Riptide (26 page)

Finally, a man answered. An under-butler she presumed, since Draven liked all the pomp and ceremony that went with his title. The man asked her to hold, and a few moments later her sister-in-law, Dafne, came on the line.

“Here in Pavina,” Bria responded when Dafne asked where she was calling from. “We just landed at the airport. I have a friend with me and we’re walking. We’ll be there in about twenty— No, really.” She rolled her eyes at Nick. “It’s only— Right. We’ll probably be there before he takes the car out of the garage. Okay, fine we’ll meet him on the road, it’s too hot to stand around— No I wasn’t, yes, I’m sure in some circles it
is
extremely rude just to drop by, but I’m—” she wanted to say
family,
but instead finished, “I’m here anyway.”

She handed Nick back his phone. “Lovely woman,” she said, straight-faced. She hitched her tote higher on her shoulder and strode off toward the road. Nick fell into step beside her. The air smelled pleasantly of pine. She inhaled deeply again—as much as the scent carried welcome childhood memories, it also whispered of betrayal and death. Time away hadn’t erased the bitter with the sweet as she’d hoped.

“Don’t get on with your sister-in-law?” he asked, sliding her heavy tote off her shoulder and hooking it onto his own.

She smiled her thanks. “She thinks she’s Grace Kelly, only prettier, classier, and much, much richer. Unfortunately for Dafne, she’s
not
any of those things. Times four.

“Queen Dafne is sending a car. I might add that
a
car would also be
the
car. If you have a thing for cars, be prepared to be impressed, because she’s a beauty, even by today’s standards.”

He smiled, causing her train of thought to vanish in a curl of smoke. “I know a thing or two about things of beauty.”

Bria smiled up at him. “So do I.”

He shook his head with a laugh. “You are something else, Gabriella Visconti. Tell me about
the
car.”

“A 1959 Silver Cloud Rolls-Royce that has been in the family, according to Dafne, for ten generations.” Bria grinned.

“Since a generation is considered to be about twenty-five years, that would make the car pretty old,” his voice was Sahara dry.

“Math isn’t my sister-in-law’s strong suit,” Bria said lightly, so damn happy to be walking with Nick Cutter down the road toward Pavina in the sunshine that she could barely stand it. She refused to think about even an hour from now. Right now, right this second, here and now, with him beside her, and his long strides accommodating her shorter stride, everything was absolutely perfect.

“The car actually belonged to my grandfather, and then my father. So I guess it was the family ca— Ouch!” Bria hopped on one foot, her heel caught in a crack of the cobbled road.

“Here,” Nick said impatiently. “Take my hand before you fall and break your neck.” Without waiting for her response, he laced his fingers with hers.

She was used to walking in heels, and not worried about falling, but holding Nick’s hand as they walked was an opportunity she wouldn’t miss for the world. Not now, when every step toward the palace was a step farther away from being with him. The smell of his skin, intensified by the heat, melded with the smells of home, becoming imprinted on her synapses.

The dark green of the pine forest ran all the way down the right-hand side of the road. On the left, rolling hills of grapevines grew in symmetrical rows as far as the eye could see. As a backdrop to the lush green vines, Monte Tolaro rose to a flat-topped peak that seemed to touch the sky.

“You look like your mother.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, his words touching her deeply. “I aspire to be what she was.”

Nick raised a dark brow. “Queen?”

“God, no!” Bria flashed him a quick smile to take away the sting of her sincere but hot denial. She loved the feel of his palm brushing against hers as they walked, and the way his fingers were laced lightly through hers. “Although I was wondering if I was going to become queen-sized if I hadn’t gotten the job after a year’s unemployment.

“I have to admit, when I came home for Draven’s coronation, I was shocked to see him again because he was so heavy.” Heavy was an understatement; her brother would be considered morbidly obese. “Dangerously so, I think.”

“Not something you have to worry about. But you’re a woman who would be desirable no matter what size you are.”

Bria hefted her chin. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment; genetics are responsible for how I look. My mother always told me that looks would fade, but integrity lasted forever. My mother was the kindest, most intelligent woman I’d ever known. She was amazing.”

“She sounds like it.”

“Is your mother…?” Bria looked up at him as they walked.

His eyes remained on the road ahead. “She died when we were kids. I was about six. Car accident. Drunk driver.”

She squeezed his hand. “I was seven. It hardly seems fair. I’m sorry, Nick.”

