Maximum Risk (20 page)

A week later Max and Tara hosted a dinner at the estate on Slater Island where he and Tara had spent time together. They kept the guest list short: Gio, Julia, Nick, Rena and Luke. He’d told his family he’d asked them there because he wanted their opinion of the property. None of them had seemed overly enthusiastic regarding Max’s plans to tear the homes down.

Near the end of the meal, Max stood up and said, “I spent a good portion of my life angry even though I told myself I wasn’t. It took meeting Tara to open my eyes to what I was doing.” He looked down at Tara, then across at Luke. “Don’t be upset that I heard her and not you. I know you’ve said the same for years.”

Luke raised a glass to his brother and joked, “At least you acknowledge my wisdom.”

Max nodded. “I do. And that of Uncle Alessandro. He has always said family was his priority, and I believe him now. He doesn’t judge anyone. He loved our father despite his faults. And he welcomed me, all of us, back into his home without ever asking us to apologize for all the hateful things we’ve said to him over the years. I spent a lot of time focusing on what I thought people had done wrong, but tonight I want to acknowledge what our family has done right.”

Nick said lightly, “We couldn’t get Max to say more than two words to us for years; now he won’t shut up.” Gio gave Nick a warning look that Nick laughed off. “Not complaining,” Nick said with a shameless smile, “just making an observation.”

Rena smiled and shook her head. “Will you let your brother speak, please?”

Julia rushed across the room and returned with a box of tissues. “Just in case. I can see where this is going, and I cry at beautiful moments like this.”

Tara held out her hand, and Julia passed her the box. Tara’s eyes were already misty.

Max smiled across at Tara. She dabbed beneath one eye, gave him a tearful smile, and nodded her encouragement. Max reached into a bag he’d placed beside his chair and took out a small pile of envelopes. As he handed an envelope to each of his brothers, he said, “Isola Santos is where our family used to gather. We can’t change that it wasn’t the place it should have been for us, but we can create something for ourselves. I purchased this row of houses with the intention of knocking them down and putting a resort here. I changed my mind after meeting Tara and getting to know the people on this island. I’ve deeded a home here to each of you. Renovate it or knock it down and build your own. No matter what happens, we’re family—and we’re Andrades. Let this island be where we prove that.”

Gio stood and tucked his envelope into his jacket pocket. His eyes shone with emotion. He reached out and gave Max a pat on the shoulder. Julia blew her nose into a tissue.

Tara looked at the one envelope left in Max’s hand and urged Max on with a lift of her chin. Max laid it down on the table and said, “I had originally bought four houses, but I recently paid an outrageous amount of money to purchase an additional home to the south. For Gigi.”

Julia gasped, stood, and hugged Gio tearfully. “He bought a house for your half-sister.”

Gio nodded with approval. “That’s Max. He does what he wants.”

Tara crossed to stand next to Max. “She doesn’t know it yet, but she has a wonderful family. She’ll see it one day.”

Max hugged her. With Tara at his side, Max believed anything was possible.

Nick walked over and gave Max a hug. Rena followed and did the same.

The doorbell rang. A moment later one of the house staff Max had recently hired said, “There is a Michael at the door with a pastry delivery.”

Max and Tara exchanged a look and burst out laughing. They laughed even harder when no one else in the room found the announcement funny.

Tara wiped the happy tears that were brimming over into her mascara. “It’s Waffle.”

Max hugged Tara closer and kissed her hair. “And his mom’s fucking pie.”

Nick looked across at Gio. “Do you think there’s something in the water?”

Max chuckled and told his staff to set another plate at the table. “You’ll understand when you meet him.”

Gio frowned and asked, “You’re inviting a man named Waffle to join us?”

Max met Waffle at the door of the dining room and shook his hand. “Waffle, meet my brothers.”

Nick walked over and shook his hand. “Waffle, huh? Like the food?”

Waffle’s smile lit the room. “Exactly. Like the food.”

Max walked back over and put an arm around Tara’s waist. He said, “Waffles and pie, two things that make everyone happy.”

Tara went up on her tiptoes and whispered, “Happy. Did I mention I found the island hardware store earlier today?”

Heat rushed up Max’s neck. “You would say that now. You’re killing me.”

Tara kissed him lightly on the cheek and said, “Happy. How to make you happier. It wasn’t a big leap.”

Gio cleared his throat loudly. “Maybe we should have a triple wedding. I don’t think we should make Max and Tara wait to get married.”

Rena exclaimed, “A triple wedding? All of us?”

Julia walked over to stand beside Rena. “I would be okay with it if both of you are. Tara?”

Tara looked around the room with wide eyes. “A triple wedding?”

Max gave her a coaxing smile. “We could have it here.”

Waffle took out his phone. “I have a cousin who caters weddings. She lives right here on the island. Want me to call her?”

A grin spread across Tara’s face. “Maxwell Andrade, how long have you been considering this?”

