Steel Lust (13 page)

It was fitting that it rained the entire week after Leonardo
went home.

Joy knew she needed to get her ass out of the chair she’d
been sitting in for hours, staring out her window at Lake Michigan—which looked
as sad and gray as she’d been feeling all week—but couldn’t motivate herself to
move.

She couldn’t shake the funk that had settled deep into her
bones. She’d loved having him there day and night, but she hadn’t been able to
shake her anger over what he’d done that night at the bar and it had put a
damper on the entire rest of the week.

Leonardo didn’t understand that Bruce was not the kind of
man who was going to be deterred just because Leonardo had taken the
kill-it-with-kindness approach to putting an end to Bruce’s relentless
bullying. To Bruce business was separate from family and his recreational life
had nothing to do with either of the first two. Joy was a recreational pastime
to him, and Leonardo staking his claim to her was just going to heighten the
thrill of the chase.

As much as the strong, independent woman in her wanted to
deny it, she loved him for staking that claim, and that was what bothered her
the most.

Yes, he’d said he loved her, but it had been in the heat of
the moment. Yes, he’d taken possession of more than her body when he’d refused
to leave the night they’d fought. And yes, the declaration that she loved him
back had been dangling precariously off the tip of her tongue that night, but
they wouldn’t last. They couldn’t.

She’d been working hard to reach the point where she was in
her career and she couldn’t put her life on hold to go on the road with him,
not matter how tempting the idea. His band was about to find a much broader
audience and throw him, rightfully, into the national spotlight and expose him
to hordes of other women.

Faster, tempting, countless numbers of younger women. Joy’s
whole life was filled with stories and accounts and her own personal
experiences of how so many musicians saw groupies as just one of the perks of
being famous. Leonardo had already admitted to enjoying his share of them, and
that was basically on a local level.

Joy pulled her blanket tighter around herself and swallowed
back the wave of nausea that rose every time she thought about him with someone
else.

She jumped and cried out in surprise when her doorbell
sounded. She blinked and looked around, realizing it had grown dark outside.
Smoothing her hair back from her face, she padded to the door in the thick
socks she was wearing, turning on lights as she went, and put her eye to the
peephole.

“I have been trying to call you for two days,” Mama said,
pulling Joy into her arms the second Joy closed the door behind her. After a
moment she held Joy at arm’s length. “You look like your best friend died. What
happened?”

Joy fell into her mother’s arms, pushed the anger and worry
aside and cried. Mama held her through it, smoothing her hand over her back,
muttering comforting words in a mix of Spanish and English. When she was
finished she sent Joy to wash her face and went to start a pot of tea—her
cure-all.

“Did the week with your young man not go well?” Angelina
asked, pouring hot tea from Joy’s favorite Japanese pot into tiny matching
cups.

Joy cupped her hands around her mug and breathed in the
strong, fragrant oolong.

She shook her head. “I just miss him.”

Which was not a lie. It just wasn’t the complete truth
either.

And her mother didn’t miss it. “But?”

She brought her legs up, heels hooked on the edge of the
seat.

“I have something to tell you about Bruce,” she started. It
was time.

Joy couldn’t fight him on her own any longer, and Mama would
know just how she should handle him. She told her that he’d been pursuing her
to become his mistress, but when it came to the part about blackmailing her
with what he knew about Love, she couldn’t bring herself to tell Mama that one
very important detail.

When she was finished her mother muttered a string of
expletives in Spanish.

“Do you want your father to talk to him about this?”

Joy covered her face with her hands and drew in a steadying
breath.

“I would be mortified if Daddy knew.” She dropped her hands.
“And I don’t want you to go to Don either. It will end. I just need to figure
out how to make him listen.”

“Go to Debbie,” her mother suggested with a casual shrug, as
though ruining the life and marriage of a woman Joy adored would be no big
deal.

“Mama, I couldn’t. I love her too much.”

“Which is why you should tell her. She deserves to know.”

“You and I both know he would deny it.”

