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“But I could leave that way if you turn your back, couldn’t I?” I smiled my best Bella-smile, all charm, and the doctor nodded.
“Why are you avoiding your cousin? Do you feel safe at home?” he asked, focusing on me, and I wanted to laugh. Ian might be a wretch but he would never be physically abusive.
“I have some personal shopping to do, and I don’t want him tagging along,” I said breezily. “I’ll catch up with him in town.”
“And what am I supposed to tell him?”
“The truth,” I said cheerily. “But give it as long as you can.”
He agreed, reluctantly, and five minutes later, I was strolling along the waterfront, the smell of the sea strong in the air, as I tried to figure out my escape.
But for once, luck was on my side. There was a car rental place, so small that no vehicle was immediately available, but it would be within the hour, and I was counting on Ian’s bad temper at being abandoned to slow him down. I just needed a little more luck and I would be driving north toward the airport, where I could ditch the rental and get my butt to France, away from the crazy Whitehead family and all their drama.
Except that I was a Whitehead, and I was part of it. I’d been such an idiot to listen to Bella when she showed up at my apartment, but Bella had never had any trouble talking people into doing what she wanted. I’d adored her all my life, in awe of her bewitching charm and silvery laugh, but I was old enough now to know better. Bella could pick up the pieces of the mess she set in motion—I’d be having the time of my life in Paris before I headed home to the mess I’d made.
And if I were fair, I could thank her for this bizarre masquerade. I’d finally, easily, let go of my adolescent passion for Marcus, I’d been able to see Granda one last time, and I’d even made an odd sort of peace with Ian the Wretch. Now if I could just escape, I would count the whole thing a qualified success.
The waiting room at the rental place was small, fly-specked, the shades pulled down against the mid-afternoon heat, and I dug through my bag to make sure I had everything I needed. Credit card, cash, passport, iPad, a change of underwear. I’d left the extra contact lenses behind, which was stupid. Bella’s green eyes were legendary, so much more vibrant than my quiet hazel ones, but I doubted that would be enough for them to realize they’d had a cuckoo in the nest. Not exactly a cuckoo—I reminded myself. I belonged there as much as anyone. Granda had even sent Bella to get me, though she’d simply sent me in her place. When I had time, I would be angry about that—for now, I just needed to concentrate on escape.
“Your car is ready, miss,” the bored office worker announced, and I rose, my stomach in knots. I wanted this, I reminded myself. I wanted to walk away from Granda and Marcus and most definitely Ian, because there was nothing here for me. Nothing I actually wanted. They would split up Mariposa and sell it, and I had long ago lost any say in the matter.
I headed for the smoked glass door and out onto the portico, to find Ian leaning against the side of the Mercedes, a bored expression on his face.
“You ready?”
I considered my options, which were exactly zero. Glaring at him, I let him open the car door for me as I slid inside. “I can drink caffeine,” I snapped as he got in beside me.
“Noted.” We drove back to Mariposa without a word.
Chapter Eleven
“Bella!” Marcus greeted me with such exuberance that I wanted to wince. I’d gotten used to the low-grade headache that had plagued me after the car accident, but the silent drive back home had shredded my nerves, and all I wanted to do was curl up in a darkened room and not have to pretend to be anyone. “Everything fine at the doctor’s?”
“Yes, how are you doing?” Mary Alice was no less strident from her seat on the stiff sofa in the living room. “You look pale.”
Before I could answer, Ian stepped in. “The doctor says she’s fine. She’ll just have a mild headache for a few days.”
I was about to object to such a summary dismissal but thought better of it. The more fuss I made, the more closely they would hover, and if I was ever going to get out of there, I would need to convince them that everything was normal.
It was strange, when for so many years I’d wanted nothing more than to return to Mariposa, and now I was desperate to get away. Though in fact, that wasn’t strictly true. Mariposa had felt like home from the moment I’d glimpsed it as we came up the drive. It was the two very disparate brothers who were the problem. At this point, I doubted they suspected a thing, but I’d already pushed my luck, and sooner or later I was going to make a major flub. One of them would realize I didn’t look quite right, or God, Bella might sashay back, exposing me for the imposter that I was. At this point, I wouldn’t put anything past her.
No, I had to get the hell out of here, but as long as Marcus was looming over me with his sunshiny smile and Ian was glowering behind him, I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Poor baby,” Marcus crooned. “I know just what you need. A quiet dinner à deux. I’ve got it all arranged—we’re eating on the terrace overlooking the rose garden. Maldonado has set it up, Selene has gone to a great deal of trouble cooking a glorious meal, and all you need to do is wash and change your clothes and let me ply you with wine and compliments.”
“No wine,” Ian said sharply. “It might only be a slight concussion, but she needs to stay away from alcohol for the next two weeks. She can drink Diet Coke. With caffeine,” he added, snarky as ever.
“I think I’d rather just go to bed,” I said weakly, but Marcus overrode me.
“You’ll be fine! It’ll be very quiet and low-key, just the two of us.” Since Marcus’s idea of quiet was a muted bellow, I didn’t hold out much hope, but Marcus didn’t take no for an answer. “I’ll even ask Selene to make it an early dinner—I know you prefer to eat at nine o’clock, but Ian’s right, you need to not push yourself.”
“I don’t think I said that,” Ian said. “But in fact, it’s true. Why don’t you give her a raincheck? She’s not going anywhere.”
Did I imagine the malicious threat beneath that? My irritation flared. Putting Marcus off for even a night was like trying to shove a hippopotamus into a playpen, so I summoned a weak smile. “Dinner tonight sounds lovely.”
Marcus beamed, and once more guilt assailed me. He thought I was Bella, the woman he’d loved all his life, when I was nothing more than the plainer, paler doppelganger. “Wonderful! We can talk about old times!”
Shit. “Let’s not,” I said. “Let’s just talk about the future.”
