Pandora's Box (previously Worth the Wait, a Zebra print best seller) (24 page)

“I don’t need your permission to enter my son’s home.”

“Okay.” Charlie rolled her eyes and counted to keep control. The clock on the mantel struck six times, filling the silent room with an eerie echo.

She wished that she were dressed in something more appropriate than her shorts and old college tee-shirt. Cooking barbecued ribs didn’t make formal wear a necessity. That Monica looked as if she had just stepped out of Sak’s Fifth Avenue didn’t instill any confidence either.

“I see you’ve already moved yourself in quite comfortably.”

Charlie followed her contemptuous gaze to the red purse resting in the chair. A purse was hardly conclusive proof that they were living together, but Charlie felt guilty all the same. They had never gotten around to discussing Damian’s visit to his mother, so she had no idea how much he had told her. “I have my own apartment.”

“Which you have no intention of returning to. You conveniently loaned it to Damian’s brother. You must think you’ve struck gold.”

Charlie was beginning to realize that Monica knew Damian wouldn’t be home. She was out for blood and she wanted no witnesses. Monica walked to the bar and poured herself a drink. Straight gin, Charlie noted. Sharp and neat, like her tongue. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m cooking in the kitchen.”

Monica swallowed the drink and followed her. “If you think that this domestic scene will impress Damian, you’re mistaken. We both know there’s only one reason he lets you stay here.”

“Yes. It’s convenient to my job.”

“Job? Is that what you call it?” Monica laughed maliciously. “Blackmail is more like it.”

Charlie busied herself at the counter. “I didn’t ask him for a job. He offered it.”

“To keep you quiet.”

Charlie shrugged and turned toward the oven. “Think what you like.”

“Don’t turn your back on me.” Monica grabbed Charlie’s shoulder and pulled her around. The swift action startled both of them and Monica dropped her hand quickly. “If you think I’m going to stand by and let him ruin his life, you’re as deluded as your mother was.”

Charlie stood tall and raised an angry glare. “Leave my mother out of this. You don’t know the first thing about her.”

“Leave your mother out of this? She’s the cause of all this. I don’t care if you publicly announce that she was Peter’s legal wife. It won’t get you a thing. Peter’s fortune was made after her death, and you have no claim to it. I’ve already spoken to my lawyer and he says you don’t have a case.”

Charlie felt that she’d been kicked in the stomach. “Who told you I wanted anything?”

“Damian. What do you think all this has been about? I’m not going to let him throw away his life to protect his family. Especially since it’s not necessary. It doesn’t matter what that piece of paper says; I lived with Peter for seven years and I was more his wife than your mother ever was.”

“He told you Peter was married to my mother?” Charlie repeated numbly. Why hadn’t he told her? She slumped back against the counter and lowered her head.

“Yes, he told me. We don’t keep things from each other.”

Of course not. He only kept things from her. But why? Unless he did believe she would try to make some kind of claim. A dreadful shiver ran down her spine. He obviously didn’t know that her parents had been divorced, too.

When she raised her head again it was to see a look of triumph in Monica’s steel-blue eyes.

Charlie couldn’t spend another second in the same room with Damian’s mother. She grabbed her purse and ran out the door. A blanket of emptiness enveloped her and she was barely aware of what she was doing as she stepped out of the elevator into the lobby. She strode across the floor and reached the door just as Damian was coming in.

He smiled and leaned forward to kiss her. She shoved him away and took a step back. “Get out of my way.”

He shook his head, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Ask your mother. She’s upstairs waiting to see you.”

Damian’s breath came out ragged and deep. “What did she say?”

“Did you know all along that my parents were married and kept it from me?” Deny it, her heart cried. Please, say you didn’t know.

“I never meant to keep it from you.”

Her spirit sank. Everything Monica had said was true. Suddenly, it became so clear to her. The look of guilt on his face. The promises to take care of her, even though she never asked him to. Why hadn’t she seen it before? “Yes, you did. You thought I would use it to hurt your mother, or even worse, Erik. That’s what all this has been about.”

He put his hand on her arm. “That’s not true, Charlie.”

She pushed him away, unable to bear his touch. “What was the plan, Damian? Fix the head of the little basket case before she does something dangerous?”

Damian glanced down the length of the hall, embarrassed by the public scene. Henry caught Damian’s glare and made himself disappear. “It wasn’t like that at all. I love you, Charlie.”

“You love me,” she mimicked incredulously. “How can you claim you love me when you don’t trust me?”

“That’s not fair. If you would listen for a minute—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she snapped, seething with rage. “I’ll come back for my things when you’re not home.”

“Charlie. Please don’t leave like this.”

She ignored his pleading stare. “Unlike you, Damian, I can’t live with someone I don’t trust.”

Damian wasn’t one who backed down easily. He knew how to get to her. He cupped her shoulders and pulled her against his broad chest “Will you let me explain?”

For one foolish second, she let him hold her; but when he started to caress her, she twisted out of his embrace. “Don’t you dare. Don’t turn the only honest thing we had into something dirty. That is not something I want to remember with anger.”

“I can’t let you walk out like this. I won’t.”

“I’m not asking your permission.” She stepped back beyond his reach. “Just leave me alone, Damian.”

He nodded his head. “For a while. Until you’ve had a chance to calm down and think rationally.”

His words were another admission of his guilt. He was still worried about what she’d do. It was time to put his fears to rest so that he would leave her in peace.

She searched the contents of her purse for the piece of paper that would nullify any responsibility he felt he owed her. “It’s not necessary to play out this farce any longer. Give this to your mother, and then return to your life where you belong and leave me to mine.”

