Tangled Destinies

CHAPTER FOUR

GABY SAW JOE frequently after that. She expected Marc to try to put a stop to it, but she saw no evidence of any interference. She was relieved, but in a way it bothered her, too, because Gaby hated thinking Marc didn’t even care. She had to admit that she preferred his antagonism to his indifference and she wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her.

Meanwhile Joe was good fun. He had excellent manners and a dry sense of humor. He took her to the most expensive, delightful kinds of places. She’d been accustomed to high living all her life, so she never questioned the kind of money Joe had. Motocraft must really be an enterprise, Gaby thought, because even a vice president got rich at it. But, then, Marc was Joe’s brother, and she imagined Marc didn’t mind sharing. He’d once seemed the soul of generosity to her. Back in the days before he began to worship money and would do anything for it.

Joe had more cars than anyone Gaby had ever known. He changed them almost daily, going from his Jaguar to a Mercedes to a Corvette and then to a renovated MG Midget. Gaby liked the Midget most of all, probably because it wasn’t new and it seemed to have a personality all its own. They alternated between going to restaurants and Joe’s apartment, where he had a giant screen for his VCR. There they could watch first-run movies with popcorn provided by the woman who cooked for Joe and his roommate, Bob Donalds. Bob often joined them for the movies. He was good company, too, a real estate agent with a live-wire personality, just the opposite of Joe. Bob never seemed to mind company, and he liked Gaby. He was tall and redheaded and teased Gaby about being some long-lost relative because their hair was the same shade.

Gaby had been with Joe almost every day for three weeks. He seemed to just hang around where she was working. She wondered if he was on vacation or if Marc paid him to stay away.

She teased him about that once, and he gave her a startled look. “Well, Marc pretty much lets me do what I please, you know,” he mumbled, and quickly changed the subject. She shrugged it off, since he didn’t seem inclined to talk about it. And she really wasn’t interested in his business affairs. She enjoyed being around him.

They went dancing and out to eat and to movies whenever Gaby’s busy schedule would allow. She ran her long legs off auditioning for jobs, posing for stills and doing runway modeling. She was popular and made a lot of money. But it cost a lot to maintain her wardrobe and pay the bills.

Gaby didn’t particularly enjoy the lifestyle that went with modeling, and before Joe came along, she’d avoided the crowd she worked with. But Joe, despite his shyness, seemed fascinated with her world, so she introduced him to it. There were show-business personalities, politicians, even millionaires who circulated at the exclusive parties Gaby and her friends were invited to. She often thought she knew people only invited her to these parties because of her looks and because she was becoming a well-known model. Because of that she seldom accepted invitations. But she went to humor Joe. Marc didn’t approve, and that made Joe all the more determined to do it. That was the one thing she and Joe had in common. They both liked doing things to spite Marc, to antagonize him. The holidays were only a week away now, and Gaby had already packed. She’d been all over Europe with her family but, oddly enough, had rarely visited the Hamptons, which was only a few hours from New York City. She was looking forward to the break in her busy schedule, despite the fact that she was sure Joe had gloated over it to his brother by now. He hadn’t mentioned Marc’s reaction, and Gaby hadn’t asked for it. She was going to go and enjoy herself and not worry. Let Marc smolder. Vaguely she remembered the threat he’d made, but she hadn’t taken him seriously. He had Lana to occupy him. He would never put that relationship at risk just to irritate Gaby. She shook the thought from her head, forcing herself to dwell on happy thoughts instead.

Her mirror told her that she’d changed quite a bit from the young girl who’d worshipped Marcus Stephano. She was no longer the skinny, eager, very unsophisticated child who’d been such easy prey for his seductive ardor. Even nine years ago Marc had been an expert.

Despite all the time that had passed, the memories were indelible. She remembered the last time she’d been alone with Marc, that evening when it had almost gone too far. Her eyes closed and she sighed as the memories caressed her mind.

She and Marc had gone to a movie, she remembered. It was one of many times she’d had to sneak out of her house to keep her parents from knowing that she was seeing a boy from the wrong side of the tracks. It had been a late-afternoon matinee, because it was too difficult to get out at night. The racy movie, combined with the danger of discovery, had given Gaby an unfamiliar and delicious taste of intrigue. She’d watched the people on the screen and imagined that they were she and Marc, loving each other wildly. It had stirred her unbearably. When he suggested that they stop by his apartment for coffee on the way home, she hadn’t questioned the uncharacteristic nature of the invitation. He’d been careful until then to make sure they were never completely alone.

