Chapter Twelve
Marco and Marcellus were waiting in Massimo’s suite when his bodyguards ushered Jakob inside. Their plan was to ambush him and coax him into admitting to basically stealing money from their family. They’d spent the better part of the last hour with their father trying to determine why he allowed Jakob such access to the Medina fortune. The answer shouldn’t have surprised them. His fists clenched and unclenched as he remembered his conversation with his father.
“Papi, I need to ask you a couple of things. Serious things. About the company.”
Marco had watched as he had nodded almost imperceptibly.
He had sighed deeply and taken his father’s hand in his.
“We think Jakob Vandermere has been stealing money from Medina Enterprises. Money has been going out of the company for years, decades even.”
His father’s answer shouldn’t have surprised him.
“Of course.” Massimo had paused. “Family.”
“So, he took advantage of your generosity? He needed money and you gave it to him because Brynn and I were to be married?”
His father had simply repeated, “Of course. Family.”
The idea that Massimo had been voluntarily giving Jakob millions of dollars made him feel like retching. In the grand scheme of their vast fortune and holdings the money really was a drop in the bucket. But it made him feel dirty. Used. Like Jakob was using his betrothal to Brynn as an excuse to siphon as much Medina money out of Massimo as he could.
That stopped today.
The double doors swung wide open. Marcellus leaned over and said under his breath, “Showtime.”
Jakob’s face registered surprise, quickly covered by a more saccharine smile of greeting. “To what do I owe this honor? My future son-in-law and his dashing second-in-command.”
Jakob’s demeanor had always been open and social. Jovial even. Unlike other men in their circle, he enjoyed the lavish parties and events their station in life afforded them. But underneath his amiable facade, Marco had always known the heart of a predator beat loudly in his chest. His way of doing business was to shake your hand while the other hand snuck behind your back to knife you.
“Sit, Jakob.” Marco issued it as a command, not a request. His days of affording this man any honor were over.
Jakob must have sensed the shift in Marco’s tone, but he sat, leisurely, as if trying to make them believe it was his idea.
“I didn’t realize this was a formal parlez. I thought this was a social call.”
Marcellus didn’t pull any punches. “Jakob, why have you been siphoning money from Medina Enterprises over the last twenty-five years?”
Jakob moved to stand, but Marco was in front of him in an instant. “I believe I asked you to sit down, Jakob.”
“What is this? The Inquisition? What are you two talking about?” Jakob lifted his bony arm and pointed at Marco. “And you. I demand some respect, young man. I’m going to be your father-in-law very soon.”
“Don’t count on it, Jakob,” Marco muttered.
Calmly, Marcellus continued. “Jakob, we know our father has been moving money and assets to Vandermere Global for over two decades. We want you to tell us why.”
Jakob stood up quickly. “This is ridiculous. And you have no proof, none.”
Marco thought about his own father asleep in the next room, barely clinging to life. It didn’t seem fair that a thief like Jakob could be so hale and hearty while their own father, so honorable and proud of the Medina legacy, was confined behind these walls.
Marco had never liked Brynn’s father. Brynn’s mother died when they were teenagers, and he remembered her fondly; her kindness and laughter brought out the best in anyone she was near, including her husband and daughter. But after her death, Jakob and Brynn changed. Brynn became more introspective, distant. Looking back, he realized how much of her current personality was formed from the deep sorrow she probably still felt over losing her mother. Jakob, on the other hand, became loud. Obnoxious. Even reckless. He wasn’t at all surprised that Vandermere Global was failing. Leave it to Jakob Vandermere to pervert the concept of family honor and loyalty into a source of limitless funds, each dollar an ineffective plug in the bottom of an already sinking ship.
“Your father has been investing in my company when the economy necessitated some infusion of cash to stay solvent. Or to pay our employees. Your father is very generous and wanted this money to be used to strengthen our market share which, of course, is better for all of us in the long run.”
