One Month with the Magnate (9 page)

He shrugged again. “I'll be back by midnight, then.”

Estefan left and Emilio went to find Isabelle. She was kneeling on the kitchen floor, cleaning up the oil that spilled by the stove. Only then did he remember that she'd burned her leg, and wondered if it still hurt.

Maybe he should have considered that before he put the moves on her. Of course, he hadn't started it this time, had he? Seducing her had been the last thing on his mind.

Okay, maybe not the
last
thing…

She saw him standing there and shot to her feet. “I'm so sorry. If I had known it was him at the door—”

“I told you to answer it, Isabelle. It's not your fault.”

“He won't tell anyone, will he?”

“He promised not to. He's going to be staying here for a few days. Possibly until Thanksgiving.”

“Oh.”

“It won't change anything. Except maybe you'll be feeding one more person.”

“There are always leftovers, anyway.”

“What he said to you, it was uncalled for. It won't happen again. I told him that he's not allowed to give you a hard time.”

“Because you're the only one allowed to make disparaging comments?”

Something like that. Although now when he thought about saying something rude, it just made him feel like a jerk. He kept thinking about what Alejandro said, about the new developments. That she might be innocent. And even if she was involved somehow, was he so beyond reproach that he felt he had the right to judge her?

That didn't change what she had done to him, and what her father did to his family. For that she was getting exactly what she deserved.

“I'm sorry I ruined breakfast,” she said. “I guess hash browns are a little out of my league.”

Or maybe it was the result of him distracting her. He never would have done it if he had known she would get hurt. “So you'll make easier things from now on.”

“I don't think frying potatoes would be considered complicated. I think I'm just hopeless when it comes to cooking. But thanks for taking care of me. It's been a really long time since someone has done something nice for me. Someone besides my mom, anyway.”

“Your husband didn't do nice things for you?” He didn't mean to ask the question. He didn't give a flying fig what her husband did or didn't do. It just sort of popped out.

“Lenny took very good care of me,” she said, an undercurrent of bitterness in her voice. “I didn't want for a single thing when I was married to him.”

But she wasn't happy, her tone said.

Well, she had made her own bed. Emilio would have given her anything,
done
anything to make her happy. But that hadn't been enough for her.

Her loss.

She pulled off her gloves, wincing a bit when it jostled her bandaged finger.

“It still hurts?” he asked, and she shrugged. “Any signs of infection?”

“It's fine.”

That was her standard answer. It could be black with gangrene and she would probably say it was fine. “When was the last time you changed the dressing?”

“Last night…I think.”

From the condition of the bandage he would guess it was closer to the night before last. Clearly she wasn't taking care of it. He didn't want to be responsible if it got infected.

He held out his hand. “Let's see it.”

She didn't even bother arguing, she just held her hand out to him. He peeled the bandage off. The cut itself had
closed, but the area around it was inflamed. There's no way she could not have known it was infected. “Damn, Isabelle, are you
trying
to lose a finger?”

“I've been busy.”

“Too busy to take care of yourself?” He dropped her hand. “You still have the antibiotic ointment?”

She nodded.

“Use it. I want you to put a fresh dressing on it three times a day until the infection is cleared up.”

“I will. I promise.”

“I need you to get one of the guest rooms ready. Preferably the one farthest from mine. Estefan will be back later tonight.”

“So, he's not here?”

“He just left.”

She was watching him expectantly. He wasn't sure why, but then he remembered what he'd told her when the doorbell rang, that he wasn't finished with her.

“About what happened earlier. I think it would be best if we keep things professional from now on.”

“Oh,” she said, her eyes filled with confusion. And rejection. He shouldn't have felt like a heel, but he did. Isn't this what he'd wanted? To get her all worked up, then reject her? Well, the plan had worked brilliantly. Even better than he'd anticipated. What he hadn't counted on was how much he would want her, too.

“Well, I had better get the room ready,” she said. She paused, as though she was waiting for him to say something, and when he didn't, she walked away, leaving him feeling like the world's biggest jerk.

The last few weeks had been stressful to say the least. He would be relieved when Isabelle was gone, and the
investigation at the refinery came to a close, and he was securely in the position of CEO. Life would be perfect.

So why did he have the sneaking suspicion it wouldn't be so simple?

S
o much for hoping Emilio might forgive her, that he still wanted her. He wanted to keep their relationship
professional.
And they had come so close this afternoon. If it hadn't been for Estefan showing up…

Oh, well. Easy come, easy go.

Clearly he didn't want Estefan knowing he was involved with someone like her. It was bad enough she was living in his house. And could she blame him for feeling that way? Aside from the fact that her father had ruined their mother's reputation, Isabelle was a criminal.

Alleged
criminal, she reminded herself.

Unfortunately, now Emilio seemed to be shutting her out completely. He hadn't come out of his office all day, or said more than a word or two to her. No insults or wry observations. He'd even eaten his dinner at his desk. Just when she'd gotten used to him sitting in the kitchen making fun of her.

