One Month with the Magnate (11 page)

“Did you love him?”

She bit her lip and looked away.

“Isabelle?”

After a long pause she said, “I…respected him.”

“Is that your way of saying you were just in it for the money?”

She didn't deny it. She didn't say anything at all.

If she loved Betts, Emilio would understand her leaving
him. It sucked, but he could accept it. Knowing it was only about the money, seeing the truth on her face, knowing that she'd really been that shallow, disturbed him on too many levels to count.

“This was a mistake,” he said. He pushed himself up from the bed and grabbed his pants.

“Emilio—”

“No. This never should have happened. I don't know what the hell I was thinking.”

She was quiet for several seconds, and he waited to see what she would do. Would she apologize and beg him to stay? Tell him she made a horrible mistake? And would it matter if she did?

“You're right,” she finally said, avoiding his gaze. “It was a mistake.”

She was agreeing with him, and she was right, so why did he feel like putting his fist through the wall?

He tugged his pants on.

“So, what now?” she asked.

“Meaning what?”

“Are you going to back out on our deal?”

He grabbed his shirt from off the floor. “No, Isabelle, I won't. I keep my word. But I would really appreciate if you would stay out of my way. And I'll stay out of yours.”

He was pretty sure he saw tears in her eyes as he jerked the door open and walked out. And just when he thought this night couldn't get any worse, his brother was sitting in the kitchen eating a sandwich and caught him red-handed.

Damn it.

When he saw Emilio his eyes widened, then a wry smile curled his mouth.

Emilio glared at him. “Don't say a word.”

Estefan shrugged. “None of my business, bro.”

Emilio wished Estefan had walked into the kitchen
before Isabelle started her stripping routine, then none of this would have happened.

But one thing he knew for damned sure, it was not going to happen again.

T
his was for the best.

At least, that was what Isabelle had been trying to tell herself all day. She would rather have Emilio hate her, than fall in love and endure losing her again. That wouldn't be fair. Not to either of them. She was tired of feeling guilty for hurting him. She just wanted it to be over. For good.

She should have left things alone, should never have opened her robe, offered herself to him, but she'd figured for him it was just sex. She never imagined he might still have feelings for her, but he must have, or it wouldn't have matter if she loved Lenny or not.

She ran the vacuum across the carpet in the guest room, cringing at the memory of his stunned expression when he realized she was a virgin. She didn't know he would be able to tell. A testament to how naive and inexperienced she was. But as first times go, she was guessing it had been way above average. Everything she had ever hoped, and
she couldn't regret it. She loved Emilio. She'd wanted him to be her first. As far as she was concerned, it was meant to be.

Except for the part where he stormed off mad.

When he'd asked her about Lenny, she had almost told him the truth. It had been sitting there on the tip of her tongue. Now she was relieved she hadn't. It was better that he thought the worst of her.

She turned to do the opposite side of the room, jolting with alarm when she realized Estefan was leaning in the bedroom doorway watching her.

His mere presence in the house put her on edge, but when he watched her—and he did that a lot—it gave her the creeps. When she dusted the living room he would park himself on the couch with a magazine, or if she was fixing dinner he would come in for a snack and sit at one of the island stools. Occasionally he would assault her with verbal barbs, which she generally ignored. But most of the time he just stared at her.

It was beyond unsettling.

Estefan raised the beer he was holding to his lips and took a swallow. Isabelle had distinctly heard him tell Emilio that he was clean and sober, yet the second he rolled out of bed every day, which was usually noon or later, he went straight to the fridge for a cold one.

The breakfast of champions.

It wasn't her place to tattle on Estefan, and even if she told Emilio what he was doing, she doubted he would believe her. It was also the reason she didn't tell him that she'd caught Estefan in his office going through his desk. He claimed he'd been looking for a pen, when she knew for a fact he'd been trying to get into the locked file drawer.

He was definitely up to something.

She turned off the vacuum. She knew she should keep
her mouth shut, but she couldn't help herself. “Would you care for some pretzels to go with that?”

“Funny.” His greasy smile made her skin crawl. “Where are the keys for the Ferrari?”

“Why?”

“I need to borrow it.”

“I have no idea. Why don't you call Emilio and ask him?”

“I don't want to bother him.”

No, he knew his brother would say no, so it was easier to take it without his permission.

“I guess I'll have to take the Saab instead.”

“Why don't you take your bike?”

“No gas. Unless you want to loan me twenty bucks. I'm good for it.”