But once in the apartment, he’d closed the door and locked it. And as he’d stood there, big and dark in his navy slacks and open-throated white shirt, her heart had begun to pound wildly. He was incredibly sensuous with his chiseled mouth, black eyes and tanned, olive body that hinted of untold delights. The way he’d looked at Gaby that night told her graphically that coffee wasn’t all he wanted.

Gaby trembled as she thought of that long-ago night. She’d wanted him so badly. All the stolen minutes, the hard kisses, the too quick touching of hands on forbidden skin. All of it had exploded in a tangible expression of longing that night.

He’d come toward her slowly, tugging her against his big body, his eyes already apologetic even as he bent and kissed her in a way he never had before. She felt his hard mouth tremble in a caress tender enough to make her shiver too. It was wildly erotic, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth, his hands low on her hips, moving her against him so that she could feel his arousal.

“Sleep with me,” he’d whispered, his voice husky with passion. “Come into my bedroom and let me take off your clothes and make love to you completely.”

“You said...we wouldn’t,” she’d whispered, wanting him but frightened and uncertain. “You said—”

“Yes, I know, and I should be shot,” he’d replied, his face hard with desire. “But I need you so much, little one.” His big hands had crushed her thighs against his, and his eyes had been hot with desire.

“Oh, Marc,” she’d whispered at his mouth as he bent and took it again, with more insistence this time.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he’d told her. “I’ll take good care of you. I’ll make it easy and slow and sweet for you. I’ll take a long, long time, little Gaby. I’ll take you right to heaven.”

He’d lifted her, carried her into the bedroom and closed the door behind them. The room was spartan, with old furniture and a double bed that had seen better days, its brass worn and flaked. But it felt like paradise when he laid her down on it and began to kiss her.

Gaby remembered how tense she’d been at first, until his soft, tender kisses had relaxed her, until he made her want his hands and his eyes. She’d let him undress her totally, lying under his strong, rough mechanic’s hands like a young sacrifice, unafraid, wanting him obsessively.

She remembered the way he’d looked at her untouched body, his dark eyes hungry and oddly reverent as they studied her. Bending over her, smiling tenderly at her embarrassment, he’d seemed so adult, so masculine, with his shirt rumpled by her searching, fascinated hands, baring a chest dark with hair and exposure to the sun. His hair had been unruly and hung down over his broad forehead.

“Gaby,” he’d whispered, “you even look virginal. White and chaste and delicate.”

She’d stretched under his hot gaze, loving the feel of his eyes on her, the way he followed the movement, watching it lift her taut breasts, stretch her long legs, her slender hips.

“Do you want to close your eyes, honey?” he asked gently, standing. “Or do you want to watch me undress?”

Her body tingled even now as she remembered his question. She’d never really thought about how it would be until then. And as she looked at him she knew that she had to see him. She told him so and saw the desire in his eyes.

“I’m not as pretty as you are,” he’d whispered. But as the clothing came away from his powerful, dark body with its rough hair and smooth muscle, she could have argued with him. Nude, he was the most exquisite masculine thing she’d ever seen. Her eyes dropped and lingered, fascinated.

“Come here,” he’d whispered, watching her move to her knees on the bed in front of him.

And then he’d taken her hands to him, showing her how to touch him, how to drive him mad. And he’d laughed even through the shudders at her rapt fascination to the reactions he was unable to hide from her.

He’d touched her and teased her, giving her the most exquisite pleasure she’d ever experienced. She remembered writhing wildly on the white sheets, moaning in sweet anguish as he did the most shockingly delicious things to her body.

“You like that, huh?” he’d whispered, lifting his head to see her face. “Yes, I like it too. I like making you scream.”

“I’ll...die,” she threatened as he bent again, her voice breaking.

“Not yet,” he whispered with a soft, wicked laugh. “Not for a long time yet.”

Over and over again he’d taken her on the roller coaster of sensation, teaching her things about her body that all the romances she’d read in her young life had ill prepared her for. By the time he finally moved over her, parting her thighs unresistingly with a hard knee, she would have done anything he’d asked of her. Even this. Especially this.

A shudder went through Gaby as she recalled how desperately she had desired Marc that day, how much she had wanted to give herself to him. But then they had heard the front door suddenly slam. Marc had groaned in agony, and his eyes had been terrible as he managed to drag his body away from her. He’d stumbled to the door, furious when he reached it, just in time to keep his brother from opening it.

“I’m busy!” he called through it. “Go away!”

