“I don’t know, Carmen,” Ciara finally responded to her sister’s question.
“Oh.” Carmen was silent a moment. “Will you talk to Papa? Tell him to stop calling Mama. I can’t do it.”
Ciara sighed. “Yes, I’ll call him.”
“Thanks, Ciara.” Her sister disconnected.
Ciara braced herself to make the call, striving for professional detachment. But when her father answered, she was swamped by the hurt she’d felt since she was a teenager.
“Papa.”
“Ciara?”
“Yes. Papa, you know you’re not supposed to call Mama. You’re separated.”
“Not by her choice. Or mine.” His disapproval and anger seethed through the phone. He knew she was the one who’d initiated her parents’ separation.
“She signed the papers, Papa,” Ciara reminded him.
“You made her. And now she has changed her mind and you will not let her end the separation like she wants to. She wants to come home. I want her to come home.”
“To a bed where your whore is currently sleeping.”
“Ashley is not a whore. She is your youngest brother’s mother. A brother you have never met, I remind you.”
How dare he scold her about familial duty. “He’s living proof that my father is an adulterer.”
“I am a man, Ciara. I have needs. I do not expect you to understand.”
“What you have is no self-control. You don’t know how to honor vows.”
“I am not going to argue Latin marriage with you,” he said, his voice stiff.
Ciara felt unclean. “No, you’re not. If you can’t honor the separation contract, like you can’t honor wedding vows, we’ll get a restraining order against you.”
“Ciara, you cannot do that. She is my wife!” he shouted.
“You went into the marriage in bad faith. That’s an argument for annulment in the church’s eyes.”
“No, that is a lie.”
“You never intended to honor your vows. It’s time you let Mama have a divorce.”
“She does not want a divorce, and neither do I. I want my wife back and there is nothing you can do to stop her from coming home where she belongs.”
Ciara felt cold all the way through. “And where would your precious Ashley go?”
“Ashley knows I am married. She knew this time was only temporary, until Ascension returned home. I will get her an apartment, or a house.”
“And your son?”
“He is mine. A son should live with his father. I will talk to your mother about something called shared parenting with Ashley.”
Shared parenting.
Ciara hung up before her volcanic rage at her father escaped her lips. Anger drove her to her feet to pace the confines of her hotel room. It was hideous to imagine her mother cooking for her father’s bastard, forced to take care of the child during the day while her father was at work, forced to face her husband’s infidelity twenty-four seven. My God, Ciara couldn’t believe her father’s audacity.
Ciara didn’t understand why her mother had married him. And that she wanted to go back to him. She was as bad as the women who stayed with physical abusers. Ciara would never allow herself to be cheated on and lied to and humiliated like her mother had. How could she stop her mother from going back for more?
But when Ciara’s anger died, doubt crept in. Didn’t her mother have the right to make bad choices? Freedom meant having free will. Ciara just didn’t know where free will crossed the line to self-destruction. At what point could family members intervene? What Ciara wanted for her mother wasn’t so wrong, but velvet chains were still chains. Was Ciara hurting her mother with her righteous opinions?
Ciara had no answers. She felt too strongly about this issue to be unbiased. She’d have to tell her mother this new development face to face. She called Carmen to warn her she was coming over.
By the time she’d driven to Royal Oak, her back and shoulder muscles were knotted with tension. An unsmiling Carmen answered the door and led her to their mother. Her mother took one look at Ciara and her face crumpled.
Ciara knelt at her mother’s feet and took hold of her mother’s cold hands. “Carmen, please send the children away, but you and Esteban need to hear this.”
As her mother sobbed quietly, Carmen shooed the children upstairs. Then she returned to sit on the couch holding Esteban’s hand.
Ciara repeated the conversation with her father. Carmen gasped when Ciara reported her father’s plan.
Her mother’s face was lined with strain. “But he cannot believe I would want her child in my house.”
“He does, Mama. You’ve accepted his cheating. Why not the result of his affair?”
But her mother shook her head in negation. “You are painting him as a bad man. You did not repeat his words correctly. He would not ask this of me.”
Ciara stiffened, overly sensitive to being called a liar at the moment. “I repeated everything he said. All I left out was my bad behavior.”
“But no man asks this of his wife, not in America.”
