Tangled Destinies
“All right,” she said. “I’ll come out with you. But, Joe, I’m no good-time girl,” she added, putting it plainly, her face solemn. “Friendship is all I’m offering. Okay?”
He shifted in his chair, and something touched his eyes for an instant. But he grinned. “Okay,” he said on a laugh. “Friends forever.”
“Uh, I hate to mention it,” she said hesitantly, “but isn’t this kind of fraternizing with the brass, so to speak?”
“Let me worry about that.” His dark eyes narrowed. “You aren’t carrying a torch for big brother after all these years, are you?” he asked abruptly.
She shook her head and felt her body going rigid with remembered pain. “Not on your life.”
“Good.” He stretched lazily. “Suppose I pick you up about six?” he asked.
“You don’t know where I live,” she faltered.
He chuckled. “No? I asked your agency. Since I’m the boss, sort of, they gave it to me.”
“You sure are resourceful!” She laughed, wondering if she should be pleased that her agency had sold her out to a perfect stranger. She also couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when she saw Marc again. But she gave in with a sigh. Maybe it was fate. She’d cope. Besides, she rather liked this young man. She didn’t date a lot because she hated having to fight off men with ideas about quick relationships. Joe didn’t seem like a rusher, and she looked forward to being able to go out without being harassed.
Her father was out when she got home. Her parents had fought her tooth and nail to keep her out of modeling. Her father had even gone behind her back and tried to persuade one agency head not to hire Gaby. But eventually she’d found an agency that was interested in her, and she’d started making a name for herself. Thanks to those years she’d spent at a prestigious New England boarding school, she had enough poise and grace of movement to make her a natural. Not that she’d been so enthused at the time, she reminded herself pointedly. Oh, no.
Marc. She could close her eyes, and there he’d be, big and strong and softly laughing as she responded wildly to his very adult passion. It had always been Marc who pulled away, not Gaby. From the first time she’d sneaked away from home to meet him, it had been Marc who kept things cool between them. Even now she could vividly remember his words.
“You’re a baby,” he’d teased, nibbling at her mouth. “You’re not ready for love yet, little one. It would haunt me all my life.”
“But, Marc, I love you so,” she’d whispered back, openly pleading.
“But you’re barely an adult.” And he’d kissed her and held her. His hands had touched her young breasts for the first time. “Soft little buds,” he’d breathed at her lips as he felt the rapid hardening of the tips under his gently caressing fingers.
He was an emotional man, all sensuous blatancy, Gaby remembered, never dressing up his language or his remarks. It was what had appealed most to her, with her too sheltered background.
She had clung to him that day as he’d eased her down into his arms in the deserted park under the big oak by the lake. He’d smiled reassuringly as he laid her back on the grass and slowly opened the top few buttons of her blouse.
Gaby shuddered, remembering her own words to Marc that day. “I want to be yours, Marc,” she’d whispered. She’d lain quietly, feeling the soft coolness of the grass at her back as he dealt with buttons and then lace and hooks. She arched her back as he peeled away the bra.
“So delicate,” he’d whispered deeply, his voice shaded with tenderness and growing passion, his black eyes devouring her as he loomed over her prone body, his big hands on either side of her. “So virginal.”
“I’d die before I’d let anyone else look at me this way,” she’d told him feverishly, and her body had ached for sensations it had never before experienced.
“And suppose I want to touch you?” he’d asked, lifting his eyes to her soft, flushed face. “What then?”
Her lips had parted on hungry thoughts. She’d reached down and slowly peeled the blouse and bra from her body, feeling her nipples go hard as he looked at them, as she arched them toward him.
“Have you ever done this with anyone?” he whispered.
“Not until now,” she’d replied, swallowing hard. Her breath had come quickly, like gasps. “Marc... I want to feel your hands.”
“Yes. I want to feel you too,” he whispered back. He lifted one big, warm hand and put it slowly over a soft breast, watching her body jerk as it swallowed her up, and he felt the hard tip rubbing in the dampness of his palm. “You’re so little, darling.”
“Too little?” she managed, afraid that she’d failed him somehow.
“Oh, no,” he whispered, smiling. “No.” His big hands had caressed her stiff young body, and she’d moaned in a way that had excited him beyond bearing.
