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“I’d prefer to call it investigating,” he said, speaking slowly, carefully. “I was intent on gathering facts. Evidence. Making sure Gabriela was safe until I could get her in my care.”
“So you’ve tried going to court?”
“We’ve been in court for years—but it takes so long. I expect a legal decree soon—”
She felt dangerously close to hysteria. “So why the poker games?”
“Revenge.” Cristiano’s upper lip curled. “I wanted to make him suffer. He made me suffer. It seemed only fair.”
“Suffering is never fair.”
“You’re such a good girl, Samantha.”
She wouldn’t be baited, not this time. “So I wasn’t important. You never wanted me—”
“Not true.” He cut her off. “I wanted you from the beginning. I gambled on the fact that once I had you, Gabriela would follow.”
“That’s illogical.”
“Sam, you married Johann for Gabriela. If you came to me, you’d bring Gabriela. And I was right.” He smiled at her but his smile was predatory. “You’ve protected her from the beginning. I don’t hold that against you. In fact, I appreciate the fact that you love her for her—not for her bank account.”
“She has a bank account?”
“A huge trust fund. She’s a Bartolo.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
Cristiano’s lashes lowered and he studied her as though she were a curiosity, something he’d uncovered in a dusty secondhand shop. “It means she’s rich. It means she will always wonder when she grows up if men love her for her, or if they love her money.”
“That’s horrible.”
“That’s reality.”
She pursed her lips, trying to digest this and everything else she’d learned. “And that’s what you want for her? Some harsh reality where her life is ruled by money, not love?”
“Sam, life is what it is. I’m not going to sugarcoat it for Gabriela, you, or anyone. But I’ve been observing Gabriela. She’s a bright girl. She’s confident and assertive. There’s no reason she can’t be rich, and be loved.”
Somehow Sam felt the inequities very much. She—who’d tried so hard for so many years—had neither love nor money. “Do you have both? Are you rich?”
“Yes.”
“Loved?”
He laughed, cool and mocking. “No. But that’s my choice.”
Sam had never met anyone like Cristiano Bartolo, didn’t understand anyone like him, either. “Why wouldn’t you want love?”
“Love’s complicated. It involves layers of emotion including guilt and fear. I’m happier without it.”
“Without love.”
“As I said, I’m happy as I am.”
She shook her head, perplexed. “So why do you want Gabby?”
He hesitated for the briefest second. “Because she’s a Bartolo. She should be raised by a Bartolo.”
He was making her sick. She couldn’t stand his way of thinking. It was harsh, horrible, selfish. “This isn’t why you take a child—”
“It is for me,” he cut in sharply before lifting the menu. “Do you know what you’re going to eat?”
Sam couldn’t imagine eating a bite after that but when the waitress appeared at their table, she ordered toast and tea, thinking she had to put something in her stomach if she was going to survive the day.
They sat in virtual silence while they waited for their breakfast to arrive until Sam couldn’t stand the miserable tension a moment longer. “So what are you going to do? How exactly does this work?”
“In the morning we’ll fly back to Monte Carlo. On Monday Gabby will begin at her new school.”
“A new school?”
“Yes.”
Sam stared at him aghast. So upset she ignored the waitress when she brought Sam her pot of tea. “You’re out of your mind.” And he was. He had to be to think he could just rip Gabriela from everything she’d known and loved. “Maybe adults understand moves and shifts, maybe adults can be relocated overnight, but not children—”
“I’m not asking you, Samantha. I’m telling you this. The decision is made. It’s no longer your concern.”
She shuddered, knowing he was wrong, knowing Gabriela would always be her concern. She might not be her nanny anymore, might not even be her stepmother, but Gabby was part of her heart, her life. “What is the rush?”
“I’ve lost enough time trying to get her home. I refuse to lose anymore.”
The hopelessness of the situation wrapped hard fingers around Sam’s throat. “And what about Gabby? What about all she loses?”
Cristiano’s eyes narrowed. “She’ll thank me one day.”
“Maybe. And maybe not.”
He shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Sam felt as if he were splitting her heart and head wide-open. How could he do this? How could he even talk this way? How was it possible to be so callous…much less about your own child? “Why can’t you give her time,” Sam pleaded. “At least let her finish the school year where she is. Don’t change everything on her overnight. She’s so young. She’s been through so much. Give her time to understand what’s happening…time to adjust.”
He leaned back as their breakfast plates were carried to the table. “She’ll have time,” he said. “She’ll have the next fifteen years to adjust.”
She swayed on her seat. “What kind of man are you?”
His steady gaze held hers, and the way he studied her made her skin prickle, her body tingling with alarm. “The kind who gets what he wants.”
“And what about what other people want?”
“Not my concern.”
Sam’s stomach rose, nearly upending. “God, that’s cold.”
“Yes, but damn practical.”
Conversation finished, Cristiano concentrated on eating his bacon and egg breakfast while Sam tore apart her toast, heartsick.
Sitting there, Sam wished she could do something, wished she could intervene even as she’d foiled the kidnapping attempt three years ago by hurling herself at the kidnapper. She’d used her own body to shield Gabby, and it had worked. Sort of.
Sort of.
Sam’s lower lip quivered and she bit into it ruthlessly. She wasn’t going to let him see how much he upset her, wouldn’t let him have the upper hand again.
She waited until he’d finished his meal and then gathered her coat and purse. “Can we go get Gabby now?”