Isabelle loaded the last of the dinner dishes in the dishwasher and set it to run. It was only eight and all her work for the day was finished, but the idea of sitting around feeling sorry for herself on a Saturday night was depressing beyond words. Maybe it was time she paid her mom another visit. They could watch a movie or play a game of Scrabble. She could use a little cheering up, and she knew that no matter what, her mother was there for her.

If Emilio would let her go. The only way she could get there, short of making her mother come get her, or taking a cab, was to use his car. She could lie and say she was going grocery shopping, but when she came home empty-handed he would definitely be suspicious. And would he really buy her going shopping on a Saturday night? Besides, she didn't like lying.

She could just sneak out without telling him, and deal with the consequences when she got back.

Yeah, that was probably the way to go.

She changed out of her uniform, grabbed her purse and sweater and when she walked back into the kitchen for the car keys Emilio was there, getting an apple from the fridge. He looked surprised to see her in her street clothes.

Well, shoot. So much for sneaking out.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.

“I finished all my work so I thought I would go see my mother. I won't be late.”

“Did Estefan get back yet?”

“Not yet.”

“You're taking the Saab?”

She nodded, bracing for an argument.

“Well, then, drive safe.”

Drive safe? That was
it?
Wasn't he going to give her a hard time about going out? Or say something about her
taking his car for personal use? Instead he walked out of the kitchen and a few seconds later she heard his office door close.

Puzzled, she headed out to the garage, wondering what had gotten into him. Not that she liked it when he acted like an overbearing jerk. But this was just too weird.

The drive to her mother's apartment was only fifteen minutes. Her car was in the lot, and the light was on in her living room. Isabelle parked and walked to the door. She heard laughter from inside and figured that her mother was watching television. She knocked, and a few seconds later the door opened.

“Isabelle!” her mom said, clearly surprised to see her. “What are you doing here?”

“Mrs. Smith didn't need me for the night and I was bored. I thought we could watch a movie or something.”

Normally her mother would invite her right in, but she stood blocking the doorway. She looked nervous. “Oh, well…now isn't a good time.”

Isabelle frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing.” She glanced over her shoulder. “It's just…I have company.”

Company? Though Isabelle hadn't noticed at first, her mother looked awfully well put together for a quiet night at home. Her hair was swept up and she wore a skirt and blouse that Isabelle had never seen before. She looked beautiful. But for whom?

“Adriana, who is it?” a voice asked. A
male
voice.

Her mother had a
man
over?

As far as Isabelle knew, she hadn't dated anyone since her husband died three years ago. She had serious trust issues. And who wouldn't after thirty-five years with a bastard like Isabelle's father?

But was he a boyfriend? A casual acquaintance?

Her mother blushed, and she stepped back from the door. “Come in.”

Isabelle stepped into the apartment and knew immediately that this was no “friendly” social call. There were lit candles on the coffee table and an open bottle of wine with two glasses. The good crystal, Isabelle noted.

“Isabelle, this is Ben McPherson. Ben, this is my daughter.”

Isabelle wasn't sure what she expected, but it sure wasn't the man who stood to greet her.

“Isabelle!” he said, reaching out to shake her hand, pumping it enthusiastically. “Good to finally meet you!”

He was big and boisterous with longish salt-and-pepper hair, dressed in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt. He looked like an ex-hippie, with a big question mark on the
ex,
and seemed to exude happiness and good nature from every pore. He was also the polar opposite of Isabelle's father.

And though she had known him a total of five seconds, Isabelle couldn't help but like him.

“Ben owns the coffee shop next to the boutique where I work,” her mother said.

“Would you like to join us?” Ben asked. “We were just getting ready to pop in a movie.”

The fact that she almost accepted his offer was a testament to how low her life had sunk. The last thing her mother needed was Isabelle crashing her dates. Being the third wheel was even worse than being alone.

“Maybe some other time.”

“Are you sure you can't stay for a quick glass of wine?”

“Not while I'm driving. But it was very nice meeting you, Ben.”

“You, too, Isabelle.”

“I'll walk you to your car,” her mother said, and she told Ben, “I'll be right back.”

Isabelle followed her mother out the door, shutting it behind them.

“Are you upset?” her mother asked, looking worried.

“About what?”

“That I have a man friend.”

“Of course not! Why would I be upset? I want you to be happy. Ben seems very nice.”

A shy smile tilted her lips. “He is. I get coffee in his shop before work. He's asked me out half a dozen times, and I finally said yes.”

“So you like him?”

“He still makes me a little nervous, but he's such a nice man. He knows all about the indictment, but he doesn't care.”

“He sounds like a keeper.” She nudged her mom and asked, “Is he a good kisser?”

“Isabelle!” she said, looking scandalized. “I haven't kissed anyone but your father since I was sixteen. To be honest, the idea is a little scary.”

They got to the car and Isabelle turned to face her. “Are you physically attracted to him?”

She smiled shyly and nodded. “I think I just need to take things slow.”

“And he understands that?”

“We've talked. About your father, and the way things used to be. He's such a good listener.”

“How many times have you seen him?”

“This is our third date.”

She'd seen him
three
times and hadn't said anything? Isabelle thought they told each other everything.

And who was she to talk when she'd told her mother she worked for the fictional Mrs. Smith?

“You're upset,” her mother said, looking crestfallen.

