“What do you want, Estefan?”
“Do I need a reason to see my big brother?”
Maybe not, but he always had one. Usually he needed money, or a place to crash. Occasionally both. He’d even asked to borrow Emilio’s car a couple of times, because his own cars had a habit of being repossessed or totaled in accidents that were never Estefan’s fault.
He wanted something. He always did.
“Unless you tell me why you’re here, I’m closing the door.”
The smile slipped from Estefan’s face when he realized charm wasn’t going to work this time. “I just want to talk to you.”
“We have nothing to talk about.”
“Come on, Emilio. I’m your baby brother.”
“Tell me where you’ve been.”
“Los Angeles, mostly. I was working on a business deal.”
A shady one, he was sure. Most of Estefan’s “business” deals involved stolen property or drugs, or any number of scams. The fact that he was a small-time criminal with a federal prosecutor for a brother was the only thing that had kept him from doing hard time.
“You’re really not going to let me in?” he asked, looking wounded.
“I think I already made that clear.”
“You know, I never took you for the type to do the hired help. But I also never expected to see Isabelle Winthrop working for you. Unless the maid’s uniform is just some kinky game you play.”
Emilio cursed under his breath.
“Did you think I wouldn’t recognize her?”
He had hoped, but he should have known better.
“I don’t suppose Mama knows what you’re doing.”
He recognized a threat when he heard one. He held the door open. “Five minutes.”
With an arrogant smile, Estefan strolled in.
“Wait here,” Emilio said, then walked to the kitchen. Isabelle had changed into a clean uniform and was straightening up the mess from breakfast. She’d fixed her hair and the beard burns had begun to fade.
He should have waited until he shaved to kiss her, but then, he hadn’t been expecting her to make the first move. And he hadn’t meant to reciprocate. So much for regaining his control. If Estefan hadn’t shown up, Emilio had no doubt they would be in his bed right now. Which would have been a huge mistake.
This wasn’t working out at all as he’d planned. He wasn’t sure if it was his fault, or hers. All he knew was that it had to stop.
She tensed when he entered the room, looking past him to the doorway. He turned to see that his brother had followed him. Figures. Why would he expect Estefan to do anything he asked?
“It’s okay,” Emilio told Isabelle. “We’re going to my office to talk. I just wanted to tell you to forget about breakfast.”
She nodded, then squared her shoulders and met Estefan’s gaze. “Mr. Suarez.”
“Ms. Winthrop,” he said, the words dripping with disdain. “Shouldn’t you be in prison?”
The old Isabelle would have withered from his challenge, but this Isabelle held her head high. “Five more weeks. Thanks for asking. Can I offer you something to drink?”
“He’s not staying,” Emilio said, gesturing Estefan to follow him. “Let’s get this over with.”
When they were in his office with the door closed, Estefan said, “Isabelle Winthrop, huh? I had no idea you were that hard up.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not sleeping with her.” Not yet, anyway. And he was beginning to think making her work as his housekeeper might have to be the extent of his revenge. There were consequences to getting close to her that he had never anticipated.
“So, what is she doing here?”
“She works for me.”
“Why would you hire someone like her? After what her family did to our mother. After what she did to you.”
“That’s my business.”
A slow smile crossed his face. “Ah, I get it. Make her work for you, the way our mother worked for her. Nice.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
“What does she get out of it?”
“She wants Alejandro to cut a deal for her mother, so she won’t go to prison.”
“So, Alejandro knows what you’re doing?”
Emilio took a seat behind his desk, to keep the balance of power clear. “Let’s talk about you, Estefan. What do you want?”
“You assume I’m here because I want something from you?”
Emilio shot him a look, putting a chink in the arrogant facade. Estefan crossed the room to look out the window. He didn’t even have the guts to look Emilio in the face. “I want you to hear me out before you say anything.”
Emilio folded his arms across his chest. Here we go.
“There are these people, and I owe them money.”
Emilio opened his mouth to say he wouldn’t give him a penny, but Estefan raised a hand to stop him. “I’m not asking you for a handout. That’s not why I’m here. I have the money to pay them. It’s just not accessible at the moment.”
“Why?”
“Someone is holding it for me.”
“Who?”
“A business associate. He has to liquidate a few assets to pay me, and that’s going to take several days. But these men are impatient. I just need a place to hang out until I get the funds. Somewhere they won’t find me. It would only be for a few days. Thanksgiving at the latest.”
Which was five days away. Emilio didn’t want his brother around for five minutes, much less the better part of a week.
“Suppose they come looking for you here?” Emilio asked.
“Even if they did, this place is a fortress.” He crossed the room, braced his hands on Emilio’s desk, a desperation in his eyes that he didn’t often let show. “You have to help me, Emilio. I’ve been trying so hard to set my life straight. After I pay this debt I’m in the clear. I have a friend in rodeo promotions who is willing to give me a job. I could start over, do things right this time.”
He wanted to believe his brother, but he’d heard the same story too many times before.
