Red Hot Christmas (35 page)

 
“Is…everything okay?” She upped a brow.
 

“Yes,” he answered, and his throat dried. “Let’s head home. Everything is okay,” he repeated, and avoided looking at her. Why should he feel guilty about a simple omission?
 

***

Alejandro followed the uniformed maid into the large living area, where a Christmas tree occupied center stage. The mix of Brazilian cherry wood, wrought iron accents and espresso colored furnishings always seemed like a contrast against his uncle’s upbeat personality.
 

“Alejandro.” Tío Evandro flashed a smile and lowered the newspaper he was reading. “Poll results are looking great. My campaign manager thinks it’ll be a slam dunk.” His smile broadened, as he surged to his feet and gave his nephew a hearty hug. “How was the fundraiser?”

Alejandro curled his fingers into a fist, and refrained from showing his uncle any sign of affection. A sour sensation in the pit of his stomach warned him this wasn’t going to be a happy chat. “Good,” he said and fell on the chair across from his uncle. While his uncle leaned back, his features relaxed, Alejandro slid to the edge of the seat. “What were you doing in New York a few days ago?”

      Evandro got to his feet and walked to the console. “Business.” He poured two glasses of brandy. Even though Alejandro waved him off, his uncle handed him the drink regardless. “I was there for a day or two, a quick layover from my Asian trip.”

      Alejandro gave the red contents in the glass a glance. He lifted his gaze to his uncle, who took a swig of the drink, clasping the tumbler with his fingers. “Why did you meet with Frank Lewis?”

      Evandro stood motionless. “You told me yourself he was talented.”
 

      Alejandro took a generous drink, then put his glass on the coffee table and sighed. There was something wrong. “You never told me you had met him, even after I explained what happened. What have you done, uncle? Tell me.”
 

      Evandro drank the remaining alcohol and jammed his other hand in his pocket. “The truth is complicated.”

      Alejandro surged to his feet. “I’m not leaving until you tell me everything.”

      “Fine.” He narrowed his eyes. “Your writer did some digging in our personal lives, and discovered things that weren’t any of his business.”

      “He told me that he would do research on facts and things like that, that is the way he works.”

      “Well, being up for Senate again makes me an easy target and your guy was too eager to use it as leverage for a quick buck,” Evandro said. The images of Frank’s shiny Rolex and brand new Bentley came to mind. Sure, he was the crème of la crème when it came to penning biographies. Was blackmailing his clients a profitable part of his business?
 

      Alejandro stepped toward his uncle. “What was it? Why did he blackmail you?”

      Evandro closed his eyes, inhaled, then opened them and raised his gaze to his nephew. “Decades ago, I was in love with your mother,” he said, his voice shakier than usual.
 

      The flow of blood came to a halt in his veins. It was like he was stuck inside a block of frozen ice. “What?”

      Evandro grabbed his glass and served himself a generous dose of brandy. “She was a beautiful woman, from a prominent traditional family. I was in law school, and didn’t appreciate what she would bring to the table. She wanted to marry and start a family. I was young and restless.” He stopped for a big gulp of alcohol. “I wanted to change our country.”

      “Go on,” Alejandro hissed, his blood flowing again, now hotter than the sidewalk on a summer day. Had his uncle lusted over his mother for all those years? Did his father know? The arguments between his parents flashed in his mind. A growing anger snaked into him, and he had no intention of letting it go.
 

      “She found in my brother the perfect match. He was older than me, and I knew I couldn’t give her the grounded life she wanted, with a marriage and kids. Not back then, anyway.” He stared at his empty tumbler, and disappointment framed his face. “I still couldn’t forget her. Your father was always gone for work, and we became friends. One night, I found her crying in her bedroom. She was so unhappy, yet didn’t want anyone to find out.”
 

      “Why didn’t she walk out?”
 

      “She played her role well. She loved you, and wanted you to have the childhood you deserved. Back then, divorce in Catholic families was frowned upon. Besides, it would have been lethal for your father’s glowing career.”

      “Did you leave her alone?”

      Evandro stared at the floor. “We…reconnected.”

      An animalistic rage swept over him, he headed for the bottle of brandy. Without any finesse, lifted it to his lips and took a gulp. “You slept with your sister-in-law?”

      A shade of red spread across his face. “It’s not like that. We loved each other. Always did.”

      He clenched his fingers on the bottle. “But you married Laura, you had Amparo,” he said, remembering the pretty architect who often didn’t accompany him on family trips to the beach house.
 

      “There came a time when I realized I either had to marry someone or people would connect the dots. Besides, I needed a wife to entertain. I was working as a lawyer while your father took to politics.”

      “I can’t believe my mother agreed to be your lover,” he said, and the cold sweat from his palm slicked on the short bottleneck. The alcohol didn’t calm his nerves, it only intensified the crazy pounding of his temples, his heart. The life he thought he had had been a lie. How many times did his mother tuck him in bed only to call, or worse, meet his uncle afterward?

      “Laura discovered us and that’s when your mother ended it. God knows how much money that sneaky bitch took from me to keep it a secret.”

      “So Frank found out that you had an affair with Madre.”

      “Yes. I asked him not to tell you. The man was good, I tell you that much…he told me that he could smell secrets from miles away, and I guess that was his true intention. He said he was intrigued during a simple phone interview, when he called me to gather some facts for the book. Then, he took a weekend trip to Argentina, scavenger hunted family pictures and even talked to old housemaids that should have kept their mouth shut.”
 

