Tempting Isabel (Paradise South #1) (23 page)

Change the subject, Isabel.

She could tell from Zack’s concerned and questioning expression that it was too late. He was going to ask her. But no, she couldn’t go there.

Just say something else.
“Anyway, the place is beautiful. But it could be a shack and I’d still love it. If I get to be near the sea, smelling, hearing, seeing it every morning,” she said and smiled, “then I’m happy.”

But the topic of the ocean was a dangerous one, too. She had heard, and blatantly ignored, his attempt at clinching a future date with her. “
After the wedding.
”

No, though. No
after
. No anything.

But God, yes, his whole
sweet-as
-sugar childhood fear of the ocean bit did hit her. It turned her on to no end, the vulnerability in such a powerful, virile man was just too much for her heart, head, and core.

Doesn’t matter.
She had to steer him away from his second attempt now. Nothing between them could happen. After the wedding she counted on and prayed for his private jet to take care of that.

So, she’d end this now, this tease of a night. “God, I can’t believe how late it is,” she said, glancing at her phone for a time check. “And I was home early today too. To catch up on much needed sleep from the lack of it last night.” She cleared her throat for his benefit.

“Right, of course,” he said, a glint of pride in his eyes and maybe a heated memory in his head, of them together, as shown in the curl of his lips.

Oh God, Isabel, please be done
here.

“And I can’t be an exhausted mess for the biggest gig of my career.”

His captivated gaze made her squirm. She had to turn away from him, reacquiring distance. Necessary distance.

Zack touched her hair. “You alright?”

And damn him and that solid, anchored security she felt with him.

“Yes. I’m…fine.”
Just fucking torn to pieces by you.
“Just tired.”

*

She pointed to the limo that had just pulled up, and he was again taken over by the empty, plunging feeling in his stomach, then chest, and all the way up to his head. He wanted to kiss her desperately, and then to continue talking, or walking, or sitting, just being with her.

But reality ruled. Isabel collected her purse.

He held out his hand. “To
strangers-turned
-acquaintances.”

She let a smile show through her eyes, and when she gave him her hand to shake, he placed an innocent kiss on it, then he said, “Really, Isabel, thank you.”

Her brother, Antonio, went around the vehicle to open the
passenger-side
door for Isabel, giving Zack a good firm handshake as he passed him. Zack hadn’t realized that Antonio was Isabel’s brother until she’d said so during their stroll. He saw the resemblance now. He had liked the guy from their first handshake at the airport when Darren had arrived. Antonio seemed strong, confident, upstanding, the kind of guy he’d do business with and have a drink with after. Hard to find a
no-bullshit
type like this man seemed to be. A common family trait in at least two of the twelve.
Holy hell, twelve!
He could not even fathom it.

“Don’t worry, I have my car,” he said to Isabel, who was already sitting in the limo.

She put down her window. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t offering.” She winked as the limo pulled away.

CHAPTER 27

Z
ack went straight
to his brother’s hotel room when he got back. It took three hard pounds on the door to get Darren’s ass up, and no time at all to dive into a deep,
long-awaited
conversation about their father. They went at it ’til dawn, going through the detailed history of their lives, things only two brothers could share and know, along with the things Darren never knew.

And he brought up his talk with the
wedding planner
. He smiled to himself, referring to Isabel that way when,
Jesus
, she was so much more to him. Anyway, he was thankful to be able to use Isabel’s advice, her clear point of view, because the topic of his father was hard enough. But now he had an objectivity he’d never thought possible. Granted, his father wasn’t there with them in the room, but baby steps.

The brothers decided together that they’d take their father to lunch that day, and as an attempt to keep the drama to a minimum, they’d bring Amy along for a more casual tone.

*

Midday Friday, the day before the wedding, Zack watched Antonio and his passengers pull out of the resort driveway and head to
Playa de los Muertos
, a
high-end
foodie haven. Zack would drive himself and meet his brother, father, and Amy there, a strategic move in case he needed to make an early escape.

On his way into view of the beachside restaurant, he had a strong need to hear Isabel’s voice, to speak to her, just to get a quick refresher from the night before. His blood and thoughts were racing. He pulled out his cell, knowing he shouldn’t call her. But he had to.

Looking at his phone, he laughed to himself, realizing he
couldn’t
call her. He’d forgotten to get her goddamn number again.
Again, for fuck’s sake!
Four hours spent with her last night, damn it. How this woman zapped his brain cells and churned his blood! He shoved his phone in his pocket and entered the
open-air
restaurant. He had her with him in his pounding, sprinting heart, and that had to be enough.

*

Zack spotted the empty chair awaiting him at the
four-top
across the brightly decorated dining room. His brother was waving his arm high in the air. Zack took a huge gulp of oxygen.
Be objective, and stay calm. For
Darren.

Zack got to the table.
Breathe.
And cue polite smile.

“Son.” Bennet stood from his seat, hand extended to Zack.

Zack’s fake smile vanished as he cleared his throat before choking on the sudden ball of disgust he didn’t even know he had in him.
Keep it
together.