“Let’s be honest here. Your idea of bringing together two large corporations was really just a way for you get your hands on more of Medina money. Money you could use to fund your gambling problem, perhaps?”
“Those are lies, young man. Unfounded rumors.”
Marco turned and looked at his brother. “You did say we were able to trace much of the money directly to high stakes casinos in Monaco, right?”
Marcellus answered, his smooth voice melodious with just the right amount of nonchalance. “Don’t forget the ones in Dubai.”
Jakob visibly whitened. “Your father didn’t seem to care where the money was spent. Only that I asked him for it.”
“Well, maybe we can’t prove that the transfers weren’t just generous gifts. That’s true. But I’d be willing to bet you failed to pay proper taxes on that money. And tax evasion is a crime, Jakob. A crime with fairly strict penalties.”
Jakob’s head cocked to the side with a nervous tic, and Marco could see the panic sweat forming on his brow. “You wouldn’t put your bride’s father in prison, Marco. That’s too onerous even for you.”
“Maybe it’s not a given that Brynn and I will be getting married in a few weeks. I’d say you’d better get your affairs in order before the authorities come to arrest you, just in case.”
Jakob laughed, a harsh, sharp sound. “You and Brynn have been betrothed your whole lives. Would you really call it off now? With your father so ill? The only comfort in his last days being the marriage of his eldest son to the daughter of his closest friend?”
Marco’s stomach dropped. Leave it to Jakob to hone in on his pain point and exploit it. He knew that Marco still harbored guilt, founded or not, over his father’s condition.
“You know your father.” Jakob’s jovial grin twisted into a dark smirk. “He honestly believes that supporting one’s family is the most honorable tradition a man could have.”
“Family.” Marco spit the word out and lunged toward Jakob, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and wrenching him closer. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the security team take a step toward them protectively. “You are not a part of this family. And don’t you dare make assumptions about what makes my father happy. Do you know what I think would make him happy? Throwing you out of this room and out of our lives.” Not able to tolerate being this close to Jakob, he released him from his grip and gave him a push.
Before anyone could respond, Jakob spun around and ambled for the door. “I don’t have to take this from you Medinas! I’m Jakob Vandermere! Do you hear me?”
Jakob was yelling like a madman. Marco was certain anyone in the general vicinity could hear him.
“You won’t get away with this, this character assassination. These threats.” The Medina brothers stood still, watching Jakob throw open the double doors of the suite and bolt down the long hallway.
Marcellus asked, “Do you think we should go after him?”
“No, he’s humiliated. I think he’ll just slink away. He’s just a coward after all.” Marco dropped into one of the leather chairs. “I can’t believe I let this happen.”
“You didn’t let it happen. Jakob is a conniving snake of a businessman. He took advantage of Papi’s generosity. That wasn’t your fault.”
“It was my fault I didn’t catch it sooner.” Marco paused, an almost blasphemous thought forming in his mind.
“Once you and Brynn are married things will be better, I suppose. With the merging of assets between Medina Enterprises and Vandermere Global we’ll be uniquely positioned to ensure complete operational oversight. Jakob won’t be in the picture to siphon money whenever he wants. We’ll make sure of that.”
Marco looked over at his brother almost like he was seeing him for the first time. Marcellus was not only a brother but he was his right-hand man in running their empire. He trusted him more than anyone, and even though he held the title of CEO, Marcellus had been assuming many of the duties while Marco helped with Massimo’s recovery. A sliver of a silver lining in his situation glistened in front of him.
“Maybe I’m not the best person for this job.”
Marcellus scoffed. “You don’t have a choice. You’re the heir, remember? I mean you keep telling everyone that, so I assumed you knew.”
There was that word again. Choice.
“But what if I did have a choice?”
“You’re not making much sense.”
“It’s not like I’m the only candidate for CEO of Medina Enterprises. “
“You’re the only candidate Papi wants in the role. You know that.”