“And she’s smart enough to know the truth. A wife knows her
husband. She knows what he’s capable of doing. Even if she gets angry with you
at first, deep in her heart, she will know the truth and she will do the right
thing.”

“Which would be what? Never speak to me again?” The idea of
never having the ease she’d always had with Deb made her stomach turn. “I
couldn’t bear it.”

“She will do what is right for her and her marriage. And you
have to do what is right for you.” She sipped her tea and narrowed her eyes.
“Does Leonardo know?”

She nodded.

Her mother’s eyebrows went up. “And what has he done?”

She put her feet back on the floor. “I don’t need him to do
anything.”

“So he’s done nothing?”

“It’s not that he hasn’t wanted to. I asked him to leave
Bruce alone.”

Mama tsked. “Joy, when are you ever going to learn to let
the man be the man?”

“You’re the one who taught me to rely on myself before
anyone else.”

“You must not have been paying attention the day I told you
to know when to ask for help when you really need it then.”

Joy rolled her eyes, but she could feel the weight of the
situation lifting. Even if she still didn’t have an answer on how to make Bruce
stop once and for all, she could feel her head clearing, and that was a huge
relief in itself.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” Mama asked.

She had no idea. “I’m fine. You don’t need to go to the
trouble of cooking for me,” she said when Mama got up and headed for the
refrigerator.

“I’m your mother,” she said in that tone that meant the
subject was not open for negotiation. “It’s my job to make sure you eat no
matter how old you get.”

The doorbell rang and they looked at each other.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Mama asked.

Joy stood and gestured to the two-day-old sweats and t-shirt
she was wearing.

“Does it look like I was expecting anyone?”

Mama just pursed her lips, amused. “You want me to answer it
then?”

Her pulse started to pound with hope. What if it was
Leonardo? He hadn’t shown up out of the blue in a long time, but that didn’t
mean he wouldn’t.

“No. I’ve got it.” She kissed Mama on the cheek. “You cook.”

She jogged a couple of steps to the door once she was out of
her mother’s sight, smoothing her hair and hoping her breath wasn’t too bad.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d brushed her teeth. Or put on
deodorant. She stopped, one hand on the doorknob and gave her armpits a
tentative sniff. Nothing offensive there.

“I’m through playing games with you, Joy,” Bruce said,
shoving his way into her apartment before she had the chance to slam the door
in his face. He gripped her by the upper arms and backed her into her living
room.

Frightened, she wrenched her arms free and slapped him
across the face when he bent his head as if he meant to kiss her.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment,” she whispered harshly,
not wanting Mama to hear. “You have no right showing up here and treating me
this way.”

“I told you this was happening one way or another and you
didn’t listen.” His breath reeked of alcohol and anger. “The time has come.
It’s me or your family.”

Rage burned hot inside of her. “You know, your seduction
techniques could use a little polishing. This isn’t exactly making me hot to
spread my legs for you.”

“Oh, you need seducing?” he sneered. “That cunt of yours has
seen so much dick over the years I didn’t realize it was especially choosy.”

He chuckled evilly when she flinched.

“Does your cheap punk boyfriend know about all the cock
you’ve sucked over the years, Joy? Does he know about the scandal your father
had to cover up when you were sixteen, nearly getting that thirty-five-year-old
singer arrested for statutory rape and kidnapping because you lied about being
eighteen?”

Joy breathed deep and let his words pass through her instead
of cut. She’d hinted about her past to Leonardo the morning after their first
night together, but he hadn’t asked her for details. It wasn’t as if he didn’t
care. He was simply the kind of man who wasn’t hung up on people’s mistakes. He
lived in the present, and she couldn’t imagine her fallen angel holding her
past against her even if he did know the sordid details.

“Go ahead and tell him,” she said, a deep calm settling
inside of her at the knowledge that she had someone who loved her, flaws and
all.

“Good idea,” he nodded, obviously thinking he was calling
her bluff.

Little did he know she was perfectly serious.

“I’ll just give your sister a ring while I’m at it too,” he
added, his tone slick, icy.

“Why would you do that?” Mama asked, stepping into the
living room.