      He clenched his jaw. The bottle slipped from his hands and crashed to the ground, liquid spilling onto the hardwood floor. Alejandro grabbed his uncle by the collar and slammed him against the wall. “Give me a reason not to punch you right now,” he said between his teeth. What a joke. The man he admired his whole life, even after his father’s death, had lied and deceived him the entire time.
 

      “Your father taught you better than this,” Evandro choked out.
 

      “Perhaps he would’ve changed his mind if he’d learned the truth,” Alejandro growled. His father had been fair, loving and hardworking. Did he really deserve this? To be betrayed by his brother and wife?

      “I’ll give you the missing part of the truth,” his uncle said, and Alejandro loosened his hold on him.
 

      Tears bordered Evandro’s eyes, and his lips set in a thin line.
 

      Alejandro let go of his uncle and his hands fell to his sides.
 

      “I’m your biological father,” he said in a low, raspy tone. And the world as Alejandro knew it, crumbled beneath him. Again.
 

***

      Constanza brought a bite of greens to her mouth, and swallowed them gracefully. “How was the fundraiser? I am so sad I had to miss it. Of course, I was in no shape to attend.”
 

      Sydney toyed with the fork and glanced at her half-eaten salad. “Good, I guess.” She shrugged. Though it was daylight, the red walls in the formal dining room contributed to a darker atmosphere.
Or maybe it’s just my perception.
 

      Constanza sent her assessing glances here and there, obviously not convinced by her elusive replies. “Are you sleeping in your own room tonight?”
 

      She straightened her shoulders. “Excuse me?”

      Constanza upped her brow and lifted a glass of red wine. “The maid was going to refresh your bedspread. I didn’t want to give her the extra workload.”

      Sydney studied the seafood dish in the middle of the table, the shrimp larger than her appetite. How many times did she dream of eating an extravagant meal like this? She had never starved, but growing up, a tuna sandwich was about the fanciest food she tasted.
 

      “I’ll stay in my room, thanks. Why would she refresh my bed when I’ll go to sleep later on?”

      Constanza flashed her the condescending smile a parent gave a child when asked an obvious question. “She will turn down the covers for you.”

      “I can do that myself,” she said before she could stop. The last thing she wanted was to make an enemy of Alejandro’s mother, but pretending all that wealth was common for her was downright exhausting. Was Constanza that out of touch with reality, with the homeless folk begging for quarters at the stop lights of Buenos Aires?
 

      Constanza pursed her lips. “Of course you can. Listen, Sydney, don’t be so defensive. Whatever is going on between you and my son, it’s your business.”

       “Is it?” She cursed herself silently for her retort. Maybe his mother was overbearing naturally, or she just enjoyed good gossip even at her son’s expense. Still. Sydney was at her house, and had to figure out a way to get along.
 

      The maid reappeared and removed Constanza’s salad plate and replenished her goblet of water.
 

      “Darling, I’m a mother. This may sound cliché, but one day you will understand.”

      With a smile, the maid removed Sydney’s salad plate.
 

      Sydney mumbled a “Thank you,” and pushed past the lump lodged in her throat.
 

      Yes, hearing from a parent that motherhood changed you should have been the norm. Should have been such a tired expression she would recognize it right away.
 

      Yet, as she dried the slickness from her palms on her napkin, she realized she was terrified of not ever discovering the meaning of that expression. “I’m only here until we figure out what’s happened. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m not a lurking gold digger who wants to drain his every cent.”
Good manners be dammed.
 

      Constanza lifted her napkin from her lap and pressed it against her mouth with the grace of a prancing gazelle in the spring. She assessed Sydney in silence, and an expression crossed her face. Admiration? No. Couldn’t be. “Good.”
 

      The echo of powerful footfalls on the flooring had them both staring into the hallway. Alejandro stormed into the room. His hair was ruffled like he’d been running his fingers through it, and his brown eyes were reddened. There was a strange energy oozing from him as he focused his attention on her.

      “Alejandro? Everything alright?” his mother asked. He didn’t reply, and she continued, “Why don’t you join us?”

       “Sydney. Come with me,” he summoned her.
 

      She stood up and followed him like he was her ticket out of that dreadful conversation.

      “What is it?” she whispered, following him into his room. How hard was it to keep up with his long strides? Very. Oh shit, what kind of bad news did he have? Or maybe good news? Although, judging from the tightening of his face, his furrowed brows and the twitch along his left eye…the man was pissed.
 

      “I don’t feel like talking right now.”      He snatched her to him and slammed the door close behind them.
 

      Capturing her mouth in a kiss that sizzled each one of her nerve endings, he lifted her to the bed. Their lips welded. She linked her arms around his head, and pulled him closer. With a guttural groan, he cupped her sex and she moaned.
 

      “Condom,” she reminded him. He reached into his pocket without breaking the kiss.
 

      She caressed his broad shoulders, and delved her fingers into the collar of his shirt to touch his warm skin. He was gorgeous, and she wanted to see him in the flesh, in all his glory, but with the sun skipping through the curtains, she couldn’t take the risk of having him see her scars. Damn it. The man wanted to fuck her, and the desire oozing from him was too good not to enjoy.
 

      Without wasting any time, he unzipped his pants, pulled them down with his briefs, and he rolled on the condom in supersonic speed.
 

      She bucked toward him, damn the man for reading her mind. He yanked off her jeans, the roughing denim almost bruising her skin in the process. Whatever was on his mind, she was sure that it wasn’t just sex—he wrestled an invisible demon. It wasn’t the right time to talk about it, though—breathing like she had just ran several miles, she smiled. He ripped off her undies, and a sense of empowerment thrilled her. Whatever disturbed him, he thought she…was the cure. Even if temporarily.