Читать книгу Irresistibly Exotic Men: Bed of Lies / Falling For Dr Dimitriou / Her Little Spanish Secret - Laura Iding, Anne Fraser - Страница 16

“What?” Stunned, Luke stared at Beth then whipped back to his aunt.

“What are you doing here, Beth?” Rosa said, her face full of bewilderment. “What—”

“What’s going on?” Marco said behind them.

“I have no idea—Connie? Or—it’s Rosa, right?” Beth retorted.

Rosa took a sharp breath, her eyes rounding. “The house. Caro dio, the house!”

“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Marco yelled behind them.

Luke glared from Rosa to Beth, his jaw tight. “Go on then. Let’s hear it.”

Rosa pushed the doors wider with a shaky hand. “Come in. Please.”

Unbelievable. Un-fricking-believable. The anger in Luke simmered as they followed Rosa down the plush hallway, past the familiar blue-washed walls, the classic works of art, the stylish furnishings, before they stopped in the living room.

“Please, sit.”

Beth perched on the edge of an elegant Louis XIV chair and crossed her arms. Luke chose to stand.

“Stop glaring at me, Lucio, and sit.” She waved to the sofa. With a soft snort, he finally sat.

Rosa sighed, smoothing back her salt-and-pepper hair. “You all know the kind of attention the Corelli name attracts. So for many years I’ve been using a fake one—for appointments, for bookings.” She shrugged. “It allows me a small freedom I wouldn’t normally have.”

“And what’s your connection to Beth? Besides being a client?”

Rosa clasped her hands and turned to Beth. “Remember when you first started your business, bella? You mentioned that awful shared apartment you were renting?”

Beth nodded.

“You didn’t say much, but I could see how tough things had been for you.” She tapped her cheek with a small smile. “It’s the eyes, bella. All your emotion is locked away behind those green eyes.”

“So you set her up?” Luke interrupted.

“No.” Rosa looked offended. “I just steered her toward Crown Real Estate. That house had been empty for years and needed a little love and attention. A word in the right direction and you had yourself a new home.”

“So the story about the owners living overseas was a lie?”

Rosa shrugged. “Just a little one.”

“You were the ‘family friend’,” Luke interjected tightly. “And Costas Holdings is one of Gino’s?”

“Yes.” Rosa turned back to Beth. “You needed help, but were so proud and determined. You’d never have taken charity—” She raised a hand as Beth opened her mouth. “Yes, in your mind my offer would have been exactly that. And I also knew you’d never take the house if you knew who I was.” Her lined face creased in a gentle smile. “You reminded me so much of Lucio’s mother, in a scary new world and in desperate need of help. How could I not help you?”

“Hang on,” Luke interrupted with a frown. “How do you know what my mother needed?”

She gave Luke a tender, sad look. “Every month I drove two hours to see Melina and gave her a little something to meet the monthly bills. Your father never knew.”

In stunned silence Luke tried to digest this new revelation. But no matter how many times he played it out in his head, he came up with the same answer.

More lies. More secrets. Dammit, when would they ever end?

His gazed remained unwavering, fixed on Rosa. “So let me get this straight,” he said calmly—almost too calmly. “Instead of one simple phone call, both of us ended up racing all over town thinking it was some kind of conspiracy theory?”

“You are such an ass, Luke.”

Luke whipped around to face Marco’s bristling anger. “You’ve been ignoring our calls,” he continued tightly. “And then Gino’s PR guy advised us to lay low for a few weeks but that obviously didn’t cross your mind after you were spotted—”

“Boys, please …” Rosa interrupted, her expression torn with concern. “No fighting.”

Luke sprang to his feet and began to pace.

Rosa glanced helplessly at Beth, then back to Luke. “I know you are pazzo at me, Lucio—”

Angry? If only it were that clear. But Marco was right. Damn guilt got him every single time.

When he finally turned to face his aunt, the soft love mingled with abject worry on her familiar features hit him like a runaway train.

Rosa had tried to be a mother to him, but he’d rebuffed her time and again. Oh, there’d been times when he’d allowed small intimacies—a hug on his birthday, a kiss at Christmas. She’d also mediated the blazing fights between him and Marco and had encouraged him in his studies.

And remained loyal when the reporters had come clamoring for a quote.

He knew she would never deliberately hurt him, just as he had total faith in the honor code he lived by.

The power of that thought stole away his accusations, turning them to dust on his tongue. With a barely audible groan, he sank to the couch and rubbed his temples.

“You know how hard I’ve worked to get where I am, Rosa.” He glanced up, frustration clouding his voice. “How I’ve fought for every promotion, made sure I was beyond reproach, because of Gino’s reputation. So why did he drag me into this?”

“Lucio. He did not do this to hurt you,” came Rosa’s soft declaration. “Things have been so crazy around here and I completely forgot about the rental, Gino’s bequest to you.

