High Stakes Seduction - Book 4 (6 page)

Chapter Sixteen

ANGELA

I couldn’t sleep. I had paced around my little bedroom for the better part of an hour before giving up and heading for the kitchen to make some hot chocolate.

I sat at the kitchen table, sipping at the steaming liquid. Listening to the ticking clock and trying to think about anything but Antonio Mancini.

Everything had been so much simpler before he’d been thrust into our lives.

Before I’d found his name on the papers in Dad’s safe deposit box.

I set down the mug, remembering the startling but rather limited contents of that box. Then I remembered the photos the private detective had given us. The ones I’d asked Maria to pull out for me while I was away.

We'd put the photos with the rest of Dad's stuff from Casa Consuelo. The box was sitting right there in the living room where Maria had left it for me. I'd been so upset when I got home that I hadn't even thought about them until just this moment.

I took another sip of my cocoa and brought the cup with me into the living room. Sitting on the couch, I pulled the box toward me. I glanced over my shoulder down the hall. Luckily Maria had always been a deep sleeper. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but whatever it was, I wasn't prepared to talk to Maria about it just yet.

She had placed the envelope of photos at the top of the box, saving me from having to dig through everything. I picked it up and slid the photos out, spreading them on the coffee table, feeling rather like a fortune teller, looking for the secrets the cards held.

There were several pictures of Antonio and the mayor. Those were the images that had originally thrown up warning flags. The mayor was suspected of illegal dealings, but although nothing had ever been proven, that didn't relieve my worry. Besides, I was pretty sure it wasn’t the mayor I was looking for in these photos.

“Well, lookie here,” I said, picking up a photograph of Antonio talking to a man I recognized from the cruise ship. “Whiny Walker,” I acknowledged, looking into his now familiar face.

As I sifted through the other pictures. I recognized several more faces now, including some of the shuffleboard players. My time as Antonio’s associate had introduced me to a lot of high rollers in various industries, people who’d never have given me the time of day before I started working for The Man.

But other than Walker, who I knew was a scumbag, I didn’t have any idea what kind of business dealings the others might be involved in.

I sat back, staring at the photos, disappointment sinking into my shoulders. I was hoping for more than just the vague clues of now familiar faces, but realized I wasn’t going to find it here. My scan of the photographs left me just as uncertain about Antonio and his dealings as before.

But somehow I felt more connected because of the familiarity of the faces in the photos. I had no idea what any of this meant, especially what it meant to me, personally. If anything, it made me feel exhausted, worrying about what I'd heard onboard ship, and if I'd be able to extricate myself—and Maria—from this web of secrets.

But, exhausted or not, I still wasn't ready to go to sleep.

I leaned forward, picking up my cup. The hot chocolate was lukewarm, but I sipped at it absently, staring into the rest of the contents inside the box.

My eyes fell on the smallish, leather bound Bible. I put down the cup and picked it up. Memories of Sunday mornings, watching Mom sitting curled up on the couch, drinking tea and reading from this little Bible. She always seemed to take comfort from the quiet hour or so. Sometimes she would read us a story from the "good book" and we'd talk about what the story meant.

I opened the book, well-worn, with some passages highlighted. I skimmed through the book to the center. There I found a family tree, with branches filled in. Maria, Angela….

As I flipped through the pages, a small envelope fell onto my lap.

I thought we’d gone through everything in this box, but here was an envelope—a small, sealed envelope. Glancing once more down the hall, and wondering if I should wait until morning to share my find, I shook my head. Something told me to open it now. So, I grabbed the letter opener on the side table and carefully slit it down the top.

The paper I pulled out was folded in half, that old, discolored paper they used to use for copying. I noticed the imprint in the corner.
This must be something official
, I thought, wondering if we would have another wild goose chase on our hands.

The paper was, indeed, something official. It was a birth certificate. Maria’s birth certificate. But as I examined it, I realized that something was wrong.

My big sister Maria's last name wasn't listed as Tilson. It was shown as Fredricks—Mama's maiden name. And the father's section was blank. Well, except for one word: “Unknown.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Thanks for getting back to me, Mr. Conner,” I said into my cell phone as I walked toward my favorite lunch spot.

