A Family Affair: The Secret (11 page)

Maybe the stories were true, or maybe there was a hint of truth to them. Or maybe Lorraine Ventori had conjured them up to try and convince Roman to take a chance on a relationship again. At eighteen, he’d believed he and Charlotte would share that kind of relationship and it would span a lifetime, a marriage, children, old age. But a lie had destroyed it. Roman ran a hand over his face, squinted at the numbers in front of him. He’d heard that Charlotte was married to a lawyer, had a boy and a girl and lived in a big house on the south side of town.

He wished his kid sister were here to sidetrack them with her mercurial personality and ever-growing list of suitors. But she wasn’t, so the spotlight was on him and his future offspring, and that started and ended with a woman. Angie Sorrento? No, and not just no—Hell No! There might be a person walking this earth who would be a match for him, but it wasn’t that over-opinionated, fast-talking, wild woman.

“Roman?”

A guy didn’t forget the voice or anything else about the woman who’d crushed his heart, not the smell, the smile, the touch… Roman looked up and there she was, as beautiful and perfect as she’d been at eighteen. He pushed back the memories, stood, and forced a smile. “Hello, Charlotte.”

“I heard you were back.” Her pale skin turned pink. “I’m sorry about your father.” A gentle dip of her voice, soft as the silkiness of that skin he remembered so well. “How’s he doing?”

The old man had always liked Charlotte, said she and Roman would make beautiful babies one day, the girls, blond-haired, blue-eyed like their mother and the boys dark, brown-eyed, like the Ventori side. How the man thought he could separate eye and hair color by gender was an interesting concept, but no one questioned Sal Ventori because they knew what he meant. He was after the dream of a legacy by continuing the family name. It had all sounded so perfect, with hopes, dreams, and a road map of how it would happen.

Until Paula Morrisen accused him of fathering her child.

Roman cleared his throat, met her blue gaze. “He’s coming along. Slow, but nothing keeps him down for long.” That’s what he kept telling himself, but he didn’t miss the faulty steps, the glimmer of confusion flitting across his father’s face some days, the nervous hesitation. And the fear. Sal Ventori wasn’t a man who’d ever claimed fear of anything or anyone, until now.

Charlotte licked her lower lip, a nervous habit that meant she was about to deal with a tough issue she’d rather avoid. “I used to look for you around the holidays, hoped you’d come home, even for a day or two, just so I could see you.” Those eyes glittered like stars against a black night. “Oh, not at first, but later, when I realized you might have been telling me the truth.”

“Charlotte—”

“No.” She shook her head, swiped at her eyes, and continued on in a rush, as though there was only so much oxygen to get the words out. “Let me say my piece. Please.” The woman he’d called “his angel” placed a hand on his forearm, her skin warm against his. “It took two years to work up the courage to consider you were set up. By then it was too late; I was engaged, had a house and a life that made sense. I could see down the road, past the wedding and the first child, to the second, maybe even the third. Magdalena was my home, this was my community, and this was where Steven had his business. You weren’t going to settle here, even if there’d never been a scandal.” She paused, worked up a sad smile. “And maybe deep down I always knew that.”

“We used to dream of leaving this place and making it on our own.” He stared at her. “Didn’t we?”

“
You
dreamed, Roman, and those dreams were big enough for both of us.” She paused, and her voice slipped to a whisper. “Until they weren’t. Oh, I wanted to believe, wanted to be with you no matter what, but I was scared, and when Paula made her accusations, well, it was easier to turn my back on all of it, pretend it never mattered.” Another smile, this one splitting apart with a sigh. “But it did matter, and I never realized it until it was too late.”

Roman glanced at her left hand, spotted the shiny diamond glittering on her finger. “You shouldn’t be telling me this.” No, she should be telling her husband, the man who shared her bed, her dreams, her children. Not Roman.

Charlotte stepped back, buried her left hand in her pocket, and said, “Steven and I are having…issues.”

