressed up somewhat to impress her mother. “Hadn’t planned on it.”

  She let loose a strangled sound. “Aren’t you going to change into swim trunks?”

  “Nah. I’m jumping in naked.” He laughed when he saw the shocked look on her face. “What? You did it last night.”

  “Yeah, but…” She paused, as if she struggled with what to say next. “You expect me to jump naked into the pool with you?”

  “If you want,” he said nonchalantly. “Or grab your swimsuit and put it on real quick.” If she chose to wear the bikini, he’d be disappointed. No matter how unbelievably hot she looked in those two scraps of fabric, he still would rather see Stasia wearing nothing at all.

  Nibbling on her lower lip, she contemplated him, running her gaze over him, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He wondered what the hell she saw.

  Wondered if she liked what she saw.

  “It’s probably not a good idea,” she finally said. “But I’m tired of worrying. Let’s go.” She started for the door, threw it open and walked past him.

  Leaving Gavin with no choice but to follow.

  Chapter Eleven

  The night air was warm and heavy, a sultry breeze blowing
but not cooling his heated skin. He was too amped up, too filled with barely restrained energy over what was going to happen tonight.

  And something was most definitely going to happen. The tension brewing between them was too electric to deny.

  Watching out of the corner of his eye, anticipation curled through him while he waited for Stasia to strip and join him. He’d wasted no time once they arrived poolside. Shucking his clothing, tossing them piece by piece on a nearby chair until he was completely naked, he’d jumped into the pool, thankful for the cool relief.

  Not thankful she remained standing near the deep end, studying him. Oh, she’d pretended to avert her head when he exposed his more intimate parts, but he’d caught her staring. More than once.

  “Are you coming in?” he asked, splashing water in her direction.

  She stepped back, but a few droplets hit the hem of her skirt. “Stop it.”

  “What? Afraid you’re going to get a little wet?” He smirked.

  She sent him an irritated glare and he smiled in return. “You’re in a mood.”

  Right. He was in a good mood when usually he was a scowling ass. “The water feels great. You should strip and join me.”

  “I can’t with you watching me.” She twirled her finger in a circle. “Turn around.”

  “Why? I’ve already seen it all.” And what a glorious sight it was.

  She rested her hands on slim hips, a knockout in the simple, bright blue strapless dress she wore. It had given him fits all night, was giving him fits now, what with the way her breasts strained against the top, looking ready to burst free. “Turn. Around.”

  Reluctantly, he did as she asked, his head cocked toward where she stood, desperate to hear the rustling of clothing as it slid off her body. He was rewarded for his efforts. Heard the thunk of her sandals hitting the concrete as she slipped them off her feet. The tug of her dress as she whipped it over her head, the oversized silver necklace she wore dropping back against her chest with a soft clank.

  Feeling brave, he shot a quick glance over his shoulder, caught her standing there with a pair of snow-white panties on, the necklace gleaming against her tanned skin and…