Читать книгу Bound By Their Nine-Month Scandal (Dani Collins) онлайн бесплатно на Bookz (3-ая страница книги)
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Bound By Their Nine-Month Scandal
Bound By Their Nine-Month Scandal
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Bound By Their Nine-Month Scandal

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Bound By Their Nine-Month Scandal

“I’m very sorry,” she apologized again. “I’ve been fighting something all week and should have canceled.”

“In sickness and in health, right?” His bold calling out of today’s less than subtle agenda made her stomach roil all over again. She couldn’t lead him on if she was carrying another man’s child.

“Sebastián, I think we should slow down.”

He took his foot off the accelerator, instantly alert. “Oh, you mean—” He glanced at her, then made an abrupt turn into the parking lot of a mechanic’s garage. “Did I say something to offend you?”

“Not at all. But something has come up that makes me think it’s best if we put off discussions until the new year.”

She tried for a polite smile and a poker face, but the longer he searched her expression, the more culpable she felt. She had to look away.

He cleared his throat, then spoke carefully. “It may surprise you to hear there are very few circumstances that would put me off what we’re contemplating.”

She licked her numb lips. “You don’t realize how serious this circumstance might be.”

“I think I do.” He sounded so grave, so sure, she closed her eyes in dread.

Was it obvious? Would rumors circulate before she’d had a chance to confirm it? To discover the identity of the father and tell him?

For the first time since she was a child, her eyes grew hot and her throat swelled with the urge to cry.

“My family wants this alliance quite badly, Pia. I’m not without a checkered past that you would have to accept. Offering solutions and protection to one another is the point of this sort of partnership. Please talk to me about anything you view as an impediment to our moving forward. I’m quite sure I can accommodate you.”

She wanted to goggle at him, unable to believe he would be willing to take on another man’s child, but he reached across and squeezed her hand with reassurance.

She swallowed and found a faint smile. “Let me call you later in the week, after I’ve had time to think some things through.”

“Of course.”

He took her home, but she only stayed long enough to double-check her dates and call her sister-in-law.

An hour later, she was halfway up the coast. She stopped at a village market and bought an off-the-shelf pregnancy test, took it into a service station restroom and sat in her car a long time afterward, absorbing the fact that she was carrying a baby.

The baby of a man she didn’t know. At all.

She was a smart, responsible woman. How could she have been so careless?

She didn’t let herself dwell on the fact that both her brothers had been through this. That maybe some dark and desperate part of her had sabotaged herself into this position, hoping to find a version of the happiness Cesar and Rico had both found.

That sort of thinking was beyond illogical. It was self-destructive.

And genuinely impossible when she didn’t even know her lover’s name.

But that was why she wanted to see Poppy.

She put her car in Drive and returned to the scene of the crime.


Half an hour of mutual admiration with her two-year-old niece restored a little of Pia’s equilibrium.

Despite the circumstances, she looked forward to motherhood, she realized with a small bubble of optimism. She wouldn’t be a distant, coldly practical woman like her mother, even though she already knew La Reina would judge her harshly for showing affection toward her child. She scolded Sorcha and Poppy for it often and Pia could still hear her mother rebuking her own nanny for hugging her.

Don’t spoil her. She’ll become dependent.

Yes, it must have been the early hugs, not the lack of them thereafter that had turned Pia into the withdrawn, insecure, social-phobic person that she was.

“Will you go with Nanny while I talk to your mamà?” Pia asked Lily.

Lily gave Pia’s neck a fierce hug and said, “I yuv you,” in English, bringing tears to Pia’s eyes as the small girl waved bye-bye on her way out the door.

She would have that soon—someone who would say those words and mean it, every day.

“I think I got some good ones,” Poppy said, setting aside her camera as they entered the lounge. “Thank you. I’m making an album for Rico for Christmas. I don’t know what else to get the man who has everything.”