“Is that a yes?” Max asked, sensing from Tara’s amused expression that it was.

For a moment he and Tara stood, smiling at each other, letting the rest of the world slide away. It was simply them and how good they felt when they were together. She kissed him soundly and said, “Yes. Yes to you. Yes to your whole damn crazy family. I hope this island is ready for an Andrade triple wedding.”

The group laughed and hugged. Then hugged more and laughed as they planned. Max caught Luke’s eyes across the table. It was the first time he’d ever seen Luke look uncomfortable. He crossed the room and stood behind his chair, putting his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, Luke, we still need you.”

Luke stood and forced a smile. “It’s not that.”

Max wanted to ask Luke more, but the moment wasn’t right. He let the subject drop and went back to celebrating and planning what was sure to be an event the people of Slater Island wouldn’t soon forget.

Maddy was in a robe and blow-drying her hair at the makeup station in her bathroom. When they’d bought the house, her husband, Richard, had laughed when she’d said she couldn’t function in a bathroom that wasn’t at least the size of a master bedroom. He’d come around, though. She let him plan the size of his own closet. Marriage was about compromise.

She was lost in a daydream about how much had changed since she and her friends had come up with a bet to find romantic partners for all four of her cousins. She knew some in her family considered her a meddler, but love had triumphed once again. She’d willingly sit through a hundred lectures on how she had crossed a line when hiring a PI just to see Max and Tara holding hands and happy together.

Love heals all wounds, and the truth is always better when exposed. No one could convince her otherwise. Yes, Richard had said a few things to her in French she was glad she didn’t know how to translate. Her father had gone off on a similar tangent in Italian. There were perks to being monolingual: It meant fewer people in Maddy’s life had to apologize for what they said.

Her father still wouldn’t tell her what he knew about Aunt Patrice, but Maddy was confident he would soon. As her mother often said, Maddy and her father were two peas in a pod. She called both Alessandro and Maddy stubborn as mules.

Maddy smiled into the mirror and curled another long tendril around her hairbrush. There were worse things than being compared to a father she adored.

A flash of red hair caught her eye, and she opened her mouth to scream. A woman’s hand closed over her mouth, silencing her. Maddy met amused green eyes in the mirror and pushed the hand away with her free hand. She turned the blow-dryer off and spun on her seat. Her heart was thudding crazily in her chest even though she knew she was in no danger. “Alethea, what are you doing here? You almost scared the life out of me.”

One ginger eyebrow arched in skepticism. “Do you know how easy it was to bypass your security system? It looked like a system a twelve-year-old could have installed. You need to update it, especially now that you have children.”

Standing on shaky feet, Maddy said, “You have serious boundary issues.”

Alethea walked around the room, lifting, inspecting, then returning items from the counters. “It’s best for us to not start passing judgment on each other. I imagine we’d both have plenty to say.”

Maddy tightened the robe belt and squared her shoulders. Alethea was a friend of the family and therefore part of her life. “I’m sure you didn’t break into my home just to insult me. What do you want, Alethea?”

Alethea met her eyes in the mirror again. This time her eyes were serious. “I should have helped you when you asked me to. It shouldn’t have been necessary for you to hire a stranger to get you answers.”

Maddy’s jaw dropped open. “Wait, is this an apology?”

One of Alethea’s shoulders rose and dropped beneath her silk shirt. “Tara said you think I don’t like you; that’s not true, Maddy. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about you.”

Maddy stepped closer to a woman she understood as little as she did the workings of her car engine. Her cousin Stephan and his wife, Nicole, adored Alethea. They couldn’t say enough about her loyalty and her courage. Maddy put aside her personal feelings and tried to see what they saw. “You’ve been a good friend to my family, Alethea.” That was true, at least.

“But not to you?” Those watchful green eyes pinned Maddy down. “You and I are alike in some ways, you know. Like you, the outcome of my efforts is rarely appreciated.”

There is something beautiful in everyone. Look again,
Maddy told herself.
“Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“It’s simply fact.”

Although the connection between them was fragile, it was the first time Maddy had connected with Alethea on more than a sarcastic, superficial level. “People think I can’t keep a secret, but the truth is, I don’t want to. Secrets destroy people. One day you think you know someone, the next you discover everything you thought you knew was a fantasy. I see no value in hiding the unpleasant. I’d rather face an ugly truth and work through it than live a life of lies. I see that same trait in you, so maybe we are more alike than either of us wants to admit.”

Alethea reached into the bag on her shoulder and pulled out a thick and weathered notebook. “I know you were disappointed Tara couldn’t find the answers you were looking for.” She held the notebook out to Maddy. “But they’re in here. Maybe not all of them, but many of them.”

A chill ran down Maddy’s back as she accepted the notebook. “What is this?”

“It’s Patrice’s private journal.”

Maddy looked down at it without opening it. “It looks old.”

“It is. The last entry was more than twenty years ago.”