Outside the house, car horns blew, bringing Gaby coldly back to the present. But her body trembled as she remembered how it had felt that first time he’d touched her, remembered the soft suction of his open mouth on her breast. She looked wildly into the mirror as she stood there nude, fresh from her bath, and watched her body respond even now, years later, to the memory of how it had been. Never since, not even once, had she reacted that way to a man. Marc had owned her body and possessed her soul. Every time she’d tried to give herself to any other man, the memory had chilled her to the bone, so that she was cold, icy cold, with men. They called her frigid, but it was the heat of Marc’s lovemaking that had taken all her warmth away. She’d never been cold with him.
She dressed in a fever, tugging on a pale green cocktail dress with shaking hands. The dress had a bodice with only a whisper of lace over the strapless shoulders. She wouldn’t need a shawl or a jacket, because it was summer and already hot at night.
She left her hair long, letting it drift in auburn waves down over her shoulders. She’d developed since those sensual days with Marc. She’d gained weight, and her body had ripened. She had a perfect hourglass figure now, long slender legs and an all-over tan, a body that men wanted. Marc had wanted it long before it flowered. But Marc had wanted money more. And Gaby knew, even if nobody else did, how he’d attained his huge empire. Knew, and hated him for it. She tried to put thoughts of Marc far from her mind as she got ready to meet Joe. There was no reason to have the ghosts of the past harm her tonight. She was going to have a good time.
Joe Stephano called for her promptly at six. He was leaning leisurely against the stone arch past the door when she answered the doorbell. She and her father only had a daily housekeeper now, Mrs. Sims, a charming middle-aged woman who kept things going like clockwork while Gaby and her father pursued their respective careers. Mrs. Sims left at five thirty usually, except when guests were expected for dinner, so there was only Gaby to answer the phone and the door after that time.
“Very nice,” he said appreciatively, pursing his lips at the deep cleavage and the way the soft fabric clung to every line of her body. “You’ll stop traffic.”
“I do hope so,” she murmured demurely. He was just about her height, very thin, and he looked oddly out of place in his dark evening clothes, but she took his arm and followed him out onto the busy street.
He was driving an expensive sports car, a black one with a white interior, and she was impressed with its gadgetry.
“I usually get cabs where I’m going,” he remarked as they drove down the busy street, “but they’re so hot at night. Besides, I wanted to show this car off. It’s brand-new.”
“It’s a lot of car,” she said, because she knew the list price. She’d wanted one herself but had been hesitant to spend that much on a car. She could have purchased a house in some parts of the country for less.
“I like expensive things,” he remarked. Her eyes went to the Rolex watch on his wrist and the silk jacket he was wearing. Obviously he went in style.
She leaned her head back against the headrest with a weary smile. “It’s been a long day,” she said apologetically. “I hope I won’t be a drag.”
“Not you, Gaby.” He said her name for the first time and smiled, as if it pleased him to use it. “Never you. I thought we’d go Chinese tonight, what do you say?”
“I love Chinese food,” she said dreamily.
“Then Chinese it is!” he replied. He stepped on the gas. “Hold on.”
She did, wondering at the reckless way he cut in and out of traffic. Very often a shy personality camouflaged a person who thrived on danger. Joe hadn’t looked like a daredevil, but he was shaping up as one. She was ready to give thanks for survival when they arrived in the parking lot of an exclusive-looking Chinese restaurant.
“Here we are!” He grinned. He let the top up before he helped her out and locked the car. “Hey, you look shaky. I didn’t scare you, did I?” he asked, as if it mattered.
“A little,” she admitted, because her legs felt like rubber.
“Hey, I won’t ever do it again, okay? I’m really sorry.”
He was so apologetic that she felt guilty for mentioning it. She shook her head and slid her hand through the crook of his arm. “Forget it. Let’s eat. I feel like sweet-and-sour pork tonight.”
“Me too.”
It was the first of many dates. They got along well together, and Gaby liked the fact that he left her at her door with a wink and a grin. She didn’t have to fight him off, and she was delighted to have someone to go places with, someone who didn’t ask for more than she was able to give. She relaxed with him.
