Trust (7 page)

A million scenarios of torture and retribution whirled through his mind. He would make Ella pay for this. There was no turning back now.

“SORRY ABOUT THAT,” OLIVER apologized as he returned to the table, settling back in his seat across from Gaia. He smiled, his intense blue eyes seemingly boring into her own. “I'm afraid my workday never ends. When a beep or a call comes, I have to take it.”

Gaia shrugged. “I don't mind,” she said. It was true. Her uncle wasn't gone for longer than ten minutes. And during that entire time she wasn't once worried that he might not return. Not like some
other
members of her family.

“Would you like an after-dinner port?” he offered.

“Uh . . .” Gaia wasn't sure what to say. She didn't want to be rude, but on the other hand, she'd already had a glass of wine, and she was feeling a little woozy. Alcohol wasn't her favorite beverage. Not by a long shot. Still, sipping
vino rosso
with her uncle during dinner had made her feel so grown-up, so sophisticated. She hadn't even been carded, either. Maybe she should take advantage of the situation.

“Give it a try,” he encouraged. “You might like it.”

“Okay,” she found herself answering. Just the sound of his voice made it almost impossible to say no to him.

He leaned back in his chair and nodded at the waitress. “You know, Europe is so much more sophisticated in this regard,” he remarked.

“In what regard?” Gaia asked, feeling warm and drowsy. The table had long since been cleared. Every morsel she'd put in her mouth had been savory and satisfying. First she'd had bruschetta smeared with a black olive paste. Then her favorite: penne and calamari with black pepper and vodka sauce. Finally she'd been left to toy with a dense, heavy sliver of Italian cheesecake flavored with amaretto. . . .

“The drinking age,” said Uncle Oliver as the waitress set two bulbous glasses down on the table, each filled with a tiny amount of a sweet-smelling amber liquid. He lifted one of the glasses to his nose, sniffed it, then took a sip.

He moves so fluidly
, Gaia thought. With precision and control. Next to him, she felt ungainly and awkward. She would love to move as well as he did. Maybe she should start concentrating on it . . . trying to be that way. Trying to be more like him. He was so
classy
, too. He didn't even have to tell the waitress what he wanted. He only had to nod.

But what impressed her the most was his intellect. He was by far the most intelligent, experienced, and well-traveled man she'd ever met. Except for her father. And
he
didn't count.

“In Europe, parents supervise their children's drinking,” Oliver continued. “Children are offered a little wine mixed with water at a young age. That way they develop a sophisticated appreciation for one of the finer things in life. Alcohol is not a tantalizing forbidden fruit.” He sneered. “In America the rules are so silly and arbitrary.”

Gaia nodded, peering curiously at her own glass. Part of her wanted to wince. But the other part wanted to sip it, to really
enjoy
it . . . to “appreciate the finer things,” to be a mirror image of this man. It was so odd, this feeling of wanting to measure up to someone's expectations. She glanced up, hesitating. “Have you been in Europe very much?”

He lifted his shoulders slightly. “I lived there for more than fifteen years. After Tom and I . . .” His voice drifted into silence, and his soft blue eyes met Gaia's again, seriously. “Well, after your father and I had our falling-out, I moved to Prague, then to Munich. Once I started working for my present employer, I moved around a lot. Copenhagen, Hamburg, Minsk, Strasbourg, Venice, Genoa.”

There was that phrase again. “
Present employer
.” He must have used it a dozen times this evening. Gaia felt an overwhelming temptation to ask him to be more specific, but she knew he must have had a good reason for not telling her. Maybe he was trying to protect her. Anyway, she didn't have to know the name of his company. She trusted him. Yes . . . she actually trusted him. God, why hadn't she called his number sooner?

“What's on your mind?” he asked softly.

She shook her head, then forced herself to take a sip of port.
Whoa
. It wasn't bitter at all, like the wine. It was syrupy sweet — deliciously so, with a pleasant smoky aftertaste. Maybe she
would
start drinking. A warm sensation filled her stomach, and she suddenly felt emboldened. “I was just wondering . . .” She bit her lip. “Why did you and my father have a falling-out?”

Uncle Oliver met her eyes. That was another reason she trusted him: He never looked away. Not like Sam, or Ella — or even George. “I guess you're old enough to know the truth,” he murmured, a hint of sadness in his voice. “It was over your mother.”

Gaia nearly dropped her glass. Her eyes bulged. “
What?
” she gasped. She'd had no idea that Oliver even
knew
her mother.

