“I barely made it out alive. What did it matter whose daughter I was?”
“Not that it’ll make any difference, but I found and killed Amzi myself. Buried him alive for what he did to you.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t make one shit of a difference, because all you wanted me to do was go on with the job while I could barely stand long enough to talk to you on the pay phone.”
“You…” Pierce paused and busied himself with piling pictures. “You were too damn good. One of the best ops this place has ever seen. They argued they couldn’t afford to pull you off duty, and they…we…clearly didn’t understand how badly you were hurt.”
“One of the best?” Jack plucked the pictures from his hands and threw them against the wall. “You’re a fucking liar. If I’m one of the best, that means you picked me because I showed promise like the rest of the kids you bring here. If I was your daughter, I’d have ended up here because of pity, not skills.”
“I couldn’t raise you here as my child, and I couldn’t leave this place, either. Of course I feared I’d never be able to bring you up to the other children’s standards, but I didn’t take into consideration how much the same we are. You were born for this work like I was. Call it genetic or whatever modern science calls it nowadays, but you only had to try half as hard as the rest.”
“Why do I remember trying twice as hard to keep up?” Jack refused to believe a word Pierce said.
“Because I demanded twice as much from you. Your abilities were…are…exceptional. It didn’t take long for me to realize even I didn’t have half the talent you did.”
Jack covered her ears. “No.”
“I’ve done everything in my power to get close to you ever since I found out you were alive. I lost my mind when TQ took you. I couldn’t lose you just when I had found you. I know you don’t want to hear this but…” Pierce wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry for everything. Please, give us a chance before it’s too late.”
“You’re not my father,” Jack shouted again.
“Please try to understand that I am,” Pierce said calmly.
“Never. I could never hate you this much if you were my father.”
Pierce rummaged in the steel box for something and got up. He walked over to Jack and she flinched at the closeness. “And I could never love you this much if you weren’t my daughter,” he said. He dropped something into the pocket of her robe and left the room.
Still stunned and furious, Jack put her hand in the pocket and pulled out what Pierce had put there. She let the tears fall when she recognized it. A delicate angel, three inches long, handcrafted from braided gold wire.
They had appeared to her all her life in dreams—comforting golden angels, suspended above her head. The puzzle had been solved when Celeste showed her the mobile from her crib, kept as a memento all these years. But it had been missing one piece. One angel.
Her mother had told her that her father had taken it with him.
Chapter Forty
Tuscany, Italy
Three weeks later, April 7
A month had passed since Harper’s return to her beloved home and country, yet the comfort she expected to find wasn’t there. She spent her days in the vineyards until late in the evening and would return home exhausted.
Monica would stop by on occasion to keep her company and distract her, but Harper would beg off early after staring silently into the flames of the outdoor fireplace. Her good friend and sex partner caught on very quickly that something was wrong. The first time she’d showed up to welcome her back, Harper had been pleased to see her but kept her distance. Monica had simply and silently understood. She’d asked if there was something she could do, and when Harper didn’t answer, she’d said she hoped this woman was worthy of her.
Monica, however, did start to worry and fuss over her when Harper refused to eat or have her traditional glass of wine at night. She’d show up with containers of ready-cooked meals and place them in front of Harper. To be polite, Harper would play with her food for a while, then beg off to bed.
Ever since her return, all she wanted to do was spend every moment working in the fields. It was the only time she could stop thinking about Ryden for longer than an hour. She had been tempted to call her every day that passed, but her voice would only make Harper hurt more, and it wouldn’t be fair to Ryden.
“Signorina Harper,” one of her hands called out from halfway across the vineyard.
Harper looked up and found him signaling her to walk over. She removed her gloves, brushed the soil from her pants, and went over to meet him.
“Someone here to see you,” he said in Italian when Harper neared.
“My appointment isn’t for another hour.” A new wine buyer was coming for a tour of her property and equipment. “Just show them the way,” Harper said indifferently. Normally, she couldn’t wait to escort potential buyers and friends through her vineyard, but she just wasn’t in the mood for conversation and business. “I’ll be over there.” She gestured to the new vines she had been working on before returning to them.
She’d intended to change her clothes for the clients, but right now she couldn’t care less. Her cargos were comfy and it was too hot to wear anything other than a tank top. She was stooped over, absorbed with the vine, when she felt someone staring at her. When she straightened and turned to look, she gazed straight into Ryden’s beautiful green eyes.
Ryden stood looking at her bemusedly, hands folded at her belt. She was wearing jeans and a red button-down shirt, and she looked amazing.
Resting her hands on her hips, Harper looked slowly from Ryden’s eyes to the very deep cleavage revealed by her shirt.
“I didn’t want to miss you anymore,” Ryden said. “So I looked up your vineyard and came to find you.”
Harper smiled. “You look great.”
“Don’t let the foundation fool you. I have circles blacker than tar under my eyes.”
Harper walked the few steps to her, not daring to take her eyes off Ryden, afraid that if she blinked Ryden would disappear like a dream. She gently placed a stray lock of hair behind Ryden’s ear. “Beautiful is what you are.”
“It’s how I feel when you look at me.”
“Breathless is how you leave me.” Harper caressed her ear.
“I’ve never felt like this before.”
“Like what?”
“I can’t explain it, but when I’m with you, everything is perfect. I come alive.”
Harper craved those lips. She leaned forward as Ryden closed her eyes, but a shout from her foreman interrupted them.
“Signorina Harper, your next appointment is here.”
Both of them looked in his direction. Harper felt like she was in a trance.
“I’d better leave.” Ryden was breathing heavily.
“Please, stay. I’m going to give a potential customer a tour of the vineyard, and I’d like you to join us.”
“I’d like that, too.”
“After they leave,” Harper said, “I’d like to take you to my home and cook for us.”
“I didn’t know you cook.”
“Then it’s about time we got to know each other.”
*
Once she’d toured the cozy Tuscany farmhouse, Ryden went to sit in the garden with a cold glass of iced tea while Harper jumped under the shower.
She couldn’t get enough of the magnificent panoramic view: the lush, eye-popping green of the vineyard, carved into terraces that cascaded down the side of the mountain to the rich, multi-hued blues of the sea below. The terra-cotta rooftops of a village etched into the cliffs along the distant water’s edge caught the sunlight, while above, a massive flock of seagulls rode the air currents in a spectacular and seemingly choreographed display of aerial acrobatics. Here and there, small plumes of smoke rose from the greenery, where hired hands burned off dead trimmings from the vines. If the planet had one perfect spot where beauty met serenity, this was it.