from the million dollars I gave your mother to go away. I thought she would give you up for adoption.”
“A million?” he echoed in disbelief. He’d known his mother had been paid off for Dario’s indiscretion, but he’d never known the exact amount. He vaguely remembered moving from a nice house to an apartment. A couple years later they’d moved into a worse neighborhood.
“She blew most of it the first three years, didn’t she?” Lillian asked.
He nodded. “I think so. She had some bad habits.”
“How did you manage to stay away from those habits?”
“I saw her crashing off the high often enough to know I didn’t want any part of it.”
“You could have announced who your father was a long time ago. Why have you waited? Why the secrecy?”
“Because I want to be more than an empty suit in those board meetings.”
“You want respect,” she concluded.
He shrugged because there was more involved than respect, but it wasn’t something he had ever said aloud.
“I’m ready to accept the consequences of the fact that my husband was your father.”
“You sure about that? The questions, the gossip and speculation.”
She lifted her cup of tea and sipped. “I don’t spend a lot of time in Atlanta these days. Aside from my charity work and attending board meetings, I spend most of my time here.”
“What about your reputation?”
She gave a wise woman’s smile. “You’re too young to know this, but upholding a reputation can be a strain at times.”
At that moment, he almost liked her. Almost. “Why didn’t you tell your husband about me?”
“I was young and terrified. Incredibly selfish. I couldn’t see past my fear. In some ways, vision improves with age.” She met his gaze. “What do you want from me?”
Part of him wanted to say nothing and let her simmer in her guilt for the rest of her life. But that wouldn’t serve his purpose, and Jack had learned through observation and experience that things turned out better for him when he let logic instead of emotion rule his choices. “I want a chance. You have a reputation for allowing different members of the board to vote your shares, depending on your mood. I imagine Marc Waterson or Alfredo Bellagio call you up and state their case and you decide which direction you’ll send your vote. I want a chance to win your vote.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Fair enough. You have your chance.”
THERE WAS A DOMESTIC disturbance at the Bellagio estate and its name was Brooke Tarantino. The DD was currently in the bathroom suffering the effects of multiple lectures and a terrible hangover.
Before she’d left, Lillian had given Amelia her assignment. “Watch over her. Make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.” Amelia glanced at her watch. She hadn’t heard any moans or groans for a few minutes.
Amelia wasn’t exactly sure of the proper etiquette for watching over an heiress while she was in the bathroom. She knocked quietly on the door.
“Go away, Lillian!” Brooke yelled from the other side of the door. “If I get one more lecture from a Bellagio about what a disgrace I am, I’ll disgrace you all even more by jumping out the window.”
Whoooo, baby, Amelia thought. The DD was definitely alive. “Sorry,” Amelia said. “Not Lillian. Just checking to make sure you’re okay.”
Silence followed, then the door opened and Brooke, her auburn hair extensions matted on her head, mascara smudged beneath her eyes, her skin pale, stared at her. She looked Amelia up and down, her scowl softening only a millimeter. “Sorry, I thought you were Lillian.”
Amelia nodded. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
Brooke made a face. “I won’t be eating anytime soon.”
“Some cool bottled water, then? It might help you feel better. You’re probably dehydrated.”
Brooke nodded. “That sounds good.”
“If you wash your face and brush your teeth, that’ll help, too,” Amelia told her.
“Who are you? Some kind of Mary Poppins that’s been assigned to me, the devil child of the Bellagios?”
“I’m actually an employee of Bellagio on temporary assignment as Lillian’s assistant. She asked me to make sure you didn’t die.”
Brooke smiled. “Of course she did. Not good for the image for her great-niece to croak while under her care.” She gave Amelia another curious glance. “You look kinda junior league. In the market for a husband?”
“Not really.” Amelia wondered if she should be offended. My fiancé and I broke up recently.”
“Oh. Well, congratulations,” Brooke said. “I hear it’s always best to find out the guy’s a loser before you say ‘I do.’”
Amelia blinked. This was the first time she’d been congratulated for getting dumped. “I’ll get your water.”
“Thanks. I’ll wash my face, brush my teeth and put on my jammies.”
Amelia went downstairs to collect a couple of bottles of water from the refrigerator.
The housekeeper appeared and shot her a wary look. “I’ll fix something for her, but I’m not taking it up to her room. The last time she was here, she threw a tray at me.”
“She’s not hungry,” Amelia said, wondering about the tray incident, but almost afraid to ask.
“She wasn’t hungry that time, either. Said she was on a hunger strike because her father wouldn’t buy a resort in Mexico for a boy she met on spring break. She said it would contribute in a positive way to the global economy. And you know she left her fiancé at the altar. Very nice young man, too. If you ask me, she’s a nutcase.”
“Wow,” Amelia said and gave a vague nod. She knew all about the way Brooke had left Walker Gordon at the altar because Amelia had worked with Trina, Walker’s new fiancée. She’d gotten the impression that neither Walker nor Trina held a grudge against Brooke. Both were just thankful to have found each other.
After being dumped herself, Amelia felt a lot of sympathy for Walker, but he didn’t seem at all unhappy with how things had turned out. She carried the bottles of water upstairs and entered Brooke’s suite to find the socialite sprawled on her bed with the remote in her hand. With all the residual make-up scrubbed from her face and dressed in a nightshirt, she looked like a young teenager surrounded by stuffed animals.
“Here you go,” Amelia said, handing Brooke one of the waters.
“Have a seat,” Brooke said, patting the bed. “E! is replaying the top fifty worst red carpet moments. We can mock all the stars.”
Amelia
