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His eyes flare, and I feel his composure slipping.That didn’t take long.
“Maybe not. But I do know this: You need to tell her we’re married. She’s been told enough lies. It’s time for a little truth.”
Something takes hold of me—terror, rage, I’m not sure—but it has me reeling.He’s going to make me tell Valentina that I’m her mother—and Tomas is her father.Or he’s going to tell her himself.That’s next. I can feel it.
I pound my fists on his chest like a crazed woman. He lets me release my anxiety, without a single word. When he’s had enough—or maybe when I’ve had enough—he grabs my wrists and holds them still against his chest.
“Don’t you dare say a word to her—about anything,” I hiss. “Don’t you dare.”
He reaches over me and shuts the bedroom door. The click is barely audible. At least one of us has the presence of mind not to be overheard.
“I don’t take orders from you,Princesa. This is still my house.”
“Antonio, for the love of God. It’ll crush her.”
“Stop. Just stop.” There’s a flicker of light in his eyes. “I have no interest in hurting that little girl, nor do I have any interest in usurping your newly acquired parental status, unless you force my hand. I won’t say a word—for now. But sooner, rather than later, you’re going to tell her everything. Until you do, a black cloud will hang over your head. You’ll always be waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“The other shoe isn’t going to drop. She’ll never be the wiser as long as you and your friends keep your mouths shut.” The words come out far surlier than I mean to be, and even as I say them, I know they’re not true. I’m taking a chance keeping the truth from her. I’ve known it for years, but in the US, it didn’t seem as risky. “She doesn’t need to know everything.” I mimic the tone of finality that he’s so fond of using.
Without warning, Antonio drags me through the outer door of the suite.
At first, I think he’s taking me toourroom to punish me. Separating me from Valentina would be the worst kind of punishment, especially tonight. But he’s shown me before that he’ll stop at nothing to teach me a lesson.
But he leads me in a different direction, to a different wing of the house.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you a little dose of reality.”
24
DANIELA
When we arrive at Rafael’s suite, Antonio gropes atop the doorframe, until he finds a key.
“I guess Rafael isn’t entitled to the privacy of a twelve-year-old girl,” I observe aloud, while he unlocks the door.
“He gets plenty of privacy. But what you don’t seem to understand is that this is my house and nothing here is off-limits to me.”
Once we’re inside, he hauls me into the bedroom, to a tall chest of drawers, where he hands me a framed photograph.
“What—” The question lodges itself in my throat, nearly obstructing my airway. It’s a photo of Valentina.Isn’t it? Has someone been following her? Have they known she was Tomas’s child all along? No. That doesn’t make any sense. I saw how Antonio reacted when he learned about her.“Where did you get this?”
“It belongs to Rafael.”
Why does Rafael have her photo? Does he know she’s his niece?
When the initial shock wears off, I notice the details. The young girl in the photo looks like Valentina.A lot like Valentina.But it’s not her.Those aren’t her clothes, and the last formal portrait we have of her was taken when she was five. This girl looks to be about nine or ten, and the photograph has a vintage feel to it.
“Who is this?” I demand, my eyes never leaving the girl’s face.
“Vera Huntsman.”
Of course.
I ease myself to the floor because my legs can no longer hold me up.Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to remember her. But I can’t—not in any great detail. I was young when she disappeared, and before that, she rarely came to our house. I never knew her as well as I knew Antonio’s mother.
“The resemblance is striking. Someone’s going to make the connection. You need to tell Valentina before that happens.”
