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‘Know what?’
Ricardo looked at her as if she’d grown two heads. ‘Ben was born into American royalty—more or less. His father was Jonathan Carter, the man who practically owned Wall Street until it was revealed that he’d been defrauding clients and the market for years. Ben went from living in a mansion on the Upper East Side to a one-bedroomed shack in Queens overnight.’
Shock and disbelief reverberated through Lia as she looked across the crowd again at that broad back. Of course she knew who Jonathan Carter was—his name was synonymous with the global financial crisis, and much of the blame had been apportioned to him.
Just then Ben turned around, and his blue gaze lasered straight onto her. She felt the pull all the way across the room.
From beside her, Ricardo said mournfully, ‘What I wouldn’t give for him to look at me like that.’
Lia forced a smile and made her way back across the room, feeling seriously confused after Ricardo’s revelation. She thought back to when it had happened and figured that Ben must have been only in his early teens—if that.
When she got closer, she saw that a very glamorous woman beside Ben had a hand on his arm. She embodied dark-eyed sultry Brazilian sexiness, with generous curves that defied gravity. Immediately Lia felt a surge of something almost violent, and when Ben pulled her close to him with his free arm she found herself revelling in the proprietorial gesture.
The other woman’s eyes flashed with displeasure, but she blasted Lia with a fake smile and walked away. Suddenly aware that she was acting very much out of character, Lia tried to pull away—but Ben wouldn’t let her, turning so that she was pressed to his front.
‘What are you doing?’ She looked up at him. What Ricardo had told her was making her feel off-centre. He really had built himself up from nothing. After having had everything.
‘I’m thinking that it’s time to go home.’
Lia looked around, momentarily disorientated, and realised that the crowd had thinned out substantially. It was a lot later than she’d realised. She looked back to Ben, feeling hot when she noticed the growth of stubble on his jaw. He was so masculine. And there was so much more to him than she’d ever given him credit for. He wasn’t the only one who was guilty of prejudice.
‘Okay.’ Her voice was husky. ‘Let’s go.’
He took her hand to lead her out, and as they said goodbye to their hosts Lia felt genuine emotion at the thought that she probably wouldn’t meet them again. She’d enjoyed herself more than she’d expected. She’d had fun.
Once back in Ben’s Jeep, she kicked off her sandals and stretched out her feet. She couldn’t help sneaking glances at his profile, stern in the shadows of the car.
As they left the city behind them, Ben asked lightly, ‘So, what were you and Ricardo talking about?’
Lia tensed, feeling guilty even though she knew it was irrational. She could have found out about his past if she’d dug a little deeper. Her own innate sense of honesty made her say, ‘I didn’t know that your father was Jonathan Carter.’
Ben’s hand on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles showing white. ‘I should have guessed Ricardo wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to gossip.’
Lia turned in her seat and rushed to defend the man. ‘It wasn’t like that. I asked him how he knew you and he happened to mention—’ She stopped, recalling the exact words. Maybe Ben’s friend had been a little gossipy.
Ben said dryly, ‘Do go on.’
Lia swallowed. ‘He just mentioned that he thought it was amazing, all you’d achieved, considering how your family had lost everything.’ When Ben didn’t respond, Lia said, ‘It’s not exactly common knowledge.’
He glanced at her. ‘You mean because it didn’t come up when you did an internet search on me?’
She turned back to face the front and said hotly, ‘That’s hardly fair. You knew exactly who I was when you asked the matchmaker to set us up.’
Tension thickened in the intimate space of the car, and then Ben said with evident reluctance, ‘The reason why my past doesn’t always come up is because people choose to forget what’s not relevant any more. It’s old news.’ His lips twisted. ‘Especially after my father had the temerity to die in relative squalor and solitude with my mother following him a year later. I guess they figured he’d paid his dues.’
Sensing he wouldn’t appreciate platitudes, Lia just asked, ‘How did they die?’
‘My father drank himself to death. He’d always been a heavy drinker—albeit of fine whiskies, when he could afford them. The cheaper stuff didn’t suit his system so well. And my mother had a heart attack. She couldn’t come to terms with what the real world looked like.’
Lia was silent, absorbing the enormity of what he’d just revealed. ‘That’s why you don’t drink?’
He nodded, the lines of his face stern. Lia
figured it was no surprise, after seeing his father poison himself. She knew enough about him now to know that he would consider that an immense failing in personal control.
She could imagine him as a young boy—handsome and privileged, no doubt attending the best schools, with his future mapped out. The world at his feet. Only to have it ripped apart and the grim reality of how things really were revealed. No wonder he’d thought he had her all summed up.
Sensing he’d appreciate a change in subject, she asked, ‘So why Brazil? Do you have a special connection to here?’
