Tangled Destinies

“Just a kid,” she echoed. She drew in a steadying breath. “Yes, I was. Young and trusting and stupid.” She glared at him. “I hear your new woman is loaded.” She smiled slowly. “How much will she be worth when you throw her over?”

“Damn you!” he burst out, his face livid with anger, dangerous.

She avoided his sudden movement just as Joe came out onto the patio. Marc glanced at his brother with eyes that barely saw through their fury while Joe approached them, oblivious to the scene that had just transpired. Marc lit a cigarette and Gaby sat shakily on a stone bench a few feet away. Joe joined them with two glasses of champagne.

“Talking over old times?” Joe asked, a note of anger in his voice. He gave his brother a narrow glance before he sat down beside Gaby. “Here you go, love,” he told her. “I’m sorry,” he added softly.

“So am I,” Gaby said, although only Joe understood the hidden meaning as she glanced past him at Marc. “Won’t Miss Moore be missing you?”

He glared at her. “No doubt she will. Go easy on the sauce, Joe, you know how it hits you in the head,” he said, cautioning his brother.

He turned and strode back inside, while Gaby sipped champagne as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She was still shaking inside, but she didn’t let on. She listened to Joe and answered his questions and put on the best act of her career.

But later, at home in the darkness, she relived her shame and guilt. How could she still feel desire for Marc after what he’d done to her? She’d have to keep him at a safe distance from now on. She wasn’t giving up that contract, not even for him. And if he wanted her to stop seeing Joe, let him tell his brother the truth. Let him tell Joe that he’d allowed himself to be bought off, to give up the woman he’d sworn eternal devotion to. Let him show his only brother what an unscrupulous, conscienceless, mercenary man he really was. And on that thought Gaby cried herself to sleep.

* * *

HER FATHER WAS at the breakfast table when she went down early the next morning, before she was to do the second set of stills for Motocraft, Inc.

“Fancy seeing me here!” Jack Bennett told his daughter with a grin. He was middle-aged now, balding, and a little overweight, but his eyes were as green as Gaby’s. “I’m the other tenant, remember me? I live here occasionally.”

She laughed. “Nice to have you home! Sorry I wasn’t here when you got in. I went to a party.” Gaby hesitated a moment before continuing. Should she tell her father that she had gone with Joe? Until now she had made it a point not to let him know she was once again in contact with the Stephanos.

“I... I went with Joe Stephano,” she said at last.

He seemed to freeze. “Stephano?”

“Yes. He and big brother Marc own their own company now. Motocraft, Inc., the parts and transmission company that’s been franchised. I’m doing all the publicity work for it. It was all decided before I knew who owned it, but it’s too late for them to back out now.”

“Stephano,” her father repeated huskily. “I never dreamed he’d make it.”

“He wouldn’t have, if you and Mother hadn’t bought him off,” she said coldly, and stared into her scrambled eggs, missing the flash of his eyes. “Well, that’s all water under the bridge now. You’d like his brother. Joe’s nice.”

“You’re dating Joe?”

“Why not?” She laughed. “Marc hates it, of course, but Joe’s a good guy, and I enjoy his company. Besides, he’s sort of my boss.”

“I never liked you becoming a model,” her father began.

“Neither you nor Mother ever did, but I’ve proved that I’m capable of supporting myself, and now I want to go on doing it.”

“What about marriage, children?” her father muttered.

“I don’t want all that. My goodness, you know I’m not domestic. I can burn water.”

“You wouldn’t have to be domestic for some men. There’s Peter...”

“Peter Jackson is a very nice man, and he’ll make some woman a wonderful husband,” she said dryly. “But not me. I don’t want to get married.”

“Because of Stephano?” he demanded, lifting his head to stare at her. “Because of that childish affair?”

“You never would listen to me, would you?” she asked quietly. “I was in love with him.”

He averted his eyes. “You were barely seventeen.”

“Some women only love once. He was my world.” She turned away and looked out the apartment window at the busy street below while her father stared blankly into his coffee. “There’s never been anyone else, in any emotional sense. I don’t think there ever will be.”

“Only because it was unfinished, that’s all,” her father grumbled. “If the affair had gone on very long, you’d probably have tired of him.”

“Think so?” She sipped her coffee. “Oddly enough, I think I’d have been hooked for life, so it’s just as well that we never became lovers.”

“You expect me to believe he never touched you?” he scoffed.

“Of course he touched me. But he never seduced me,” she returned, whirling. “He was too aware of my upbringing. He said it would kill my conscience, and he was probably right.”

Jack looked pale. “I thought you were having an affair with him.”

“No such luck.” She laughed. “Oh, well, it’s over, anyway, and just as well that nothing regretful happened. I have to run, I’m shooting a TV commercial this morning. Wish me luck. I’ve worked with this turkey before, and he had me do fifty-five takes on one sentence in the last commercial he filmed with me!”

“Yes,” Jack said absently. “Yes, good luck.”

She got her things together and started for the door.

“Gabrielle?” he called suddenly.

She turned, smiling. “Yes?”

“If things had been different,” he said, “you’d have married that grease monkey?”

“Yes, even if I had to live in poverty above his garage and have ten kids.” She smiled, remembering. “Who knows? See you later.”

“Yes. Goodbye.” He watched her go out the door, and then he slumped in his chair like an old man, staring around the empty room. Empty, like his life. Like Gaby’s. All because he’d listened to his wife one time too many instead of following his instincts. He sighed wearily and finished his coffee while the lines of a song flashed through his brain. “What do I say, dear, after I say I’m sorry?” But it was years too late to say that. He got up and went to work.

* * *

BACK AT THE STUDIO, Joe was waiting for Gaby. He watched while they shot the commercial and then took her to a late lunch in a nearby restaurant.

“Poor baby,” he commiserated as she sipped iced tea. “Thirty-five takes! Wow!”

“He’s killed me,” she murmured. “I’ll have them put his name on my death certificate under ‘cause of.’”

“Want me to get Uncle Michael to go visit him for you?” he whispered under his breath.

She laughed. “I’ll bet Uncle Michael is four feet tall and wears red striped ties.”

“He’s nearly six feet tall, silver-haired and wears a diamond stickpin,” he corrected. “And in his day he was what is known as a ladies’ man.”

“My, my, and here I am with you,” she teased.