Adrenaline rushed through Joy’s system and made her head
spin briefly.

Bruce staggered back from Joy a few steps. “
Angelina
.”

“Which daughter of mine do you intend to harass next,
Bruce?” She was moving toward them slowly, her steps calculated and
predatory—the mother lion ready to spring without warning to protect her cub.

He put his hands up and stuttered incoherently.

“He knows about Love and Don,” Joy told her, finding Bruce’s
voice for him.

Mama gave her a cool look as she let that bit of information
sink in, then shifted her deadly gaze back to Bruce.

“That dirty lawyer of yours and Don’s told you.” It was not
a question.

From the look in Bruce’s face, Joy could tell that was
exactly where he’d heard.

“He told you in case you ever need leverage against the old
man,” Mama said. “How much did that cost you, Bruce? How many thousands of
dollars did you pay for information in case you ever needed to blackmail the
one man in this world who’s always believed in you?” She got close to Bruce,
facing him fearlessly. “Or did you just sign over your soul?”

Bruce had gone still but he was obviously seething.

“He’s been threatening to tell Love about Don so I’ll sleep
with him.”

Damn it felt both amazing and awful to say it out loud.

To her mother. In front of Bruce.

The look of sympathy that came across her mother’s face was
so sincere Joy almost believed it for a moment.

“Really, Bruce?” Mama asked, talking to him as though he
were an unruly child and she was going to teach him the error of his ways as
gently as possible. “Are you that desperate to get laid you have to resort to
blackmail?”

He pulled himself to his full height.

“Angelina, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he
said, easily slipping into the role of the music mogul schmooze artist. “This
isn’t how it must seem.”

“Really?” She crossed her arms and feigned a puzzled look. “Because
it seems to me you were about to force yourself on my daughter.”

The thought made Joy’s stomach turn.

“Angelina,” he gave her a placating look, “I would never—”

“Love already knows that Don is her real father.”

Joy clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.

“The only person who doesn’t know is your beautiful, sweet
wife.” Mama tipped her head to the side. “Maybe it’s time for her to know that
she has a half sister.”

“And maybe it’s time that she finds out what a piece of shit
her husband really is,” Joy added, not quite recovered from the shock but
needing him out of her apartment before she embarrassed herself by throwing up
in front of him.

His professional expression crumbled and he glared at her.
“You wouldn’t.”

She snorted. “Wouldn’t I?” As much as it repulsed her to
touch him, she reached for his arm to steer him toward the door. “It’s time for
you to go and never come back, Bruce.”

He jerked out of her reach.

“You’ll be hearing from my husband,” Mama assured him with a
smile.

Joy watched Bruce pale before he stalked out the door
without another word.

The moment the door slammed shut Joy bolted for the
bathroom. There was nothing in her stomach, but it tried to turn itself inside
out anyway. She knelt there, hugging the cold porcelain, sobbing with her
forehead propped on the arm draped across the seat. After a minute she felt her
mother’s reassuring hand on her back.

“How long has Love known?” Joy asked without looking up.

“Not here, baby.” Mama smoothed her hand over her hair. “Get
yourself cleaned up. I’ll tell you while we eat.”

* * * * *

“We were in Italy staying at the Lanes’ villa for the summer
when Love was, oh, nine or ten.” Mama waved her hand. “Something like that.
Debbie was painting Love’s nails and Love realized their hands looked alike. I
don’t know how or why, but she got it into her head to compare them to Don’s
too, and then she came to me to ask why.”

Even after a long, hot shower and most of a helping of her
mother’s heavenly chicken and orzo, Joy was having a hard time processing that
Love knew about Don.

“She’s Daddy’s little darling.” Joy pushed her plate aside.
“Wasn’t she devastated?”

Her mother shook her head as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“No. I think she was relieved more than anything. She said
there were things about her that didn’t make sense until then. Even though she
looks like me as much as you and Sunny do, she’d noticed there were things
about herself that were different, like her hands and feet. And she never
understood where she got the beauty marks she has on her face and body when
none of the rest of us have them.”