Wicked & Willing. Leslie Kelly
weeks, and then he went out to California.”
Unable to help it, she asked, “Where is he now?”
“He was killed in a car accident less than a year later.”
Venus closed her eyes, angry with herself for allowing a tiny spark of hope to burn for the briefest moment. “Oh.”
“He planned to return to New York, but was going to stop in Atlanta first to try to make amends with Uncle Max. They’d parted rather bitterly, you see. He phoned, said he wanted to mend fences. Something amazing had happened, he said. Something that made him reevaluate the importance of family.”
Like finding out he had a baby with a woman he’d had a fling with back in New York? She thrust the thought away.
“The next day we heard Max had been killed. When his father went out west to settle things, he found a card in Max’s apartment. It simply said, ‘Congratulations, Daddy.’ Inside was a photo of a baby with the name Violet written on the back.”
“My name’s Venus,” she immediately countered.
The man shrugged, as if unconcerned. “Possibly a nickname? Perhaps your mother changed her mind?”
“No way would my mother name me Violet. Besides, I think I would know my own name.”
Leo glanced away, not meeting her eye. “Are you certain of the name on your birth certificate?”
“I’ve never seen it. There was a robbery at my foster mother’s place back when I was in high school and a bunch of papers got stolen.”
He raised a brow.
“But,” she insisted, “my driver’s license, social security card and school records all say Venus. I think by now somebody woulda figured it out if I’d been using an illegal name.”
“Perhaps. But no matter.” The man—who thought he could be her what…uncle? Second cousin?—smiled thinly. “The point is, there is enough circumstantial evidence to think it is possible you are my cousin’s illegitimate daughter.”
She remained silent, absorbing his claim. Her heart no longer raced, and she didn’t tremble with excitement. If she hadn’t just been told Max Longotti Jr. had died nearly thirty years ago, perhaps she could have allowed herself a moment of hope…a moment of that familiar longing to find out who her people were. Now, she felt only anguish. Whether the man spoke the truth or not, she was no closer to having a real father now than she’d ever been.
Deep down, she prayed he was wrong, this so-called relative. She’d long imagined her real father living a great life, being the great guy she liked to think he was. She’d pictured his happiness when he’d learned about the existence of his daughter, who he must never have known about since he hadn’t come for her when her mother died. Her mother told her she’d tried to contact him about Venus’s birth, and she’d never stopped believing he’d return to them.
But what if he hadn’t gotten the news? Messages got lost. Phone numbers changed. Postmen went postal and didn’t deliver the mail. Her father could very well be out there somewhere, living his life, as wonderful as her mother had said he was.
No. Venus didn’t want to imagine him dead. Not now. Not ever.
“Okay, Mr. Gallagher,” she said as she stood and squared her shoulders. “You’ve said what you wanted to say. It’s a nice fairy tale, but I don’t believe it. My name is not Violet. Matt Messina is not exactly an unusual name. New York’s a big city. And I think it’s time for you to leave.”
His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. Obviously he’d expected her to fall at his feet in gratitude. Right now she wished she’d never laid eyes on him.
“B-but, you have to admit it’s possible,” he sputtered.
“Why? What difference does it make if the man is dead?”
“Well,” he said, “because I want you to come to Atlanta to meet your grandfather.”
She began to shake her head. Accepting this Longotti character as her grandfather would mean accepting that her real father had died decades ago. It would mean accepting she really had no parents and the father she’d fantasized about all her life had been in his grave before she took her first steps.
No thank you.
“And I will pay you a great deal of money to do so.”
Venus paused. Then she slowly lowered herself to her chair.
TROY LANGTREE sat in his new office at Longotti Lines, nodding with satisfaction at the tasteful decor and the magnificent view of downtown Atlanta off the balcony. His office at his family-owned department store in south Florida had been just as nicely appointed, but its view had been of swaying palm trees and bikini-clad beach goers.
“Well, that had its benefits, too,” he murmured with a wry smile. Still, he found himself appreciating the look of Atlanta. The skyline spoke of big-city energy and excitement. In the week he’d lived here, he’d found himself growing energetic and excited, too.
He still couldn’t quite believe he was here. His move to Atlanta had been rather a shock, even to him. If someone had asked Troy a year ago where he saw himself on the day of his retirement, he would have firmly replied that he’d still be heading up the Langtree store chain in Florida. He’d never pictured himself doing anything else.
After his father had retired six years ago, he’d worked with his twin brother, Trent, until they both realized Troy liked the store and Trent hated it. When Trent struck out on his own to start a landscaping business, Troy had moved into the executive position with ease. He’d enjoyed his job, and if he sometimes felt bored, closed-in, well, he’d had other outlets to pursue in his off-hours. Mainly outlets of the female variety. As a wealthy, and, to be honest, attractive bachelor, he had never lacked for female company.
But about a year ago, his well-laid plans began to wrinkle. His brother’s marriage had been a surprise, though a pleasant one. Watching Trent go crazy over his wife, Chloe, Troy had wondered, for the first time in his life, if he might ever meet a woman who could turn him into a complete idiot, like his brother had become.
“Doubtful.”
His sister-in-law’s subsequent pregnancy had thrilled the entire family, Troy included. It was, probably, why he’d been foolish enough to get briefly involved with someone not at all his usual type. By dating a friendly, personable young woman who reminded him a little of his brother’s wife, had he been subconsciously trying to follow Trent’s lead?
Maybe.
Whatever the reason, it had ended in disaster. Because, for once, Troy had gone out with a woman who hadn’t played the dating game. She’d fallen and fallen hard. Troy hadn’t.
Oh, sure, he’d liked her. She’d been nice and attractive.
And she’d bored him beyond belief.
Their breakup had devastated her, and she’d definitely let him know about it. Troy had never meant to hurt her. He’d certainly never made any promises and they’d only gone out a few times. Hell, they’d never even slept together—which should have been his first indication something was wrong.
Looking back, he couldn’t even fathom why he’d thought he could be interested in someone who didn’t make him crazy with lust from the first time they met. Love might be the greatest thing since the invention of the wheel, but if it wasn’t accompanied by a serious case of the hots, Troy didn’t think it would ever be for him. Any woman with whom he fell in love would have to inspire some immediate thoughts of hot, sweaty bodies and long, erotic nights before she could ever inspire images of diamond rings or whispered promises.
“It will never happen,” he’d often told himself, especially after that last dating disaster.
In any case, the damage had been done. For the first time in his life, he’d hurt someone who hadn’t deserved