“He had always planned to give it to you,” she continued. “It was the house he originally offered your parents when they first came to Australia. Your father turned us down flat.”

Luke’s gut twisted at the barely hidden grief. The woman had lost her husband, the man she’d loved for over forty years and here he was getting all worked up about a bunch of misunderstandings.

Death had a way of putting everything into perspective.

Rosa’s dark eyes, creased with years of life and love, now holding only concern and worry, humbled him. He flushed. She wasn’t to blame for the inquiry, or the way the press had focused so thoroughly on him.

“I am so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” Rosa went to Beth and took her hands. “You must have been so confused, thinking you’d been kicked out onto the street.” Just as Beth opened her mouth, Rosa added, “I would never do anything to hurt you, Beth. You know that. Don’t you?”

As Beth sat there, staring into the earnest woman’s big brown eyes, she remembered the moments they’d shared—the laughter, the little gifts on her birthday, the snippets of life advice Rosa had offered. Beth had liked talking to her, had liked her.

“You warm this old Italian woman’s heart, Beth,” Rosa continued. “You, bella. You’re smart. You’re good here—” she put a hand on one expansive bosom “—you deserve to have someone look after you.”

Beth gently extricated herself. “You lied to me, Rosa.”

“And what would you have me do, eh?” Rosa’s brows shot up. “Sit back and watch you struggle every day? Pah!” She snapped her fingers. “You’d never take money from me, so I did the only thing I could.”

“After all this time why didn’t you say something?”

Rosa shook her head. “I was going to. But you were so happy to finally have a place of your own, and I know how you feel about lying. What if you’d never speak to me again?”

But my lease is up in three months, she was about to say. I will be out on the street. But the look on Rosa’s face had her choking back the words. Her issue was with Luke, not Rosa, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to add to the woman’s already heavy guilt.

Suddenly, Beth’s heart wasn’t in it. She sighed and glanced up at Luke, who had remained oddly silent.

Rosa straightened and turned back to Luke. “Lucio, I know Gino had his faults and you and he never really got along. But he was so very proud of you. As am I.” She blinked as her eyes began to tear.

“Rosa …”

“No.” She put up a silencing finger, “Your uncle was a proud man and those terrible accusations hit him hard, but he understood what you had to do. He loved you so much.” She grasped his hand and squeezed, a bittersweet smile hovering on her lips before she pulled a key from her pocket. “He left you something in his desk drawer. Please, go take a look.”

Luke closed the office door firmly behind him and scanned the room. Everything was still in its place, from the large antique desk to the rows of books lining the walls. The faint aroma of expensive cigars and brandy still lingered on the air. He almost expected Gino to be sitting behind that desk, puffing quietly away. Instead, the empty chair matched the hole in his heart.

Quickly, he shoved the key in the desk drawer and unlocked it. The white envelope was addressed to him and the contents yielded a DVD.

A frown furrowing his brow, Luke slowly closed the drawer, went over to the DVD player that sat in the bookcase, shoved in the disc then picked up the remote and clicked on the TV.

He took a seat behind the imposing desk, his finger hovering over the play button.

A clean blotter sat square in the middle, a fountain pen perfectly one inch from the top. Luke picked up the pen and twirled it idly in his hand, a small smile hovering on his lips. Gino was old school, preferring fountain pen and ink for all his correspondence.

Luke replaced the pen, screwed up his eyes and pinched his nose high on the bridge.

Gino’s desk at Aphrodite’s was identical—same layout, same pens. Same scent of leather, polished wood and cigar smoke.

Every little thing was determined to remind him of that night, even while he’d been trying to forget it. Like a convicted man accepting his fate, he let the memories flood in.

The board had expressed their displeasure earlier that day and Luke had been in a white-hot fury. Regardless of the warnings issued to keep his distance from Gino, he’d stormed into the casino spoiling for a fight. Security had wisely kept out of his way, and frustrated as all hell, he’d slammed into Gino’s office.

Luke grunted, remembrance flooding in like waters over a burst dam, too late to stop it.

Those sharp accusations he’d flung at Gino had been like a red rag to a bull, and his uncle had never been one to turn down a fight.

“Dammit all to hell, Gino! Are you using the casino as a money-laundering front?”

Gino shot to his feet, his face flushed. “No! You of all people should know that!”

“Should I?” Luke’s eyes narrowed. “I heard the evidence is before the Director of Public Prosecutions. And if he thinks that’s enough for a trial then there’s probably enough to convict.”

“I know the law, Lucio.”

“Apparently not enough!”

Gino matched Luke’s dark look with one of his own, his breath coming in heavy puffs. “I will not have you stand there and accuse me of breaking the law! I will not!”

“Well, that’s too bad.” Luke shoved his face in Gino’s. “Because right now, I don’t give a damn if you’re fiddling with the tables, cooking the books or ripping off the bloody queen of England. All I care about is that stink rubbing off on me.” He slammed his palms down on the desk, his voice deadly calm. “And no one messes with my job.”

