Knowing Vera (Romantic Suspense, Family Drama) (Chance for Love) (10 page)

I’m so angry I could rip my hair out. No one comes to the door despite my shouts. I stalk from the door to the window and back, and then kick the cushions on the rattan furniture before throwing myself onto the armchair. That’s when I notice an electronic tablet on the end table where the man in the white coat had laid his things.

Even though no one’s in the room, I scan for hidden cameras and furtively scoop the seven-inch tablet under my dress. Casually, I walk into the bathroom and step into the shower. With my luck, this is exactly where the perverts would have cameras. Nope, better try the walk-in closet.

I can’t help but notice the makeup, shampoos, lotion and toiletries lined up in baskets on the bathroom counter. But when I open the closet door, my mouth drops to the floor. Rows and rows of dresses, jeans, blouses, and shoes, their price-tags still dangling, hang inside. I slip off my heels and try one of theirs. Exactly my size. Strange. How did they know?

Well, I better let Zach know I’m okay, so I shut the closet door and wake up the tablet. Dang. It has a passcode. I know nothing about the man who took my DNA except he’s a lighter-skinned Asian, possibly Chinese or Tsinoy. Let’s go for the obvious. Zero. Zero. Zero. Zero. Doesn’t work. One. Two. Three. Four. No dice. Then I remember the Chinese realtors in the Bay Area always have phone numbers ending in multiple eight’s. Eight. Eight. Eight. Eight. That’s it.

I go into the settings and look for wifi access. It’s protected but his tablet connects. I can’t use the man’s email app, so I open a browser window and log into my email account.

--

To: Zach

From: Vera

Subject: Where are you?

I’m holed up at Ping Crest Winery. Cliff took my phone, purse and passport and locked me in a room on the third floor. Can you believe he actually works for Mr. Ping? He’s orchestrating the search and claims my father’s in the vicinity, but won’t let me know until the DNA is verified.

I don’t know when I can get away, but I’ll look up your aunt’s B&B and meet you there. I hope you’re okay.

Vera

--

I wait a few minutes for a reply and decide he must not have his phone on, so I tuck the tablet under a pile of towels and head for the shower. It’s ultimate luxury with a marble surround, three showerheads, a hand-held sprayer. Loofah mitts and assorted body washes are lined up on a wide ledge large enough to lie down on. My father must hold a high position here with Mr. Ping, even if he’s only the head gardener. I’m trying to remember what he did before, but I was too little and all I did was play in the greenhouse while he worked.

A loud pounding on the bathroom door alerts me. I turn off the water and say, “Who is it?”

“Cliff here. Dr. Sung left his tablet. Where is it?”

Oh no! I left the browser open to my email page. Let me be calm and lie. “Tablet? You mean his medicine? I don’t see anything here but shampoo, lotion, oh, and aspirin in the cabinet.”

“Electronic tablet.”

“Nope, sorry, haven’t seen it.” I turn the water back on and rub the conditioner through my long hair. Let him search the room. He’s probably too stupid to figure out the passcode. And do I care if he thinks I’m a liar? Not at all.

A click alerts me. Cliff opens the shower door and steps in. I cover my breasts and back into the corner. He’s naked. Erect. Huge. It takes a couple of seconds for my voice to short-circuit my brain.

“Get out! Or, I’ll scream.”

He’s blocking the shower entrance, chuckling. “How original. Actually, I intend to make you scream. It makes me hotter.”

I climb onto the ledge, my knees up to my chest and my arms around my knees, my feet hiding my woman parts. “Sorry, all screamed out. Guess I’ll take a rain check.”

He advances into the spray and leans over me, kissing the top of my head. “It’s a rainforest in here. You’re already wet, hot, steamy, and very, very moist.”

“Am not.” I hug my knees tighter, and stare at his feet. Long, smooth feet, ten toes, high arches, blades he could waterski on. My heart is on overdrive, and I’m quite aware there’s a deliciously hot, perfectly sculpted male closing in on me.

“I’m not that kind of woman.”

His lips are soft against my ear. “No, you’re not. You’re a healthy, sexy, beautiful, and respectable woman, and I’ll do anything to fulfill all your desires.”