“Oops,” Joe had replied amusedly. “Sorry, big brother. I’ll run around the block a time or two!”

And he’d gone quickly away. But the spell had been broken. Gaby remembered how she had crawled back into her clothes, feeling soiled and vaguely ashamed, and she hadn’t been able to look at Marc. Finally he’d stumbled into the bathroom, leaving her there alone. A long time later he came back, dressed himself and lit a cigarette.

“Are you all right?” he asked, and even now she remembered the concern in his dark eyes.

“Yes,” she’d replied, her voice choked, her fingers clasped together. “Yes, I’m...fine.” Her eyes had closed with embarrassment and shame. “I’d like to go home.”

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll walk you.”

He did, in a silence that was cold and somehow final. He’d left her at her door with darkness falling around them, and he’d touched her hair gently, hesitantly, looking for words that wouldn’t come. She’d looked up at him with her heart in her eyes, but he’d only smiled faintly, and then he’d turned and walked quickly away. She remembered watching him, aching for words that would tell her that he loved her, that he was sorry, that he wanted her for his wife. But he’d never spoken one word of love. Not one.

She wondered now why she had never realized that her parents could see them from the window. She hadn’t even considered that they might find out about her mysterious romance. Marc hadn’t called her after that. He hadn’t come to see her. And several days later, after Gaby had gone out of her mind worrying and missing him and hurting with guilt and neglect, her mother had called her into the living room and told her quietly and tersely that they knew about Marc. And then she told her that they’d given him money in return for cutting Gaby out of his life.

She’d gone straight to her father in tears, and he’d looked guilty and sick, but he hadn’t denied it. Especially not with her mother standing rigid and unbending at the doorway. Even then Gaby hadn’t believed it. Marc loved her. He wouldn’t have taken a bribe! She’d tried to see Marc, to ask if it was true. He wouldn’t talk to her, not on the phone, not even when she tried to see him at the garage in person. Finally he gave in to her persistence and went out to the front of the garage.

“What do you want?” he’d demanded.

“I want to know if you took money to leave me alone,” she’d asked quietly.

“What did you expect, that I’d refuse?” he’d shot at her, his face emotionless, his hands clenched, his white T-shirt stained with grease, like his hands. “I wasn’t born with a silver spoon, little lady. I have to work for my living. Yes, I took it! You didn’t really think I’d prefer you to easy street?” he added, taunting her.

She hadn’t answered. She’d been too shocked and hurt to utter a sound.

That had angered him, she recalled, as if her silence was in some way more difficult to bear than her anger would have been. “Get out of my life,” he’d yelled at her. “I don’t want you, little rich girl. You were just a novelty in the first place, until you became a gold mine. So get lost, will you?”

“Sure,” she’d replied, shaking. “My mistake, Mr. Stephano, I thought you loved me.”

“Did I ever say so?” he’d scoffed, laughing. “Don’t you know when a man’s got the hots for you?”

“I do now, don’t I?” she’d replied, although something inside her had died when he laughed at her. “I won’t bother you again.”

She had run. It was the only time she could remember running from a problem, but she’d run all the way home, sobbing wildly. And it had taken her two days to get over it. By then her parents were determined to get her out of town, to keep her from being tempted into seeing him again. They sent her to an exclusive boarding school in western Massachusetts where she learned to live again. And now that expensive upbringing was paying off. Now she had the poise to take on Marc Stephano and pay off a very old, very bitter debt.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE STEPHANOS’ SUMMER home was located between Southampton and East Hampton, situated near enough to Mecox Bay that it had a glorious view of the bay as well as the Atlantic Ocean, which it faced. It was a long drive from New York City, but the Stephanos’ helicopter made it there in no time at all. Gaby and Joe went alone with the pilot early Friday morning. Gaby hadn’t had any pressing assignments, so she’d taken the day off. Marc and Lana and the Smiths wouldn’t arrive until that night, Joe told her smugly. They’d have the whole house to themselves until the others showed up. Since the Fourth of July wasn’t until the following week, it would be a very long holiday indeed. Gaby felt she could use it. She’d worked steadily since her mother’s heart attack, trying to put it out of her mind. Despite the fact that she and her mother hadn’t been very close, it was difficult to accept. There were still times when she felt near tears.

She was glad the others wouldn’t already be in residence. She’d have time to relax and steel herself for another confrontation with Marc. That would help.

“You’re gonna love this place,” Joe told her when the chopper touched down on the heliport beside the house. “Marc really fought to get it, but he loved the look of it.”

