Mafia Secret (6 page)

Lessa flinched at his hostility, but couldn't collect her own thoughts fast enough to protest his reference to her as a gold digger.

Santos stood and stepped between them. "She's never met Jiovanni."

"What's your angle in all this?" Tony faced off with him.

Alarmed, Lessa instinctively grabbed Santos' wrist. She didn't want Tony's rage directed at her, but she didn't want these men to fight over her, either.

"What you think doesn't matter, Tony," MacDonald said. "Your father was clear. She'll receive her share of the family estate. The trust can't be unraveled. Anyone who contests the trust will lose his share of the business."

"If she isn't his daughter?" Tony snarled.

Lessa frowned at the accusation, but didn't blame him for doubting it. She hadn't believed it herself until her mother confirmed Jiovanni's claim.

"Her share of the estate isn't based on her paternity," MacDonald said.

"Speaking of paternity, would she be willing to prove it?" Jio asked.

"As I just said," MacDonald stated with controlled patience, "her inheritance is set. Alessandra doesn't have to prove anything."

"How am I supposed to prove it?" Lessa asked, finally gaining the courage to look Jio in the eye. His calm iciness was much more frightening than Tony's rage.

Jio stared at her steadily. "Would you be willing to take a blood test to prove what you say is true?"

"She didn't say it." Santos defended her. "She's never even met Jiovanni."

Lessa didn't reach for Santos again, but held Jio's gaze. He was just as hard to read as Marco Santos, but she knew she was being weighed and judged.

"There's no requirement for this, Alessandra," MacDonald interjected.

"I know." She chose her words carefully. "Yes, I'll submit to a blood test if you insist."

Jio stared at her a moment, then nodded. He looked to the attorney. "Set it up."

"I'll call the doctor," Ryan MacDonald said with stiff displeasure.

"No!" Lucia turned pleading eyes on her son. "You can't be considering letting this interloper into our family."

Lessa flinched at Lucia's shrill voice and could see the pain in the older woman's expression. She'd barely thought about Jiovanni's wife, or the fact that Lucia and Jiovanni had been married when Lessa was conceived.

"Mama," Jio began reassuringly.

"I insist you set her out," Lucia cried. "She is not welcome in my house."

"This is my home," he replied. Lucia pulled away from him. "I will honor my father's request. I won't throw her out."

Lucia sniffed and glared at her eldest son. "Very well." She gathered herself together as she slowly rose. "I must go to Jiovanni."

"I'll go with you, Mama." Tony offered her his arm.

Lucia refused to look at Lessa as they swept out of the room. She watched them depart and was still looking at the door when Jio spoke up.

"You're welcome to stay here, Alessandra. I'll provide protection and shelter for as long as you require."

Unsure of what to say, she glanced at Santos. He nodded in encouragement.

"Thank you." She had no idea if that was an appropriate response to being offered shelter by her half-brother who was also a stranger.

"I had Virginia set up a room for her," Santos added.

Jio maintained eye contact with Lessa. "I'll let you know when the doctor arrives."

"Of course." She tried to put on as cool a front as Jio was exhibiting.

The attorney harrumphed, and she vaguely wondered why he should care before refocusing her attention on Jio.

Jio broke eye contact with her to look at MacDonald in amusement. "Yes?"

"Nothing," the attorney said. "Who needs to go over the trust with me?"

Santos reached down and pulled Lessa to her feet. She wobbled as she lost her balance on more than one account. He kept a firm grip on her, and she could feel the blush creep up. MacDonald smiled and handed him a large thick package with Alessandra's name printed across the top.

"If you have any questions," he said, "Marco knows how to contact me."

She looked uneasily at the package wondering what it contained. She wasn't quite ready to open another message from her father. Lessa nodded to MacDonald.

It was as Santos was leading her out of the room that she again noticed her other two siblings, Clarissa and Edoardo. They had remained quiet during the entire exchange, watching everything unfold. She tried a small smile as Marco Santos walked her past them. They both stared at her in response. Well, at least they didn't snarl or leap at her as Tony had.

"Don't worry about it," he said softly as they exited the room. "Went better than I expected."

"You're kidding." She hurried to keep up with his quick steps. "That's what you expected?"

"I told you they wouldn't take the news well." He headed up the massive staircase in the center of the hall.

Her heels clicked as she climbed up after him. She was too focused on what had just happened in the other room to do more than notice the extravagant staircase with the paintings and statues lining the walls. They reached the hall, and he turned to climb another flight of stairs.

"Why didn't you tell me you were engaged to my…sister?" Lessa blurted out the question suddenly occupying her thoughts. She didn't want to look too closely as to why it was.

Surprised, Santos glanced at her over his shoulder. "It didn't come up."

It didn't come up. They'd sat in a plane for six hours, and he hadn't thought to include his engagement to her half-sister?

"You might have mentioned it when you were telling me about her ballet lessons, college education…"

He stopped and raised an eyebrow. "Okay, Clarissa and I have an understanding which was facilitated by Jiovanni."

She frowned after him as he resumed walking. Jogging to keep up with his long strides, she thanked the hours of exercise required of a professional cheerleader which allowed her to run up a flight of marble stairs in four-inch heels.

"Are you telling me you two are betrothed? Like an arranged marriage?"

"You asked."

She wasn't sure what to say in response, so focused on what they were doing and where they were. "You had to put me on the top floor?"

"You're a dancer," he said in amusement. "I'd think a couple of stairs wouldn't bother you."

Lessa ignored his comment. "Where does the family stay?"

