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CHAPTER FOUR
WHAT WAS WRONG with her?
Why was she telling this perfect stranger about the most painful secret in her life?
Gia leaned her head back against the black leather headrest, holding the puppy that was still groggy from the sedative the vet had given it in order to put in the stitches. Her fingers brushed gently over its downy soft fur. The action gave her some sort of comfort, but not enough to keep her from dwelling over the disappointment of not finding the answers she’d been seeking. If her father had ever been in that house, he was long gone now.
How was she going to find him? Was she even on the right track? The questions swirled in her mind at a nauseous pace. Maybe some people would say it didn’t matter. But to her, it mattered very much.
She wanted to know, did the smattering of freckles over her nose came from him? Did he love snack food as much as her? Did he sing in the shower? They would have such a good time answering each other’s questions. In no time, they’d be the best of friends. If only she could track him down.
And in the next breath, she had to ask herself if this mission would be so important if she hadn’t just lost her mother and the man whom she’d always thought of as her father in a sudden and horrific car accident. No, she didn’t have to stew over it or debate the matter. She knew finding her biological father would be important no matter what.
But her mother hadn’t left many clues. She rarely mentioned the man in her journal, and never by name. Gia wondered if it had something to do with her father... No, the man who’d raised her. Aldo never struck her as the jealous type, but she supposed if your wife had an affair and a baby from said affair, that might make a person jealous—very jealous. Still, Aldo never let on—at least not in front of her.
So who was her biological father? And when she did find him, what if he wanted nothing to do with her? The breath hitched in
her throat. It was nice to dream of him welcoming her with open arms, but what if he refused to acknowledge her?
Her pulse raced. Her throat tightened.
That won’t happen. Just think positive. It will all work out. It has to.
She needed it to.
She swallowed hard. This subject was so difficult for her, but she couldn’t give up now. “Have you owned the house long?”
Ric continued to stare straight ahead at the thickening traffic. “No.”
That was it? A one-word answer. Not good enough. “Did you know the previous owner? Maybe he’s who I’m looking for.”
Ric was quiet for a moment as though debating his answer. “The house belonged to my aunt and uncle.”
“Oh.” Her mind ran with the idea. If the house belonged to his aunt and uncle. And if his uncle was her father—
Her thoughts screeched to a halt. No wonder he was acting strangely around her.
“Do you think—I mean, is it possible...could it be—”
“That we’re cousins? I don’t think so.” His tone was firm.
“But we could be...”
Ric wheeled off into a parking spot and turned to her. “Did you hear about my uncle’s death? Are you here for the inheritance because if you are—”
“I’m not!” She glared at him. He had absolutely no idea what she’d been going through ever since her parents died and left their family totally upended. “I swear. I have money of my own. Enough that I never have to work again if I choose not to.”
“But you work now?” His tone had changed to something less hostile.
“I do. I started a boutique hotel.” She didn’t offer him more details than that. At this point, he hadn’t earned her openness about her parents’ will or the contest to gain control over the Bartolini estate.
Surprise and...was that respect flickered in his eyes? “So if I check, I’ll find that you aren’t some scam artist or anything nefarious?”
There he went again, ruining their semi-truce. “Check if you must, but you won’t find any of those things.” And then turning the tables on him, even though she knew exactly who he was from all the media hype, she asked, “And if I were to check on you, what would I find?”
“That’s a good question. I’m not sure either of us would like what the media’s printing about me these days.” And with that he made his way back into traffic. “I guess we have things to learn about each other.”
“And whether we’re cousins. Or not?”