“Mama,” Carmen scolded. “No man asks his wife to turn a blind eye while he sleeps around. Esteban would never ask it of me. Besides, I wouldn’t put up with that and he knows it. I couldn’t ask for a more faithful husband.”
Shock reverberated through Ciara. She’d wondered about her sister’s marriage but had been afraid to ask, afraid to know the truth. Ciara felt dizzy with unexpected hope. She’d thought all men were untrustworthy liars. But if her brother-in-law could be trusted, maybe other men could be as well?
Her mother’s lip quivered. She studied her son-in-law.
“I would never do such a thing to Carmen,” Esteban assured her. “Or to my family.”
“And Papa flaunts his infidelity,” Carmen continued, “Not just for you to see, but for me and my children, for Carlos Junior and Francisco’s children to see. Papa has shamed us all. An honorable man would set you free.”
Their mother gasped. “Divorce?”
“You deserve to be appreciated as Esteban values me. As I cherish and respect him. I don’t want to see you treated this way anymore. Divorce would give you a fresh start, another chance, perhaps a man who’ll honor you.”
Mrs. Alafita shook her head. “Divorce is wrong.”
“So is adultery, Mama. The Ten Commandments don’t list divorce, but they do list adultery.”
“But I will be alone,” their mother wailed.
Esteban slid off the couch and knelt by Ciara’s side. “You’re welcome in our home for as long as you wish to live here. I know Carmen is glad you’re here. The children love you.”
“And I love them. But divorce … ”
Carmen knelt beside her husband. “A beginning, Mama, not an ending.”
“If you want to go back to Papa, we can’t stop you,” Ciara said.
Carmen’s gaze jerked to her and she gasped, “No.”
“But you know what you face,” Ciara added.
Her mother’s eyes were dark with misery. “You are telling the truth?”
“Yes, Mama,” Ciara answered.
Her mother sobbed. “I cannot go back to that. I will not.” She gripped her hands together in her lap.
Ciara gave her mother a few moments to cry and wipe her eyes with a tissue. Then she asked, “What do you want me to do?”
Carmen and Esteban laid their hands on her mother’s. “We love you, Mama. We want you to be happy.”
Mrs. Alafita looked at Esteban. “You believe my husband is wrong? That he has dishonored me?”
Esteban nodded. “Yes, Mama. A man cherishes his wife and honors her above all others. My father taught me that.”
Her mother turned to Ciara. She drew a shuddering breath. “Draw up the papers. I will sign them. I will not let him do this to me.”
Ciara bowed her head. “Yes, Mama.”
Carmen and Esteban rose to place their arms around Ciara’s mother. Ciara moved out of their way, surreptitiously wiping a tear from her cheek. Her mother had chosen. It was what Ciara had wanted for years, so why did her chest feel so tight? Why was there no sense of victory in this decision?
“It’s best for you, Mama,” Esteban rumbled. “You’ve lived in limbo a long time.”
“We all have, Mama,” Carmen agreed.
Ciara agreed too. Now they could all move forward, including her. She hoped.
“We have a meeting with Adam Steele at ten,” Bryce greeted Ciara first thing the next morning.
Ciara tamped down her excitement. Here was the break she’d wanted. “He must be anxious if he’s called already.”
“He called me at home yesterday.” Bryce was at his most inscrutable.
Ciara frowned. “Then why didn’t you give him a status update yesterday?” Damn, they’d probably handled the private stuff already.
“Mr. Steele prefers to discuss the case in person.”
Lucky for her. “I’ll gather all the files.” She turned to leave.
Bryce’s voice halted her. “Ciara.”
She turned back. “Do you need something?”
The heat in Bryce’s blue eyes caused a melting sensation in her lower abdomen.
“Will you go out with me tomorrow night?”
Ciara could barely breathe. Her heart pounded with excitement. “Out? On a date?”
“There’s a Bar Association mixer at the Highland Meadows Country Club. It’s a dinner/dance. I think I can handle the slow dances.”
Slow dancing with Bryce. On a date. Ciara swallowed. “Are you sure you want to go out with me?”
“Definitely.”
“Then, sure, I’ll go. I love to dance.”
“You said maybe the answer wouldn’t always be no.”
