Wicked & Willing

He didn’t. “So it is possible that your mother never knew my son by any other name than the one he adopted for the stage.”

“There’s that word again…possible,” Venus said, surprised at the relief flowing through her veins just because the old man hadn’t passed judgment on her mother.

He continued softly, talking almost to himself. “And it’s also possible she had difficulty reaching him to tell him about you. She must have been desperate.” He glanced at the sky, continuing to formulate his theory aloud. “Perhaps she sent your picture, with the name Violet on the back, to a club in Los Angeles. The letter might have had only his stage name on it. It could have taken a long time for it to catch up to him.” He returned his gaze to Venus. “But when he did receive it, it changed everything. He was coming back.”

“More could haves and might haves,” she insisted, knowing the man was speculating. She still couldn’t bring herself to believe this scenario. It was too farfetched. Too coincidental.

Too damned heartbreaking.

Venus didn’t want to believe her father had died within days…maybe hours…of finding out about her. She didn’t want to think of her mother—who’d said she’d fallen ass over elbows in love with the man when they’d bickered over a cab in the rain—wasting the last eight years of her life waiting for someone who was already long gone. She couldn’t bear to think of Trina pining for a man who’d gotten her message, planned to come back to them…and then died before ever being able to do so.

No, the whole thing was too sad. And Venus wasn’t into sad.

Feeling moisture in her eyes, she swung around, turning her back to the three men. She stared out at the sky, blinking rapidly, groping for control. Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder, a supportive squeeze, a tender offer of reassurance.

Turning her head, she saw Troy standing there. He didn’t say anything, didn’t offer trite, nurturing words. He just let her know she wasn’t alone, with a small nod and a look of intense concern on his face. She took a deep breath, sucking up his silently offered strength. Then, crossing her arms in front of her chest, she faced Max again. “Let me ask you something now.”

He waited expectantly.

“If all this is true—and I think that’s a big humongous if—why’d it take almost thirty years to find me?”

Max glanced at Leo. “My nephew apparently thought of something I never did all those years ago. We assumed Max, my son, had been involved with someone in California. We focused our search efforts there. And, of course, we used his real name.”

Leo smiled. She thought he was going for self-deprecating, but his expression looked self-congratulatory instead. “I’m so sorry I didn’t think of the possibility of him meeting someone in New York long ago. Nor of having a private investigator search birth records in the northeast to see if Max Longotti or Matt Messina turned up as a father during that time.”

She immediately latched on to his words. “Birth records. So you have seen a copy of my birth certificate?”

Leo’s jovial expression never faltered. “No, I left it in the hands of the investigator. He is the one who obtained those records, then tracked you down. I simply utilized the address he provided.”

Smooth. Reasonable. But she didn’t completely buy it.

“Is he going to send you those records?”

A slight narrowing of his eyes indicated his annoyance. “I’m sure I’ll receive them now that the case is concluded.”

Wanting to gauge the man’s reaction, Venus said, “My foster mother said she does have some paperwork, after all. She’s digging it out and mailing it to my home in Baltimore.”

Leo stared at her for a moment, then his smile thinned. “Good.”

Troy, who’d been standing quietly for several moments, cleared his throat.

“You have something to contribute, Troy?” Max asked.

Troy raised a brow. “It seems you’re at an impasse,” he offered. “You may discuss dates, pseudonyms and birth certificates all afternoon and never come to an agreement.”

He sounded like a businessman brokering a big deal. Venus almost rolled her eyes, wondering where the flirty hunk who’d kissed her until she was brainless and limp had gotten to.

“Wouldn’t it be simpler to just conduct a DNA test?” he finally concluded.

“I’ve already thought of that,” Leo interjected. He touched his uncle’s arm. “Of course, knowing your mistrust of newfangled science, I made sure to contact one of the experts in the field. When I hear back from him, we’ll bring him to Atlanta and have him conduct the test.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Max agreed. He raised a quivering hand to his brow, looking out of sorts. “Splendid. That’s much more conclusive than any birth records, which aren’t entirely reliable. DNA. Marvelous thing.”

DNA tests? Conclusive proof? Things were going too fast for Venus’s taste. She hadn’t decided if she liked this old guy, and she definitely hadn’t decided if she even wanted to know the truth!