“But what if I’m not the best candidate. I’ve been operating my whole life on the concept that as firstborn I have a duty, a tradition to fulfill the role I was born into. But it seems to me, brother, you’d be just as effective in keeping our business interests alive and thriving.”
“Me?”
“Just think about it. You’ve always had a better head for business than I have. You’re the one who discovered this money laundering in the first place.”
He was finally self-aware enough to realize what his pride had never let him see before. He’d always relished the idea of being the Medina heir. What man wouldn’t be dazzled by the idea of being brought up to inherit a birthright like the Medina legacy? He’d trained for it his entire life. It colored where he went to school, what he studied, how he conducted himself—everything. From birth it was hammered into him that his life was not his own. It belonged to something much bigger than himself.
And he’d thrived under that heavy mantle of responsibility, of tradition. It informed who he became and what he believed in. He even resigned himself to the inevitable fact that he wouldn’t get to choose his own bride. His parents were products of an arranged marriage, and it was good enough for them. It would be good enough for him as well. How could he be anything different? It was blasphemous to even think it was a possibility.
Marcellus clapped him on the shoulder. “Stop talking nonsense, Marco. Come on.”
His brother was right. He wasn’t making any sense. He couldn’t just take the weight of his birthright off his shoulders and place it directly on his brother’s back. No. It didn’t matter if it meant he and Senna may not have any more time than a few stolen weeks to be together before his marriage. The marriage neither he nor Brynn really wanted.
But want and need were two different things. This was bigger than him in every way. And there was no way that was going to change.
…
Senna hung back at the stables after Marco left. She had no desire to be anywhere near what was sure to be an explosive confrontation between the Medina family and Jakob. As she headed to the door she glanced once more at the large couch. Instantly, regret hit her like a block of concrete.
Being with Marco made her feel complete, whole. Like a family. And that was such a foreign concept to her. A man, a woman, a child—it was everything she wanted. Everything she’d been denied thanks to a father who was absent physically and a mother who was absent in every other possible way. Both of them proved to her in different ways that she didn’t matter. She wasn’t important.
But in her mind, the three of them—well, that was family.
Of course it wasn’t just the three of them. His future included Brynn and an arranged marriage that was going to happen whether she liked it or not.
Senna wasn’t going to get to play the role of beloved daughter-in-law. She wasn’t going to be any real part of this family, save for being Max’s mother, and she needed to wrap her head around that sooner rather than later. Everyone was kind to her now; they seemed to tolerate her just fine. But as soon as she went home she was right back to where she was before she left. Marco would show up as often as she’d let him in order to be with Max, but that was where it would end. There would be no stolen afternoons together or stolen kisses so intense they made her ache inside. No. That wasn’t her future.
Love, in this case, whether it was hers or his, just wasn’t going to be enough.
Senna sobered at that thought and suddenly wanted nothing more than to be with Max. She craved his warm little body and his eyes full of awe and wonder.
Focus on what’s best for Max. Everything else will fall into place.
She walked with purpose up the stone path that led to the estate. She could still smell hints of Marco on her skin. How do I give that up?
She was so deep in thought she barely noticed the main house doors swinging outward. Her eyes snapped up to find an agitated Brynn moving exceptionally fast for someone wearing such impressive stilettos. Her head was down, and she almost crashed into Senna.
“Brynn,” she said more out of surprise than greeting.
Startled, Brynn halted abruptly. “Senna. I was just coming to look for you. Mila said she thought you were down in the stables.”
A flush of what she could only call shame rushed to her cheeks. I was in the stables. With the man you’re going to marry.
But she didn’t have time for a conversation with Brynn. Senna had an overwhelming need to see Max, hold him.
“Um…I was. But I need to feed Max. So if you’ll excuse me.”
Senna brushed past her into the grand foyer. The marbled tile underfoot seemed to be waiting for her to slip and make a fool of herself.
“Please? Just a minute of your time? I really think we should talk.”