“Happy to help, Angelina,” Conner said, his deep voice booming through the speakers of my phone. I was glad he'd called me back so soon, but I knew by his tone that there was some hesitancy on his part. Maybe the news wasn’t exactly something I would want to hear. Well, he
was
an attorney, family friend or not. And like most attorneys, he tended to be reserved and proper.

“Are you sure you want to be digging into this?” he asked. Maybe he thought what I was doing was wrong.

“What have you found, Mr. Conner?”

My heart raced in my chest as I told my very creative imagination to shut up and listen. So far, I had kept my secret of finding the birth certificate from Maria. Until I found out what this was about, I didn't want her worrying or stressed.

We had grown up as sisters. Very close sisters in a close-knit family. And until the accident that took Mama's life, we'd had our own special little circle.

Finding the birth certificate had thrown open all kinds of imagining on my part. Had Mom and Dad had a baby—Maria—before they were married? That would have been sooo frowned upon back then. No wonder they'd keep it secret.

But I couldn't help thinking there was another possibility. Maybe Dad wasn't
her
Dad. That's the one I couldn't let go of. The thought that Maria might have a
different father
had been quite a shock for me—one I really didn't want to think about. I couldn't begin to imagine what it might be like for Maria to find out—
if it was true
.

I mean, Dad had always been Dad. There was never a question. Not to us.

So, before I would be willing to even hint at a scandal or any irregularities, I wanted to be absolutely certain of the facts. Or as certain as I could be, given that Mama and Dad were now both gone.

“Well,” Conner said, drawing in a long breath, “first of all, the birth certificate is legitimate. Maria was, indeed, born before your parents were married. Your father legally adopted her after their marriage. She was about eighteen months old at that time."

"So, that doesn't make sense. We know how many years they were married, We would have noticed if it was after Maria was born."

"Angie, I'm sorry. Perhaps they lied to you to keep up appearances. I checked the court records, and they were married two months before the adoption."

I slowed my pace, my mind reeling. Mom and Dad
lied
to us? It wasn't unheard of for people to have sex and babies before marriage, but how did they keep this a secret from us? If that was true, then…

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask this. So, then, is our Dad Maria's father? Her
real
father? I mean, if he adopted her…” I couldn’t shut up the questions. “And, if he isn't her… her biological… father, then, who would be Maria's real father?” I asked finally.

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Then a cough. “Do you really want me to look into this?”

I stopped walking, causing the people behind me to grumble as they maneuvered around my still figure.

“Angie?” Conner prodded, after a minute had gone by.

“I’m here,” I said. “Yes. Please. Find out who her father is. I think she'll want to know.”

“All right, Angie. I’ll see what I can find out.”

“But, Mr. Conner?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t call the house, okay?” I wasn’t sure what was going on, but for the moment I didn’t want Maria hearing about this from anyone else. Jeez, another secret to keep from my big sister! There were too many of them already.

"Well, Angie, that brings up another problem. You see, I may need Maria's permission to check into the records more closely. While this wasn't a traditional adoption by any means, it can be difficult to obtain this kind of information. Especially from so long ago. She would have a legal right to examine any existing records, while you, as her sibling, might not."

That put a different slant on everything. I might just have to tell Maria after all. I didn't like the way this conversation was going.

“Thanks, Mr. Conner,” I said. "Can you check into things and let me know if you actually need her permission? We can decide what to do once you find out anything."

I shoved the phone back into my purse, even more unsettled after this revelation from Conner. In fact, I felt dazed. This meant there was a possibility that Maria and I weren't full-blood sisters. That didn't matter as far as our relationship, but it certainly brought up a lot more questions for me to sort through.

I took a booth at the back of the little diner. It was quiet and homey and I made it a habit to eat here at least once a week. The waiter, a student working to pay his tuition, reminded me a lot of myself. Well, the "old" self before I'd met Antonio and moved into retail. He was friendly and quick, and knew my order.

“Nice to see you, Angela,” Nick said, bringing me a fizz water and lemon without needing to ask what I wanted to drink.

The familiarity made me smile, snapping me out of my funk. “I guess you know what I’m going to eat, too?” I took a sip of the carbonated water, the bubbles breaking over my tongue.