She glared at him. Even if she had twenty bucks she wouldn't give it to him. He shouldn't even be driving. He would be endangering not only himself, but everyone else on the road.

He shrugged. “The Saab it is, then.”

It wasn't as if she could stop him. Short of calling the police and reporting him, she had no recourse. And in her experience, the police never really helped anyway.

Besides, she had enough to worry about in her own life without sticking her nose into Estefan's business.

“So, this arrangement not working out the way you planned it?” Estefan asked.

She wondered what Emilio had told him, if anything.

“Still a virgin at thirty-four.” He shook his head. “Let me guess, was your husband impotent, or did you just freeze him out?”

The humiliation she felt was matched only by her anger at Emilio for telling Estefan her private business. She knew
he was mad, but this was uncalled for. Was that his way of getting back at her?

Estefan flashed her that greasy smile again. “If you needed someone to take care of business, all you had to do was ask. I'm twice the man my brother is.”

The thought of Estefan coming anywhere near her was nauseating. “Not if you were the last man on earth.”

His expression darkened. “We'll see about that,” he said, then walked away.

She wasn't sure what he meant by that, but the possibilities made her feel uneasy. He wouldn't have the nerve to try something, would he?

Tomorrow was Thanksgiving and he was supposed to be leaving. She would just have to watch her back until then.

 

Emilio's Thanksgiving was not going well so far.

He stood in his closet, fresh out of a shower, holding up the shirt Isabelle had just ironed for him, noting the scorch mark on the left sleeve. “This is a three hundred dollar silk shirt, Isabelle.”

“I'm sorry,” she said, yet she didn't really look sorry.

“I just wanted it lightly pressed. Not burned to a crisp.”

“I didn't realize the iron was set so hot. I'll replace it.”

“After you pay me back for the rug? And the casserole dish you broke. And the load of whites that you dyed pink. Not to mention the grocery bill that has mysteriously risen by almost twelve percent since you've been here.”

“Maybe I could stay an extra week or two and work off what I owe you.”

Terrific idea. But she would inevitably break something else and wind up owing him even more. Besides, he didn't want her in his house any longer than necessary. If there was any way he could get his housekeeper back today and
let Isabelle go on time served, he would, but he'd promised her a month off.

He balled the shirt up and tossed it in the trash can in the corner. “It would probably be in everyone's best interest if you avoided using the iron.”

She nodded.

He turned to grab a different shirt and a pair of slacks. He was about to drop his towel, when he noticed she was still standing there.

He raised a brow. “You want to watch me get dressed?”

“I wasn't sure if you were finished.”

“Finished what?”

“Yelling at me.”

“I wasn't
yelling.
”

“Okay, disciplining me.”

“If I were disciplining you, it would have involved some sort of punishment.” Not that he couldn't think of a few. Putting her over his knee was one that came to mind. She could use a sound spanking. But he'd promised himself he was going to stop thinking of her in a sexual way and view her as an employee. Tough when he couldn't seem to stop picturing her naked and writhing beneath him.

“How about…chastising?” she said. “Dressing-down?”

“Exaggerate much? I was
talking
to you.”

“If you say so.”

Why the sudden attitude? If anyone had the right to be pissed, it was him.

“Is there anything else you need?” she asked.

“Could you tell my brother to be ready in twenty minutes?”

She saluted him and walked out.

He'd like to know what had gotten her panties in such a twist. Maybe she just didn't like the fact that he'd called her out on her marriage being a total sham. That he'd more
or less made her admit she married Betts for his money. In which case she was getting exactly what she deserved.

He got dressed, slipped on his cashmere jacket and grabbed his wallet. Estefan was waiting for him in the kitchen. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt that was inappropriately open for a family holiday gathering, and the thick gold chain was downright tacky, but Emilio kept his mouth shut. Estefan was trying. He'd been on his best behavior all week.

Almost
too
good.

“Ready to go?”

“I'll bet you want to let me drive,” Estefan said.

Reformed or not, he was not getting behind the wheel of a car that cost Emilio close to half a million dollars. “I'll bet I don't.”

Estefan grumbled as they walked out to the garage. Emilio was about to climb in the driver's seat of the Ferrari when he glanced over at the Saab. “Son of a—”

“What's the matter?” Estefan asked.

The rear quarter panel was buckled. For a second he considered that someone had hit it while it was parked, but then he looked closer and noticed the fleck of yellow paint embedded in the black. Not car paint. More like what they used on parking barriers.