Issues. That could mean anything or nothing. “I see.” He didn’t see, though, didn’t want to see. When a guy started poking around in a former girlfriend’s marriage, that was never good, especially if she had the look on her face that said
unhappy and regretful
.

“I’m trying, but some days are really hard.” She sniffed, swiped at her cheeks. “Remember when we said we’d get in a car and travel around the country, eat sushi and swim in the Pacific Ocean? That scared me as much as it excited me. So did you.” She lifted a shoulder, her brows pulling into a frown. “Steven was safe. I knew my way around the community, knew what was expected, and what my role would be: the Sunday dinners with Steven’s family, the PTA meetings, the annual trip to the shore. But somewhere along the way, I started wondering what it would have been like if I’d believed in you and taken the risk.”

He’d wondered that, too, every time he spotted a petite blond with blue eyes the color of a summer sky. But eventually, he’d had to bury the dream and move on…that’s when he met Jess, the exact opposite of Charlotte. What a disaster that had been! Roman breathed in his first love’s scent, the same lilac she’d worn the first time they’d made love. He coughed, cleared his throat and reminded himself she was a married woman. Unhappy, maybe, but still married, and he didn’t do married. “We were just kids back then. What did we know about anything past the next day?”

Those blue eyes filled with tears. “We knew, Roman,” she whispered.

Yes, they’d known they wanted a life together, or at least thought they’d known. Young, in love, filled with more dreams than common sense. He reached out, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

The single knock came first, then the door opened. “We need to talk and don’t tell me you…” Angie Sorrento barreled into his office, once again shooting off her mouth before taking in the situation. And what situation was that? Old lovers reunited? No way was he admitting that one to her, but it didn’t look like it was necessary because, from the way her gaze assessed the absence of personal space between him and Charlotte, she’d already figured it out. And then there was the cool, detached tone. “Hello.” She plopped a file on top of his desk, zeroed in on him. “Am I interrupting?”

She knew damn well she was interrupting and the look on her face that said
curious
told him she didn’t care. “Charlotte and I were having a private conversation.” It was his turn to zero in. “Closed door, which usually means don’t open until admitted.” Surely, she could figure that out. “Can you give us a few minutes?” Why in hell some eccentric would hire Angie Sorrento to replicate Magdalena was beyond him. The woman might do great work, but she did not know the meaning of boundaries or politeness.

“Oh.” Angie glanced from Roman to Charlotte, back to Roman. “Sure.” She hefted her small frame onto the credenza, folded her arms over a nonexistent chest, and snatched a copy of
The Wall Street Journal
he’d planned to read during lunch.

The humming came next. Low, persistent, embedding itself in his brain. Was she humming one of those lovesick, cheating heart country songs? Roman sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and turned to Charlotte, who regarded him with a mix of confusion and curiosity. Too many years had passed for him to still be angry with her for not trusting him enough and no matter how much she wished things were different, the fact was, she had a husband and two children, and a life that
did not
include him. “It was really nice to see you again.” He lowered his voice so the busybody in the corner didn’t hear and said, “I hope things work out.”

She worked up a smile, leaned on tiptoe, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Call me.” Another kiss, and a whispered, “Customer service has my phone number.” Then she was gone, taking her lilac scent and sad smile with her.

“So, what was
that
all about?”

Roman glanced at Angie Sorrento, who sat perched on his credenza, paper spread on her lap, and staring at him like she’d rather punch him in the gut than have a conversation.

“That was about it’s none of your business.” If his personal pain in the butt hadn’t picked that exact second to barge in, Charlotte might have confessed more than he should hear. Past was past, no matter how big a crater she’d left in his chest.

“That woman is on the hunt, and you’re the hunted.” She sighed, tossed her nest of black curls over her shoulders. “In case you couldn’t tell.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Roman scowled. “Charlotte’s a friend.”