“You haven’t taken a bite of your toast.”
“Not hungry,” she answered, chilled on the inside. Three years ago she’d saved Gabby, three years ago she’d been brave, heroic. Why couldn’t she find a way to save Gabby today?
It felt bitterly cold outside, the sky like an endless sheet of metal, and Sam shivered on the way to the shop where they bought milk, bread and groceries for dinner. It was a relief to reach the car, where Cristiano immediately turned on the heat. They didn’t speak though, and as Cristiano drove, Sam stared intently out the window, trying not to obsess about Cristiano’s plans for Gabriela, but it was impossible to think of anything else.
“I’ll need your help,” he said abruptly. “I brought the school admissions packet with me, and there’s quite a long list of things she’ll need. Proper uniform, wardrobe, essentials.”
“Cristiano.”
“I’d initially planned on leaving her in her current school,” he continued as though she’d never spoken. “But I was naïve. I thought you could continue taking her to school in the morning, and then picking her up again after, but obviously that’s not going to work, not if I can’t trust you with her.”
“You can.”
“I can’t, and I travel a great deal with my work. Which is why I’ve decided the best place for her is Ludwin’s—”
“Ludwin’s? That’s a boarding school!”
“One of the best in Europe. The waiting list is long. I was lucky they accepted her.”
Sam leaned forward to get a good look at his expression, thinking he was joking, thinking he had to be joking. “Gabby’s not even five yet.”
“She’ll be five next month.”
“Yes, and she thinks she’s having a circus party and has been helping me plan it.”
“I’ll take her to the Monte Carlo’s Royal Circus instead.”
Sam’s mouth opened, closed. She couldn’t make a sound. How could he even consider sending her away? “Have you looked at her, Cristiano? She’s a tiny thing still. Far too young for boarding school. She could be picked on by other children, tormented, and then all the rules, the infractions and punishments—”
“It’ll toughen her up.”
Tears burned the back of her eyes. “No. Toughening up isn’t what you think it is. Toughening up is having your heart broken and your hopes shattered. Toughening up breaks a child down before it builds her up. Don’t do it to her, Cristiano.”
“I’ve been to boarding school. I survived.”
“Yes, survived. But surviving isn’t living. I know. My parents died when I was six. I grew up in a boarding school for orphans. That’s what the Rookery is. A place where children live because they have nowhere else to go, but Gabby has somewhere to go. She has you, she has me—”
“You’re not part of the equation anymore, Samantha.” He shot her a hard look. “I don’t trust you.”
Cristiano felt a twinge of remorse as Sam blanched, her face paling, her eyes huge and dark with pain. He didn’t enjoy hurting women and children. He was a competitor, a fighter, but not malicious, especially not toward those weaker.
He could see the effect his words were having on her. She was in torment, but it was the same torment he’d known these past four and a half years as he battled to get Gabriela back. At first he’d tried to go the legal route, do everything above-board, but Johann had blocked his every move, dragging the custody battle into an endless tangle of court appearances and appointments. He wanted to get his hands on Gabby’s money.
“So why did you want me,” she whispered, looking at him, her blue eyes bruised, her expression wounded. “Why take me from Johann?”
He hesitated for a split second, then realized at the very least, he owed her an honest answer. “There were three reasons. One, I knew wherever you went, Gabby would go. Two, you’re the one that’s kept me from Gabby—”
“Me?”
“If you hadn’t married Johann, Gabby would have been mine years ago.”
“I didn’t know—”
“It doesn’t matter.” The years of waiting for Gabby, and the endless legal wrangling, had taken a toll on his patience. He was done with playing nice. Done with accommodating others at his—or Gabriela’s—expense. “Fortunately I have her back now and I’ll do what needs to be done.”
“Do you love her?”
“She’s my family. She’s a Bartolo.” He was determined to make Samantha understand she wasn’t in charge of Gabriela’s future any longer. She had to accept him as Gabby’s guardian.
“You know her sizes,” he continued calmly. “I’ll give you the list Ludwin’s sent me, all her requirements are there. I imagine she’ll want something from home for comfort, too. A blanket or stuffed animal. If Gabby has one—”
“She has a doll she loves.”
“Then send that with her.”
“You’ll crush her, Cristiano.” Sam’s voice broke, her words all but inaudible. “She’s a little girl that’s lost her mother, and the man she thinks is her father. How can boarding school with Spartan dormitories be the answer?”
“The school has an impressive reputation. They’ve assured me they’ll do everything in their power to help her adjust.”
“But they don’t know Gabby, or care about her. But I do. And I know you must or you wouldn’t have worked so hard to get her back.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Hate Johann, hate me, hate our lives, the world we inhabit, the truth, the lies, but don’t play God, and you can’t say you aren’t when you’re already planning on sending her away.”
“But what are my options? I can’t leave her with you—not if I can’t trust you.”
“But you can. I’m telling you. I’m making a promise—”
“I can trust that?”
“Yes.”
He was silent, then sighed. “I wish I could believe you, but I can’t. I was lucky you came here, fortunate you brought her to Chester. I knew from the private investigator’s report that you’d been raised in Cheshire. He said if you ever ran away, you’d probably return here, but in the future you won’t come here. And then what? Where do I find Gabriela then?”
“I won’t take her away from you. I promise.”
He steeled himself against the anguish in her voice, refusing to let her needs usurp his own.
