Taste for Trouble (44 page)

James
sent Vivi a grave smile. “I’m glad you stopped by, Vivi.”

“Bel’s
my daughter,” Vivi whispered. She reached out as if to touch Bel’s knee. Bel
gave that hand a stony glance and it fluttered weakly back to her mother’s lap.
“I needed to be here for her.” Her lashes drooped. “Whether I was welcome or
not.”

“How
commendable.”

“Oh,
you’re sweet.” Vivi’s dimples winked sadly. “But it’s a mother’s duty to put
her child first, and I—”

“So
true.” James drew several sheets of paper from the envelope and came around the
desk to hand them to Vivi. “I wonder, then, where that conviction was the whole
time Bel was growing up.”

“Excuse
me?” She peered at the papers, confusion knitting her brow. “What are these?”

“Belinda’s
school records.” He leaned back against the edge of the desk and folded his
arms. “That’s fourth grade you’re looking at. Five separate schools in the one
year alone. Four of the schools were in the U.S.—New York, Seattle, DC and
then, let’s see, LA, was it?—and the fifth was in Switzerland.”

“I
was a single mother.” Vivi blinked bravely. “I had to provide—”

“I’ve
seen your tax returns, Ms. Pietrantoni.” James pinned Vivi with a cool look. “You
have an impressive trust fund. And while I’ll admit you
were
a mother—biologically
speaking, at least—you were hardly ever single. Each of these moves corresponds
exactly with the start or end of a high-profile romance. Of which you’ve had
more than a few.” James’ smile was distinctly unfriendly. “It appears that
you’re addicted to love, Vivi.”

Drew
snorted out a laugh. “
She’s so fine, there’s no telling where the money went
.”
Even Bel turned to blink at him. He grinned. “Robert Palmer. You don’t know that
one? “Addicted to Love?” Video of the eighties, man. It was...” He cleared his
throat. “I’ll stop now.”

“Three
more schools in fifth grade,” James went on. “Only two in the sixth. Not bad. Then
seventh grade happened.”

Bel’s
stomach went cold and Vivi looked away. “I gather that’s supposed to mean
something to me?”

“That’s
the year you decided to drop Bel off with your parents for a few months while
you followed your race car driver boyfriend all over Europe.”

“She
needed to be in school,” Vivi said airily. “I should put my life on hold in
order to supervise algebra homework?”

“Your
father died of a massive stroke two months after Bel moved in, and your mother
overdosed on sleeping pills two days after that. It was ruled accidental, of
course.”

“I
know when and how my parents died, Mr. Blake. Thank you for bringing up the
memories.”

“So
you should also remember that it took the executors of your parents’ estate six
weeks to even determine your whereabouts. It took another three weeks for you
to wrap up your European vacation and head home. Nine weeks, Ms. Pietrantoni. Did
you ever wonder where Bel was during this time? Who was caring for her?”

Bel
stared at James. He knew. All this time, he’d known?

Vivi
lifted a languid shoulder. “My parents were extremely well-off, Mr. Blake. I
assumed there was a nanny or a maid—”

“She
was made a ward of the state,” James said, and Bel couldn’t suppress the
flinch. Even after all these years, she couldn’t suppress the flinch. Annie’s
hand came gently to her shoulder, then Audrey’s to the other. “She spent nine
weeks in Juvenile Hall—eating, sleeping, learning, and bathing with troubled,
unstable and potentially violent girls while you jetted around Europe with your
boyfriend.”

“I
came for her,” Vivi said petulantly. “I did come for her.”

“Eventually,
yes.” James took the stack of papers from Vivi’s unresisting fingers. “And cooperated
fully when she petitioned to become a legally emancipated minor at age
sixteen.”

“Belinda’s
always had a strong mind. She knew what she wanted. Who was I to—”

“Her
mother
,” James spat, fury finally snapping his control, and Bel blinked.
She’d seen him slip his civilized skin a time or two, but never on her behalf. This
was...revelatory. And hot. He leaned down into her mother’s face, rage pumping
off him with almost tangible heat. Bel felt warm for the first time in weeks. “You
were her
mother
.”