She cocked her head and raised her hand, wiggling her fingers in a little wave. “Hello? Anybody going to ask me if I’m willing to roll up my sleeve and let some stranger poke needles into me? What if I don’t particularly like needles?”

“Actually, I think they swab your cheek,” Troy explained.

She shot him a glare that told him to mind his own business. “Oh, you’ve undergone these tests before? Have lots of potential illegitimate junior executives running around out there, do you?”

As he stiffened, Venus cursed her quick temper and sarcasm. Troy had only been trying to help, after all.

Her barb had obviously angered him. His eyes narrowed. “You don’t seem very anxious to confirm your claim, Ms. Messina.”

“It’s not my claim.”

“Perhaps not,” he admitted. “Or perhaps you want Max to think you don’t believe it. Throwing your arms around him and calling him Grandpa might have made him suspect your motives. This insistence that you’re not may make him more sympathetic.” He stepped closer, until the tips of his shoes almost touched her toes. She forced herself to stay still, so close to him she could smell his warm cologne and see the beating of his pulse in his neck. She could think of nothing except the way his mouth had tasted against hers, just minutes before.

“And generous,” he finally concluded.

Venus didn’t follow at first. She was too focused on her instinctive reaction to him. The heat radiating from his body, the coiled strength concealed beneath the conservative suit. And, unfortunately, the absence of the warm, tender concern that had been in his eyes just minutes before.

“Generous?” she asked, hearing the breathiness in her voice.

“I wonder what your motives were in coming to Atlanta,” he said softly, as if merely speculating aloud. “They didn’t have anything to do with money, did they?”

Money? He thought she’d come here to try to scam money off the old man? She was about to tell him to take a flying leap off the balcony when she remembered she had been paid—and paid well—to take this trip. She swallowed her angry words and lowered her eyes, her whole body stiffening as she acknowledged the partial truth of his accusation. He made a sound that could have been a sigh, then stepped away from her.

“Mr. Longotti,” she said, turning her back on the annoyingly handsome man who suddenly had such a low opinion of her, “I’m being straight with you here. I don’t think I’m who your nephew says I am. I don’t even know if I want to be, if you can dig that.” She shot a look over her shoulder at Troy, who still watched with suspicion and distrust. “But I am willing to talk to you about it some more. And, perhaps, to consider a test if we both decide it’s what we want.”

The elderly gentleman blinked, then stared at her, his gaze looking sharper and more direct. He seemed to be looking for something in her eyes, a gauge of her honesty, perhaps? Or some reminder of the son he’d lost? Finally he nodded. “Agreed.”

“Yes, excellent. These things do take time,” Leo murmured, holding his elderly uncle by the arm. “Uncle Max, you look very pale. Perhaps we should go now?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “I want to visit with my…with Ms. Messina here.”

“But your doctor’s appointment,” Leo continued. “You said you were supposed to see the doctor this afternoon.”

“Oh, yes,” he murmured. “I’d forgotten. That’s what I was planning to do until you almost shocked me into a heart attack with this news.” Max frowned at his nephew. “I can reschedule. I want to get her settled in at home.”

“I can take Ms. Messina over,” Troy interjected. “Max, you go keep your appointment, then head home and meet us there. I think it might be good for everyone to have a little while alone before any further conversation, don’t you?”

He shot Venus a look daring her to disagree. Not that she would. She wanted to be alone, to reconsider just what she’d gotten herself into here. Things suddenly didn’t seem as simple as they had this morning, when she’d thought she’d take advantage of a paid vacation in the south.

More than ever, she thought Leo Gallagher was up to no good. It looked like he planned to use her for whatever it was he wanted. The way he’d presented her to his uncle—so unlike how they’d agreed—was a clear indication he couldn’t be trusted.

For the first time in ages—probably since she’d first been taken into custody by the state, been told that her mother’s distant family didn’t want her and that she had to go to a foster home—Venus began to feel very alone. In Baltimore, at least, she had friends—Lacey, Uncle Joe and many others. She was completely comfortable in her world, even if that world consisted only of her apartment, her cat and Flanagan’s. There were a dozen people there she could call if she needed help…or just a sympathetic ear.