Marrying Mari (25 page)

The older woman laughed and walked toward the door. She reached it just as it opened again.

“Ethan! We were just talking about you and your father. See you,
Mariella
.” Angelica swayed out of the door.

She resisted the urge to rub her arm. She’d have to go to the ladies’ room again to check the bruises. And Gabriel wanted her on the dance floor now. She knew she’d have to have some kind of explanation. She sighed.

“Thanks for rescuing me.” She smiled at him, her smile faltering when he just stared at her. “It was just the bracelet,” she began tiredly, when he strode across the floor and grasped her right wrist. “Ethan,” she cried out when he jerked her forward.

“We’re leaving.” His voice was chipped ice.

“Gabriel—”

“Is waiting at the car.” Ethan strode down the hall, dragging her after him. His grip on her wrist was too tight, squeezing the fragile bones. “My wrap—”

“Gabe has it.”

“I should say good-bye.”

“Shut up.”

Surprised and hurt, she did, stumbling to keep up in her high heels, embarrassed and startled at his attitude. Was this because of the bracelet? Had Gabriel told him about overhearing Angelica’s conversation? She saw Irene frowning at them from across the room and shook her head as the girl moved to intercept them.

Ethan tugged her all the way down the stairs, through the front hall. People kept tossing out good-byes, which he tersely returned. Mari concentrated on not breaking an ankle or falling on her ass.

Down at the car, Gabriel leaned casually against the side, staring at his feet. As Ethan dragged her down the front steps, he straightened. Staring at them he frowned and looked away, shoving his hand in his pocket. Eli, looking concerned, opened the rear door. “Miss?”

Gabe tossed her wrap and bag into the back seat. He pulled open the front passenger door and sat, ignoring the rest of them. It was the first time Mari could remember him being deliberately rude.

Ethan thrust her toward the back door. She sat, slid to the far corner. He slid in beside her but left the width of the seat between them. Eli got into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb. As they drove, Mari turned to Ethan.

“What is it?”

He pushed the button, raising the panel. She could see Gabe’s profile through the thick Plexiglas.

She said, “It was just a lost bracelet. Angelica found it.”

Ethan turned on her so fast she fell against the seat. His voice was furious. “This is about Florida. Miami. About what you did there.” He sat back. “I asked Peter to look into it. Okuni didn’t include it in his original report. I wish he had.” Ethan fixed her with a heated laser blue gaze. “You said you saved cash for tuition while in Miami. You saved a lot, didn’t you? After all, strippers make good money, although there’s better money to be made in clubs with a better clientele. But you chose to strip in sleazy joints. Took your clothes off for strangers in the worst dives in Miami. Seven different clubs in eighteen months. And you were only eighteen when you went down there. Peter’s friends said you were very popular.” He looked her up and down. Why had she thought his eyes were hot? Now they were so cold, they froze her heart. “Peter said in the worst place you worked, the dancers go the full monty. Strip to the buff for the crowd. No pasties, no g-string. How do you blush?” He ran a finger down her cheek, and she shrank away from him. “Lap dances. Private parties. Fuck.” Ethan ran a hand through his short hair. “You must have made a pile of cash. Peter was so embarrassed, he could hardly tell me. You said you were ‘technically’ a virgin that first night. Now I know what you meant.” He stared at her, silently, for a moment. “Anything to add?”

Mari lifted her chin. “I wasn’t a stripper.”

“Exotic dancer, pardon me.”

“I wasn’t an exotic dancer, either.”

“Employment records say different. Peter’s friends say different.”

“
I
say I never stripped, never did lap dances. You’ll have to decide who to believe.” She looked toward Gabriel in the front seat. As if he knew, he turned his head and stared at her. Then he looked away. Mari bit her lip. She turned her head toward the window and pulled the throw over her body. She was chilled, inside and out.

Back at the duplex, both men headed for their individual rooms without speaking. Mari followed them upstairs, grateful to be left alone. She peeled off her dress and piled it and the jewelry on her bed. Left her shoes in the middle of the floor. By now her arm was throbbing. In her bathroom, she examined herself, on the verge of tears.