* * * *

Damian took the folded slip of paper and looked to her for explanation. “What is this?”

“My parents’ divorce decree issued through the Algerian Consulate. Your mother’s marriage to Peter was perfectly legal. You don’t have to throw away your life to protect her anymore.”

Damian balled his hands into fists. “Throw away my life?” What kind of stunt had his mother pulled this time? He knew Monica was furious that he planned to marry Charlie, but he had never figured she would interfere. “What else did she say to you?”

“The truth, which is more than you ever did.” She pushed past him and ran out the door.

Damian stared after her, breathing deeply to calm his racing pulse. Everything would be fine, he told himself. Charlie just needed to work things out in her own mind. He couldn’t make her trust him. She had to believe she could. Right now, he had to go deal with the problem in his apartment. For the last time.

* * * *

Charlie reached her apartment after seven p.m. Erik was about to leave for a date with Shelly, and although he offered to stay with her, she preferred to be alone with her pain. It was the only way she knew. Burying the hurt, refusing to deal with the cause.

Once she was alone, she circled the room, unable to feel comfortable in her own home. The television couldn’t hold her interest for more than a thirty
-second commercial. She shivered, but not from cold. In her entire life, she had never cared enough about another person to feel the separation. Loneliness she could live with, but this emptiness gnawing at her was much more painful. The worst part about growing up alone was that she had never learned how to forgive and let go.

As darkness fell, she slipped into a comfortable tee-shirt and curled up in a chair with a good book. At least that’s what the reviews had said, but she couldn’t concentrate on the story long enough to get through the first two pages. Her mind drifted back to Damian.

Her stomach knotted, and she knew that it was more than just a bad case of nerves. Her conscience was bothering her. She hadn’t told Damian what she knew about her parents either. Why not? Not wanting to deal with the answer, she sprang from the chair and went to make herself a cup of tea. Waiting for a pot of water to boil didn’t afford her the distraction she was seeking.

“Oh, damn,” she muttered and switched off the fire under the teapot. She wanted to believe that she was wrong, that Damian had had some other reason for keeping the truth from her. But try as she would, she couldn’t come up with one.

When she had read Marguerite’s papers, read that her own mother hadn’t wanted her, the blow had been devastating. All her life she had felt alone and unloved. It was as though now she had proof that no one could ever really love her.

But as long as Damian had believed he owed her something, she had a hold on him. She had no faith in her ability to keep him without the guilt hanging over his head. And she was right. If he were planning to come after her, he’d certainly had enough time. He was probably relieved that he had no more responsibility toward her. If his feelings for her had gone deeper than guilt, he would have trusted her with the truth.

* * * *

“I’m kicking you out, runt.”

Charlie gaped at her brother. Kicking her out of her own apartment? She pushed back the sheet and sat up on the sofa she hadn’t bothered to open out the night before. “And where am I supposed to go now that you’ve assumed squatters rights on my home?”

“You know where.” Erik dropped a bakery box on the coffee table and sat next to her. “You look like hell.”

“Thank you.” Of course she looked like hell. She couldn’t eat; she couldn’t sleep. If that weren’t enough, she had managed to lose the most important person in her life.

“Do you want to talk?”

“No.”

“Of course not. You never do,” he snapped, and it struck Charlie that she’d never seen him angry with her before. “I’ve known you over a year now, and in that time, you’ve never said a word about our father.”

“Because there’s nothing to say.”

“You won’t even listen if I talk about him.”

It was going to be one of those days, she mused. She reached for the bakery box and searched for a chocolate donut. Memories of Damian sitting on her sofa with a ring of fudge around his mouth tugged at her heart.

“Damn it, Charlie, look at me when I’m talking to you.” She raised her head and met his gaze. “You have an amazing ability to tune out when you don’t want to listen. How the hell was Damian supposed to tell you about your father when you never wanted to hear?”

Stunned by the anger in his voice, Charlie could only stare. She wanted to deny his accusation but she couldn’t. Everything Erik said was true. She had never wanted to listen.

“He loves you,” Erik added.

“I can tell by the way he’s beating down the door to see me,” she replied, trying to sound less wounded than she felt.

“You’re not the only person with feelings, runt. Just because he doesn’t show it, doesn’t mean you didn’t hurt him. Why should he beat down the door for you now? You’re the one who’s wrong, and you have to make the first move.”

Could she let herself believe that? Was it possible that Damian really did love her? Everything she had learned about her parents, everything she had overcome regarding her foster father, had been because of him. If his motive had been to protect his own family, why would he have gotten involved with her in the first place? She certainly wasn’t going to get the answers to her questions by hiding out in her apartment.

Erik nudged her with his elbow. “Let’s go. I’ll drive you to the city.”

“Right now?” she squeaked. Although she knew what she had to do, she needed time to gather her courage.

“Now, before you talk yourself out of it.”

She sighed. Oh, well. What was the worst that could happen? The countless scenarios that sprang to mind made her cringe, but none more than the possibility of a life without him. “He’s liable to kick me out, too. You’d better wait for me.” Groveling for forgiveness wasn’t her forte.

“Of course, runt. You have my word.”

And the word was goodbye. As soon as she stepped out of the car, Erik took off, with his tires smoking. Some brother! He’d left her alone on a street corner in the middle of New York City. She couldn’t back out now if she wanted to. The louse had taken off with her purse.

She stood outside and stared at the building. Damian might not be home. He might not want to see her. And maybe if I stand here long enough, little green Martians will whisk me away on a flying saucer so I won’t have to face another rejection.