But
Vivi didn’t shrink. Bel knew she wouldn’t. She watched as Vivi latched onto his
anger, drinking it in like a woman dying of thirst. She leaned right back into
his face, greed and gratification sparkling in her eyes.

“That’s
right. I was. I
am
her mother, and I always will be.”

“James,
don’t.” Bel watched with dull disgust as her mother all but bloomed under the
attention. “You’re just giving her what she wants.” She sat back, weary beyond
description. “She’s nothing but a junkie looking for a fix.”

“A
junkie!” Vivi sounded genuinely outraged at that one but Bel didn’t even look
at her.

“I
know,” James said grimly. He ignored Vivi, too. “It took me a bit but I figured
it out. The endless string of troubled relationships, the constant moving
around, the pathological selfishness. Her decision to ambush you at the biggest,
most important event of your career in the name of motherly duty, and in a very
flattering period costume.” His lips twisted. “I didn’t figure she could
possibly resist anything so juicy as a funeral, so I came prepared.”

“To
what?”

“To
cut her off. She’s not your family anymore.” He shifted his gaze back to Vivi. “I
am.” He glanced around the room. “
We
are.”

Vivi
smiled. “You don’t choose your family, Mr. Blake.”

“Of
course you do.” James eased forward until his shadow fell across Vivi’s lap. “Your
actions choose for you, every single day. That’s why you’re nothing to Bel
anymore. She kicked you to the curb when she was sixteen, and I have nothing
but admiration for the wisdom it took to see you for the parasite you are. For
the courage to do something about it.”

A
splash of hectic color glowed at Vivi’s cheekbones but her eyes were
murderously cold. “I’m getting bored of this conversation, Mr. Blake.”

“Yes,
it’s clear you’re bored easily and often. My mother used to say it was a sign
of poor intellectual development. Smart people are rarely bored. But as I have
no desire to tax your limited attention span, I’ll get right down to business.”
He put the papers back in her hand. “Have a look at those, Vivi.”

Vivi
frowned down on them.

“That
right there is a copy of Bel’s academic record. You’ve also got a transcript of
her emancipation hearing. Last in the stack, though? Those are written
evaluations of your psyche by, oh, half a dozen or so of the country’s most
well-respected psychiatrists.” He smiled coldly. “As it turns out, you’re a
narcissistic sociopath, Vivi. Not a well woman. And if you ever again show your
face on this property or at a public event Bel or I are attending, you’ll see
the inside of a mental institution before you can say
But I’m not crazy
.”

“Excuse
me?”

“I’d
recommend moving back overseas, myself. Because you may not believe this, but
I’m a likeable guy. I have a
lot
of friends. Famous friends. Rich
friends. The kind of friends gossip columnists really like. The kind they can’t
make a living without, actually. All of whom have agreed to blackball any
journalist who gives you so much as a blog mention.” He leaned forward, his
face cold and hard. “You understand what I’m saying here, Vivi?”

“I
understand that coming here was a colossal mistake.” Vivi’s lips were a
quivering line. “One I won’t be repeating.” She turned to Bel, her face pale
and tragic, her eyes blazing with fury. “I only ever wanted to love you,
Belinda. How you turned into such a vindictive, ungrateful—”

“Finish
that thought and every poor bastard who looks at you twice gets a copy of
what’s in your hands.”

Vivi’s
voice cut out abruptly.

“I
can
ruin you, Vivi. Happy to do it, in fact. So you’ll want to step right carefully
there.”

She sucked
in a sharp breath, tipped her nose into the air and sailed toward the exit. Drew
stepped aside and helpfully pulled open the door for her. The crowd parted
before her like the Red Sea and then she was gone.

Bel stood
up on shaking legs. She tipped her head and eyed James like she’d never seen
him before. She let a beat of ringing silence pass. He shifted uncomfortably.

