“I guess you don’t know everything. And, besides what you may think—that he’s this slut, inconsiderate bastard… He didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want,” she said.
His jaw clenched. “Bullshit. He manipulated you into thinking you wanted him. The same way he manipulated my mom into accepting him in our household as a teenager, after his mother abandoned him.”
A cold shiver went through her, and she folded her arms, even though the heater worked efficiently. Devon never spoke much about his mother… She slid off the stool. “I don’t know what’s worse. You patronizing me and saying I can’t make my own choices, or you thinking your strong willed mother needed to be manipulated to do the right thing.” She clenched her tote hard. “I never thought I’d say this, Matthew, but now I understand why Sandra left you.” Throwing hurtful words like rocks at a river wasn’t her routine. But how else could she express her angry sense of betrayal? She glanced at him, and he opened his mouth but hesitated. With a nod, she willed herself to walk away.
***
Still mad at me? Listen, we need to talk later.
Elena glanced down at the message from Matthew.
What do you think?She typed it, but found herself erasing letter by letter until a blinking cursor stared back at her. A headache had bugged her the moment she had dashed out of the café and crossed the street after lunch.
Now, trying to get some work done at her desk, she glanced at Devon’s empty chair. Ever since he’d left her apartment, in the wee hours of the morning, she had pondered. Did she know what she was getting into? No, and for the first time in her life it felt right. She wanted him, for as long as she could have him, to help her explore a side of herself that was finally blooming.
How could she not? For the first time, she had been able to let go and not think of her failed marriage and Timothy’s sex addiction—of how she didn’t understand it then, and how he probably didn’t, either. He had masturbated himself raw once. Who did that for fun? Although, did that make him any less guilty?
The phone rang, and she picked it up on the second ring. “Devon Wilder’s office.”
“Why haven’t you called us back, bambina?” her mother asked on the other end of the line. “I have been trying to call you for a couple days.”
Elena bit back a smile. Whenever she heard her mother’s voice, it was hard not to be in a good mood. There was a musicality to Arietta Moretti’s drawl that shrank the distance every time they chatted. “Sorry, Mama. I’ve been busy.”
“Busy, busy, busy.” She could picture her dark haired mother shaking her head and rolling her soulful eyes. “I can’t wait for you to come home. I miss you.”
She smiled. “I miss you too.”
“Your brother told me Timothy will attend the party.”
Elena breathed into the phone, unsure of what to say. With her free hand, she rubbed her eyes.
“Are you okay with it? We don’t want any stress.” Any stress for her, or the engagement party? Elena bit back the bitterness forming in her throat. No. It had been her decision to handle things on her own regarding her divorce, and to hide from her family the real reasons why she left Timothy. Making a big deal now was useless. Moving away from them, and moving on had been her strategy. Why mess with it now?
“I’m fine with it,” she said, but didn’t bother to inject much energy into her words. Emilio and Timothy had been good friends since forever. Why would she put herself in the way? Besides, with her mother’s high blood pressure issues, the last thing she wanted was to add stress.
“Good. I guess your silly brother was always fond of Timothy, and deep in his heart always hoped you two would patch things up.”
“That’s impossible,” she rushed to say, then cleared her throat. “Besides, I’m bringing a date for the wedding. Someone I met here in Denver.”
“Really? Honey I’m surprised. I had no idea.”
She glanced at Devon’s office. Neither did I. But bringing Devon to the party would put an end on any hopes that she and Timothy still had a shot. Without having to explain why. Elena had worked to heal her emotional wounds for years during her therapy; why relive all the painful memories? And why expose a part of Timothy that he himself hadn’t been able to control?
“Who is he?” her mother asked. “Tell me everything.”
“I’ll tell you about him later. We’re just getting to know each other, Mom, so don’t start hearing wedding bells or anything.” Besides, did she really need her brothers to dig into Devon’s past? Usually they made every guy she dated uncomfortable, but she had a nagging feeling it would be worse now. Although, if there was a guy who could face her brothers down, it was Devon. Just the kind of man she needed.
“How about just a full name for now?”
No way. Otherwise, her mom would Google the name, and discover that Devon Wilder was a bona fide bad boy, the opposite of her traditional family? Nope. “I’ll pass.”
“You’re no fun.”
I should have that sentence embroidered on a pillow.“Thanks.”
She returned her attention to her sleek computer screen, and to the fake accounts that were highlighted. She had studied them, tried to find a pattern with numbers, but nothing. Where did all the money go? And why couldn’t they just trace the most likely offshore bank accounts?