His gaze was unflinching. “Katia and I were engaged to be married,” he stated.

Oh, my . . .
Gaia slumped back in her chair. Her eyes were wide, unfocused. It was as if a giant eraser had swept out of the sky and completely blotted out her past. That happiness she'd thought she'd known with her mother and father, that brief period of bliss in their cozy house in the Berkshires . . . all of it was suddenly tainted, poisoned by a secret none of them wanted Gaia to know. So her mother wasn't the perfect angel Gaia had always imagined her to be. Did any of this . . . Gaia swallowed, practically unable to complete the thought — did any of this have to do with her mother's death? And if so, how?

“We met while we were both in college,” Oliver added quickly. “I fell in love instantly, of course. She was beautiful, intelligent, cultured. To me, it seemed as if my life had suddenly found meaning.”

Gaia nodded, torn by a conflicting desire to run and hide and a desperate need to hear more. Her body pulsed with a wild energy. This was by far the closest she'd ever come to being afraid. It was as if she were driving by the scene of a horrible accident; she couldn't stop from staring. She didn't want to hear what Oliver had to say next. But at the same time she had no choice. . . .

“We became engaged,” said Uncle Oliver. His voice flattened into a dull monotone. His eyes flickered down to the glass in his hand. He swished the liquid once. “I brought her home to meet my family. That was where she met Tom. On the day of our wedding I stood alone at the altar, waiting for a bride who never came. That was the day my brother secretly married the woman I loved. And that was the last time I saw either of them. Except . . .”

“Except for what?” Gaia croaked, her face pale.

“I saw them again the night your mother died. Unfortunately, when I arrived, she had already been murdered.” He shot her a hard stare. “By whom, I don't know. All I know is that Tom disappeared after that, never to be seen again.”

LOKI SIPPED HIS PORT, CAREFULLY studying his niece's face for any sign of what she might be feeling. This was a critical moment. He'd taken a risk — but it had been a calculated one, and the payoff was potentially huge. Anyway, all life was a series of risks. The trick was to place smart bets. Gaia already hated her father. And if she believed that Loki and Katia had once shared a love far deeper than Gaia's
real
parents had ever known, that Tom might have been responsible for Katia's death, and most important that Loki rightfully belonged in Gaia's life . . . well, then, Loki might just hold the key that would unlock Gaia's heart forever. Then she would be his. Finally his.

“I . . . I — I had no idea,” Gaia stammered, staring down at the crumb-littered tablecloth.

“Of course not,” Loki murmured. “Why would your mother and father tell you such a thing? It's too awful.”

Gaia nodded absently. “You know . . . it makes sense,” she whispered.

Yes. Loki felt a stirring in his chest.
Follow these feelings, Gaia
, he silently implored, staring down at her.
Trust your instincts
.

“It makes sense that my father never mentioned you to me,” she finished.

Loki nodded gravely. “He had good reason.”

Gaia shook her head and ran her hands through her hair. “I . . . I don't know what I'm even feeling right now.” She laughed bitterly. “I mean, I thought
my
current family situation was screwed up.”

An alarm instantly went off in Loki's brain.
Ella
. So Gaia's home life
was
falling apart, as he suspected. He knew now for certain that Ella's carelessness had destroyed Gaia's lone bastion of stability. And now the woman was out gallivanting around town, stalking that moronic boy whom Gaia prized so much. Loki fought back rage. Ella's little extracurricular activities were about to end. “What do you mean?” he demanded.

She glanced up at him, then paused.

“You know you can tell me anything, Gaia,” he said, careful to keep the urgency out of his voice. “That's why I'm here. That's why I gave you my number.”

Gaia nodded. “I know. It's just . . . Okay, this is going to sound really weird. But I have this feeling that my foster mother isn't who she seems to be.”

“What do you mean?” he pressed.

“We got into this fight,” Gaia blurted out. The words exploded from her mouth and kept coming, as if a dam had been blown. “The thing is, Ella goes out of her way to pretend she's this trashy bimbo. But she's not. She's trained in martial arts. She's got a secret life. She nearly beat the shit out — oops.” Gaia's face reddened. “I didn't mean to curse.”

Loki waved his hand dismissively and leaned across the table. “Don't worry about it. I curse, too. So what you're saying is that Ella attacked you.”

Gaia nodded. “Yeah. But luckily I'm a good fighter, too. Dad taught me a lot.”