She was still catching her breath from her first glimpse of the property. It was worth fighting for, she thought. The house itself was unique, very Mediterranean in design, with heavy white stucco and a red roof and a high wall that enclosed it from prying eyes. Secluded patios led off each bedroom, overlooking the bay on one side and the Atlantic on the other. The property had its own private pier and dock and a deliciously large ocean frontage with a private, very white beach. Gaby immediately fell in love with both the house and ocean views. And although she’d spent a good portion of her life vacationing on beaches all over the world, this was different. The house was isolated, and there weren’t any close neighbors. Just behind the house there was a tiered swimming pool with a patio, which had plush lawn furniture and a cabana. The cabana shielded the house from prying eyes, so that the pool area could be quite secluded. Off the master bedroom there was a walled patio that contained a hydro spa.

The beach had high walls at both property boundaries so that the occupants of the house could sunbathe without being observed, except possibly from the air or from passing ships. It was a haven of privacy all around. Inside, the bedrooms were widely separated and had exquisite bathrooms of marble and lots of glass. Gaby’s was on the bay side of the house, and it had a bed with curtains that drew together all the way around. The bedroom was decorated in pastels and was beautiful. It was fit for a princess.

“There’s a private wing for staff as well,” Joe told her, smiling. “We have to bring Carla with us when we come down here, because we don’t cook and Lana can’t. Carla is a jewel. Very Italian. You’ll like her.”

“I already have visions of gaining twenty pounds before I leave here,” she kidded.

“On you it would look good,” he decided.

“It would cost me my career too.” She laughed. “Oh, Joe, it’s a dream of a house!”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “Go ahead and unpack, put on a bathing suit and meet me at the ocean. We’ll swim until dinner.”

“Wonderful!”

She rushed to get into her black designer swimsuit. It had straps that crisscrossed in back and it was cut high at the hips. She didn’t like bikinis, and this suited her sleek body without being overstated. She pinned up her hair and ran to find Joe.

He didn’t look all that bad in black swimming trunks, but Gaby couldn’t help but compare him to Marc, whose big, husky body she remembered so well without the civilizing veneer of clothing. Joe was slightly built, had no body hair at all and was rather pale. But she had no interest in his body, anyway. Only his friendship appealed to her, and she hoped he understood that.

He let out a long, slow whistle. “My, my, what a dish,” he said, smiling sheepishly. He’d come out of his shell a lot, but he still seemed a little uneasy when he flirted with her, as if it came hard to him.

“You’re not bad, either,” she said, laughing. “Race you!”

She took off running toward the crashing surf, with Joe right behind her, and dived in headfirst. The water felt wonderful. Gulls cried overhead, and she felt alive and on fire with a sense of adventure. Marc wouldn’t want her here, and it would be hard watching him with Lana. Yet she felt real for the first time in nine years. It was as if her heart had been given massive doses of novocaine and had only just regained its ability to feel. Just to have Marc back in her life, even on the fringe of it, was a pleasure beyond bearing. She laughed and played like an otter in the water, and Joe watched her without really comprehending why she seemed so radiant.

“Having fun?” he called above the crash of the waves.

“Glorious!” she returned. “Isn’t it beautiful here?”

“You’re beautiful, all right.”

“You’re a flirt,” she accused, and shot water at him from behind her uplifted palm.

He started to retaliate just as the helicopter returned. His face fell as he looked up.

“Will the chopper hold all of them at once?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head. “The Smiths were driving up, so they could do some sightseeing. That will be Marc and Lana.”

She felt her heart sink. Well, she’d asked for it, hadn’t she? “You did tell him I was coming?” she asked, hesitating, her eyes big and green and questioning.

“Sure.”

“Did he go through the ceiling?”

“Right through it to the roof,” he replied. “But he gave in.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble for you,” she said.

“You won’t. We’ll just steer clear of them. He and Lana keep to themselves most of the time, anyway.”

She touched the foaming surf. “People in love usually do,” she said.

“Lana’s the one in love. I doubt that Marc is, though. But I have to say that she must be something, to have lasted a year.”

Gaby frowned. She truly wanted to dislike Lana, but the English woman had such a sweet personality. Why couldn’t she have been a scheming witch? Why did she have to be a nice person?

“You’re sure you’re over him?” Joe asked gently, his dark eyes narrow and searching.

“Of course. It’s been nine years,” she replied, a little too sharply.

“Yeah—” he laughed self-consciously “—I guess that would be stretching things, wouldn’t it, for you to carry a torch that long?”