The Reluctant Heiress: A Novella(6)

Irritated with myself, I put the car in gear and floor it out of the parking lot. I don’t pay much attention to direction, needing only to get the hell away from Sebastian Bellizzi.

Vera squeals as I take a turn without breaking. “What the fuck did he say?” she shouts over the wind.

“In twenty-four hours, he’s twice referenced wanting to go down on me.”

“What!” she screeches. “What’s wrong with you? Let him get it out of his system!”

“Not happening,” I say, in a tone that I know she’ll respect.

There’s a lot Vera doesn’t know about Sebastian and me—our history is one of the few details of my life I’ve kept private from her. Because although casual sex with Sebastian might sound like a mutually beneficial agreement, there’s never been anything casual between us.

The first time we met, I threw a plate at him and he yelled at me. Granted, we’d been seven and eleven years old, but as they say, first impressions matter.

Back then, Sebastian was the troubled nephew of one of my parents’ employees, Nona Bellizzi, who I’d been calling Nana since I could talk. More than being the estate manager of the family home in Weston, Massachusetts, Nona was family. Part-nanny, part-grandmother, she’d been a staple in our young lives. More constant even than our parents, who occupied an often exclusive sphere of their love for each other.

When Nona wanted to bring her nephew over from Italy after some undisclosed conflict, my parents had quickly agreed. Not only that, they’d insisted he live with her in the sprawling guesthouse on the property and footed the bill to secure him midyear enrollment in our private school.

Late on the night of his arrival, I’d been pillaging the kitchen for snacks. Sebastian, sleepless from jet lag and deviant, had been sneaking around the great house. Thinking myself alone, his innocent question of, “Can I have a cookie?” had resulted in said plate throwing and yelling.

It wasn’t the last time we yelled at each other. Or broke dinnerware.





5





I leave for San Diego at four o’clock and luck out with traffic. It still takes me two and a half hours to reach Point Loma from Malibu. By the time I find parking down the street from my brother’s new digs, I’m starving, my ass is numb, and I need to pee like no one’s business.

Grabbing the housewarming gift from the passenger seat, I hightail it to the front door. It’s open in welcome, framed by whimsical, blooming vines. Jazz music and voices drift toward me down a long, airy hallway. I hear Alex’s low laughter, followed by Thea’s teasing voice, and warmth expands in my heart.

Our mother’s death hit Alex the hardest—they’d had a unique bond, born of shared temperament. Deacon, Charles, and I take more after our father. Our feet stay on the ground and our heads ruled by logic. At least, I like to think so. My mother was a wonderful woman, but she was also impulsive, often ruled by her emotions.

Alex’s girlfriend, Thea Sands, is a perfect match for him. I knew it the second I met her and witnessed the strange, oddly electric connection between the two of them. Having stood helplessly by as Alex flew off the deep-end after our mother’s death, I’m extraordinarily grateful to Thea for bringing him back to life.

After making use of the half bath, I wander toward the back of the house. There are a handful of people in the open living-dining space, and several more on the wide deck outside.

Alex sees me and strides quickly across the room. He hugs me hard, squeezing the breath out of my lungs. My feet dangle an inch off the floor.

I choke out, “Put me down, you dolt.”

He chuckles and sets me on my feet, blue eyes just like mine sparkling with happiness. Of the four of us, Alex and I look the most alike. We were also the closest growing up. For these reasons and more, he’s my favorite brother.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” he says warmly, and turns toward the patio. “Thea! Candace is here.”

Thea makes excuses to her company—a dark-haired man I recognize from the opening of Alex’s San Diego restaurant—and walks toward us with a wide smile.

She stops beside Alex, uncertainty flickering in her expressive hazel eyes as she debates hugging me. Yep, she’s a thinker. For some reason, I’m reminded of Sebastian. The two have a similar presence—contained and watchful.

I make the decision for her, grabbing her into a hug and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for making an honest man out of my big brother.”

She blushes prettily. “Thanks for coming. Would you like some wine?” I nod, and she calls toward the kitchen, “Michael, will you pour a glass for Candace?”

I glance over to see the same man from outside now in the kitchen. His eyes find mine and he smiles, displaying dimples. Cute.

“Red or white?” he asks.

“Red,” I reply, grinning back at him.

“Easy, tiger,” murmurs Alex. “You’d chew him up and spit him out.”

I glance guiltily at Thea, who shrugs. “Michael’s made of pretty strong stuff.”

I smirk, eyeing the shoulders flexing under a navy sweater as he pours wine. “I’ll say.”

Alex groans. “You’re worse than most men, Candace.”

Thea adds softly, “I will say that, uh, Michael’s more of the serious commitment sort.”