Pia’s brother Rico had been in a bad place after his brief first marriage had ended in tragedy. Then he had discovered that Poppy had had his daughter in secret. Since locating them, he’d become more like the brother Pia recollected from her earliest years, before he left for school; the one who was patient and protective, willing to sit with an arm around her so she felt safe as she watched an evil witch in a children’s movie.

“Coffee? Wine?” Poppy offered.

Pia faltered as she realized she was off alcohol and likely coffee, as well. Good thing she had barely touched what her mother had served.

“I came from lunch at Mother’s. Nothing for now, thank you.”

“Did she say something about the auction? Is that why you’re here?” Poppy winced as she sat. “When you said you wanted to ask me about it, I thought you wanted the auctioneer’s card.” She picked it up from a side table. “Am I in trouble?”

“No. But I would like that, if you don’t mind.” Pia pocketed the card. “No, Mother is quite pleased you broke records on the fund-raising, even if she doesn’t agree with your methods.”

“Because of the painting,” Poppy said heavily, shoulders slumping.

“I meant the costumes. Mother thinks that sort of thing is a gimmick. What are you talking about? Which painting?”

“The one from the attic. The young woman. She’s the reason I raised so much. The bidder paid a ridiculous sum.”

“I remember it. Who bought it?” She held her breath.

“That’s the trouble. I don’t know.”

“The auctioneer didn’t tell you?”

“Wouldn’t,” Poppy said flatly. “I tried. The previous owners were upset and wanted to know.”

“Baron Gomez?”

“And his brother, yes. Do you know them?”

“Only vaguely by reputation.” Not a good one. The family had fallen on hard times after the previous baron’s death. One brother was a womanizer, the other a gambler. Neither was particularly adept at business. Both were too old to be her mystery man and too young to have fathered him. “Why were they upset?”

“Good question! They sold us the property as is, with all sorts of furniture and other items left behind. When I found the painting in the attic, I thought it was rather good so I called the family as a courtesy, to be sure they wouldn’t mind my auctioning it for the fund-raiser.”

“Did they say who she was?”

“Their stepsister, the daughter of their father’s second wife. She lived in a cottage at the corner of the property. It burned down after she died. She must have passed at a young age. She looks about fifteen in the portrait and it was painted thirty years ago. In any case, the new baron struck me as rather callous when he laughed and said, ‘Sure, see what you can get for her.’”

“Was he at the ball?”

“They declined the invitation. But he asked me to note that he had donated the painting.”

Pia wanted to roll her eyes at the man’s “generosity,” but was too well-bred.

“I should have told Rico that something felt off, but I thought I was being sensitive.”

“Why? What happened?”

“The painting went for a hundred thousand euros! Someone quadrupled the final bid to ensure they would get it.”

Pia hadn’t known it had gone for that much. “What was the painting assessed at?”

“Five hundred euros.”

“I see.” She didn’t. At all. But it was nice to know her baby’s father had a generous streak.

“I know. I wanted to thank him personally, but the auctioneer said the purchaser specifically requested I send my thank-you to the Gomez family for donating it and that I should tell them how much I got for it. Your mother said it was crass to mention the figure, but that since it was such a substantial donation I should honor his wishes.” Poppy’s eyes went wide again. “Huge mistake.”

“Why?”

“For starters, I don’t think the Gomez family would have let me sell it if they’d realized I would get that sort of money for it. First the younger one, Darius, called me and went crazy. He was swearing and making threats, trying to get me to tell him who bought the painting. He wouldn’t believe I didn’t know. I was upset and told Rico. He called the older one and tore such a strip off him. My Spanish vocabulary was deeply enriched, let me tell you.” Poppy was making light of it, but Pia could tell she was still unsettled.

“I wonder if the purchaser knew what kind of hornet’s nest he was stirring up,” Pia said, even though she instinctively knew he must have. The man she’d met had seemed extremely sure of himself.

“I’m quite sure I was pushed into the middle of a battlefield. When Rico hung up, he asked if someone named Angelo Navarro had been on the guest list. I guess that was the name of the person the Gomez brothers suspected was behind the purchase. I checked and he wasn’t on it, but anyone could have placed that bid on his behalf.”