Ciara couldn’t speak. Her breath stalled in her throat. Did he think the answer would be yes on Friday? If he asked, would she say no? He looked wonderful in his navy pinstriped suit with the power red tie. Confident, successful, in control. She’d like to place herself in his sure hands and let him do whatever he liked with her. Her face heated, her heart rate galloped, and she fled without answering.
She’d worked with successful men before, but never mixed sex with business, not that she was now. She felt off balance with Bryce, as though she weren’t sure which world she should be in: the personal or the professional.
When she returned with the files, Bryce looked up and speared her with a glance. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”
“A little,” she admitted.
“Good. I don’t want to be the only one.”
Her body felt overheated, her knit dress too tight. Their eyes locked. She felt like she was falling into their cerulean depths. His eyes were heated, yet cool — as fickle as her body’s temperature. She moistened her lips remembering yesterday’s kiss. Her gaze dropped to his firm lips. She wanted to taste them again.
Bryce made no move, but waited, his vaunted control giving him the appearance of cool and calm. How could he not tremble with the memory of the fire they’d created as they pressed together? How could his breathing be so calm when she felt like her chest heaved with heavy panting? She could smell his light cologne, released from his body heat. She wanted to touch his body too, run her hands up the hard planes of his chest. She wanted to wrinkle his blindingly white shirt that shouted control. She wanted to muss his perfect hair.
She wanted to get messy with him. She wanted him out of control. She felt like throwing herself at him to break his icy coolness.
His hand twitched. She exhaled, knowing he was barely holding onto his composure. She wouldn’t push him to snap. She wasn’t ready for the consequences.
As she walked out of his office, she turned and caught him exhaling. A smile of pure pleasure teased her lips.
Down the hall in the cubicle she’d been assigned, Ciara felt like she was on pins and needles. Her body still reacted to the encounter with Bryce and now she had nearly two hours to await Adam Steele. She should be wearing a wire; otherwise, anything she heard could be hearsay evidence. She should have brought a tape recorder to work, although she had no place to hide it.
She should be interviewing witnesses for the State, doing her best to make the case iron clad. Because lying to Bryce was one thing, but lying to a mobster could be fatal. But it was too late to change course now. She was on point. It was up to her. She hoped her true feelings for Steele didn’t show on her face.
The intercom startled her from her research. “Ciara, Mr. Steele is here. Please come to my office,” Bryce ordered.
“I’ll be right there.” Ciara headed down the hall with her notebook. She’d see the mobster up close for the first time.
She passed a very large man in a black suit outside Bryce’s door. His dark eyes were cold and soulless. Steele must have brought a bodyguard.
Ciara entered Bryce’s office and had eyes only for Steele. Graying, fifty-three, of medium build, in a charcoal pinstriped suit, Steele resembled an elegant gentleman. Belatedly she realized he was sizing her up, but not as a man would an attractive female. It was only as his dead gray eyes met hers that she understood he was doing a threat assessment. What he’d decided, however, she couldn’t tell.
“Mr. Steele, this is my new assistant Ciara Alafita. Ciara, Adam Steele.”
Ciara shook Steele’s hand. Never in a thousand years would she have believed she’d do such a thing. She worked in the AG’s office to help people however she could. Steele and his ilk were the AG’s enemy. But this close to him she felt vulnerable. She was glad he didn’t know the real reason she was here.
• • •
Bryce watched Ciara and Steele. There was no hint of recognition or familiarity on either’s part, but then Ciara had probably been coached on how to act around the man who controlled her. Bryce had foolishly hoped they would give away their real relationship.
One thing he thought he could say for certain: Ciara and Steele weren’t lovers. Bryce felt savage satisfaction over that. Those two could still be the greatest actors in the world, but his gut said on this issue he wasn’t wrong.
Ciara sat in the second visitor’s chair next to Steele.
“How’s my defense coming along?” Steele asked as soon as he was seated.
“I’m going through the Grand Jury indictment piece by piece to dispute each item,” Bryce explained. “I have Miss Alafita re-interviewing witnesses. We’ve researched relevant cases and appeals — ”
“Give me specifics,” Steele demanded.
“I believe we’ve discredited the witness for one count of extortion. He has no first-hand knowledge of a crime. Without his testimony, his physical evidence is inadmissible.”