He inhaled the fresh sea air and shook the man’s hand. “You can call me Zack. Or Zachary. But I prefer Zack. Please,” he said, gesturing for the old man to sit down while he moved to the chair across the table. He nodded at his brother, gripping Darren’s shoulder in greeting, and then leaned over to kiss Amy on the cheek.

Menus opened immediately, a flimsy but welcome barrier to hide behind. But he had a surprising desire to look at the man, a more than surreal sight. Curiosity mixed with loathing filled his head, but he remembered Isabel’s words, “apathetic freedom.” Not so damn easy with the man in his airspace, though.

In fact, he was miles away from apathy. Raw hate clobbered his brain, but also, tingling gratification. At Bennet’s frailty, the lifelessness bordering on despair in the man’s dreary eyes. His father was so different from the vibrant, opulent playboy he remembered.

Zack forced himself to focus on the menu, but he kept reading the same item,
peanut-encrusted
tilapia, over and over again, and he not only hated the bottom feeder, but would go into anaphylaxis from the crust.
For fuck’s sake, focus, Zack.

In the meantime, Amy began the obligatory pleasantries and small talk. He was glad that she got chatty when nervous or excited—or both, in this case.

She began to jabber away about the crazy adventure she and
her
father had had locating Bennet James. She had pieced together the small details Darren had mentioned during their time together: Paris, France; Sabrina Rondot; B.C. Properties, and so on.

And Zack’s stomach began to churn.

“I finally found one of Bennet’s properties in New York in the public records, but a law firm was listed as the one contact.” Zack was certain that was his father’s lifelong attorney, Artie Deninger.

She detailed her phone call to the firm, but Zack could imagine for himself the sequence of events. The receptionist probably rolled her eyes at Amy’s
sappy-sweet
voice and put her straight through to the voice mail of Mr. Deninger, P.A. She would have left a longwinded message like, “My name is Amy Rine, daughter of Dan Rine…blah, blah, blah…engaged to Bennet James’ youngest son…phone number. Blah.”

Zack’s mental summary ended much quicker than his
soon-to
-be
sister-in
-law’s. He politely continued his aimless analysis of the menu while pretending to listen. Eyes on desserts now, his mind wandered to Isabel wiping up the
ice-cold
mint chocolate chip mess from his lap the night before, until Amy’s voice elevated an octave, startling him out of his daydream.

“…and I got a return call from Bennet the very next day!”

She continued on about the conversation she’d held with the bastard sitting across from him.
Breathe.
Be polite.
Smile.
His new mantra. His hands sweaty, he finally put the menu down. His hands began to fidget, so to maintain composure, he picked up the espresso demitasse in front of him, and, sipping it, wondered where it came from because he sure as hell didn’t remember ordering it, or even seeing a waiter, for that matter.

Amy’s monologue went on, piercing his ears and boiling his blood, but he considered the alternative to the current chatter and quickly regained his appreciation for Amy’s presence and verbal energy level. She filled the potential silence, which was why they’d brought her along after all. And he
full-well
knew it wasn’t her, but rather the topic of her prattle, that was killing him.

Beyond the ultra annoying details echoing in his ears, something else nagged at Zack. Bennet’s return phone call to Amy—the next day, huh? The very. Next. Day.

*

His mother had gotten the harsh
brush-off
by Deninger for inviting Bennet to Darren’s graduation. Bennet hadn’t wanted to be contacted then, so why now had he been so damn easy to reach? What was this
self-motivated
shell of a man after?

“So, Bennet, how’s Sabrina?” Zack blurted out, not even sure if he had cut Amy off. Thankfully, he hadn’t. She was
mid-bite
into her salad, which had appeared out of thin air also. Had the waiter taken their food orders, too?

“Well, Son, I mean,
Zack
,” Bennet corrected. “We, Sabrina and I, haven’t been together for many years now. Many, many years,” the man said in a hollow, solemn tone. God, the man’s voice was so different than Zack remembered it. Thick and raspy, from too many cigarettes maybe? Or liquor?

“Sorry…to hear that?” Darren said, who then looked to Zack.

Darren had explained to Zack during their late night talk that he was willing to forgive their father, but it didn’t mean it would be easy. Nor would he ever forget. Darren was hurt too. His brother was of course enraged that their own father had left them to start a new family, a replacement family. Bennet James’ first family, Darren assumed, must not have been up to snuff when it came to his father’s lifestyle. Keeping in line with the whole travelling circus metaphor from their phone call weeks ago, they were small town while Sabrina had offered the man Paris.

“To tell you the truth, boys,” Bennet’s voice cracked, “I’ve lost a lot over the years.”

You mean you threw away a lot over the years, you fucker… And here it
comes.

Was Bennet dying and needed a fucking organ? Was he accused of a crime and needed quick cover? Or was he a gambler, a substance abuser?

Did it really matter?

No, it did not. Because Zack could still put the puzzle pieces together without knowing the man’s vice or vices.

The man was penniless and was back for funding!