The only hard part was wondering about Marc, about his reaction to it. She was sure that Joe had told him. But Joe never mentioned his brother, and she’d long since given up probing. It did no good at all to ask about Marc; Joe gave answers in monosyllables and quickly changed the subject. And perhaps that was just as well. It wouldn’t do for her to get too curious about Marc.
She hadn’t told her father that she was seeing Joe. There hadn’t been the opportunity, anyway. Her dad spent a lot of time at the office these days, getting his finances straightened out after the time he’d taken off to mourn his wife’s death. He was only now becoming his old, cheery self again.
Gaby continued with the Motocraft ads, which had just appeared on television and were gaining her a national reputation as the Parts Girl. She took the kidding good-naturedly, because added exposure meant added security in her job. The money was good, too, and she liked being self-sufficient, depending on herself for her livelihood. She and Joe eased into a companionable friendship, and her life was on an even keel for the first time in quite a while. Then Joe took her by the company offices in downtown Manhattan to meet the executive who was in charge of the advertising. And she ran headlong into Marcus Stephano for the first time in nine years.
CHAPTER TWO
GABY HAD JUST left the elevator on the twelfth floor of the office building where Motocraft, Inc., was located when she collided with something big and warm and solid.
She felt his hands before she looked up and saw his face. Big, warm, firm hands that kept her from pitching to the floor. Hands that her body remembered long before her eyes flooded with helpless memory.
“Gaby?” His deep voice ran through her like ripples on clear water, and her heart beat crazily as she straightened, drowning in the spicy scent of his cologne, a scent she’d associated with him all the long years.
Her wide green eyes searched his black ones, and all her resolutions to hate him, to wreak vengeance, went into stark eclipse. She’d heard of people being frozen in place, but until now she’d never actually experienced it. She didn’t move. She hardly breathed. The world narrowed to Marcus Stephano’s broad, dark face, and she looked and looked until her starving heart began to expand with feeling.
Older. He was older. There were streaks of gray in the thick straight black hair that still fell onto his forehead in unruly strands. There were lines under his eyes, beside his chiseled, wide mouth. He was heavier than he used to be but was still all muscle: broad shoulders that strained against a beautifully tailored jacket, powerful legs that were barely encased in thin, close-fitting slacks. Under his brow his dark eyes narrowed and stared down at her unblinkingly, as if he, too, were comparing memory with reality.
It was too quick. She’d expected that she might see him, dreaded and anticipated it with wild abandon. But she hadn’t expected that it would happen suddenly, like this, before she had time to prepare herself. It was like walking into a hole in a shallow creek.
“Marc,” she said, her voice sounding ghostly, not its normal, sweet contralto.
His chest expanded with what looked like a deliberate breath, but his face showed nothing. Just like old times.
“Surely I haven’t changed that much, honey?” he asked, nothing hostile in his tone. “You’ve grown up, little Gaby. I hardly recognized you.”
Her nails gripped her small purse until she thought they might pierce the delicate leather. But somehow she smiled.
“I’m nine years older,” she reminded him. “Twenty-six, my last birthday.”
“Yes, I know.” He let his eyes go slowly down her body. She felt almost as if he were touching her skin, and she trembled inside. Part of her was glad that she’d chosen to wear a silky, sleeveless beige dress that clung lovingly to her body and that she’d put her hair up into a sleek chignon. She looked elegant and sophisticated, and her eyes were triumphant when she saw the masculine appreciation in his hard face. “You were a bud then. You’ve blossomed.”
“Quite,” she said in a haughty tone.
He still didn’t react. His eyes went past her to Joe, as if he’d only just realized that his brother was with her. Joe’s face was an emotionless mask, and his hands were jammed deeply into his pockets.
“Ciao, mio fratello,” Marc said in Italian, and smiled pleasantly at the younger man.
“Hi,” Joe replied. “I thought Gaby might like to see the offices and meet David Smith, our vice president in charge of advertising.”
“Oh, yes,” Marc said. He glanced at his watch and pulled a gold cigarette case from his inside pocket, his eyes steady and curious on Gaby’s flushed face. “You’re our new image, aren’t you, Gaby?”
He seemed so condescending that she colored. So that was how he planned to play it. Very cool, she gave him that.
“We’re lucky to get her,” Joe broke in, sounding more belligerent than she’d ever heard him.
“Gaby’s reached the point where she’s turning down work these days.”