Senna froze. Going against her instincts to climb the stairs as quickly as possible, her body turned and faced Marco’s future bride. Max’s future stepmother. A woman who was smart and beautiful and such a perfect match for Marco in every way that it made her want to weep. There would be no competing with Brynn for Marco’s future. Brynn was carved from the same intricate, ornate cloth that he was and better for him in every way. The realization made her breath hitch in her throat.
“Okay. We can talk.” Brynn settled herself on one of the benches that dotted the foyer and patted the cushion next to hers. Reluctantly Senna sank down so she was seated next to her.
“I just want to tell you how sorry I am.”
“You? You’re sorry? For what?”
“It was my fault Marco never found out about Max until recently. When Marco came back here to help take care of his father he gave me explicit instructions about corporate communications. Guidelines about what he needed to see and what could wait. When your emails and voicemails came in— Well, I’m ashamed to say I didn’t take them seriously.”
Senna felt all the air exit her chest at once. Senna had come to believe Marco’s assertions that her communications had never reached him. But Brynn’s role in the misunderstanding was unexpected.
“I feel terrible about it now, especially after meeting Max and seeing him with Marco. It was a terrible error on my part, and I’m so sorry. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“Of course, Brynn.”
Brynn grinned with relief. “That means so much to me. I really hope you’ll be able to stay for the wedding. I know it would mean a lot to Marco to have you both here. I don’t know what kinds of discussions you’ve had with Marco, and it’s none of my business. But neither one of us is exactly looking forward to getting married. We’ve been putting it off, but now with Massimo so ill, Ezme is really pushing for us to do this sooner rather than later.”
“So it’s true, then. You aren’t interested in a real marriage? With love and all that comes with it?”
“Well, Marco and I get along fine. It’s not romantic love, but I think we’ll learn to respect each other over time.”
“That doesn’t sound like any way to spend a life. With someone who you have a general respect for.”
“It’s just—”
“The way it’s done. I know, I know. That’s what everyone keeps saying, but I don’t understand it.
“I know it seems…different. But when you’ve been brought up your whole life with one purpose, a purpose that aligns two global entities and protects entire regions from economic hardship, well, it’s easier to see that entering into a nontraditional marriage is the least you can do.”
Senna felt her stomach drop somewhere into her knees and was grateful to be sitting.
Brynn looked down at her hands clasped firmly in her lap. When she looked back up at Senna her relieved smile was gone, and abject uncertainty danced across her features.
“Marco isn’t the only one who is dreading this. He has pressure from his family, yes. But my father has never let me forget his expectations of me as well. He sees our union as some sort of renaissance for our family reputation, our business.”
“That doesn’t seem fair, Brynn.”
“Everyone has their cross to bear in life, don’t they?” Brynn’s eyes were shiny with emotion.
In that moment, the pressure Marco and Brynn were under became crystal clear like a single flame in a sea of darkness. Other than her duties and responsibilities as Max’s mother, she could operate independently. There were no worries of global economic breakdowns or creating more secure futures for millions of people. The pressure must be staggering, almost inconceivable. What right did she have to expect anything from Marco other than his support as Max’s father? She held his feelings for her tightly in her grasp, but really they were only tiny pebbles on the road to something that was destined to be. Any romantic fantasies were just hurdles along the path, hurdles neither one of them would be able to clear.
Again her thoughts calmed into absolute clarity.
She couldn’t be the reason Marco chose another path. That was a responsibility she didn’t want sitting on her shoulders. As much as it would hurt, as much as it would rend her in two, she had to bow out. She had to walk away.
No more late night seductions or trysts in the stables. She needed to take Max and go and leave Brynn and Marco to do what they were born to do.
“I suppose you’re right, Brynn,” she said, her mind whirling with the unjustness of the situation. “I have no idea what that’s like. But rest assured, I won’t stand in anyone’s way or make any of this more difficult than it already is.”
Brynn nodded. “For what it’s worth, I see the way he looks at you.”
“What?”
