High Stakes Seduction - Book 4 (10 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I turned the key in the lock, expecting the living room to be empty.

"Hey, Sis, You're still up," I tossed my purse on the couch and went over to give Maria a big hug. "I brought dessert home. Blueberry pie. You want to share it with me?"

"Sure. So tell me, how was your date?" she asked, her eyes twinkling and her eyebrows moving up and down in question.

I ignored her for the moment, grabbed a couple of forks from the drainer on the kitchen counter and stepped back into the living room.

"Well… my
non
-date was really good.”
Better than good, really
. "He’s so easy to talk to. It turned out to be very… fruitful."

"Fruitful? Now that's a strange thing to say about a date."

"A non-date,” I reminded her with a grin.

"Did he buy you dinner?"

"You know he did. You're eating part of it," I replied.

"Then that's a date."

"How about
almost-a-date
?"

"Date lite?" she suggested.

"Okay, okay," I laughed. "I give up. Look he wants to go to the movies sometime. That can be our official date. And if you insist, I'll even have him come by and meet you first."

Catching a glimpse of the chaos behind her, I jumped at the chance to change the subject. “What are you up to?" I pointed at the interesting portraits scattered over the desk. I reached around her to pick one up.

She shrugged. "Just some watercolor washes I've been experimenting with."

They were fascinating and hauntingly beautiful monochromatic studies. I looked through the half-dozen portraits she had painted while I'd been gone. Each face reflected a sereneness that seemed to glow from within. "These are beautiful,” I breathed, and they really were. “Whatever inspired you to paint these?"

She pointed over at the computer. "I was going through some of your photos, and I came across these interesting ones that looked like people around a campfire."

Campfire? Oh, the volcano trip, a lantern in the middle of our little group. Which reminded me…

"Maria, there's something I never told you about the volcano trip."

"Really?" Maria raised her eyebrows and waited.

"Well, I had a little…
special
adventure on that trip. See, we were coming back from the volcano on this narrow twisty road, when the driver veered the bus away from a rockslide, but we ended up over the side of the mountain."

Maria's eyes got large. "Was everyone okay?"

"Yeah, we got a little banged up, but the bus got it the worst. We were stranded until they could pick us up. So we missed the ship, but they put us up overnight in a really swanky hotel, and then flew us to meet the ship at the next stop. In fact, that's when I bought your carved bird. I got it the next day, shopping near the hotel."

"And you decided not to tell me, because…" I heard the hurt in Maria's voice.

"Well, there was nothing you could do. In fact, there was nothing I could do, either. But mostly, I didn't want you to worry about me. And I was afraid, if I told you about my little adventure, that you would be worried about me for the rest of the trip."

I couldn't tell how Maria was taking my confession, or even what she was thinking. She didn't look happy, more stunned and thoughtful if anything.

"Part of why I bought the bird was because it was a special souvenir, even for me. And, the reception I got from Antonio when I got back to the ship, oh Maria… that was priceless."

In fact, those next few days on-board ship had turned into something I would never forget. I sighed. Antonio, Antonio. Everything kept coming back to Antonio. Would we ever be able to free ourselves from this hold he had over our lives?

"Well," she said after taking a moment to consider what I'd just shared, "I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t pissed that you held something that important from me and even more pissed that you still insist on treating me like a fragile doll, unable to handle the realities of life.”

“But…” I tried to interject, not used to hearing her raise her voice at me, but the hand she lifted, palm out, silenced me.

“But…I'm glad everything turned out okay. You need to promise me something. First of all, you need to promise me you'll try to keep those kinds of "adventures" to a minimum? Because you're right, I would have worried like crazy until you got back home."

I nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“The second thing you need to promise me is to stop treating me as if I’m an invalid. My legs may be useless, but my mind and spirit are not. It does me no good for you to treat me like I’m delicate and breakable.” She lifted her chin and looked straight into my eyes. “It’s pathetic and I refuse to be pathetic anymore.”

I stared at her, wanting to defend myself, wanting not to believe that she thought that’s what I’d been doing. Then I saw it through her eyes and realized that I couldn’t defend my behavior. What had started as my wanting to make her transition easier had turned into me thinking I had to protect her from life.
I
have
treated her differently; sometimes even with kid gloves, as if she was fragile
. Tears welled in my eyes as I realized my best intentions were hurting her instead.

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. I
have
been overly protective of you. I just wanted to make things as good for you as possible.”

Her eyes softened. “I know that, Sis. And a huge part of me appreciates that; it was what I needed in the beginning as I processed through everything and got used to this new life.” She waved her hand at her wheelchair. “But no more. I can never get stronger, emotionally or physically, until I can also learn to bear the weight of life on my own.”