“Yes, indeed,” she agreed, laying it on thick as she peered up at the taller man and treated him to a flirtatious smile. “I’m in demand, as they say. My bankbook runneth over.” Her eyes narrowed, and the smile iced over. “Sometimes I make more than five thousand a week.”
She’d chosen the figure deliberately, and she watched it hit home, watched his expression freeze in place. He didn’t move for a long moment.
“Nice for you,” he said then, and the mask was in place again. It had hardly slipped at all.
“Nice for you, if this place is indicative of your empire, Mr. Stephano,” she said, glancing around at furnishings that were obviously expensive and probably had been chosen by interior decorators. “Amazing how far you’ve come from that garage where you used to work when I knew you.”
“I got lucky,” he said through his teeth.
“Oh, didn’t you just,” she drawled, delighting at the fury that darkened his eyes.
Joe, standing to one side, frowned at the byplay, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents.
“Shall we go?” Joe asked Gaby, holding out a hand.
“Whenever you’re ready,” she said lightly, and took the outstretched hand. She didn’t miss Marc’s reaction, and that pleased her too. “See you, big boss.”
Joe seemed as triumphant as she felt, and she darted a glance at him. Well, there was no doubt that he’d grown up in Marc’s shadow. Marc had had to be father and mother to the younger man, and she remembered vividly how Marc wielded that authority. He expected immediate obedience, no delays, no excuses. He’d been rigid, and she’d wondered even then if he hadn’t been too tough on Joe. She’d even mentioned it once, only to have him lash out at her for trespassing in family matters.
“Do you work here too?” she asked Joe.
“Me? Nope.” He shrugged it off. “I have an office at the main supply store. It’s kind of my territory. Besides, Marc and I do better when we only see each other occasionally.”
“I see.”
“How was it, seeing him again after so long?” he asked, pausing at the door to an office that carried David Smith’s name in gold letters.
She grimaced. “Not so bad, I guess.”
“He went up in smoke, did you notice?” He laughed, as if that amused him. “I’ll hear about this, you know. He’ll be all over me. Fraternizing with the employees...”
“Joe, you won’t get in trouble, will you?” she asked nervously. She didn’t want to be the cause of an argument.
“Don’t worry, I can take care of myself,” he told her. “Let him rage. Besides,” he added with a calculating stare at Gaby, “he’s got his own problems. I hear his newest lovely is angling for matrimony.”
“His newest?” she asked softly.
“Lana Moore. She’s a British woman. Very wealthy. Brains and beauty. He’s been her lover for the past year. Who knows, he might settle down at last.”
Gaby felt sick, unsteady on her feet. But she couldn’t let it show; she couldn’t let Joe see how that news affected her. She smiled and acted as if she were on stage. “Think so?” she teased. “What will we give him for a wedding present? How about the engine out of that ’56 Chevy?”
He smiled and looked so relieved that she almost burst out laughing. “You’re terrific,” he said under his breath. “Class all the way. Me, I got so many rough edges, I look like a building under construction, but you’re pure, smooth curves, Gaby.”
“What rough edges?” she said, chiding.
His thin shoulders lifted and fell. “My background shows. So does Marc’s, although he hides it well. It’s hard to go from poverty to money. Hard to leave old friends behind because they can’t share your new interests, can’t keep up with the money. Hard to try to fit into the lifestyle of new acquaintances who have money as a common interest, but you can’t relate to them as well as you can to the old friends. You never quite fit in, you know?”
She shook her head. “I came from money,” she confessed. “I’ve always had it. I guess it would be hard, though. Like having a foot in two worlds.”
“Well put. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Dave.”
He opened the door. A thin, nervous-looking man stood up, smiling at Joe. “Hi, son.” He laughed. He was barely forty, but he must feel fatherly. At least he looked it with his bald head and narrow amber eyes. “This must be Gaby. I recognize you from your photos. You’re doing a great job. We’re getting a lot of attention because of you.”
“I’m very glad, Mr. Smith,” she said, leaning forward to shake the clammy, outstretched hand. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity.”
“We’re happy to have you. Can I show you around?”
“We’ll show her around,” Joe said possessively, and winked as he took Gaby’s arm.
