FOR A LONG moment after Giovanni walked out, Rachel sat frozen on the couch, thoughts blank, heart on fire, Gio’s sharp words ringing in her head preventing her from thinking or feeling anything other than pain and shame.
Gio was right, and wrong. But more right than wrong. Juliet had wanted a wealthy boyfriend. She’d wanted to marry a very rich man and it had been her goal since she was in junior high school.
Juliet felt she deserved better than everyone else. She wasn’t ordinary like Rachel. She was beautiful. She’d been a pretty baby and had grown into a little girl who turned heads. Juliet knew it, too, and from the time she was small she dazzled everyone she met.
It started with their parents, and then Juliet turned her charm onto her teachers, and she went through life wrapping everyone around her little finger.
It seemed to Rachel that she was the only one Juliet couldn’t manipulate, and over the years it created tension between them and friction in the family. Juliet would have a tantrum when Rachel refused to capitulate to her demands, and then Mother would intercede, and inevitably she took Juliet’s side. Mother had been firmly on Juliet’s side last spring when Juliet began dating Antonio and needed loans to buy new clothes and pay for expensive hair and skin appointments.
Rachel had refused to give her sister money for a new wardrobe, telling Juliet to do what everyone else did and look for employment so she could buy new clothes with money she’d earned. “She’d have more self-respect,” Rachel told their mother when Juliet had the expected meltdown. “It’s not right to give Juliet everything she wants.”
“Why are you so hard on her?” Mother answered. “She’s not cut out for business the way you are.”
“That’s not true. She’s smart, Mom. She’s just really lazy.”
“You’re so grumpy all the time, Rachel. Where’s your sense of humor?”
“I have a sense of humor, but it’s hard to feel like laughing when Juliet can’t hold down a job. She lives off loans from you and me.”
“It’s been months since we’ve floated her any money. She’s getting better at managing her funds.”
“Because her bills are getting paid for by one boyfriend or another.”
“At least she has a boyfriend.”
“Wanting a boyfriend isn’t exactly aspirational!”
“Oh, yes, that’s right, Rach. You’re far too intelligent to fall in love.”
“No, Mom. I’m not too intelligent to fall in love. But I’m too intelligent to turn a man into a meal ticket.” She paused but her mother was silent now and Rachel pressed on. “I should think you’d be uncomfortable with Juliet always trying to cash in from her looks. She doesn’t think she should have to work because she’s beautiful but good looks can only take one so far—”
“You’re jealous.”
“Mom, I’m too old for this. I might have been jealous when I was fourteen and she was twelve and Juliet stole my first boyfriend, but I’m twenty-eight and I have great friends, a job I love and a life I enjoy.”
“Then why care that Juliet is doing life her way? Don’t resent her happiness. She’s sure she’s found the one, and I fully expect an engagement announcement any day now.”
But Mrs. Bern was wrong. There was no engagement, but there was an announcement. Juliet was pregnant and her rich boyfriend, Italian businessman, Antonio Marcello, had broken things off with Juliet and returned to Italy without her.
It had been a terrible time in Seattle afterward. Juliet had been heartbroken, and then not even two months later, Mother died. They hadn’t known she was unwell. Mother hadn’t even known. If there was a blessing, it was that Mother went quickly, without months of suffering. She was there one day and then gone the next.
Not even three weeks later, they learned through a newspaper article that Antonio Marcello had died in Rome, at home, with his family at his side.
Juliet never really recovered after that. First Mother, then Antonio, and Juliet still had the third trimester to get through, but there had been too many hits and shocks. She went into labor depressed and didn’t bounce back after delivery.
Rachel had been impatient with Juliet in the months following Michael’s birth. She’d tried to hide her irritation, and she’d given her pep talks, perhaps more vigorous than necessary, but Rachel was overwhelmed by Juliet’s depression and her sister’s inability to care for the baby. Work was stressful with rounds of layoffs due to the economic downturn, and God knows, they needed Rachel to be employed. She was the only one keeping the family afloat.
But Rachel was barely coping herself. Mom was gone, Juliet wouldn’t get out of bed, the baby needed looking after and Rachel didn’t know what had happened to her life.