It took all of Loki's self-control to sit there and maintain his sympathetic expression. He'd never known a fury greater than the one he felt now. A million scenarios of torture and retribution whirled through his mind. He would make Ella pay for this. There was no turning back now. This was Ella's final mistake. He would do what he should have done long ago. She'd been assigned to
protect
Gaia. His eyes flashed to the slight bruise on Gaia's cheek.
My God
. At first he had attributed it to the scuffle he'd witnessed outside the restaurant. But now he knew better.

“Ella attacked you,” Loki repeated, his voice slightly above a whisper. “Your legal guardian attacked you.”

“Well, I mean, it wasn't out of the blue,” Gaia muttered. She buried her face in her hands. “She just pisses me off so much. She's . . . disgusting, awful. I can't stand her. I hate living there. I hate it.”

Loki found himself reaching for his niece, almost instinctively. He gently massaged her shoulder. “I'm so sorry, Gaia,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I had no idea your living situation was so bad. If there's anything I could do . . .”

Gaia suddenly looked up. In that instant she looked so young — so beautiful, deceptively vulnerable, lost. A girl poised on the brink of womanhood. A bud ripe for the picking. This was the most delicate and cherished time of her life. There was no way Loki would allow Ella to destroy it. He knew he had to be the one — the only one — to share it with her.

“Actually,” she said slowly, “maybe there is something you could do.”

His heart leaped. “What?”

Her clear blue eyes met his, piercing him — right to the core of his soul. “Maybe I could come live with
you
,” she said. “You're my uncle, after all.”

POOR, IGNORANT BOY
, ELLA REPEATED to herself over and over as she strode aimlessly through the frozen night. She was beginning to feel better, though. At first she'd been enraged that Sam had run off. Infuriated. But now . . . now she was glad that he knew that Gaia knew the truth about them. He deserved to know. It was only fair. Everything was out in the open. He was distraught — or at least he
thought
he was — but soon he would come back to her. He would see that a future without Ella meant no future at all. Once he realized that no other woman measured up to her, realized no one could satisfy him the way she did, he would come running.

In a way she even almost admired him for trying (however futilely) to maintain some semblance of honor. At least for a little while. She would give him a day or two to come to his senses, and then she would be ready to accept his apology. Yes. Everything would work itself out. And now that Gaia had gotten a taste of Ella's true capabilities . . . Well, there was no longer any need to worry about
her
.

Somebody jostled her on the sidewalk. She stopped, scowling — then all at once she paused. Where the hell
was
she, anyway?

She glanced up, checking out the street signs, soaking in the crowded and brightly lit surroundings . . . and had to laugh. She'd walked east on Grand Street — east and east, all the way to Little Italy. She hadn't even realized it. At least she wasn't all
that
far from home. George was no doubt still snoring away. God, what a life. But the agony would last for just a little while longer. Just a little while . . .

Right now, however, she needed cigarettes. On the next corner was a deli — New York was so damn convenient, wasn't it? She hurried across the street, then paused on the opposite corner. Her eyes narrowed. Funny: She was right across the street from Compagno's, where she and Loki used to meet years ago. A sad nostalgia rushed over her as she stared at the restaurant, so cozy inside. Maybe her subconscious had driven her here for a taste of romance. She shivered. She hadn't experienced romance in far too long. She breathed deeply, filling the air with a white cloud. Loki had been so charming at first, so —

Her eyes instantly zeroed in on the unmistakable outline of a dark head, tucked away behind one of the curtained windows.

Loki. Yes. He was
here
. He was with someone, too. A woman. Ella started grinding her teeth. Instinctively she fished in her purse for a tiny pair of binoculars, then ducked into the shadow of a staircase. It was Loki, all right. Her part-time lover, full-time boss. So Ella wasn't the only one whom he tried to seduce at this place.

Men were so frighteningly typical, weren't they?

She focused the lens and trained the binoculars on his dining companion.

No. No. No . . .

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the cold black metal. This was impossible. Not her. Swallowing hard, Ella gazed at the two figures seated at the intimate table for two —
her
table, where
she
used to sit across from Loki . . . marveling at his beauty, his strength, his power.

Gaia was there.

A bloodred haze filled Ella's brain. Without realizing it, she made a low, feral sound deep in her throat. So much for following Loki's orders. She had to take matters into her own hands. Fate, for whatever reason, had brought her here — and that cruel fate had showed her what needed to be done. Gaia's very hours were numbered now. The girl had to be wiped clean from existence. And soon.