Both Angelica and Ethan had chosen the same arm, her right one, to manhandle. Her wrist throbbed where Ethan had held her so tightly. There probably would be bruises by morning. Her shoulder had been wrenched as Ethan had pulled her through the ballroom to the car, but that too would be minor by morning.

Worse was the damage done by Angelica’s nails. Four purple and red bruises, with two punctures, were inside her arm and the same, again punctured, on the outside from the thumb. They stung badly. Mari looked through her cabinets, but there was no antiseptic.

I’ll definitely need that
, she thought grimly. Maybe even a tetanus shot.

Pulling on a robe, she crept down to the kitchen. Surely Mrs. Watson would have some first aid materials there. She was right. In a cupboard off the kitchen, a first-aid kit held bandages, antiseptic and gauze. Listening for any sign of interruption, Mari tended her arm, wiping the cuts clean and then generously smearing ointment on them. She wound a length of gauze around and around. Taping the gauze down, she sighed. The stinging eased immediately.

She wadded up the used materials and tossed them in the wastebasket, then tucked the first-aid kit back in the cupboard. Quietly she climbed the stairs back to her room.

Once there, she stared at the glittering pile of stuff on her bed. The night had started so beautifully. She stared at the ring on her right hand; she couldn’t see it through her sudden tears. Dammit, she thought, Scarlett is right. Tomorrow is another day.

She swept the clothes, shoes and jewelry off the bed and climbed under the covers, lights still on. Her arm throbbed, but the pain in her heart from Ethan’s accusations and Gabriel’s silence hurt her worse.
No
. She wouldn’t think about it until she had to, until she had a clear head. Some perspective, that’s what she needed, she told herself, even as the tears fell faster and harder.

Sometime in the wee small hours, Gabriel came awake. He sat up in his big empty bed, amidst the deep brown Egyptian cotton sheets and down-filled silk duvet and groaned.

“Fucking idiot,” he cursed himself.

He had figured it all out, in his sleep. Mari. His mother. Angelica’s secret.

Stupidly he had thought his lover was conspiring with Angelica, that somehow Mari was courting his mother’s influence, that net of power his mother wielded like a poisoned sword. He’d been struggling against it all his life, and he couldn’t see that Mari wouldn’t care about it, didn’t even react to it. Seeing them whispering together had been a knife strike to his heart.

He said he loved Mari. Right. Because the first moment possible he turned on her, treated her like trash. Made her into his mother.

But he knew, now, what they’d been talking about. What the secret was. And it wasn’t about a damn bracelet.

Chapter Seventeen

Gabriel hurried downstairs the next morning, eager to make peace with Mari.

Mrs. Watson confronted him at the bottom of the stairs. “Was it you then?”

Gabe skidded to a halt, impatient. “Huh?” he asked inelegantly.

“You who muddled around in the kitchen last night.” The housekeeper folded her hands at her waist and stared at him.

“Uh, no.” he said. “Is Mari at breakfast?”

The housekeeper stared at him for a moment. Then, abruptly, “No, she’s not at the table.”

“Oh.” He looked up the stairs, torn.

“So you didn’t mess about with the first-aid kit?” she persisted.

“No, I told you.” His head swung around. “First-aid kit? You didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t I?” She raised her eyebrows and stared at him. “Oh. Well, someone used it last night. Left the trash around. Put it back all which ways up. Mr. Ethan says it wasn’t him, either.” She stared at him.

Gabriel headed for the kitchen. Mrs. W was right. On the counter were the pieces of cut gauze and tape, wadded up wipes and their torn envelopes, and the open first-aid kit. He stared at it.

Mrs. W spoke behind him. “I put the top back on the tube of ointment.”

Gabe passed her fast, going into the dining room. Ethan sat, staring into his coffee cup. “Why did she need bandages, Ethan?”

“What?”