It wasn’t her life anymore.
A light knock sounded on the open door. Rachel looked up to see the young maid, Anna, standing in the doorway.
“Please, follow me,” Anna said in stilted English.
“Where?” Rachel asked, unable to move.
“I am to...walk you...to the door.”
“Where is my baby?”
Anna frowned.
“Michael. The bambino,” Rachel said, setting the cup down. “I cannot leave without him.”
“Sorry. Signor, he said the bambino he stays here. You...go.” She gestured to the door. “You come with me, please?”
“No. Absolutely not. I’m not leaving Michael here. Bring me the baby. Now.”
“I am sorry. I cannot. Signor will telephone you later, yes?”
Rachel was on her feet, crossing the room. “Where is he? Where is Signor Marcello?”
“He has gone to his office. I will show you to...down the stairs. Please come—” Anna broke off as Rachel brushed past her, stepping into the hall.
“Where is his office? Which direction?” Rachel demanded.
“No. Sorry.”
Rachel’s gaze swept the hall, certain that there were only more formal rooms on this floor. She glanced right, to the marble stairs they’d climbed earlier. The wide gleaming steps continued up at least another two floors.
She headed for the stairs and quickly climbed up. Anna chased after her, speaking in a stream of broken English and Italian.
Rachel ignored the girl. “Giovanni,” she called, her voice echoing in the stairwell. “Gio! Where are you?”
Her voice bounced off the marble and the high ceiling, but she wouldn’t stop until she found him. “I’m not leaving here, not without Michael. So if you want me to go, Gio, give me Michael and I’ll go, but there is no way I’d leave—”
“Enough.” A door at the end of the hall opened abruptly, and Giovanni appeared, expression dark. “You’ve done nothing but create a circus since you arrived this morning. My staff is not accustomed to screaming and shouting.”
“They are Italian. I seriously doubt they are shocked by genuine emotion,” she retorted, marching down the hall toward him. “And you... How could you just go and leave me there like that?”
“I said goodbye. You were the one who refused to leave.”
“You knew I wouldn’t go without Michael.”
“You didn’t seem to have a problem leaving him here earlier.” He stared down at her, blue eyes snapping fire. “Are you sure you and your sister are not twins?”
He couldn’t have said anything more hurtful if he’d tried. Her eyes smarted and her throat sealed closed.
Giovanni was arrogant and condescending and lacked even the smallest shred of human compassion. Thank God he didn’t intimidate her. She’d worked with dozens of powerful men over the past five years, men who had incredible power and staggering fortunes and egos to match. They all liked to be flattered. They all felt entitled. They all needed to be right. Giovanni was no different. She’d never get what she wanted if she fought him. If she angered him. If she continued to alienate him.
Alienating him would just hurt Michael, and that wouldn’t be fair or right. Juliet had made mistakes. Her life had become such a mess. But Michael wasn’t a mess. Michael was pure and innocent, and that innocence had to be protected. Yes, she’d failed Juliet, but there was no way she’d fail Michael.
And so, even though a dozen different things came to mind, protests and rebukes, in the end her feelings didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. This was about her nephew, who’d been left without a mother or a father and needed someone to champion him. And that someone was her.
“I don’t care what you think of me,” she said unsteadily, “but I do care what you think about Michael. He did not ask to be born. He is innocent in all this. And whether you like it or not, he carries your brother’s name, and DNA, and if I have to go to your court to get him proper child support, I will.”
“I don’t doubt you would, but you’d find that our courts move at a snail’s pace compared to your courts. You could be waiting for six or eight, or even ten years, for any type of legal decision.”
That knocked her back, thoughts scattering, but then she managed a careless shrug and found her voice. “You’re happy to wage a public war for that long? It seems so unlike you, considering how much you value your privacy.”
He shot her a look she couldn’t quite decipher. “So let’s put our cards on the table. Let’s stop with the games. How much are you asking for him?”
“How much child support?” she asked, needing to clarify his question.
“No. How much do you want for him? How much will it cost to take him off your hands permanently?”