Every time he relived those few moments, it never got any better. Luke recalled every heated word, every frustrated gesture.

And the outcome was exactly the same every time. Midargument, Gino went bright red, clutched his chest and collapsed.

With a vicious curse, Luke shot to his feet.

The doctors said nothing could have saved him, even if he’d had a heart attack right in the middle of the emergency ward. Still, the guilt had eaten at him until Luke could hardly think straight. CPR was futile; the medics had had to pull him off Gino when he’d refused to believe his uncle had been dead for ten minutes.

Guilt had kept him from seeing Rosa before the funeral. Even then he’d defied a direct order and attended the service, for all the good it did everyone. It had been pure torture. A couple of reporters had been thrown out, Marco had erupted in a rage and all the while Rosa’s red-rimmed eyes drilled into his very soul. Still, she’d said nothing, accepted his lame condolences with good grace and said not one word about the argument or Luke’s lengthy absence. Which made him feel doubly worse.

Marco had remained uncharacteristically silent throughout the service, but every time his eyes settled on Luke, they’d been bright and angry. Afterward, he’d let it all come spilling out and Luke had deserved it, had welcomed it, even. It was his cross to bear.

Now he focused on the television screen and the remote control he gripped.

He pressed Play and began to watch.

“You and Lucio—you are friends?” Rosa began after she sent Marco off to get drinks then took a seat on the couch beside Beth.

Beth choked down a laugh. “Hardly. I made an offer on the house, but he refused it then moved in. No.” Her gaze drifted to the archway where he’d disappeared. “Definitely not friends.”

“I see.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “But he told you about Melina and Salvatore. His parents,” she clarified.

“Yes.”

Rosa was shaking her head, the pain of remembrance etched in the lines around her eyes. “My brother and his wife were very proud, very strict and devoutly religious. When Lucio found out about us, he blamed Gino for not making an effort, for not coming to their aid when they’d been struggling for so long in near poverty. Stubborn, just like Marco.” She smiled, but it quickly disappeared. “Lucio lived with us for nearly three years, holding on tight to that grudge every day. He was such an angry, scared boy, trying so very hard to be a man, and anything we did just pushed him further away. But he was a gifted child and he threw himself into his studies, then his job. It gave him strength, gave him the control and security he needed. And I’ve seen him barely a dozen times since then.”

Rosa’s voice broke, but she valiantly held on to her composure. “And now he’s living with you.”

“Not living with me. He’s in the spare room.”

“So he trusts you.” When Beth shook her head, Rosa said, “He does, bella. If he didn’t, you’d have been out within a day.”

“It’s not trust that’s keeping him there, Rosa. It’s suspicion. He thought I was Gino’s mistress.”

Rosa choked back a laugh. “Really?”

“Yes.” Beth bit her lip to stop a smile from escaping. “We both agreed to work this out together and not get the police involved.”

“Ah.” She tapped a finger on her chin in thoughtful silence.

“Look, there’s nothing—”

Marco returned then with a bottle of wine and four glasses, cutting off Beth’s protest.

She took the proffered glass, determinedly avoiding Rosa’s scrutiny.

“So you’re living with Luke, huh?” Marco began, grinning over the rim of his glass as he perched on the couch arm.

Beth swallowed a sigh. “Not that way we’re not.”

His eyebrows rose. “But you share a house.”

Ah, yes. The house. “For the moment, yes.”

“There you go.” Marco took a swig, rolled the wine around in his mouth then swallowed. “Significant milestone, I’d say.”

“You both look good together,” Rosa interrupted. “I can see there’s something else there than just friends. Sì?”

“No!” Beth cleared her throat and tried again. “No, there isn’t.”

Rosa made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “You need a good strong man in your life. I may be old but I know amore. Love, it will make your problems go away. It will make you trust again, eh?”

She took Beth’s still hands and squeezed. “I know how much you guard your secrets, bella. Lucio, he has a few of his own.”

Beth blinked, looking from Rosa to Marco grinning behind his wineglass.

Since when had the evening turned into a “what Beth needs is a man” discussion?

She recalled the times Rosa had mentioned her family. On the massage table, clients opened up and talked about the most intimate details of their lives—family feuds, career woes, relationships. Rosa’s favorite subject had been her family. She’d boasted of their virtues nearly every session, how talented her son was, how her handsome nephew needed a good woman to slow him down, make him appreciate life more.

Luke suddenly appeared, interrupting Beth’s response.

“You found it, Lucio?” Rosa asked, drawing away from Beth.

“Yes.” His eyes were expressionless, unreadable. “We should go.”

Rosa looked surprised. “You are not staying for dinner?”

“Sorry. Beth?”

Beth threw Rosa an apologetic glance and stood. “Maybe another time?”

“Sì.” Rosa kissed Beth on both cheeks, her eyes full of unanswered questions. “Ciao, bella. Drive safely.”