He runs one hand down the back of my hair, still slippery with conditioner, and the other hand cups my face, attempting to turn me toward his lips. It’s getting hard to keep my breath steady, because my body wants to let loose, relax, and let him pleasure me. It’s not like I’m a virgin or headed to the nunnery, and I’ve had plenty of sex without love. In fact, it’s the only kind I allow. But I tuck my chin deeper into my arms.

Would Zach mind? But then, we’re not in love or anything. Free agents, right?

Cliff is on his knees in front of me, muscles rippling. Beads of water trickle over his smoothly waxed chest. I dare not look further down, so I focus on the jagged Maori tattoo covering his entire left shoulder and chest. He takes my left hand and rubs it across his clean-shaven jaw. “Vera, I’ve wanted you for a long time. Look into my eyes.”

His usual bluish eyes are dark green with desire, and his expression is serious, intensely hot, as if he’s looking into the deepest well of my lust. He traces my cheekbone lightly and circles my mouth. I’m barely breathing and need to back away, but his movie-star looks, bedroom eyes and the fact that he’s not joking for once keep my gaze drawn to his.

His eyelids lower half way, and then his lips are on mine and I’m drinking in his strong, hot tongue, and hating myself. The water is still running. The shower stall is steamy and humid. Every nerve in my body is pulsing in a slow burn, and even as I cast for a reason to stop, my mind comes up blank, and the pleasure synapses fire in ever increasing frequency.

Cliff groans my name and opens my knees, his hand slipping between my legs. Lowering his head to my breast, his fingers rub circles around my opening. I gasp and clutch his neck as he latches onto one of my nipples. A strong finger probes me, and I’m almost unconscious as shooting sensations spiral through my belly and chest. My eyes squeeze shut. If only …

“Oh, Zach! I want you, Zach.”

Everything stops. Cliff pushes me into the cold tile wall and shuts off the shower. The door swings open, and he turns out of the stall. My hair’s still wet and hanging over my face, my head lowered in shame.

What. Have. I. Almost. Done?

***

After a few minutes, I ascertain that no one is in the suite. I wrap myself in a towel and find underwear in the dresser. It’s filled with lacey, sexy thongs, panties and see through bras. One is less sheer and fits perfectly. It’s like they prepared everything for me. I think of what just happened with Cliff in the shower and shudder.

Did they bring me here to be a sex slave?

I pull open the other drawers, relieved there are no whips, chains and handcuffs. Instead, I find baby doll lace pajamas, fluffy pink bunny slippers, and a velour robe.

I pick the most modest dress in the closet, a stretchy black textured drop-shouldered one with three quarter sleeves, embellished with super-fine silver sequins. No surprise, the dress fits like a glove and hugs my figure, showcasing every curve. The inside lining is soft and silky and it goes halfway down my thigh. I accentuate it with a chunky bracelet of silver square pyramids, and another one made of interlocking black onyx waves, finishing with long black twisted metal earrings.

The tablet is still under the towels. I wake it and check my email. There’s a message from Zach.

--

To: Vera

From: Zach

Subject: Re: Where are you?

I’m so worried about you. They didn’t hurt you, did they? I called the police but they won’t do anything. They say you’re an adult and haven’t been missing long enough. I forwarded your email mentioning you were locked up, but they haven’t gotten back to me.

I’m still on the road. The company wouldn’t rent me another car, so I had to take the bus. I won’t get to Melbourne until tomorrow. This bus is stopping at every town along the way.

As for getting away, there’s a secret exit underneath the wine cellar and a tunnel leading to my father’s fruit stand. Go to the back row behind the barrels. There’s a trapdoor under a grate. I’ll meet you as soon as I can.

Zach

--

I type my reply.

--

To: Zach

From: Vera

Subject: Re: Re: Where are you?

I’m fine. They’re not hurting me. They took a DNA test, but it might take a few days to get the results.

I’ll get one of the guys to take me on a tour of the vineyard and look for the trapdoor. Please take good care of yourself and don’t worry. Vera

--

Footsteps stop outside my door. I hit ‘send’ and shove the tablet under the bed. The door opens without a knock, and Cliff stands there wearing a grey Armani suit. Dr. Sung, the man who took my cheek samples, is next to him.

I clear my throat and fluff my hair, glancing in the mirror of the dresser as if I had been accessorizing. My feet slip into the black stilettos, useful to have if I want to spike someone’s hairless testicles.