I thought about what she said, feeling as if I'd done her a disservice. I wanted to assure her that it was from love and not pity. I wanted to tell her that I understood, but she went on; there was more she needed to say.

“Do you remember when we were little, and we found the chrysalis?” She waited for my nod. “We watched it for days and days it seemed, waiting for the butterfly to emerge.”

I remember that clearly. We’d poked holes in the top of a jar just like Mama had told us, and placed the chrysalis inside, setting the jar on the kitchen table so we could watch it for signs of life.

“I never told you this - never told anyone - but that night, I couldn’t sleep and I’d gone to the kitchen to get some milk. I walked over to the jar and saw it moving and was so excited, I sat down to watch.”

She looked down at her hands, wringing them together. “I waited for almost an hour, watching the cocoon crack open a tiny bit in one spot, but nothing else happened. I was worried there was something wrong, so I decided to help it get free. I… I took it out of the jar and… helped it.” She sighed. “Or so I thought.”

I remembered that morning. I’d walked into the kitchen to find Maria crying. The butterfly was dead, an orange and black puddle at the bottom of the jar. Its body was swollen, and its wings were tiny and shriveled. I cried too. We'd placed it in a little tin Mama had given us. Then we'd taken it outside to bury it under the tree where we’d first found it, complete with our own little funeral service. When Maria whispered, “I’m sorry,” I took it to mean she was sorry it had died, or even that we'd put it into a glass jar instead of leaving it to hatch where we'd found it. We were both sad that day.

“I killed it with kindness, Angela,” Maria confessed. “The butterfly needed the stress, the pressure of the chrysalis to force the fluid from its body and into its wings. Because I decided to help it, that didn’t happen.”

She rolled closer to me and took my hand. “I don’t want to be like that butterfly. Stop protecting me, let me live my life the way it’s supposed to be lived. The good and the bad. The pressure and the pleasure.”

I leaned down, put my arms around her and whispered in her ear. “I will. I promise.”

I didn’t want her to shrivel up, I wanted her to fly. I was glad she'd decided to come out of her chrysalis. It was about time. She didn't need my help, but there was a lot I could do to support her in spreading her wings.

I thought about the secrets I was keeping from her, the things I didn’t want her to know about, yet. Or maybe ever. After what she'd just told me, I might have felt guilty. But I didn't. I had looked at the circumstances and chosen my path. I had made my own decisions, and I didn't regret them. I just hoped I would have as much courage in facing my own future as she had shown in facing hers.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

ANGELA

“I’ll get it,” I said when the doorbell rang. The past few days had made me feel like I was constantly balancing on a tight rope, so after work I'd gone out for a quick jog. I'd just gotten back, my mind feeling clearer and my body more centered and relaxed from the exercise. I flung my face towel over my shoulder, took a sip from my water bottle, and reached for the door.

“Hello, Angela." I stepped back, almost dropping the water bottle. The last thing I expected to see was Antonio standing in my doorway.

So much for the mind-clearing run
. Just the sight of this man caused a million thoughts to jumble up inside my head again. The one that finally came to my lips had more than just a hint of sarcasm.

“Antonio. To what do I owe this great honor?”

I saw the shadow pass across his face. And then, I felt slightly guilty. But only slightly.

“Nice to see you, Angela." He recovered more quickly than I did. "I’m sorry to just barge in without calling first. I came to fulfill my obligation. I believe we have some arrangements to complete.”

“Oh,” I said “Arrangements? I—I’m sorry, I—“

We stood there awkwardly for a moment longer, staring at each other. Just the sight of him left me speechless and senseless. He was so close I could hardly breathe, let alone think. And there were so many things unsaid, all pushing to come out.

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I understand. I want you to know I understand how much your sister means to you, how much you’ve… sacrificed for her. I'm prepared to make good on our arrangement.”

Oh.
That
arrangement.
My eyes went wide and I shook my head in panic. “No, wait. Maria, she doesn’t—“

“Who is it, Angela?” Maria said from the kitchen.

I jerked my head around. Thank goodness she was in the other room. I looked back at Antonio, finally remembering my manners. I stepped away from the door, gesturing for him to come in.

"Please don't say anything," I whispered as he walked past me.

I caught the faint scent of sandalwood. The cologne I’d chosen for him at the perfume factory. Almost involuntarily, I took a deep whiff. Once again, memories from the cruise came spiraling back. I shut my eyes, willing myself to be strong, not knowing how I could deal with him in our house. Especially if he was being nice to me.

