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“I don’t mind—I want to get to the bottom of my parentage.”
“What happened to your mother?” Erin asked.
“She died when I was very young. I suspect it was a drug overdose, but I’ll probably never know for sure. At least, not unless Max knows the truth. And how ever much he knows, I doubt if he knows if my mom’s death was accidental or not.”
A sudden tension knotted in Erin’s stomach. “Why would Max know anything about it?”
“My mother was Max’s aunt.”
The ramifications of that statement hit Erin like a thunderclap. “You and Max are first cousins?”
“Yes.”
Erin’s heart began to race. “That explains the look he was giving you on the day we met. He’s protective of you, isn’t he?”
“I think so. We don’t talk about it. My history is an ill-kept secret and the elephant in the room—I’m a Navarro in name—but I have both Villarreal and Rule blood running through my veins.”
As Erin let that information sink in, it didn’t take her long to come up with one simple fact—this information couldn’t be a coincidence. This had to be the reason for Max’s need for revenge—it had to be. It couldn’t be an accident that Erin would suddenly find herself living in Argentina so close to a woman who was related to her . . .
So that meant one thing—Max’s agenda was personal instead of the business he’d alluded to. So, it suddenly made sense. If her grandfather had dishonored his aunt in some way, and then the woman had died because of it—had Max harbored an anger he couldn’t overcome?
If the family connection was true, then Max probably believed it had been her father and not her grandfather who was to blame as well. But would the extra generation make any difference to his feelings? Her brothers shouldn’t be blamed for past transgressions, whether those transgressions were their father’s or grandfather’s. But, knowing Max, even if he were made aware of Nora’s true bloodline, it probably wouldn’t make a difference to him.
And it angered Erin. She’d truly thought that her brothers just might have made some kind of a business move that had upset Max’s family—maybe something to do with a piece of real estate or something. Something that had pissed Max off so much that he’d plotted revenge. And even though that reasoning was bullshit, this was even more bullshit. You couldn’t blame people for their father’s debts, you damn sure shouldn’t blame them for their father’s sins. But, Max was full of Latino machismo, a male whose ideas and passions ran deep, as she could well attest.
It pissed her off, but she needed to focus on Nora’s needs now. Even if the girl was technically her aunt, which she’d ask her mother about just as soon as she could, Nora was still younger than she was, and that was already making Erin feel protective of her. “I’m going to ask my mom about this, and I’ll let you know, but either way, you have me for a friend at the very least.”
Nora studied her as if grateful and relieved, and then she smiled before her face crumpled. “Thank you.”
As the first tears rolled down the younger girl’s face, Erin didn’t hesitate, she just took her in her arms.
****
It didn’t take Erin long to realize that she couldn’t simply ask her mother about her grandfather’s past dalliances. She couldn’t tell her mom about Nora yet either, because her mother was a smart woman and she’d realize the same truth Erin had—that there was no way all of this could be a coincidence. The world just wasn’t that small. And then Justine would want to know everything, but Erin wasn’t ready to tell her mother everything yet.
So, Erin decided to take Nora’s belief as the truth—well, the truth so far as it went. Erin believed that it was her grandfather’s folly, not her father’s, and she hoped she’d impressed that upon Nora as well.
But should she let Max know that she was aware of the past? And how could she not tell him? Shifting the blame back one generation might help him to get over his anger. At least she hoped so. But the more she debated the idea, the angrier she became: Max had no right blaming her siblings for something another person had done, no matter the connection. Doing so wasn’t right and screw it all to hell—it didn’t make Max the hero that she damn well knew she deserved.
It was just so damn sad. If only . . . Max could have been the perfect husband. But she swore by all that was holy, she wouldn’t let him hurt her feelings. She was okay being angry—but by God, she wouldn’t allow herself to be hurt.
She could be hurt so easily—thank God she was only sexually infatuated with Max and not in love with him. She wasn’t—she wasn’t.