He grinned. “Shrimp Caesar salad today? Or are you going to surprise me and order a BLT?”

I still had way too many questions running through my head. “How about you surprise me today, Nick?” After all, my world had just been turned on its ear, what did it matter what I ate for lunch?

He tipped an imaginary hat to me. “I know just the thing, Miss Tilson!” he said and walked away.

I appreciated the little diner. The staff here was always so cheerful. The food wasn’t five star, but hominess and charm goes a long way.

I sat back in the booth, glancing over at a newspaper the previous customer had left on the table. Nick apparently hadn't had time to add it to the pile by the door.

“Oh my gosh,” I breathed, grabbing the front page section. There, in full color, was the distinguished looking shuffleboard player from the cruise. He was shaking hands with a woman I didn’t recognize. Behind them was Brad Stephens, the District Attorney, standing shoulder to shoulder with Whiny Walker under a headline in big, bold letters: “South Side Children’s Academy Receives Generous Donation.” The caption read, "Alderman Cartoli presents check to Alice Baker, Director of the Academy."

My mind flashed back to being stuck in my room behind a locked door, listening to Walker’s whiny voice. I shivered as his words came back to me:

"It's bad enough he's on the Board of South Side Children's Academy. I don't trust him to keep his mouth shut about anything, and I certainly don’t plan to let him take any of us down with him. When he goes down, it’s him alone”

At the time, I thought he’d been talking about Stephens, our District Attorney. Yet there the two were, standing side by side, laughing together like they were the best of friends. As I looked more closely, I saw the silhouette of a face I could never forget. Naomi. Standing on the other side of Walker.
What in the world was going on here?

“Ta Da! Here you go,” said Nick, placing a plate in front of me. “This is my favorite.”

The plate was stacked with little triangles—quesadillas, neatly arranged in a half circle, with a scoop of guacamole, and sprinkled with a zesty spice that tickled my nose.

It looked utterly delicious, but, glancing back at that image on the front page, I realized that I’d completely lost my appetite.

“I'm sorry Nick,” I said, the words barely falling from my mouth. “Would you mind packing that up to go?”

Chapter Eighteen

Walking back to the office, I thought about what I'd seen in the paper. Walker, I understood. Naomi was a bit of a surprise, but not entirely—I wouldn't put anything past that woman. And that Cartoli—he was the same guy I'd seen at the shuffleboard—I had no idea we'd had a local politician aboard the cruise.
Where does he fit into all this?

I suppose I shouldn't care. After all, Tony had dropped me as soon as the cruise was over. But regardless of how I felt about him personally, we were still tied together through my agreement. And as long as he held the financial reins, I wanted to get to the bottom of this. If nothing else, to protect my own financial interests.

"Ryan!" I said, remembering the boyish good looks of my traveling companion on the way back from Florida and the cruise. He worked at the D.A.'s office. Maybe he could shed some light on these guys. It wouldn't hurt to find out.

I stepped into the lobby next to the store and rifled through my wallet. I had slipped his card in there at the airport, and never bothered to transfer it into my rolodex at home.

Snatching out the card, I quickly dialed his number, feeling conspicuous and little disloyal. Here I was, calling the D.A.'s office about my boss and his dealings, while I was standing in the lobby of the very building owned by Mancini Enterprises.

Feeling even more foolish, I was about to hang up the phone when the line engaged and his familiar voice floated into my ear.

"You've reached the voicemail for Ryan Burton, Assistant District Attorney. I'm out of the office right now. If you need to speak with someone immediately, press 0 when you hear the beep. Otherwise, please leave a message and I'll return your call as soon as I'm able." *
bleep
* came the tone.

Hm, voicemail. Ok.
"Hi, Ryan. This is Angela, I hope you remember me. We shared a couple drinks on the flight back from Miami. Um, I'm calling to take you up on that rain-check you offered. You can reach me at 555-1122."

Well, that was done. And somehow it made me feel better, as though I was actually doing something. I wondered how long it would be before I heard back. Even more, I wondered what other secrets I might uncover about the mysterious Antonio Mancini and his entourage.

Slipping my cellphone back into my purse, I left the lobby and entered the store through the cosmetics department.