Amy Rine of Beverly Hills, daughter of Daniel Rine, the shipbuilding tycoon.

Yeah, once a
self-centered
prick, always…

*

Zack’s thoughts tore through his skull while he fumed and shook, suffocating.

“When the stock market collapsed and my REIT funds were in
over-leveraged
hotel and apartment holdings… I lost everything.”

Bullshit. I bought everything. For way over market
value.

How had the man blown through all that gain?

And again, what did that matter? The man was here. At his brother’s wedding. For goddamn money!

“Then Sabrina left and took the kids with her. She had been stashing away my hard earned—”

“Stop,” Zack demanded. He hated that he was right. “Just stop.” Clearing his throat, he shifted his attention to Amy and Darren, then Amy solely. “Amy, I apologize. This is up to you…and Darren of course, but if you want to spare yourself unnecessary stress, given that your wedding day is tomorrow, I would recommend you take the limo back to the hotel now and just relax with your friends.”

And Zack returned his narrowed eyes to the old man while waiting for Amy and/or Darren to make a decision. He just watched his father’s sullen eyes shift uncomfortably under Zack’s severe stare, but not one glance up from the man’s salad. Bennet didn’t dare.

“It’s a good idea, Amy,” Darren told her.

She pushed her chair out, smiled graciously at Bennet, then at Zack, and lastly, she leaned over and kissed her fiancé on the cheek before standing to leave. The two men and one sniveling coward all stood as she did.

*

Last night was the first time Zack had told Darren any of the gory details regarding their father, along with Zack’s
actual
feelings about the man. And Darren relayed his regrets to his older brother—that although contacting Bennet had been a romantic and
well-meaning
gesture by his fiancée, he definitely saw how poorly timed this reunion was, especially during what was supposed to be such a joyous occasion. Zack and Darren, at the end of their late night talk, had finally put it all to what Zack called “a comedy of errors.”
Thank you, Isabel
.

But right then, the comedy was anything but funny.

The waiter and a runner brought entrees, and three plates were placed. Zack now remembered telling the waiter to skip him earlier when their orders had been taken. So now, with his gut twisting from black espresso gasoline and rage, he signaled to his brother to give him Amy’s plate, a pasta dish in some kind of cream sauce, to soak up the
acid-hate
eating him alive.

“I need the trust back,” Bennet blurted out, staring down at his thick prime rib.

“Dad, things take time. Trust has to be built…you know? Earned. Hell, you’ve been gone for how many—”

“No, Darren,” Zack cut his brother off, “that isn’t the
trust
he means. He’s saying he needs the money…the trust fund. The one he left us, when he…left us.”

Darren looked in awe at Zack, then at his father. As the reality dawned, Zack watched the innocence drain from his brother’s face, only to be replaced with hot red disdain. Darren’s nature was kind, gentle, calm and light, but even his brother had his limits. And now Zack could tell that those limits were just about met. Zack put his hand on Darren’s shoulder to steady him.

“Who flew you out here, Bennet?” Zack asked, taking over.

“Amy…well, her father,” Bennet answered, still unable to make eye contact, the shame written on his face was Zack’s exact intent. They all froze and remained that way for what felt like an eternity.

A birthday serenade from across the restaurant brought Zack back. He glanced at his cell phone. Only a minute had passed.

God, his mouth was dry, his chest still heaving. He took a sip of water, moistened his lips, and took a huge clearing breath through his nose.

Composed now, he found words. “I’ve already given you enough, having paid way above market for your property portfolio. Now, as for the trust that you so generously left us, Bennet, it is in Darren’s name, solely Darren’s. I relinquished rights to it the day after you left. He’s the one you will have to consult. So”—Zack began to push his chair back to get the hell out of there—“I’m not needed here.”

Darren looked at his brother with wide, desperate eyes, begging Zack not to leave him there alone.

Zack leaned back instead of standing and began rubbing his temples. He looked at Darren again, his brother was practically shaking with rage.

Fuck.
Zack cleared his throat. “Darren, you just finished your master’s program the head of your class. A year and a half early I might add. You’re a
sought-after
architect, and that’s all you. One hundred percent you, brother. Yes, your education was, as you know, paid for by me…but the work, the time, the sacrifice—it was all your effort and no one else’s. And I’ve never made a better, more sound investment than the one I’ve made in you and your education. The least risk, highest reward of any I’ve ever made. And the only repayment I ask for is your happiness. And for your family to be happy, your wife and your future kids. That’s it.” He swallowed hard, and did not dare look at his brother, who he knew had tears falling from his furious eyes already.

Zack went on. “Now, the trust fund that Bennet is referring to, in fact, has remained untapped since he vanished. There was never a need. The business, my own real estate investments, the projects I slaved over, all yielded well. Very well. And they have supported you, Mom and me for all these years. I can say with all sincerity that I would have rather died than use a penny of Bennet’s guilt money,
but
…if you or Mom had ever needed it to survive and
I
couldn’t provide, then I was prepared to use it. I swear I would have swallowed my pride and used it.”