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“I would guess not,” Granda said with a rough laugh. “Marcus won’t be any happier. You were a fool to break it off with him.”
I agreed. Unless he’d changed substantially, I couldn’t imagine anyone rejecting Marcus. But clearly Bella had her own thoughts on the matter. “It wouldn’t have worked,” I said, shoving a careless hand through my hair in a patented Bella gesture. “I did us both a favor.”
“You did me no favors!” Granda snapped. “Why do you think I brought those boys into the family?”
“I assumed it had to do with the fact that they were orphaned and the children of your stepson. It was the right thing to do.”
“And when have you known me to do the right thing, simply because it was?” he said, sounding more like his old self. He pushed himself up on the pillows, and I wanted to help him, but I knew anything I did would be rejected. He had always been a proud, stubborn man, and that part of him was untouched by illness. “I had no grandsons, and I needed young men to train, to take over Mariposa. But they were supposed to be for you and Kitty, to build the dynasty.”
The sound of my own name on his lips was a shock. I’d thought I was forgotten, blotted out of the family Bible if such a thing existed, and knowing Granda, it probably did. I took a deep breath. “You should have known you can’t control love.”
“Who’s talking about love? I’m talking about business, about my empire, about money. You used to have a level head on your shoulders.”
“I still do,” I said stiffly.
“Well, you’re not married yet. Marcus may have gotten over you, but there’s always the chance you could make him fall in love with you all over again. He’s gullible enough.”
“No!” The thought made me ill. How had I let myself get into this mess? It was bad enough that I was getting what I wanted by lies and pretense. To have Marcus, beautiful, unattainable Marcus, touch me, touch Bella-me, would be unbearable. I took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Granda, but I can’t do what you want me to do. Marcus and I have gone our separate ways.”
He made a dismissive noise, and I knew he hadn’t given up. “Then what about Ian?”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “Ian hates me and always has.”
“I’ve never known you to accept defeat. There’s not a man who could resist you if you put your mind to it.”
He was right. Bella could have anyone she wanted, but the idea of her and Ian was so absurd I laughed again. “Anyone but Ian.”
“We have time,” he said. “I’m not going to meet my maker for a little while, at least. And if you have any hope of getting your part of your inheritance, you’re going to stay put as well. I know your financial situation is far more precarious than you like to pretend—I have my lawyers keep track of you. You can’t afford to turn your back on Mariposa, any more than you can turn your back on me.”
“I don’t want to turn my back on you,” I said with sudden intensity. “I love you; don’t you know that? I would never leave if I could help it.”
For a moment, he said nothing, and I had the odd feeling that I’d manage to startle him. “Well, then,” he said in a softer voice, “it’s settled. You’ll stay.”
I stared at him numbly as I felt the walls close in around me. An afternoon, Bella had said. Maybe spend the night and leave the next morning. It would be easy as pie—people believed what they wanted to and no one would ever suspect.
It had been easy enough so far. No one had questioned me, and I’d faced two of the people who would be most likely to notice any discrepancy. I had no particular concerns about the cousins if they showed up before I left, but Marcus was a different matter. He would be the real test, but I somehow knew I could pass that one with flying colors. I was stuck here, in the place I loved most, and the more I struggled, the tighter the bonds were.
I looked down at Granda, and covered his thin, skeletal hand with mine. “I’ll stay.”
By the time I made it back to my room, my clothes were already in the vast closets, the expensive suitcases taken away, and I was suddenly unutterably weary. It was early afternoon, and I’d been through a lot in the few hours since I’d arrived in Spain. Bella had said siestas were a thing of the past. Not in my case.
I pushed the shutters closed, leaving enough room for the fresh air to come in, stripped off the ruined suit, and lay down on the bed. I’d been expecting something hard and uncomfortable, but it felt like heaven. All I had to do was close my eyes, and I was gone.
When I awoke, the room was in deep shadow, the light from the cracked shutters murky and dim. I stared at the slim Piaget watch on my wrist. Five-thirty. How could I have slept so long?
I still felt groggy, but I pushed the unfamiliar curls away from my face. In fact the hairstyle had been dead easy, once the color was a match. All I had to do was scrunch my wet hair instead of blowing it dry, and it would become a mass of soft curls. Of course, I was supposed to tighten it up with the judicious use of a curling iron that Bella had paid a hundred and fifty dollars for, ignoring my protest that they could be bought for ten dollars at the local drug store. And I would, at least as long as I was at Mariposa. But once I escaped and got to Paris, I’d throw the damned thing out.
I rolled over on my back, contemplating my situation, trying to still my nervousness. In fact, what did I have to lose? Nothing was waiting for me back in New Hampshire. My belongings were in storage, Bella was looking after my car, there was no place I needed to be until classes started in the fall. Assuming I could find more funding. I could stay here for weeks, even a couple of months, and still have a few days in Paris before I returned, and I could save money while I was doing it. So far, it had been dead easy, and if I was reasonably careful, I could spend time with Granda, at Mariposa, wallow in the joy and feel of the place, storing it all inside for the time I’d leave again, never to return.
I pushed myself out of bed. I felt sticky, dirty, and starving. One thing had changed about the Queen’s Room—there was an ensuite bathroom, and I found, to my relief, that it had been renovated so that the shower was a huge marble affair with water spouting from a dozen places with a built-in bench. It was preset for the perfect temperature, which was a heavenly indulgence after years of being frozen, then scalded by cantankerous showers, and I stood beneath the overhead spray and hummed with an almost orgasmic delight. I wanted to stay in there forever, but I was too hungry, and it wasn’t until I stepped out, wrapping my body and my hair in thick towels, that I realized I’d washed off all the carefully applied makeup. Shit.
If I were to dress in Full Bella mode, it would take me an hour and a half to get the hair and makeup right, and I’d probably faint from hunger first. I’d already passed muster with Granda and Ian, and there was a strong chance I wouldn’t even see them again tonight. I could be relatively safe doing a half-assed job on everything.
I dutifully scrunched my hair, put on the ridiculously flimsy underwear Bella had insisted on, even though the likelihood of anyone seeing my underwear was slim. My makeup was laid out on the dressing table in the bathroom, and I slapped on some foundation and mascara, plus the signature lipstick. That would have to do.
Bella had reluctantly allowed jeans, and the price had been so horrifying that I’d blotted it out of my mind. I couldn’t see much difference between my well-worn Levi’s and the three figure version she’d okayed, but at least they were denim and comfortable. There was a lavender silk and cotton knit top that clung in all the right places, and a pair of low-heeled short boots that were my best choice for walking. I glanced in the mirror. Yes, it was still Bella looking back, though a more casual, comfortable Bella, and another layer of tension left me.
The vast kitchen was empty. I headed for the refrigerator, pulling out the makings of a chicken sandwich, when I felt someone behind me, and I stiffened before I realized it was only Maldonado.