I step back as Cliff strides past me into the room and glares at me. Dr. Sung plays with the knot of his tie, and his left eyelid twitches. I wonder if he knows the reason for the DNA test.

Cliff throws the towels off the bed and flips over the bedspread. “I know it’s here. The wifi router log shows Dr. Sung’s tablet is connected.”

“Maybe Ben or Dex picked it up, or one of the servants.” I move to the side of the bed and cross my legs. “When are we having dinner? I’m starving.”

He practically growls. He’s so angry and puffed up. “Don’t blame the servants. Dr. Sung says he was browsing the web before we came in, and that was the last time he had it.”

I’m not a thief, but the tablet’s my lifeline. I grab a nail file from the night table and examine my fingernails. “Maybe he placed it down and forgot where. I wasn’t blaming the servants. They seem so efficient, they might have safeguarded it.”

Cliff opens the door to the bathroom and pulls out the drawers. Then he heads to the dresser and flips all the sexpot underwear onto the floor, getting more and more angry. The doctor looks embarrassed. He wrings his hands and ahems several times before Cliff looks in his direction.

“She might be right,” the doctor says. “I ran into the gardener, and he showed me the new roses, and then I stopped at the gatehouse to talk to the guard. I might have left it there. Let me check with him.”

Cliff wipes his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “Fine. Why don’t you do that?”

I expect him to leave with Dr. Sung, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shuts the door and advances toward me, his eyebrows lowered. “I know it’s in here somewhere, and I’ll find it if I have to rip every shred of clothing from your body.”

I’ve had enough of Mr. Bad Boy Cliff Morelli’s aggressive attitude. I stand, all my five feet plus four-inch heels and keep him at arm’s length with a palm-heel to his chest. “So what? You’ve seen me naked already. Why do you have me locked in?”

“So you won’t go running back to ‘Zach, Zach, oh, Zach.’” He mimics me, but his jaw is bulging, his lips tight, and a vein on his forehead throbs. He’s staring at me as if I were his wayward girlfriend and owe him an explanation. If anything, I owe myself an explanation, except I know too well who I fantasize about, and it’s not the hulk standing in front of me.

Cliff’s eyes flicker, and he loses the staring contest. He rubs the back of his neck. “Well, fine. Have it your way. Whatever. If you want to see your father, you’d better be nice to me. I’m the estate manager here.”

“Yeah, yeah, so you say.” I waggle my head annoyingly. “I’m beginning to think this was all a trick to get me to Mr. Ping’s estate. Think he has a singing gig for me? Next thing, you’re going to tell me you’re my manager.”

A smile slides across his face. “Hey, that’s a good one. How did you know? Just think, me and you on a luxury tour bus, traveling across the continent. Or a yacht, sailing the seven seas, or even a hot air balloon.”

I poke his chest. “I’m not joking. What’s this trip really about?”

“You.” He sighs, folds my hands into his and goes into romantic mode. “You deserve better than to slave as a nurse in a clinic. Your talent, your voice, beauty, fragrance—everything about you fascinates me.”

He kisses my knuckles slowly and looks at me with lowered eyes. “Allow me to escort you to dinner. That dress is so delicious I could eat it off you for dessert.”

Whatever, Mr. Un-Romeo. I should never have let him fondle me in the shower. Hadn’t I had enough for one day? But then, I haven’t had real sex for months, the kind that fills all my voids, and makes me as lazy as a koala, high on eucalyptus oil.

Zach and I should have opted for the hotel room this morning.

Cliff clears his throat and knocks me back to reality. I glance at the mirror and say, “I haven’t had time to put on my makeup, and I need my purse.”

“I’ll have a maid bring it around.”

“With my cell phone and passport?”

“That depends,” he kisses another knuckle, “on whether you change your name or not.”

I yank my hand away. “I have family back home. Stop being mysterious and either tell me what’s going on, or let me go.”

He steps into the sitting room. “I’ll give you a few minutes to put on your makeup, even though you look great without it.”

I suddenly remember my manners. “Thank Mr. Ping or whoever for the clothes. I’m just borrowing them and will return everything.”

“
De nada, mi amor
.” He blows me a kiss and shuts the door. Show off!