“No, just a little surprised.”

“I wanted to tell you, I was just…embarrassed, I guess. If that makes any sense. I keep thinking that he's going to figure out that I'm not such a great catch, and every date we go on will be our last.”

She could thank Isabelle's dad for that. He'd put those ideas into her head.

“He's lucky to have you and I'm sure he knows it.”

“He does seem to like me. He's already talking about what we'll do next weekend.”

“Well, then, I'd better let you get back inside.” She gave her mother a hug. “Have fun, but not
too
much fun. Although after three dates, I would seriously consider letting him kiss you.”

Her mother smiled. “I will.”

“I'll see you Thursday, then. Is there anything you need me to bring?”

“Oh, I was thinking…well, the thing is, my oven here isn't very reliable, and…actually, Ben invited me to Thanks giving dinner with him and a few of his friends. I thought you could come along.”

That would be beyond awkward, especially when his friends found out who she was. But she could see that her mother really wanted to go, and she wouldn't out of guilt if Isabelle didn't come up with a viable excuse.

“Mrs. Smith's family asked me to have dinner with them,” she lied. “They've been so kind to me, the truth is I felt bad telling them no. So if you want to eat with Ben and his friends, that's fine.”

“Are you sure? We always spend Thanksgiving together.”

Not after this year, unless her mother wanted to eat at the women's correctional facility. It was good that she was making new friends, getting on with her life. To fill the void when Isabelle was gone.

She forced a smile. “I'm sure.”

She gave her one last hug, then got in the car. Her mother waved as she drove off. It seemed as if she was finally getting on with her life. Isabelle wanted her to be happy, so why did she feel like dropping her head on the steering wheel and sobbing?

Probably because, for a long, long time, Isabelle and her mom had no one but each other. They were a team.

Her mother had someone else now. And who did Isabelle have? Pretty much no one.

But she was not going to feel sorry for herself, damn it. What would be the point of creating new relationships now anyway, when in five weeks she would be going to prison?

She didn't feel like going back to Emilio's yet, so instead she drove around for a while. When she reached the edge of town, she was tempted to just keep going. To drive far from here, away from her life. A place where no one knew her and she could start over.

But running away never solved anything.

It was nearly eleven when she steered the car back to Emilio's house. She parked in the garage next to his black Ferrari and headed inside, dropping her purse and sweater in her room before she walked out to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. She put the kettle on to boil and fished around the cupboard above the coffeemaker on her tiptoes for a box of tea bags.

“Need help?”

She felt someone lean in beside her. She looked up, expecting to find Emilio, but it was Estefan standing there.

She jerked away, feeling…violated. He was charming, and attractive—although not even close to as good-looking as Emilio—but something about him always gave her the creeps. Even when they were younger, when his mother
would drive them to school, Isabelle didn't like the way he would look at her. Even though he was a few years younger, he made her nervous.

He still did. She had to dig extra deep to maintain her show-no-fear attitude.

Estefan flashed her an oily smile and held out the box of tea bags. She took it from him. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He leaned against the counter and folded his arms.
Watching
her.

“Did Emilio show you to your room?” she asked, mainly because she didn't know what else to say.

“Yep. It's great place, isn't it?” He looked around the kitchen. “My brother did pretty well for himself.”

“He has.”

“Probably makes you regret screwing him over.”

So much for Estefan not giving her a hard time. She should have anticipated this.

“It looks like you've got a pretty sweet deal going here,” Estefan said.

She wondered how much Emilio had told him. From the tone of their conversation at the front door—yes, she'd eavesdropped for a minute or two—Emilio hadn't been happy to see his brother. Would he confide in someone he didn't trust? And what difference did it make?

“You get to live in his house, drive his cars, eat his food. It begs the question, what is he getting in return?”

Housekeeping and cooking. But clearly that wasn't what he meant. He seemed certain there was more to it than that. Why didn't he just come right out and call her a whore?

The kettle started to boil so she walked around the island to the stove to fix her tea. Emilio had belittled and insulted her, but that had been different somehow. Less…sinister and vindictive. She just hoped that if she didn't
give him the satisfaction of a reaction, Estefan would get bored and leave her alone.

No such luck.

He stepped up behind her. So close she could almost feel his body heat. The cloying scent of his aftershave turned her stomach.

“My brother is too much of a nice guy to realize he's being used.”

She had the feeling that the only one using Emilio was Estefan, but she kept her mouth shut. And as much as she would like to tell Emilio how Estefan was treating her, she would never put herself in the middle of their relationship. She would only be around a few weeks. Emilio and Estefan would be brothers for life.

She turned to walk back to her room, but Estefan was blocking her way. “Excuse me.”

“You didn't say
please.
”

She met his steely gaze with one of her own, and after several seconds he let her through. She forced herself to walk slowly to her room. The door didn't have a lock, so she shoved the folding chair under the doorknob—just in case. She didn't really think Estefan would get physical with her, especially with his brother in the house. But better safe than sorry.

Life at Emilio's hadn't exactly been a picnic, but it hadn't been terrible, either, and she'd always felt safe. She had the feeling that with Estefan around, those days were over.