“You
hacked into my school records,” she said finally.

Drew
raised his hand like an eager pupil. “No, that was me.”

“It
was all of us.” James tried a smile. “But it
was
sort of an accident, if
it helps. We were combing the internet for old addresses after you took off and
sort of...stumbled across some stuff.”

“Your
court records, too.” Drew shook his head. “The great State of Virginia really
ought to look into better computer security.”

“I
see,” Bel murmured, and Ford excused himself to take a phone call that she
suspected didn’t exist. Self-incrimination made him nervous.

James
sank back onto the desk behind him. He gripped the edge at his hips and stared
at his shoes. “Listen, I’m sorry if I stepped on your toes, or embarrassed you
or anything, but I underestimated Vivi once before and she almost destroyed us.
And, worse, she
hurt
you.” He looked up abruptly and what she saw
blazing in his eyes had her sucking in a sharp breath. “And I will
never
let that happen again. Do you hear me? So I’m sorry if I hung out your dirty
laundry or whatever but don’t ask me to apologize for going to war, because I
won’t. I’d do it again tomorrow. Five minutes from now. Whenever I need to. I—”

“I
wasn’t going to.” She stepped forward on wobbly legs. “God, James, I wasn’t
going to. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I mean, I never expected—” She
twitched a shoulder and groped for words to describe what she’d just
experienced.

“Never
expected what?” he asked softly.

“To
face the enemy with an army at my back,” she said finally. “No, not an army. A
family
.”
She reached a trembling hand to him while wonder blew sweet and wild inside her.
“Thank you. James, I—”

He
came off the desk with the speed and deadly grace that justified everything the
DC Statesmen paid him. Before she had any idea he was even planning a move, his
arms were around her, banded so tightly she could hardly breathe. Her throat
was too tight for breathing anyway so she didn’t bother trying. She just threw
her arms around him and held on.

“You’re
mine now, Bel.” He murmured it into her hair, low and fierce. “You’re not hers,
you’re
mine
. I’m your family, I’m your home, I’m your port in the
fucking storm or whatever. Your fight is my fight, Bel.”

“What
we have, we share?” She gave a watery laugh. “Even my crazy mom?”

“Yeah.”
He cupped her shoulders in both hands and drew back to glare at her. “So get
used to it.”

She
could do that.

“Hey,
James?”

“Yeah?”

“I
love you.”

He
didn’t answer. He just hauled her up onto her toes and kissed her until her
toes curled inside her sensible black pumps and her greedy hands had wrinkled
the hell out of the crisp white shirt she’d ironed just that afternoon.

She
could, she thought vaguely, get used to this, too. But she hoped she never did.

EPILOGUE

Will
was standing on the front porch of the Annex—had been for five minutes,
probably—when the door opened of its own accord and Bel’s mom stalked out. Well.
That probably wasn’t good. He ought to get in there. He eyed the door Vivi had
left conveniently open.

Go
on, you cowardly goat fucker
. It was
Bob’s voice in his head, gravelly and amused.
Get your ass in there
.

Will
sighed. Upon his death, Bob had given Will his business, a month to dry out,
and now—Jesus—his voice as a conscience. Evidently Bob had been stone-cold
serious about that haunting-your-lazy-ass-into-eternity thing.

Nice.

It’s
not going to be easier in another five minutes, Nancy. Grow a pair, why don’t
you? Just face her and get it over with
.

Will
wondered if Bob was talking about Bel or Audrey. Because God knew he hadn’t
left either relationship in precisely good repair. He was too sober now to go
around laying fat wet ones on unwilling women—and thank Christ for that—but sobriety
wasn’t a Get Out Of Jail Free card. Or so he’d been told, and at length. It had
been a long thirty days. As a result, however, he accepted that he had a couple
well deserved face-slappings coming his way, and James owed him a solid punch. He
also accepted that he would have to take them like a man.

Would
they all swing on him at once, he wondered? Line up? Take turns? Here in front
of the crowd, or maybe in private?