It’s been three days, but no one has told me the DNA results. Thankfully, the servants retrieved my luggage from the airport and sent it to my room, but my cell phone and charger are still missing, along with my passport and purse. The battery on Dr. Sung’s tablet is running low, so I leave it off most of the time, only turning it on to check my email.

--

To: Vera

From: Zach

Subject: When can you get away?

I crawled through the tunnel yesterday, but the grate is locked from your side. I’ll ask my father if he kept a copy of the key.

Is your father truly there? Or is there some other reason they’re keeping you? Send me a reply that you’re being held against your will, so I can get the police to raid.

I miss you, Zach

--

To: Zach

From: Vera

Subject: Re: When can you get away?

I miss you too. They’re being very nice to me, but I haven’t met my father yet. The maid who does my room says some of the gardeners are Filipino, and the head gardener is a man in his mid-fifties who came from California. I haven’t been able to speak to him, because every time I go jogging, Cliff stays at my side.

It turns out Mr. Ping is a fan of my singing and is arranging a benefit concert for the community. I’m practicing with the keyboard accompanist. Maybe you can come see me sing and then try to get backstage?

I don’t want to get the police involved yet. I have to get to the bottom of this mystery, and I’m not in any danger.

I hope all is well with you, Vera

--

I slide the tablet into my suitcase not a moment too soon.

The door clicks and Cliff enters with a bouquet of flowers. He looks annoyed as his eyes scan the room, as if looking for hidden cameras.

Suppressing the chill on the back of my neck, I smile and receive the flowers. “Hey, what are these for?”

The scowl disappears immediately, and he gets all dreamy-looking again. “
Para mi amor
.”

“What’s with the Spanish?” I sniff the delicate peach colored roses and tiny bell-like lilies.

He seems flustered and quickly wipes his mouth.

“With a name like Morelli, I would have figured you’re Italian.” I toss the dried up flowers he brought a few days ago into the wastebasket and arrange the new ones into the eggshell china vase.

“I’m a mystery.” He smirks, his eyes almost blue in the sunlight streaming through the window. “What would you like to do today?”

“Glad you asked.” I slip on my platform heels and walk toward the door. “First, I want to meet my father. You’ve had plenty of time for the DNA test. After that, a tour of this wonderful estate you manage. You must be quite talented to be able to run the entire operation at such a young age.”

His cheeks pink, and he stands straighter. Flattery with arrogant men works so well. Besides, I need him to loosen the chains.

I tap his jaw and give him a seductive smile. “I heard Melbourne’s a big party spot. Think we can go clubbing later this week?”

“Great idea. They have an open mic night at the Grungy Caterpillar tomorrow. It’ll be good publicity for your concert.”

He takes my hand and leads me into the hallway. I hate how handsome he is and how he’s being so respectful after the shower incident by bringing flowers and not trying for a kiss—although I’m sure he’s wooing me for ulterior reasons.

We walk down the grand staircase along the wall of water, passing a maid who steps aside and bows. Her name’s Bumbie, the one who cleans my room, and she promised to ask the head gardener about his family for me. Cliff ignores her. I smile, but she lowers her gaze. I can’t get used to servants bowing and scraping. It just doesn’t feel right.

Cliff takes my finger and touches it on the water wall. “There’s one in the CBD where you can tuck dried leaves to make a message.”

“CBD?”

“Central Business District. Not far from the Grungy Caterpillar.”

“What a name for a nightclub.”

He laughs and traces my finger in the water, spelling, “I love you.”

I’m rolling my eyes inside. I don’t believe in insta-love. Lust definitely, but not love. Everything about Cliff seems phony. He’s obviously decided the alpha he-man take-no-prisoner attitude wasn’t getting him anywhere. I take his finger and write, “Where’s my papa?”

He puffs his chest and points his thumbs at himself. “I’m your Papa. Gimme a kiss.”

Okay, going back to dorky-ass again. I slap him playfully. “Not until I’ve found my father.”

“Don’t worry, you passed the DNA test, and I’m taking you to meet him.” He swings me around and into his arms as if I weighed nothing and gallops down the stairs.

My father? Finally! I cling onto Cliff’s broad shoulders, hardly able to catch my breath. “Slow down. I don’t want to fall.”

Another servant steps aside as Cliff barrels down the hallway swinging me in circles. My heart is doing loops, and the butterflies are swarming in my chest. I’m about to meet my father.