Turning it over in her hands, Maddy hesitated to do more. It was one thing to seek the truth; it was another to have it handed to you. If Alethea thought it was important enough to bring to her, Maddy had a feeling her life would never be the same after reading it. “How did you get it?”

Another light shrug. “Let’s just say your aunt’s staff is not very well paid. I may have offered one an incentive to perform a deep cleaning of her home.”

“You bribed her staff to . . .”

Alethea grabbed the book back from Maddy and flipped it open to a page she had earmarked and handed it back to her. “Oh, for God’s sake, just read this entry.”

Maddy scanned the page and felt the room spin around her as she did. “Aunt Patrice was in love with Uncle Victor?”

Alethea picked up a cotton ball and tossed it in the air, catching it absentmindedly and repeating the act as she spoke. “It seems that the Stanfields were close to the Andrades. Patrice spent time on Isola Santos when she was in her late teens and early twenties. From what I could tell, she followed Victor around like a puppy, but he considered her only a friend.”

Maddy skipped around the journal, reading little excerpts here and there that confirmed what Alethea was saying. “That’s the big secret? An old crush?”

Alethea leaned over and flipped three fourths through the book where she’d folded another page down. “You’ll want to read this part.”

Maddy did and sat down with a thud, the journal falling to her lap. “She slept with him?”

In a matter-of-fact tone, Alethea said, “She did. They were both drinking. My guess is she made advances that Victor didn’t refuse. She thought he would fall in love with her if she slept with him. She was young, a virgin. She wouldn’t be the first woman to think sex meant more than it did. Victor met his wife, Katrine, the next day on the beach, and Patrice never got over what she considered the ultimate betrayal.”

Maddy clutched the book in her hands. Her eyes misted. “She must have been heartbroken.”

Alethea shook her head with far less sympathy. “Or something. She went on to marry his older brother, George. I bet she thought it would hurt Victor, but it didn’t, as far as I can tell. Victor married Katrine and never looked back. Patrice held on to her hurt until it ruined her marriage and her relationship with her sons. Patrice thinks George read the journal; if he did, it’s not surprising he ran off to Venice. She didn’t care if he was hurt by what he’d learned. The last part of the journal reverts right back to how she blamed everything that was wrong with her life on Victor. ”

The story rocked Maddy to the core. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “My father must have known all of this. How could he never say anything?”

Alethea took a seat on a cushioned chair across from Maddy. “If I had to guess, Alessandro loved his brothers—both of them. If you want to cry for someone, George definitely lost out on all fronts. He married and had four sons with a woman who never loved him. He lost his sons when he sought comfort with his mistress in Venice. And finally, his death revealed his betrayal in a way that made his wife a martyr and him the villain.”

Still processing it all, Maddy said slowly, “Aunt Patrice hates Uncle Victor. Really hates him.”

Alethea leaned forward and put a hand on Maddy’s knee. “And everyone around him.”

Maddy raised a hand to her lips. “Even me.”

Alethea gave her knee a pat. “Even you.”

With a sad smile, Maddy said, “That’s why she couldn’t let her sons be with us. Does this explain everything? Even why she can’t stand to see her sons get along? Max looks like Victor. Nick looks like my father when he was younger. Do you think she hates her sons, too? Could a mother feel that way about her own children?”

“I don’t know. She stopped keeping a journal shortly after George started spending time in Venice. But I’d say Patrice is a woman who is so consumed by her bitterness she is incapable of loving anyone.”

Maddy stood and held out the journal toward Alethea. “What do I do with this now? Do I give it to her sons?”

Alethea also stood. “How committed are you to the truth, Maddy? How far would you go to learn the rest of the story?”

Maddy frowned in confusion. “I thought you said Patrice stopped writing in her journal.”

“She did, but email is a funny thing. People believe it’s gone if they delete it. It’s not. Not to the right person.”

“Someone like you.”

“And my friends.”

“What more do you think there is to know?”

“I’m not sure yet. My gut tells me your aunt has a few skeletons in her closet. There are parts of this puzzle that seem connected, although I have no proof of how yet.”

The hair on the back of Maddy’s neck rose. “Like?”

“Like Victor losing his company soon after George died, and he reached out to Patrice’s sons. It could be completely unrelated, or a well-funded act of spite.”

Maddy sat back down again, shaking her head back and forth in denial. “No. Even Aunt Patrice isn’t capable of that.”

Alethea picked up a perfume bottle and sniffed it casually. “People are capable of much worse. What do you know about Patrice’s doctor?”

Maddy’s eyes rounded. “Not much. He’s been her doctor for as long as I can remember. Why?”

Alethea put the perfume bottle down softly. “I don’t like him, and when I don’t like someone, they’re guilty of something.” Alethea turned and met Maddy’s eyes. “It’s up to you, Maddy. But this time I’m in. Do you want the truth?”

THE END

Read on for an excerpt from
Twelve Days of Temptation (A Hot Holiday Novella)