Estefan must have sensed that Emilio was about to say no because he added, “I could go to Mama, and you know she would let me stay, but these are not the kind of people you want anywhere near your mother. There’s no telling what they might do.”
Leaving Emilio no choice but to let him stay. And Estefan knew it. Emilio should have guessed he would resort to emotional blackmail to get his way. He also suspected that if he refused, it was likely everyone would find out that Isabelle was in his home.
He rose from his chair. “Five days. If you haven’t settled your debt by then, you’re on your own.”
Estefan embraced him. “Thank you, Emilio.”
“Just so we’re clear, while you’re staying in my house there will be no drinking or drugs.”
“I don’t do that anymore. I’m clean.”
“And you won’t tell anyone that Isabelle is here.”
“Not a soul. You have my word.”
“And you will not give her a hard time.”
Estefan raised a brow.
“My house, my rules.”
He shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
“I’ll have Isabelle get a room ready for you.”
“I have a few things to take care of. But I’ll be back later tonight. Probably late.”
“I’ll be in bed by midnight, so if you’re not back by then, you’re in the pool house for the night.”
“If you give me the alarm code—”
Emilio shot him a not-in-this-lifetime look.
He shrugged again. “I’ll be back by midnight, then.”
Estefan left and Emilio went to find Isabelle. She was kneeling on the kitchen floor, cleaning up the oil that spilled by the stove. Only then did he remember that she’d burned her leg, and wondered if it still hurt.
Maybe he should have considered that before he put the moves on her. Of course, he hadn’t started it this time, h
ad he? Seducing her had been the last thing on his mind.
Okay, maybe not the last thing…
She saw him standing there and shot to her feet. “I’m so sorry. If I had known it was him at the door—”
“I told you to answer it, Isabelle. It’s not your fault.”
“He won’t tell anyone, will he?”
“He promised not to. He’s going to be staying here for a few days. Possibly until Thanksgiving.”
“Oh.”
“It won’t change anything. Except maybe you’ll be feeding one more person.”
“There are always leftovers, anyway.”
“What he said to you, it was uncalled for. It won’t happen again. I told him that he’s not allowed to give you a hard time.”
“Because you’re the only one allowed to make disparaging comments?”
Something like that. Although now when he thought about saying something rude, it just made him feel like a jerk. He kept thinking about what Alejandro said, about the new developments. That she might be innocent. And even if she was involved somehow, was he so beyond reproach that he felt he had the right to judge her?
That didn’t change what she had done to him, and what her father did to his family. For that she was getting exactly what she deserved.
“I’m sorry I ruined breakfast,” she said. “I guess hash browns are a little out of my league.”
Or maybe it was the result of him distracting her. He never would have done it if he had known she would get hurt. “So you’ll make easier things from now on.”
“I don’t think frying potatoes would be considered complicated. I think I’m just hopeless when it comes to cooking. But thanks for taking care of me. It’s been a really long time since someone has done something nice for me. Someone besides my mom, anyway.”
“Your husband didn’t do nice things for you?” He didn’t mean to ask the question. He didn’t give a flying fig what her husband did or didn’t do. It just sort of popped out.
“Lenny took very good care of me,” she said, an undercurrent of bitterness in her voice. “I didn’t want for a single thing when I was married to him.”
But she wasn’t happy, her tone said.
Well, she had made her own bed. Emilio would have given her anything, done anything to make her happy. But that hadn’t been enough for her.
Her loss.
She pulled off her gloves, wincing a bit when it jostled her bandaged finger.
“It still hurts?” he asked, and she shrugged. “Any signs of infection?”
“It’s fine.”
That was her standard answer. It could be black with gangrene and she would probably say it was fine. “When was the last time you changed the dressing?”
“Last night…I think.”
From the condition of the bandage he would guess it was closer to the night before last. Clearly she wasn’t taking care of it. He didn’t want to be responsible if it got infected.
He held out his hand. “Let’s see it.”
She didn’t even bother arguing, she just held her hand out to him. He peeled the bandage off. The cut itself had closed, but the area around it was inflamed. There’s no way she could not have known it was infected. “Damn, Isabelle, are you trying to lose a finger?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to take care of yourself?” He dropped her hand. “You still have the antibiotic ointment?”
She nodded.
“Use it. I want you to put a fresh dressing on it three times a day until the infection is cleared up.”
“I will. I promise.”
“I need you to get one of the guest rooms ready. Preferably the one farthest from mine. Estefan will be back later tonight.”
“So, he’s not here?”
“He just left.”
She was watching him expectantly. He wasn’t sure why, but then he remembered what he’d told her when the doorbell rang, that he wasn’t finished with her.
“About what happened earlier. I think it would be best if we keep things professional from now on.”
“Oh,” she said, her eyes filled with confusion. And rejection. He shouldn’t have felt like a heel, but he did. Isn’t this what he’d wanted? To get her all worked up, then reject her? Well, the plan had worked brilliantly. Even better than he’d anticipated. What he hadn’t counted on was how much he would want her, too.