“He looks at you the way a man should look at a woman. Like she’s the only person in the room who matters. Like he wants nothing more than to take her by the hand and flee to someplace quiet where they can be completely alone.” Brynn surprised Senna by grabbing her hand.
“He’s never looked at me like that. And he never will.”
Senna stood abruptly. “Thank you, Brynn. I have to go.” The words were awkward but it was all she could spit out before tearing up the staircase, leaving a surprised Brynn in the grand foyer all alone.
She wasn’t paying attention to anything but the plan forming in her mind and she almost crashed into Mila at the top of the stairs. All of her anguish must have been written on her face, because Mila barely got out, “Senna—” before her mouth snapped shut again.
Senna grabbed the girl’s arm with more force than she intended, but she couldn’t even get out an apology. “Mila! Thank God.”
“What’s wrong? Everyone seems to be storming around here today, first Jakob—”
“I’m sorry, but there’s no time. I need your help. Will you follow me to Max’s room?”
“Of course, Senna. But you’re scaring me a little bit.”
“I’m scared, too.” She practically pulled the petite woman with her as she raced down the hallway. “I’ll explain while we pack.”
…
She dressed in jeans and the plainest sweater she could find. She’d be hot when she landed, but Marco’s private plane would be chilly. Mila was currently packing a bag for Max and getting him ready for the flight. The flight Mila had arranged with a simple phone call.
Senna hated putting Mila in a situation that Marco wouldn’t be happy with. But Mila understood her urgency and was anxious to help.
She found an oversized bag in her closet and tossed in her old clothes. The items purchased for her here felt like they belonged to another woman. A regular woman dressed up who looked presentable enough from the outside but with no real business part to play in this legacy. She’d no longer need any of that woman’s belongings. Suddenly, the air behind her displaced with a whoosh, and Marco embraced her. For the briefest moment, everything was right again. Like his embrace could cure all that was awry between them. Senna shook him off and, to her surprise, he let her go.
“I can’t talk to you right now, Marco. I have to go. I’m taking Max, and we’re going home. To Miami.” Still facing the bed, Senna choked out the words.
He spun her around; mere inches separated them. “No. Not happening.”
Senna shook her head. “Do you really think you’re still in control here? After everything that’s happened?”
“Don’t, Senna.” She threw down the T-shirt she’d been refolding over and over again and took a deep breath.
“Don’t what, Marco? Have an opinion? Try to preserve a shred of dignity? You’re getting married. And not to me. I can’t just sit here day after day and watch you pick out china patterns with your new bride.” She could feel a sob wend its way up from her chest, but she choked it down. She needed to stay focused.
His eyes flashed with emotion. “Don’t turn this into something we can’t come back from.”
“This is not my fault, Marco, don’t even try to make me the bad guy here.” She pushed him away. “You’re just like him, you know? You may be better dressed and have a castle and all, but you’re no better.”
“Like who?”
“My father. Another slick-talking man who thought he had the right to do whatever he wanted, regardless of whom it hurt or even destroyed. He seduced my mother, promised her the moon, and then left us to fend for ourselves.”
“I’m sorry about your father. He doesn’t deserve the title.”
“I don’t need your pity.”
“Which is it going to be, Senna? Are you going to be mad at me for bringing you into my family home, acknowledging Max and stepping up as his father? Or are you mad at me for leaving you in the first place? You don’t get to be angry at me for both.”
“Don’t you dare tell me how to feel.” She wheeled around and zipped up the bag. “I was fine. Max and I. We were fine.”
“Really? Working two jobs and barely paying rent? That was fine?”
“We managed.” She spit out the words. “And we’ll manage again.”
“I’m his father.” His commanding timbre softened. “Don’t take him from me.”
Senna knew the pain in his voice was real, and, as conflicted as she was, it still bothered her to know she was causing it. “I’m not doing this to take him from you. I’m not punishing you—”
“Really? Because this feels a hell of a lot like retribution. I can share custody with you. But what about us? Are you so ready to walk away from what you and I have started?”
