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She rolled it over in her mind before saying, “He didn’t want me to go to his competitor. And he wanted to make sure I didn’t turn to my mother for anything.” She gripped his hand tightly. “My aunt Teresa even said something like that.”
She kept the thought as the flight attendant refilled their champagne and the pilot came on to say they were next in line.
“It was when I asked Aunt Teresa why Mom didn’t divorce Dad right after both Matthew and I went off to university. She said my father would never willingly give up his control.”
“But he divorced your mother.”
She looked at him, forgetting whether she’d told him that part of the story. “Only because he wanted Bron.”
“Your soon-to-be stepmom?”
She nodded vehemently at the sudden realization. “He pushed that divorce through like lightning.” She paused, thinking. “And she’s pregnant. Even before the wedding.”
“Wow. You’ll have a half sister or brother young enough to be your own kid.”
She rolled her eyes in an oh-my-God gesture.
“But don’t you see? Now he’s lost control of your mother.”
She thought it through with her words. “Not if he’s still holding me over her head. He can threaten her by saying he’ll tell me and my brother. And it’s worse if I’m actually working for him.” She squeezed Carter’s arm, feeling the flex of his muscles beneath her fingertips. “If he thinks he has complete control over me because I work for him, he can make her believe he’ll hold me back, keep me down, make sure I never make it into partnership.” Her voice hushed at the horrible thought. “That’s why he wants me to work for him so badly. He’s never tried so hard before. And he squashed that interview I had with Smithfield and Vine.”
“If that’s true, he’s pretty diabolical.”
“I just don’t know.” Then she lost her breath as the plane roared into the air. Her ears plugged, and the force of her thoughts pushed her back in her seat.
Could her father be that diabolical? Could he have been punishing her, and especially her mother, since she was eight years old?
She wanted so badly to talk to Aunt Teresa. To figure out the truth. To decide if she could forgive her mother for the lie that had lasted a lifetime.
She clutched Carter’s hand for comfort and in fear of what the future held. “Right now, I don’t want to have anything to do with either of them. Never again.” Then the tears were unstoppable.
Even strapped in, Carter wrapped her in his arms, holding her while her tears and her anger and her fear flowed like a river.
Carter was safety. Carter was comfort.
Carter just might be everything.
* * *
Angela wantedto rush to Sienna as soon as the captain turned off the seatbelt sign. Her daughter, however, had seen her and made no move, though the discussion would have to come at some point.
The champagne tasted like cough syrup, the nuts were like bark, and the gourmet steak was as chalky as liver. Her saliva had dried up, her head ached, and she wished she’d let Xandros come with her.
But she’d created this mess over thirty years ago, and what had been a dilemma back then was now a tidal wave of gigantic proportions.
Maybe she should talk to Teresa first, figure out a plan.
She dismissed the thought immediately. Sienna was probably drawing her own battle plans. There was no way Angela could wait.
She demolished her dessert, even though she hadn’t tasted a bite, and the little glass of Bailey’s Irish Cream made her knees feel weak. But she went to the bathroom, scrubbing her hands in the sink as if she were Pilate trying to wash away the biggest mistake he’d ever made.
When the flight attendant knocked on the door, there was no time left. She opened, saying, “I’m sorry. I’m okay. I didn’t mean to take so long.”
Then she made her way down the aisle to Sienna.
* * *
Even though hermother was right there, looking down at her, Sienna could still tell her to go away. Better yet, Carter could do it. Or she could close her eyes and pretend she was asleep.