“Well, I had better get the room ready,” she said. She paused, as though she was waiting for him to say something, and when he didn’t, she walked away, leaving him feeling like the world’s biggest jerk.
The last few weeks had been stressful to say the least. He would be relieved when Isabelle was gone, and the investigation at the refinery came to a close, and he was securely in the position of CEO. Life would be perfect.
So why did he have the sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t be so simple?
Nine
So much for hoping Emilio might forgive her, that he still wanted her. He wanted to keep their relationship professional. And they had come so close this afternoon. If it hadn’t been for Estefan showing up…
Oh, well. Easy come, easy go.
Clearly he didn’t want Estefan knowing he was involved with someone like her. It was bad enough she was living in his house. And could she blame him for feeling that way? Aside from the fact that her father had ruined their mother’s reputation, Isabelle was a criminal.
Alleged criminal, she reminded herself.
Unfortunately, now Emilio seemed to be shutting her out completely. He hadn’t come out of his office all day, or said more than a word or two to her. No insults or wry observations. He’d even eaten his dinner at his desk. Just when she’d gotten used to him sitting in the kitchen making fun of her.
Isabelle loaded the last of the dinner dishes in the dishwasher and set it to run. It was only eight and all her work for the day was finished, but the idea of sitting around feeling sorry for herself on a Saturday night was depressing beyond words. Maybe it was time she paid her mom another visit. They could watch a movie or play a game of Scrabble. She could use a little cheering up, and she knew that no matter what, her mother was there for her.
If Emilio would let her go. The only way she could get there, short of making her mother come get her, or taking a cab, was to use his car. She could lie and say she was going grocery shopping, but when she came home empty-handed he would definitely be suspicious. And would he really buy her going shopping on a Saturday night? Besides, she didn’t like lying.
She could just sneak out without telling him, and deal with the consequences when she got back.
Yeah, that was probably the way to go.
She changed out of her uniform, grabbed her purse and sweater and when she walked back into the kitchen for the car keys Emilio was there, getting an apple from the fridge. He looked surprised to see her in her street clothes.
Well, shoot. So much for sneaking out.
“Going somewhere?” he asked.
“I finished all my work so I thought I would go see my mother. I won’t be late.”
“Did Estefan get back yet?”
“Not yet.”
“You’re taking the Saab?”
She nodded, bracing for an argument.
“Well, then, drive safe.”
Drive safe? That was it? Wasn’t he going to give her a hard time about going out? Or say something about her taking his car for personal use? Instead he walked out of the kitchen and a few seconds later she heard his office door close.
Puzzled, she headed out to the garage, wondering what had gotten into him. Not that she liked it when he acted like an overbearing jerk. But this was just too weird.
The drive to her mother’s apartment was only fifteen minutes. Her car was in the lot, and the light was on in her living room. Isabelle parked and walked to the door. She heard laughter from inside and figured that her mother was watching television. She knocked, and a few seconds later the door opened.
“Isabelle!” her mom said, clearly surprised to see her. “What are you doing here?”
“Mrs. Smith didn’t need me for the night and I was bored. I thought we could watch a movie or something.”
Normally her mother would invite her right in, but she stood blocking the doorway. She looked nervous. “Oh, well…now isn’t a good time.”
Isabelle frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing.” She glanced over her shoulder. “It’s just…I have company.”
Company? Though Isabelle hadn’t noticed at first, her mother looked awfully well put together for a quiet night at home. Her hair was swept up and she wore a skirt and blouse that Isabelle had never seen before. She looked beautiful. But for whom?
“Adriana, who is it?” a voice asked. A male voice.
Her mother had a man over?
As far as Isabelle knew, she hadn’t dated anyone since her husband died three years ago. She had serious trust issues. And who wouldn’t after thirty-five years with a bastard like Isabelle’s father?
But was he a boyfriend? A casual acquaintance?
Her mother blushed, and she stepped back from the door. “Come in.”
Isabelle stepped into the apartment and knew immediately that this was no “friendly” social call. There were lit candles on the coffee table and an open bottle of wine with two glasses. The good crystal, Isabelle noted.
“Isabelle, this is Ben McPherson. Ben, this is my daughter.”
Isabelle wasn’t sure what she expected, but it sure wasn’t the man who stood to greet her.
“Isabelle!” he said, reaching out to shake her hand, pumping it enthusiastically. “Good to finally meet you!”
He was big and boisterous with longish salt-and-pepper hair, dressed in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt. He looked like an ex-hippie, with a big question mark on the ex, and seemed to exude happiness and good nature from every pore. He was also the polar opposite of Isabelle’s father.
And though she had known him a total of five seconds, Isabelle couldn’t help but like him.
“Ben owns the coffee shop next to the boutique where I work,” her mother said.
“Would you like to join us?” Ben asked. “We were just getting ready to pop in a movie.”
One Month with the Magnate Page 8