"Each family member has a room on the second floor." He led her down the hallway. "Guests stay on the third."

She wasn't sure whether to be relieved she wouldn't accidentally run into any of them or worried over the designation of guest instead of family. She didn't want to think about what it all meant so chose to focus on his earlier dig. Frivolous banter was much easier on the psyche.

"I'm a cheerleader not a dancer," she said as they reached her room.

Santos stopped, and she thought he held back a laugh as he looked at her. "I'm sorry. I thought cheerleaders were dancers."

"We are dancers, but cheerleaders first and always."

"Ra-ra and all that. So cheerleaders have a harder time climbing flights of stairs?"

She refused to laugh. "I will have you know flying thirty feet in the air takes a hell of a lot more than climbing a couple flights of stairs."

He narrowed his eyes, and she could see the confusion on his face as he tried to figure out her words. It might have been several years since she'd been tossed into the air, because professional cheerleading focused on dance, but she'd been cheering since she was seven and took pride in her years as a flyer.

"I take it you don't know any cheerleaders." Why was she delaying going into her room?

"I dated one in high school for a month." He smiled. "She was going through a bad boy phase."

"Ever watched it on TV?"

"Sure, the Super Bowl." He opened the door and motioned her into the room.

"Not football . . ."
 
She slowly stepped into the room then stopped in surprise. She was standing in a living room, not a bedroom. ". . . Cheerleading."

He crowded in behind her, shut the door and glanced quickly at his watch. "Pom poms and short skirts."

"Okay." She'd lost the thread of what they'd been talking about as she looked around. It didn't take a genius to tell the furniture that decorated the blue- and white-accented room was high quality. A lot more high quality than in her home. The type she'd seen featured in magazines. "This isn't a bedroom."

"It's a suite." Santos led her over to the other side of the room. "You remember I mentioned I'd be sleeping on the couch."

He opened the door to the connecting bedroom. She stepped inside and glanced back out into the living room. It was in the same cozy cottage style, but instead of blue with white accents it was white with blue accents. Seeing the white carpeting, she hoped her shoes were clean.

"How does this work?" Lessa asked, noticing her duffle bag lying next to the fluffy king bed. It and his comment about sleeping on the couch had brought her back to why she was there.

"What?"

She turned to face him. "Us, constantly together."

He smiled briefly then looked serious. "I'll be with you most of the time. Including nights, which is why you got the suite with the couch large enough to fit me. I think that at least means you should start calling me Marc, like the rest of the family."

She glanced at the couch and doubted whether he would fit comfortably on it. He had to be at least six-two. It's not as if she hadn't noticed his tall, dark, brooding handsomeness. And now he wanted her to call him Marc. She wasn't sure why, but she liked that he considered her a member of the family.

"During the day, I'll stick close by you," He continued. "There will be times when I can't be with you, though, and I'd prefer you stayed in your room. Or wherever else I put you."

"Put me?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not an object, Marc."

"Sorry, not what I meant." Again, he glanced at his watch. "But this would be one of those times."

"My shadow's abandoning me." She really didn't like the idea of him not being there to reassure her everything would be fine. If she didn't have something stupid to talk to him about, she'd actually have to start thinking about her current situation. And she hated to admit it, but she was getting used to having him around. He made her feel . . . safe.

"I need to speak with Jio. I'll be as quick as I can. Just settle in, unpack, and when I get back I'll show you around the estate so you can get the lay of the land."

Lessa shifted uncomfortably. She wanted to tell him not to leave her, but held back. It wasn't like her to be dependent on another person.

Marc watched her carefully. "Okay?"

"All right," she said with a false smile.

He hesitated a moment before leaving the room. Lessa trailed after him into the sitting room and stared at the shut door. She wasn't sure how long she stood and stared before she started pacing uneasily.

Sighing, she dropped onto the voluptuous couch and sank in about half a foot. Staring up at the ceiling, she wondered if he really intended to stay in the room and for how long. How long did she intend to stay and try to get to know the family who wasn't happy to see her?

Lessa hadn't expected a warm family reunion, but she also hadn't expected outright hostility. She should have. What grieving wife would welcome her deceased husband's bastard child? It had probably been a mistake to come all this way without rationally thinking it through. Running away from a stalker wasn't the best reason to visit long-lost family. Just because she secretly longed for a large family didn't mean they would welcome her into it. They already had their family unit. She didn't understand why her father had wanted her to come.

The envelope stared silently at her from the large coffee table in front of her. She narrowed her eyes and, biting her lip, shifted forward to look at the label a little more closely. A loud and sudden knock at the door made her jump up in surprise.

"Alessandra!" Nina called through the door as she knocked again. "May I come in?"

Lessa hurried over then slowly, hesitantly, opened the door unsure of what to expect. Nina smiled with ease as she juggled an angelic toddler in her arms. The little girl with dark, curly hair smiled as she squirmed in Nina's arms.

"I just wanted to see if you needed help unpacking and settling in." Nina held out her other hand. "I'm Nina, Jio's wife."

She shook her hand in relief, touched at the absence of outright hostility. "Come in." Lessa stepped back so she could. "Please, call me Lessa."

Nina nodded and put down the squirming toddler who immediately began to explore the room. "That's Suzannah. She's our youngest."

"She's adorable," Lessa said truthfully.

"I think so," Nina said, glowing with pride. "Marc got you the good room."

Lessa looked blankly around the sitting room, not exactly sure what Nina meant. The room was beautiful, but everything in the house she'd seen was just as gorgeous and impeccable.