Standing there, I realized I probably didn’t smell nearly as nice as he did. And the house! I glanced around the living room and wrinkled my nose. Not too bad, but not really "company" ready.

I had planned to do some housework after today's run. Especially since Maria’s art had expanded into the living room, and the box of Dad’s stuff was still on the coffee table. At least I’d put the photos back into the envelope, but I was still mortified to have the always well-put-together Antonio Mancini visit my house when it was less than perfect. Considering the gorgeous mansion he lived in, I was embarrassed to have him inside my house at all.

Especially since he held the mortgage.

“Angela, introduce me to our guest,” said Maria, joining us in the living room. She gave me a ‘pull yourself together’ look and I responded with a helpless shrug.

“Maria, this is my boss, Antonio Mancini. Antonio, my sister, Maria."

"Oh, Mr. Mancini, so nice to finally meet you.” Maria wheeled her chair forward, extending her hand. Antonio grasped it warmly, raising it to his lips in a respectful, cosmopolitan gesture.

Maria did her best not to blush.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, gracious as always, gesturing for him to sit.

Antonio made himself comfortable on the couch. I hesitated, then decided to sit across from him in Mama’s old armchair. But first I moved Dad's box of belongings off the table and onto the floor.

Unconsciously, I tucked a finger into a little hole Dad had accidentally burned in the chair with a cigarette when he was moving the furniture around. It was a little silly I suppose, but I found strength in the memories buried in this chair. Strength I needed so I could face Antonio, who was watching me with those dark, beautiful eyes, the ones that threatened to melt me with the sensations and memories they evoked.

“No, thank you,” he said to Maria. “Please. I won’t take up much of your time, ladies. I promise to get straight to business.”

The man did know how to get to the point. But, I also remembered how much time he'd spent doing "business" over the gambling table. I squirmed a little in the chair, wondering which it might be this time.

Then I sighed.
Well. I'm sure Naomi "needs" his attention.
He glanced over at the sigh, his face inscrutable as it examined mine.

I pushed the catty thought out of my head, suddenly worried about what he might say to Maria.

He finally released me from his gaze and turned toward my sister. “I'm actually here to talk with you. Just before the cruise you had an accident. I know that must have been difficult for you. But Angela tells me there is also an experimental surgery that could be beneficial, that could make a significant difference?"

I watched his face as he spoke to Maria. I was pleased to see how gentle he was with her.

He let his voice trail off, and I began to relax a little.

Maria turned from Antonio to look at me. “I—Yes, I mean. My doctor—Doctor Quesh. He said there was a chance I might eventually walk again, but we…” she looked over at me and I could see a mix of curiosity and cautious hope in her eyes.

“I understand the surgery is very expensive and that money may have been an issue,” Antonio said, leaning back against the couch.

"Well, it was—at least until Angela went to work for you," Maria smiled over at me, but I wanted to hide in the cushions. “And well, it's experimental. That usually means expensive, especially since it hasn't been tried very often. That would put it outside of most people’s budget I’d expect.”

Antonio nodded. "Yes. That’s pretty much my understanding as well."

I watched the two of them, talking with each other like they were old friends. I had felt so tongue-tied with this man, yet here she was, laughing and talking, and very nearly flirting with him. He certainly had a way with women. And, apparently,
she
had a way with men. I found myself marveling at my sister, as I continued to see her with new eyes.

"Thompson tells me you are quite the artist," he smiled at her.

"Oh," she laughed as the flush rose up her cheeks. "I do love it and used to paint a great deal. But, it's been a while since I did anything serious."

"Who says art needs to be serious? Entertainment has its value, too."

Maria flashed him the most amazing smile. "And it can be a joy to create, too! Little Emily has been the inspiration for my recent sketches and simple paintings. She tells the most delightful stories, and I do my best to capture them as images."

"Would it be too forward of me to ask you to show me some? I'd love to see what you've been doing with her stories." Antonio's face held genuine interest.

So much for getting right to business
. I wasn't sure where this was headed, but he didn't seem to be any hurry.

Maria was delighted. “Are you serious? It would be my pleasure.”

"Good." He nodded solemnly and I breathed a little sigh of relief, continuing to be amazed at how easily the two of them got along. She wheeled over to the corner as he stood and followed.

I left the two of them talking and laughing, and I slipped into the bathroom to clean up a little. When I looked at my face in the mirror, I had to shake my head. My hair was tied up in a ponytail, and I wasn't wearing a stitch of make-up. And, oh my god, there were sweat rings under my arms.
Terrific
.