I was never here.

A cold prickle left all the hairs on Pia’s body standing on end.

“Angelo Navarro,” she murmured. “Do you know who he is?”

“Rico did some research. He’s a tech billionaire who came up very recently. Quite predatory. He’s targeting the Gomez interests... ‘Picking off the low-hanging fruit,’ Rico said. Rico told your mother’s assistant to bar all of them from any future events. I didn’t realize there was a central registry for offenders.” Poppy chuckled dryly.

“Sorcha set it up when she was Cesar’s PA,” Pia recalled, trying to hide her shock and alarm. “It’s the kiss of death.” A firmly closed door by the Monteros was a firmly closed door against the social and financial advantages that came from circulating in Spain’s wealthiest circles.

Pia had presumed that her baby’s father had been an invited guest to the ball and therefore had been vetted for casual association. Given his willingness to pay so much for the painting, he had to be wealthy. That meant he might not be her mother’s first choice, but he was of suitable rank and standing that he would be accepted despite the unconventional circumstances.

Instead, he was an outsider who’d just been blacklisted.

“So what are you auctioning?” Poppy asked.

“Pardon? Oh.” Pia wasn’t one to lie. She rarely got herself into a situation where it was necessary, only the occasional prevarication over whether a meal had been enjoyed or a dress suited. “I have a few art pieces I want to place in their next catalog,” she hedged. “My life will change as my academic career ends.”

As she sat with her upturned hands stacked in her lap, cupping the air where her belly would swell in a few months, she debated whether to confide fully in Poppy. Poppy had been in nearly this exact position when she’d been pregnant with Lily.

But Pia had learned a long time ago that whining about a problem didn’t solve it. Obstacles weren’t to be mentioned until she had formulated a plan to overcome them—at which point her solution would be critiqued for merit and edited as necessary.

She wanted to cry, but rose instead.

“It’s growing late. I’d rather not drive in the dark. Would you mind not mentioning to Mother that I came out today? I cut our lunch short, said I wasn’t feeling well.”

“The lunch with...?” Poppy gave a little sigh as she rose. “Pia, I don’t want to speak out of turn, but are you sure an arranged marriage is right for you? Look at your brothers.”

Pia couldn’t help her small snort of irony.

“Please don’t take offense, Poppy, but yes. Look at them. When Cesar married Sorcha, he threw over a long-standing agreement that would have paid a family debt.” That relationship was in tatters and so was the one from Rico’s first marriage, not that she had the poor taste to mention it, but everything Rico should have gained from that marriage had since been lost when it was discovered he had had Lily with Poppy.

Poppy paled anyway, forcing Pia to do something completely uncharacteristic and reach out to squeeze Poppy’s arm.

“I consider both of you dear friends. Your children are a gift,” Pia told her sincerely. “I’m pleased my brothers are in fulfilling relationships, but you’ve seen enough of our family’s inner workings to understand the expectations placed upon all of us. On me to be the last bastion of rational behavior. I have to make a good marriage or brand the Monteros as impulsive and inconstant forever.”

“You’re expected to pay the price for our happiness?” Poppy asked. “That’s not fair. Or rational.”

“Perhaps not.” But she wasn’t supposed to bring further detriments to the table, either. “I’m not like my brothers, Poppy. I’m not built to go against the grain.” One wild night notwithstanding.

“Women never are,” Poppy said with a spark of defiance. “I didn’t tell Rico about Lily for a lot of reasons, but deep down I know fear was the biggest thing that held me back. This...?” She waved at the mansion she had restored with impeccable taste. “Fitting into your world has been hard and terrifying and I know I’m making mistakes every single day. But it’s worth pushing myself to be more than I ever imagined I could be to have what I have with Rico. My only regret is that I didn’t tell him sooner, so we could have been happier sooner.”