“I only have vague memories of her. Most of them fraught with something my father did or didn’t do. Their marriage was … rocky to say the least.” He paused and Bria warmed as he trusted her enough to continue, “She’d taken Zane and Logan and me to live with her mother in Portland. Dad didn’t like it, and took us back to Cutter Cay.”

“She died before she could get you back. Poor woman.” Bria tsked.

Nick’s steps faltered. “How did you know that?”

“She loved the three of you enough to try and take you to a safe place,” Bria offered quietly. “If your parents had an acrimonious marriage, or even frankly if they didn’t, she would’ve fought tooth and nail to keep the three of you with her. You needed your mother.” She indicated they move over enough to walk in the shade. “She knew that. Death is the only thing that can separate a mother from the children she loves.”

“She was killed while the lawyers battled it out.”

The ancient stone wall of Pavina was visible ahead, and Bria slowed her steps, not wanting this moment to end. “What kind of man was your father?”

Nick shrugged his broad shoulders. “He was what he was. We had a good life on Cutter Cay. He taught us everything we know about sailing, about the salvage business, but love—Not sure he knew what that was about. He wasn’t faithful.

“Logan and I worried that Zane would fall into that familial pattern, but Ace met someone, and that seems to be that.”

“Zane fell in love?”

“Oh, yeah. He met his match in Teal.”

“He’s happy.”

“Ridiculously so.”

She smiled. “You must be happy for him.”

“I am. I’m…” He huffed out a breath. “I’m relieved. We all remember what it was like. The lies, the bullshit. The drinking. Tell me a happy memory of
your
parents.”

“God, I remember the family picnic the month before it all hit the fan. My parents, Draven and me and all five of the dogs crammed into the Rolls. It was the best day of my life.” She heard the husky, half-longing note in her voice and she cast him a sassy look before things got too deep, too fast. “Until a week ago, anyway.”

He lifted his sexy mouth in a half smile.

“We drove to the caves up there in the foothills where the mountain overlooks the sea.” She pointed to the peak rising thousands of feet into blue skies dotted with smudges of soft gray clouds.

“It’s spectacular.”

“There’s a lake inside the cavern, and hot springs. It’s pretty amazing. Draven threatened to push me down the tunnel that drains the spring waters of the lake into the sea. I wasn’t allowed to swim there.” She smiled. “I think my mother believed he’d do it too. Thirteen-year-old boys aren’t fond of seven-year-old sisters. Do you have any sisters? You never said.”

“Just Zane and Logan. Although…”

“Although—?” She glanced up at him. Pausing to memorize his features, the way the sunlight shone in his dark hair, the way his eyes were suddenly speaking volumes, though she wasn’t understanding what they were saying. On the other hand, this was Nick Cutter; he could just be squinting against the sun.

“That sounds mysterious,” she said lightly, swinging their joined hands as they walked.

He didn’t say anything for a minute and she glanced up at him to see if he was regretting telling her intimate details about his family.

After a moment when she thought he might not say anything, Nick let out a breath. “Some high-priced New York lawyer called Logan awhile back, claiming to represent a guy who says he’s our long lost brother.”

“Interesting.” The ancient stone walls of Pavina came into view again as they rounded the next curve, and Bria slowed her steps a bit. “Did you know you’d lost a brother? How’s it possible to lose a brother?”

He didn’t seem excited. “It’s a scam to cash in,” he said flatly. “Cutter Salvage has been doing extremely well the last couple of years.”

“You don’t believe this guy is who he says he is?”

“We’ll have plenty of questions if he ever shows up. DNA will be just the beginning— Christ.” His voice dropped in awe as the car rounded the bend in the road. “I’m in love.”

Chapter 15

If only.
“I thought you might be, hence the warning,” Bria told him sternly. “Don’t drool on the seats, or Dafne will make you walk.”

She didn’t grab at him when he let go of her hand, although she wanted to. The magnificent car, silver paintwork polished to a platinum sheen, slowed and stopped on the edge of the road.

The driver jumped out, still hastily buttoning his black jacket—a ridiculous pretension in this day and age and in the heat. Beaming and bowing, he opened the back door with a flourish.
“Buon pomeriggio, Principessa!”