They gave her the cook’s tour, and at the end of it she had a vivid picture of the size of the company. It was monstrous, and she wondered how Marc, even with executives and a board of directors, kept track of all of it.
“The mind boggles,” she told Joe on the way out, all the while glancing around as if she expected that Marc might bound out from hiding. “It’s so...big! How do you keep track of everything?”
“Oh, we have enough employees,” he said easily. “It’s mostly bookkeeping, anyway.”
“Some bookkeeping! I’d go blind staring at so many numbers.”
“The auditors do, I think.” He laughed. He studied her for a long moment as they went down in the elevator. “There’s a party next Friday night at Marc’s apartment. Come with me.”
She felt herself go trembly. She wanted to go. She wanted to see Marc, just once more, to let her eyes have the freedom to look at him, to enjoy the sight and smell and reality of him after all this time. She’d thought that after all these years she’d gotten over him, but now, after seeing him just once, she wanted desperately to be near him again. It was so dangerous, though. The trap was there: she could fall in headfirst; she could give up her soul to him all over again. And this time it would be harder to let go. Despite his betrayal, despite the anguish, a part of her belonged to him and always would.
“I don’t think so,” she said quietly.
“Don’t be afraid of him,” Joe taunted lightly, touching her face. “I’ll be right there with you. He won’t bother you.”
That’s what you think, she thought. She looked up, her green eyes dominating her soft face. “Do you know how it ended between Marc and me?” she asked abruptly.
His eyebrows arched. “Sure. Your parents sent you away to school, to get you away from him.”
She opened her mouth. “Almost,” she told him. She and Joe were friends now, and she liked him. He felt like the brother she’d never had. And that being the case, she didn’t want to hurt him, to disillusion him about Marc. She knew he still looked up to his older brother, and she couldn’t destroy his dreams. She remembered how it had hurt when Marc destroyed hers.
She smiled faintly. “He told you, then?”
“Marc?” He stuck out his lower lip and laughed. “He never tells me anything. I just probed until I dragged that out of him. He wouldn’t talk about you afterward. Not one word. I guess it stung, having you taken out of his life like that.”
Sure it had stung, she thought, but the money had surely taken out the sting. He’d used it to good effect, too, she thought bitterly. She straightened. So he hadn’t told Joe the truth. How odd. Perhaps he didn’t want his younger brother to know what a cold-blooded, mercenary man he really was.
Her eyes grew cold as she relived it. “I’ll go to the party with you,” she said. “It will be an experience.”
“You’ll get to meet Lana,” he remarked, watching closely for her reaction.
She didn’t give him one. She’d learned to hide her feelings. “What a treat!” she said sarcastically.
He chuckled. “Stick with me, kid. I’ll protect you.”
Her eyes twinkled as she smiled back. He was really a nice man when he forgot his shyness. He did, with her. She seemed to bring out a new side of him. Interesting how that happened, she thought. Some people could draw out the darkness, others the light. She tucked her hand in his arm and let him lead her out of the building.
She almost looked back. But the trauma of seeing Marc again kept her eyes facing toward the street. Now that it had happened, it was over. She could be prepared for their next meeting. And no way was she going to miss that party now. She wanted to show him how little she cared for him. She wanted to dress to the teeth and show him exactly what he’d thrown away for money. The thought brightened her eyes, sharpened her smile. Joe, looking down, grinned. He could be forgiven for thinking he was the cause of her heightened color and being flattered by it.
CHAPTER THREE
MARC’S APARTMENT WAS LUXURIOUS, just as Gaby had pictured it. From the thick pile of the gray carpet to the charcoal, brown and beige striped furniture and coordinating curtains, it was as striking as the man who lived there. She had to admit that his taste in furnishings was very good. If he’d had any part in the decorating, she thought bitterly, when she caught a glimpse of him with the beautiful blonde on his arm.
So that was Lana Moore. She was wearing a black shoulderless gown, and it emphasized her very apparent femininity. Her hair was done Grecian style, very flattering to her delicate features and big blue eyes.
Gaby was wearing gold lamé, her sheath gown also shoulderless and with a deep slit down the front of the skirt, but her carriage had more panache than Ms. Moore. She had the modeling background to wear anything with style and exquisite grace. She was very grateful for that fact tonight. She couldn’t have borne coming off second best to Marc’s new love.