Pia forced a careless laugh. “Happiness is fleeting, Poppy.” Where had she heard that before?

“I mean that we could have been together sooner. In love sooner. Which makes us happy.” Poppy frowned with concern. “I know you weren’t raised to expect a marriage based on love, but it is possible to find it, Pia. Do you want to be married to someone else when you do?”

“Food for thought,” Pia said to end a discussion that was a lot more complex than Poppy realized. “I’ll see you at Christmas.”

But she drove home with white knuckles, mind churning over words that had struck particularly deep.

My only regret is that I didn’t tell him sooner.

CHAPTER FOUR

ANGELO HAD READ the note so many times in the three days since he’d received it that he’d memorized it. Nevertheless, he read it again.

Señor Navarro,

We met at my brother’s gala in mid-October. Would you have time for a brief conversation?

If your preference is the same as you stated at our previous meeting, I will respect your wishes and you won’t hear from me again.

My contact details are below.

Sincerely,

Pia Montero, MSc.

No hint of the passion that had exploded between them. In fact, if he were to pick up this card from a desk or mantel, he wouldn’t have any sense that something intimate had occurred between the parties concerned. It came off as a desire to reopen a business discussion, little more.

Which made him suspicious. Was she trying to draw him out? How closely linked was she to Tomas and Darius? Had she confirmed to them that Angelo had been on the former Gomez estate that night?

Angelo had no doubt that was how she’d learned his name. His brothers had thought they could disrespect and discard his mother one more time, but Angelo had ensured their disregard backfired.

He glanced at the painting of his mother. Freshly cleaned and newly framed, it hung over the safe that held the jewelry he had recovered. He had thought the portrait lost in the cottage fire. He would have paid any amount for it, but what made its acquisition truly priceless was the fact his brothers hadn’t received a penny from his purchase. Given what he’d heard from the auction house, they were incensed they hadn’t thought to extort him for it themselves.

As far as they knew, however, an agent had obtained it for him. They had no proof he’d been at the estate in person.

Unless Pia had said something.

This sudden communication from her could be a trick to force his admission that he’d been there that night.

Given that possibility, Angelo had taken the precaution of having her properly investigated, but there was little in the report that he hadn’t read online.

Her age or educational history had to be misstated. Only a genius could earn a master’s degree in environmental science before she’d turned twenty-one, after a double major in biology and chemistry and a minor in sociology. Three short years later, she was about to defend a dissertation analyzing polymer deterioration on barnacles and bivalves.

That was tomorrow, Angelo noted with a glance at his calendar icon.

This report wasn’t telling him what he really wanted to know: Why was she contacting him now? Had it taken her that long to find him?

Even more salient, why had she made love with a stranger that night? That question had been driving him mad.

Some people enjoyed conquests. Angelo’s father and brother, for instance. He would normally think her targeting him had been a move from a fortune hunter, but aside from her own healthy coffers, he couldn’t fathom how she had known he would meet her on that rooftop.

She had compromised him once he was there, though. The fact he’d given in to impulse and dallied with her, putting himself in real danger of being caught with his pants down, made her a weakness he should avoid.

He still didn’t understand why he’d been so compelled by her. The high of his caper? The erotic circumstances of intimacy with a stranger? The sexy feel of his costume?

He sneered at himself and went back to scrolling through the report, finally seeing something new—speculation that she was in the early phases of finding a husband. Only titled bachelors with fortunes and impeccable reputations need apply.

Angelo pushed away from his desk, glad his damned brothers weren’t on the shortlist, but it still disgusted him. If she was shopping for a husband, this card of hers wasn’t an invitation to rekindle things. She had to be working with his brothers.

Nauseated, he picked up the note and studied her clean, level script. It would be easy to send word that she was mistaken; they had never met.

If she was operating on their behalf, however, it was exactly the closing of ranks and exertion of influence that had allowed his father to victimize his mother without consequence. He wouldn’t let any of them get away with that again.

He messaged his pilot to ready his jet for Valencia.

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