The reality of what she was going to do hit her like a wrecking ball in the gut. I’m not ready for any of this.
“You are getting married. I’m just protecting myself.” She wrapped her arms around herself as in a halfhearted embrace. “We’ll figure out some sort of custody agreement, I promise. I’ll never keep Max from you. But…I need space. I need time—”
“Is that what it will take to make you happy? Getting on a plane and flying back to Miami?”
“Not one single piece of any of this makes me happy!”
“Then—”
“Stop. Just stop.” She lifted her head to face him one last time. “This is what has to happen right now. I can’t be here. I need to be somewhere where Max and I can live a normal life.”
“You really think your life will be normal? That Max’s life will be normal?” His hands wrapped around her upper arms. His empty laugh rattled her. “Princesa, now that everyone knows who Max is and what you both mean to me, I’m afraid ‘normal’ just isn’t possible.”
“Marco—”
“Brynn was chosen for me. Assigned to me like an asset. But you? Senna, I choose you. I choose us, our family.”
They were both silent. Senna watched the vein in his neck throb.
The words tumbled out before she could stop them. Her hands flew to his chest, and the solid heat under her touch soothed her. “Then come with me,” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. “Tell your father you can’t marry Brynn and come with me and Max and we can be together.”
His eyes flashed, and she could see his conflicted emotions wage a fierce battle on his face.
He enveloped her in his arms, crushing her close, and for a brief moment everything was still and calm. In his embrace she could almost believe everything was going to right itself and she and Marco and Max would be a real family.
He stroked her hair and Senna couldn’t help but lean in to his touch. “I can’t do that, Senna. It’s my legacy. It’s what I was born to do.”
She tried to push out of his embrace, but Marco held her firmly. “Then I’m leaving. And I’m taking Max with me.”
“No!” He clutched her tighter as if he could physically prevent her from moving. As if Senna would let that happen. His grip loosened and finally he said, “We can figure something out. Please tell me we can have a future.”
For a moment, Senna’s steely resolve melted into a molten puddle entirely forgotten. His words were everything she’d wanted from him. But even standing there with him, his embrace threatening to never let her go, there was a hollowness she couldn’t ignore.
“Let me go, Marco.”
“Never—”
She pushed from his embrace.
“Mila has arranged a flight for me and Max. We’ll take security with us if you want.”
Marco’s face was etched with pain, but Senna couldn’t let that stop her from leaving.
A high-pitched squeal pierced the silence that had descended in the room. Madame Marchande walked slowly into the room with a squirmy armful of Max clutched tightly.
“Sorry to interrupt.” she apologized. “But he’s getting antsy, and I thought maybe Señor Medina would want to see him before you, well, before you left.” Senna could hear the sadness in her voice. Madame Marchande had quickly bonded with her young charge, and Senna knew that their leaving brought her a measure of anguish.
“Max.” Senna watched as Marco stood, arms wide open. Max practically hurled himself out of his nanny’s arms and into his father’s embrace. Marco kissed him on the forehead, “It’s Papi. I’m here now.” Max threw his arms around Marco’s neck and held on.
The protective wall that Senna had built around her heart began to crumble—pebble by pebble, stone by stone. God help me, I love this man. How can I leave? But the decision was made. Both hers and Marco’s.
“The driver is waiting to take us to the airport. We need to go now.”
“I’ll see you soon, Max. I promise you that.” He rubbed his back and hugged Max close.
Senna finished zipping her bag and reached for the small bag of Max’s things that Mila had packed.
She held out her arms for Max, and he went willingly into her embrace. Madame Marchande picked up the larger bag and headed out of the room and into the hallway.
She clutched Max to her and turned to follow. Marco stood as still as a statue. She paused when she reached the door, running her thumb across the intricate vines carved into the ancient wood.
“Good-bye, Marco.” Her tears hit the artisanal rugs in the hallway even before her feet did.