“
Buon pomeriggio,
Enzo,” Bria said with a smile. She’d met him briefly two years before. His wife was Dafne’s something-or-other—whatever the unfortunate woman did for her sister-in-law, Bria figured she didn’t get paid nearly enough. She motioned for Nick to get in. Let him do the sliding.
“Stai bene? Come sta la tua bellissima moglie?”
she asked the driver.

His eyes widened with delight that she’d remembered his wife.
“Sta molto bene, grazie per esservelo ricordato, Principessa.”

Bria grinned when she saw Nick stroking his hand across the butter soft, beautifully preserved dark green leather seats. She slid in and Enzo shut the door with a solid, expensive thunk.

For such an enormous vehicle, the Rolls had been built to carry only two passengers, and Nick was close enough for her to feel the brush of his elbow against her bare arm. She smiled. Nick was checking out the polished exotic-woods interior as if he’d been handed a map to the location of Atlantis.

“Left-hand drive,” he murmured, caressing the seat back in front of him. “Six cylinder in-line configuration, cast iron cylinder block, aluminum alloy cylinder head—”

Because the road was so narrow, with the forest on one side and vineyards on the other, Enzo had to drive all the way back the way they’d come, to the airport, to turn around. Bria crossed her legs and leaned back, enjoying Nick as he enjoyed the car.

“Let me know if you two would like a moment alone,” she said with a laugh. A silly little pang plucked at her heart. Her father would’ve liked Nick Cutter. Obviously her brother did. He’d invested a hefty sum with him. But what would her mother have thought? Would Nick have been too emotionally detached for her taste? Sometimes Bria wondered if her parents being gone had been one of the reasons she’d never thought about settling down. She just couldn’t imagine a wedding without them.

For the rest of the trip Nick and Enzo talked Rolls-Royce in rapid-fire Italian.

And behind her sunglasses, Bria’s eyes stung.

*   *   *

The ancient town of Pavina had no vehicular traffic. The Rolls followed the high meandering wall for several miles outside the town until they turned into large gates and crunched down a shell driveway. The Palazzo, constructed of enormous blocks of dark gray basaltic lava and golden granite, was an interesting hodgepodge of time periods.

Nick frowned as the magnificent car crept up the gracefully curved driveway. At least a hundred people labored in the manicured gardens surrounding the place. A spiderweb of scaffolding, holding dozens of workers, dotted the front of the building. For a man strapped for funds, King Draven Visconti was spending a royal fortune returning his home to what Nick presumed was its former glory.

He hoped the guy was spending an equal amount on his subjects who were attempting to restore their lives, fortunes, and homes to what they had been before Marrezo was overrun by terrorists.

The car glided to a stop before a long sweep of curved stairs leading to massive carved double doors, tires crunching discreetly on the gravel. The original moat had been filled in and covered with freshly mown grass and flowering shrubs. Enzo jumped out and held Bria’s door open. Nick let himself out on his side, circling the front of the car to her side.

Standing at the top of the stone steps stood a fashionable too thin, too blond, too tanned woman in her late forties. She wore a conservative business suit made of some unpleasantly shiny material in a weird shade of green, and had accessorized with enough gold and emeralds to feed the island residents for a year.

Beside him Bria said
sotto voce,
“Brace yourself,” and started forward, ponytail swinging, back straight. Nick adjusted his steps to hers as they climbed the steps.

Silky blond hair in a simple twist reminiscent of Grace Kelly, Dafne stood at the top of the stone steps in front of the open double door, both hands outstretched in welcome. “Gabriella,
benvenuti a casa mia sorella cara
!”

The queen spoke Italian badly, with a strong Afrikaans accent. Nick had no trouble placing it. Pietermaritzburg, South Africa, as a birthplace, several years at public school, then a social climbing step to what Nick guessed was a good boarding school in Durban.

Then Johannesburg.

“Thank you, Dafne,” Bria replied in English. The woman had barely moved, just waited for them to come up the deep stone stairs to greet her. She dropped her extended arms, clearly having no intention of anything as emotional or welcoming as a hug. Bria tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “This is Nick Cutter of Cutter Salvage.” Dafne’s penciled-in brows rose before she offered him her thin, pale, ring-heavy hand. He gallantly took it in his, brushing a kiss two inches above her cold fingers, because she expected it. Not that he gave a flying fuck that she did. But not doing so would probably cause fallout on Bria. And that he wouldn’t tolerate. He didn’t care to analyze why that should be the case. “Your Majesty.”