Cliff lets out a big whoop and sets me next to an intricately carved screen fronting a wooden structure that looks like a confessional booth. There’s even a kneeling bench on one side of it, and it’s recessed into the wall so it can be entered from the other side.

I nudge Cliff. “You’ve got to be kidding. My father’s not a priest.”

He flips out his phone and texts, but keeps turning so I can’t see what he’s thumbing. Finished, he tucks his phone in his pocket and takes my hands, pressing them to his chest. “He’s on his way, but first, a kiss.”

My hands are clammy, and my pulse skips. I’m about to meet my father, and Cliff is bugging me for a kiss? I dart one quickly onto his mouth and step to the kneeling bench. Cliff sticks his head in. “Have you been to confession lately?”

I yank the curtain to close him out, but he squeezes his bulk into the narrow space and his eyebrows shimmy. “Tell me about your impure thoughts.”

I pinch his forearm lightly. “I was just starting to think you were nice. Are you sure my father’s going to meet us here, or is this another one of your tactics?”

“Hmm … I know what you’re thinking. Naughty, naughty.” He tickles my waist. “Have you had sex inside a confessional?”

“Not since I left the convent,” I deadpan.

Cliff’s eyebrows take flight, and his mouth is quiet. Ha, ha, I’ve finally rendered him speechless.

A shuffling sound appears on the other side of the screen, and a man clears his throat and says, “Vera, my child.”

My breath catches. It’s my father’s voice, maybe creakier than I remember, but it’s him.

I reach for the screen. “Papa?”

“
Iha, miss na miss kita
.”
Daughter, I miss you so much.

“Papa? Is it really you?”

“Yes, but you can’t tell anyone I’m here.”

Too late for that. Zach already knows I’m looking for him. I tap the privacy screen. “Why can’t I see you? How did you get here?”

“Cliff,” my father says. “Leave me and my daughter alone. Go.”

“But … she might get lost in the mansion.”

“She’ll be fine. Now go.”

My pulse swishes behind my ears. So many emotions clash and war in my chest. I wipe cold sweat from my brow. “Papa, before you say anything else. Did you kill Lillian Spencer?”

There’s a tight cough before he answers, “I did.”

“No!” The bottom drops from my stomach. “No, Papa, why?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do. Tell me.” I want to bolt from the booth and run, run, run, throw myself down the stairs or hide in a tunnel. “Why?”

“There was no reason.” His voice is dry. “Now, tell me, Vera. How’s your mother?”

I don’t want to talk to him, tell him how he broke my mother’s heart, her will to live, to love, and how she’s finally started seeing someone, although remotely on the internet. I stand too fast and bump my head. A high pitch buzzes behind my ears, and I see dark patches alternating with flashes of light. My breathing is too shallow. I wobble out of the booth into a pair of strong arms.

Cliff signals me to be quiet and picks me up. He hurriedly takes me down a corridor and through a set of French doors into a garden with a sparkling mirrored fountain flanked by wicker lounge chairs.

“I heard what he said,” Cliff whispers. “You can’t let anyone know he’s here on this estate or the police will send him back to America. We took a chance having you come, because he wanted to see you badly.”

“Why? Is he sick, dying?” My heart is palpitating. I fan myself, feeling like I’m about to faint. “Why did he bring me here, and what about my mother? How come he didn’t contact her?”

“He tried, but she wouldn’t fall for it. Well, I mean, he didn’t exactly say who he was.”

Oh great! And I’m the stupid one.

“What do you want me to do?” I gulp and swallow to loosen my tight throat.

Cliff sweeps the hair from my face. “You can’t let anyone know he’s alive. You must tell Zach that this was a wild goose chase, that I took you here to elope. If you marry me, you’ll have an excuse to live here and invite your mother over. Then we can bring your uncle and even your niece and be one big, happy family.”

My throat is dry, and I’m gasping. It’s too much information. They must have planned this for months. I knock my forehead on his collarbone. “This was a setup? You, Tito Louie, my father? Why?”

“To reunite the family,” he says as if it’s obvious. “You’ve been apart far too long, and when Rodrigo died, and then Rey, it broke your father’s heart. He tracked you on the internet and wants to spend the rest of his days with you. He still loves your mother.”