Gabe leaned over the table and yelled at him. “Why did Mari need gauze bandages and antiseptic ointment last night after we got home?”

Ethan stood. “Don’t shout at me. I don’t know. Ask her.”

“I will.” Gabe turned to go back upstairs, but Mrs. W spoke from the kitchen doorway. “She’s not in her bedroom.”

Both men turned to her.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know. But the doorman said she left about six this morning, with her bicycle. Is she working today? It’s Sunday.” The housekeeper looked at both of them. “Or has something happened? Have you done something to that lovely child?”

Ethan pulled out his cell and pressed a number. Thirty seconds later Manny was assuring Ethan that no, Mari wasn’t working today. He cut the call without even saying good-bye.

Gabe stared at him.

“No, she’s not at work.” Ethan tossed the phone on the table. Despite his residual anger, worry made his chest ache.

“Her mother.” Gab grabbed the phone and dialed a number from memory.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice answered.

“Mrs. Amorini, this is a friend of Mariella’s. Is she there with you?”

“Which friend?” The voice was suspicious.

“I’m from the messenger service. Trying to track her down.”

“Oh. No, she’s not here.”

“Thanks,” Gabe shook his head at Ethan and disconnected.

“What did you two do?” Mrs. W asked again.

“It’s my fault,” Gabriel said. “I saw her talking to Angelica last night and overreacted. They were talking about some secret, agreeing not to tell me the truth. She said it was about her bracelet, but I didn’t believe her.” He grimaced. “I mean, it was Angelica she was talking to.”

Ethan nodded, knowing what his friend meant.

Gabriel continued, “But I was wrong. I figured it out, last night.”

Ethan frowned. “I don’t understand why Peter would have talked to Angelica about Mari? He wouldn’t,” Ethan waved that thought away. “So how did she find out?”

Gabriel frowned now. “You’re going to have to explain, man, because I have no idea what Peter has to do with this. This is pure Angelica. And me,” he added grimly. “Me as the prime dope of all time.”

“I’ll share if you will, because we’re talking about two different things. I hope.” Ethan glanced at Mrs. W, who wouldn’t budge. “I’m talking about Mari’s time in Miami. You remember she said she worked there, to earn money for college.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Okuni didn’t elaborate. I asked Peter to use his contacts and find out the details. He did.” He glanced again at the housekeeper. “She was a stripper.”

Gabriel was around the table and in Ethan’s face so fast he was a blur. “What the fuck?”

The leaner man held his ground. “She worked in seven clubs around Miami. All known for being pretty rough.”

Gabe stared at him. “That’s crap.”

“Peter confirmed it with friends.”

“There’s got to be an explanation.”

“What?” Ethan said wearily. “I’d love to know. She stripped, Gabe. At the worst places in town. Peter says private parties too. When I confronted her with it she denied it, but she didn’t give me any kind of alternative explanation.”

Gabe reeled away. Both men were silent.

“What kind of fat-headed idiots are you two? First, that girl never took her clothes off in some grimy place somewhere. She’s got too much self-respect. Second, what if she did? You two have seen the birthday suits of more women than is sensible, without being serious about any of them. In combinations of two or three, I might add. If she was earning money to put herself through college, to do something worthwhile with her life, I say, so what? She’s not stripping now, is she?” The housekeeper snorted. “That girl is too good for the likes of you.” She turned and left for the kitchen, leaving Ethan and Gabe staring after her.

“Why did she need bandages?” Ethan turned to look at Gabriel.

They turned together and sprinted up the stairs to her room. It was empty, just as Mrs. W had said. On the floor were the dress, shoes and lingerie from last night, as well as her robe. On the dresser, gems glittered in a neat pile. Ethan crossed to them.

Gabe knelt by the clothes, examining them. “Ethan.” He held out the dress, where small dark stains showed on the upper right sleeve, front and back. It looked like blood. A memory came back to him—his mother holding Mari’s arm. “Fuck.” He was cold and hot at once.