Tangled Destinies Read online

  “Hello, hello, so nice to meet you,” he said, acting flustered and shaking hands with the younger man. “I’m glad you could come.”

  Gabrielle smoothed down her white sundress and studied her father with a frown, curious at his lack of poise, his red cheeks. It wasn’t like him to be upset by company.

  “What can I get you to drink?” he asked, leading them into the spacious living room.

  “I’ll just have some Perrier,” Gabrielle said. “Joe?”

  “Vodka and soda,” Joe returned. He sat down beside her on the sofa while Jack Bennett poured their drinks. “You have a beautiful home,” Joe remarked, glancing around the expensively furnished room.

  “My wife’s, not mine,” Jack said, smiling as he dropped into an armchair across from them. “She was very talented.”

  “She died several months ago,” Gabrielle volunteered, staring into her glass. She smiled. “She was quite a lady, wasn’t she, Dad?”

  He nodded, and the nervousness seemed to go as he sipped his own drink. “Yes, she was. A little naive in some ways but charming.” He glanced at Gaby. “How’s the modeling coming along?”

  “Ask me,” Joe said, chuckling. He winked at Gaby. “She’s doing just great. We’ll sell millions of dollars’ worth of stuff, all because of Gaby. I couldn’t be more pleased about having her represent us.”

  “Uh, how does your brother feel about it?” Jack asked suddenly.

  Joe shrugged. “Marc doesn’t bother to acquaint me with his feelings. He hasn’t said a word about the ad campaign. Well, maybe one word,” he added, and he looked guilty.

  “He tried to have me thrown out, I imagine,” Gaby said, taking a shot in the dark and watching Joe clear his throat as if he’d choked himself on his drink.

  “It was nothing personal,” he said quickly, his dark eyes apologetic. “He just thought we should have a blonde.”

  “I could always have dyed my hair,” she reminded him, grinning.

  “Of course.”

  Jack got up quickly and announced that dinner was waiting, as if he felt the sudden tension and was determined to obliterate it. They talked about politics and taxes all through the delicious meal Jack’s cook had prepared, and what had begun as a trying evening became a jovial one.

  “Come again anytime,” Jack said when Joe was about to leave. “Glad to have you.”

  “Thanks,” Joe replied, shaking hands at the door. “I enjoyed it.”

  “So did I. I’ll say good night,” he added with a grin, and went upstairs.

  She walked out the door with Joe in silence, and he seemed to be brooding about something as they stood beside his Mercedes convertible on the street. “I wanted to ask you something,” he began.

  “Yes?” She smiled up at him.

  “I wanted to invite you out to the Hamptons with me,” he said. “We—the family, that is—have a beach house there. It’s nice and private, and we’re having a few people down for the July Fourth holidays. I’d like you to come as my guest.”

  Her heart stopped. “You and Marc, you mean,” she asked bluntly.

  “Yeah,” he grumbled. He stuck his hands in his pockets with a rough sigh. “Don’t worry. He wouldn’t be around much,” he added coaxingly. “And, besides, the place is huge. We could always keep out of his way.”

  Yes, and it would irritate him beyond bearing, Gaby thought. She hesitated but only for a minute. Marc would hate it. That appealed to her. It appealed a lot. Maybe she could even bear seeing him with Lana.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’d love to. What shall I pack?”

  “Something cool.” He chuckled. “And a couple of dresses. We’ll go to one of the fish places to eat.”

  She searched his dark eyes and became serious. “Joe, I wouldn’t want to lead you on,” she began, her voice quiet. “I like you. But that’s all it can ever be. I enjoy my independence.” Her shoulders rose and fell. “Knowing that, I’ll understand if you’d rather I didn’t go with you.”

  He smiled slowly. “Thank God.” He sighed. “A woman without marriage on the brain. I like you, too, sweetheart,” he added, brushing his knuckles gently against her cheek. “And I’m no more in the mood for a passionate affair than you are. But I don’t make friends easily, especially women friends, and I enjoy showing you off, taking you places. Sure, I want you to come. But Marc won’t, and that’s why you want to come, isn’t it?” he asked shrewdly, watching her face color. He laughed wickedly. “That’s another reason I invited you. Marc’s been running my life for years. But I’ve got my fingers in some other pies now, and I have my own spending money. Having you on my arm would give him hell, wouldn’t it?”

  She began to realize that Joe had his own problems with Marc. Perhaps he’d deliberately pursued her to get back at his brother. She wasn’t sure now that she wanted to go through with it. Her own revenge was one thing. Joe’s was something else. Marc had put a lot of sacrifice into bringing up Joe...

  Listen to yourself, she thought, you’re going soft already. She laughed. “Okay, I’ll go. We’ll put the thumbscrews on big brother together.”

  “That’s my girl,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Good night.”

  “Thanks for dinner,” he called as he drove off. And with a wave of his hand and a flash of white teeth, he was gone.

  Gaby went upstairs to her own room and gazed out the window. Was she doing the right thing? She thought back to her youth, to the heart Marc had broken, to the aching humiliation of their final meeting. Her eyes went hard. Yes, it was the right thing. It didn’t matter what Joe’s motives were; her own were the only ones that concerned her. She could needle Marc if she kept her head. She could make him feel the same torment he’d inflicted on her. And she ignored the tiny voice that argued that she was more vulnerable than he was. The sight of him would be bittersweet anguish. To see him, be with him again, even with Lana Moore between them...no, that wasn’t why she was going, it wasn’t! She turned abruptly from the window and went to bed.

  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.