I’m feeling sick. “And you? Why would you want to be in our family?”

“Your beauty enthralls me.” He clasps my hands to his chest. “I watched your YouTube videos and fell in love with you.”

Something’s not adding up. I doubt my father wants me to elope with Cliff. He doesn’t look Filipino, and my father would have picked an older, more established man for me. My head aches, and I need to think straight. “Can you get me some water and an aspirin or Tylenol?”

Cliff squeezes my hand and pecks me on the cheek. I slump onto a chaise lounge as if I’m so overcome I’m about to keel over.

“I’ll be right back,” he says. To his credit, he looks genuinely worried right before he rushes through the French doors and into the mansion.

No one is around. I circle the fountain and sneak around the tree ferns and cycads to a grove of Australian willows across from the wine cellar. A flock of cockatoos screech as I pass below. I have to get away from here. I was so convinced my father was innocent that I believed all the phony text messages and postcards. Owen was right. I’m stirring up more trouble by coming here.

Leaving the cover of the willows, I stick close to a line of bushes and stop at the sound of clippers. The older Filipino gardener is busy trimming the hedges. He’s medium height with wide shoulders. A wide-brimmed straw hat casts a shadow over the top half of his face, and he’s chewing gum as if he hadn’t a care, hadn’t just confessed to murder.

A younger gardener is blowing leaves near the cellar. I approach the older man and tap on his arm.

He stops clipping and turns, wiping his sweaty forehead. I can’t see his eyes because he’s wearing dark glasses, but he looks vaguely familiar with that strong jawline my father had.

I say to him in Tagalog, “I’ve misplaced my cell phone. Did you happen to pick it up?”

He glances around and lowers the shears to his side. “No, miss. Where did you drop it?”

My shoulders sag. It’s not my father’s voice. But maybe he can still help me.

“Somewhere around here. I was jogging and lost it. Can I borrow yours? I have a date this evening I have to cancel because Mr. Ping wants me to sing for him.”

At the mention of Mr. Ping, the gardener stands at attention and pulls his cell phone from his pocket. “Sure. When you’re done, you can leave it on the lounge chair next to the fountain.”

“Thanks. Oh, by the way, are you from California?”

He looks over his shoulder and shrugs. “I lived there a long time ago.”

“Are any of the other workers from California? I have a fan named Rey, do you happen to know him?” I know this is so lame, but it’s the only thing I can think of.

His lips tighten at the mention of my father’s name, and he spits his gum into a tissue and tucks it in his pocket. “Nope, don’t know him. Enjoy your phone call, okay?”

“Ah … yes.” I gesture with his cell, figuring I can call the police if I need to. “Thanks. If you find mine, please give it to Bumbie. She cleans my room.”

“Sure thing.” He bows his head slightly and waits for me to leave before resuming his clipping.

I flip open the phone and scroll through his contacts. Nobody named Rey Custodio. But no matter. I’ve found my father and he admitted to the killing. There’s nothing else for me to do but go home. Except I need to see Zach again before he finds out. Maybe he’ll what? Still care about me? Or am I being stupid again?

I hurry toward the wine cellar. Several workers are examining a barrel. I walk with my head held high as if I know exactly where I’m going. They don’t seem to notice me as I head for the stairs. I scramble down a flight and find the door ajar. Huge casks are lined up over a stone floor. It’s dark when I move away from the door. I wake the cell phone to light my way and feel between the casks.

Footsteps sound near the entrance, and Cliff calls my name. Turning a corner, I miss a step. My knees scrape the floor, and I fall over a set of steel bars. The phone drops into the grate. Dang! I pull at the bars, but it doesn’t budge. Feeling around the perimeter, I find a keyhole and a lever.

The footsteps come closer. I pat the wall around me and stand up. Ouch! My forehead hits the corner of a metal box. I pull it open, and slip my hand inside. There’s a key ring with a single key.

The light from a flashlight zigzags closer.

“Are you sure she went this way?” Cliff asks.

“Yeah, pretty Chinagirl? She’s down here somewhere,” one of the workers reply.

I fumble with the key and flip the lever back. The latch unclicks. I lift the gate, cringing when it creaks, and slide through the opening. A metal ladder leads down a dark hole. The footsteps get closer, and the light swings right above me.