He shook his head. “Damn it!”

“Bro, go easy on her. I'm gonna bet she's used to having a driver. It's a wonder she even remembers how to drive.”

He walked to the door, yanked it open and yelled, “Isabelle!”

She emerged from her room, looking exasperated. “What did I do this time?”

“Like you don't already know.” He gestured her into the garage.

She stepped out. “What?”

“The
car.
”

She looked at the Saab. “What about it?

Why was she playing dumb? She knew what she did. “The other side.”

She walked around, and as soon as she saw the damage her mouth fell open. “What happened?”

“Are you telling me you don't recall running into some thing?”

She looked from Emilio, to Estefan, then back to the car. She didn't even have the courtesy to look embarrassed for lying to him. She squared her shoulders and said, “Put it on my tab.”

That was it? That was all she had to say? “You might have mentioned this.”

“Why? So you could make bad driver jokes about me?”

“What the hell has gotten into you, Isabelle?”

She shrugged. “I guess I'm finally showing my true colors. Living up to your expectations. You should be happy.”

She turned and walked back into the house, slamming the door behind her.

“Nice girl,” Estefan said.

No, this wasn't like her at all. “Get in the car.”

When they were on the road Estefan said, “Dude, she's not worth it.”

He knew that, in his head. Logically, they had no future together. The trick was getting the message to his heart. The protective shell he'd built around it was beginning to crumble. He was starting to feel exposed and vulnerable, and he didn't like it.

“Make her leave,” Estefan said.

“I can't do that. I gave her my word.” Besides, he didn't think she had anywhere else to go.

“Dude, you don't owe her anything.”

He'd promised to help her, and in his world, that still meant something. Estefan hadn't kept a promise in his entire life.

They drove the rest of the way to Alejandro's house in silence.

When they stepped through the door, the kids tackled them in the foyer, getting sticky fingerprints all over Emilio's cashmere jacket and slacks, but he didn't care.

“Kids! Give your uncles a break,” Alejandro scolded, but he knew they didn't mind.

Chris, the baby, was clinging to Emilio's leg, so he hoisted him up high over his head until he squealed with delight, then gave him a big hug. Reggie, the six-year-old, tugged frantically on his jacket.

“Hey, Uncle Em! Guess what! I'm going to be big brother again!”

“Your dad told me. That's great.”

“Jeez, dude,” Estefan said with a laugh. “
Four
kids.”

Alejandro grinned and shrugged. “Alana wanted to try for a girl. After all these years I still can't tell her no.”

“I think she should make a boy,” Reggie said. “I don't want a sister.”

Emilio laughed and ruffled the boy's hair. “I think she'll get what she gets.”

“Hey, Uncle Em, guess who's here!” Alex, the nine-year-old said, hopping excitedly.

“Alex.”
Alejandro shot his oldest a warning look. “It's supposed to be a surprise.”

“Who's here?” Emilio asked him, and from behind him he heard someone say, “Hey, big brother.”

He spun around to see his youngest brother, Enrique, standing in the kitchen doorway. He laughed and said, “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were halfway around the world.”

“Mama talked me into it and Alejandro bought my ticket.” He hugged Emilio, then Estefan.

“You look great,” Estefan told him. “But I'll bet Mama's not very happy about the long hair and goatee.”

“She's not,” their mama said from the kitchen doorway, hands on her hips, apron tied around her slim waist. She was a youthful fifty-eight, considering the hard life she'd lived. First growing up in the slums of Cuba, then losing her husband so young and raising four boys alone.

“He does look a little scruffy,” Alana teased, joining them in the foyer.

“But I finally have all my boys together,” their mama said. “And that's all that matters.”

Emilio gave his sister-in-law a hug and kiss. “Congratulations, sis.”

She grinned. “I'm crazy, right? In this family I'm probably more likely to give birth to conjoined twins than a girl.”

Emilio shrugged. “It could happen.”

“Why are we all standing around in the foyer?” Alejandro said. “Why don't we move this party to the kitchen?”

For a day that had begun so lousy, it turned out to be the best Thanksgiving in years. The food was fantastic and it was great to have the whole family together again. The best part was that his mama was so excited to have Enrique home, it took her several hours to get around to nagging Emilio about settling down.

“It's not right, you living alone in that big house,” she said, as they all sat in the living room, having after dinner drinks. Except Estefan, who was on the floor wrestling with the nephews. He'd been on his best behavior all day.