I decided to take a chance, and jumped into the shower for a quick rinse, hoping they would be occupied for several minutes. I'm not sure it made a lot of difference to my looks, but it made me feel better and at least I no longer smelled like sweat.

I changed quickly into clean shorts and a t-shirt top, slipping into my sandals and hurrying back out to the living room. The two of them were deep in conversation, and hadn't even noticed that I'd been gone.

"What was your favorite thing to paint before this?" Antonio handed back the sketchpad to Maria.

"Oh, I used to do a lot of landscapes," she said. "That's why I made Ange take her camera on the cruise. I figured she could supply me with some new ideas."

Antonio looked over at me. "She's good at coming up with new ideas."

My cheeks must have flushed a bright red since my temperature went up at least ten degrees. I shook my head at him, wanting to forestall anything else he might have to say in front of Maria.

Maria laughed. "Would you like to see what she sent me?"

"Actually, yes. She promised to share them with me, but I'm still waiting." He turned toward me. "So now's as good a time as any. Unless Angela has an objection?"

“No, not at all,” I shook my head. "It's okay. Maria, where did you put that set of prints?"

"Here," she said, rummaging through a drawer in her desk. "They're in an envelope. Ah." She handed the photos to Antonio. "Let's go over to the couch, there's more room."

Antonio spread the photos out on the coffee table. The story of our cruise, the progression of our "relationship". Our companions onboard the ship. The tours, my adventure on the volcano island.

"Nice." Antonio studied the photos, smiling at some and staring intently at others.

What I really wanted was to have Antonio out of our house. Instead, here I was, sitting next to him on the couch, looking through photographs from a trip that had turned my life upside down. A trip I was trying so hard to forget.

I did my best to slow down my racing heart and ignore the man who was responsible for it, the man sitting right there beside me. So close, I could just reach a hand out and touch him as he flicked through the images on the table. Images of sunsets, dolphins, the beautiful people of the islands.

Maria chattered on about my photographic skills as the three of us looked through the prints. Antonio nodded his agreement.

"Did Angela tell you about our upcoming trip?" He smiled at me. A warm, encompassing smile.

"The twins and Europe? She mentioned it, but I'm still waiting to hear the details."

"There's nothing to tell, yet," I said. "Their manager hasn't shared their schedule with me."

"And, we still need to discuss the shots before we can finalize anything." His eyes challenged me. This man continued to confuse me beyond words. Acting as if nothing personal had ever happened between us. And that everything business-related was normal and nothing had changed.

When Maria got to images of the passengers on the ship, he shifted suddenly, leaning forward.

“Wait a moment,” he said, his face growing intense. He flipped through several of the photos and then turned to me. “These are really incredible pictures, Angela. Would you mind if I take some of them? Can you get another set made?”

I stared at him for a moment, trying to read what was going on in his mind, what was behind those dark eyes. Something had changed, his eyes were bright, his body tense.

"Sure, no problem," I told him. "We have all the digital images stored on disk."

He scooped up a handful of the photos—mostly pictures of folks onboard ship and a few of my tourist shots. But my breath caught in my throat when I noticed he also pocketed one of us, taken by the waiter that last night at dinner. That was one of my favorites. We looked like the perfect couple.

I stuffed back my emotions, willing myself to remain calm. "Perfect Couple"—that's what the young woman had said that one day as we returned to the ship. That wonderful day. R
ight, like I need to be reminded of that now
.

“I won’t take up any more of your time, ladies,” Antonio said, suddenly anxious to leave.  “but before I go, I want to say that your artwork is beautiful, Miss Tilson.”

“Oh,” Maria said, and this time she did blush as she wheeled her chair around to join him when he stood to leave. “Thank you. It’s nothing really.”

“Nonsense, you are both very talented women. Incidentally,” he said, turning to me, “I didn't get a chance to give you the good news. The insurance company has approved Maria's surgery. She'll be getting a call from the surgeon's office to set everything up.” He looked down at her. “They'll contact you directly, not through our HR department."

“My surgery?” Maria's face paled and then blossomed with color. “Oh! I—Oh my. Surgery? Really? I don’t know what to say!” Maria made an odd sound—some kind of cross between a squeal and a gasp.

Antonio squeezed her hand. “I wanted to bring the news myself. Because it's experimental and outside of our normal coverage, we had to wait until the physician's group had given our insurance company the necessary information so they could make a determination. Dr. Quesh should be contacting you within a week or so.”

“Oh my goodness,” she cried, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks now as she lowered her cheek against his hand, held firmly in her own. “Thank you so much!” She sniffed and then added, “I can't begin to tell you what this means to me.”