“Charlotte?” Angie slid off the credenza and moved toward him, hands on hips. “Ah, the girl who ditched you the second you lost your golden boy status.” When he glared at her, she shrugged and said, “Mimi told me all about it. She’s a big supporter of yours, said you got cheated, and she doesn’t think too much of your old girlfriend either. According to Mimi, your Charlotte ran right into another guy’s arms and ended up marrying him.” She tapped a finger against her chin and said, “And now it looks like that guy lost his golden crown, too, which is why she’s sniffing around you. What do you think?”

“I think you don’t know what you’re talking about.” It wasn’t that Charlotte hadn’t cared about him, but she’d never done well in crisis situations. She’d needed him to protect her from the unpleasantness that often surrounded life’s lessons. All those years ago, his eighteen-year-old brain had believed he could be strong for both of them and that would be enough.

“I’m a stranger here but I know people, and I know what getting played looks like. Buddy, you are so getting played by that woman’s tears and whimpers.” She let out a sound that could only be classified as a snort. “Run. That’s my advice. Fast, or you’ll get reeled into the ‘why does everything bad happen to me’ and you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to fix a person who doesn’t want to be fixed.”

“And you know this how?”

Another snort. Had he ever heard a woman snort? No, he couldn’t say he had. “Life lessons. I’ve watched enough relationships implode with manipulative people and that’s why I avoid them.”

It was his turn to snort. “What are you avoiding? The relationships or the people?”

“Both.”

The answer didn’t surprise him, but the seriousness on her face did. Angie Sorrento didn’t want an involvement with relationships
or
people, and he’d bet that meant men in general. Either she’d been burned or had been unable to form anything that looked like a personal connection with a man. He’d guess the last one. Yup, that’s where he’d put his money. “Huh.” He studied her, noted the flared nostrils and the set of her small mouth. Yeah, this was a subject she did not want to discuss. “Sounds like you don’t have much experience in either, so why not keep your opinions tucked away in your brain instead of spewing them out like an oil gusher?” Roman crossed his arms over his chest, met her gaze, and challenged her to comment. She did not disappoint, but her words weren’t what he expected, nor was the smile.

“Do what you want, Roman Ventori. Rescue the woman.” Her lips pulled into a slow smile. “That
is
your specialty, isn’t it? Rescuing women in distress?” She laughed, flounced the wild nest of curls she called hair and said, “Only question is, who’s going to rescue you, because from where I’m sitting, you’re the one who needs rescuing from relationships with the wrong women.”

“Hah! I’m very capable of taking care of myself
and
my relationships.”

The smile spread. “Uh-huh. That’s why your father and Pop Benito are making a list of potential mates for you. As a matter of fact, I think they were working on it over ham and cheese omelets and a side of pancakes at Lina’s Café.”

Did she know
her
name was on that list? He guessed not, judging from the level-headed comments and near-calm demeanor. Well, she’d find out soon enough, and then there’d be fireworks…grand ones…and they’d be aimed at him. “Huh.” He was not ready to deal with an explosion from her, so he sidestepped it with another question. “How’d you find out?”

“Have you ever listened to a conversation between those two?” She shook her head, laughed. “Nothing’s a secret, not when it has to be repeated twenty decibels higher than a normal speaking voice.”

“So you were eavesdropping.”

She raised both hands, said in a tone that told him she did not like the accusation, “No. I was standing at the counter, trying to decide between a cream puff and a chocolate donut, and their voices sort of floated to me.”

“Uh-huh. And did they see you standing there?” Pop and Sal were no fools; if they spotted Angie Sorrento, their prime candidate for this matchmaking shambles, it might have been a set-up, so she’d think they were considering other women and
not
her. She’d relax and think she was safe and that’s when they’d come after her.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Of course they saw me. I stopped at their table to say hello. How do you think I know what they were eating?”

“Don’t get all huffy. I’m just asking.” Oh, yeah, they were definitely setting her up. He’d enjoy the set-up a hell of a lot more if he weren’t the other half of the equation.