“I don’t see our moms,” Jewel commented as she scanned the parking lot.
“I’m sure they’re in Mother’s car,” Rogen said. “Her driver will get them safely to the estate.”
“That’s where I need to go as well.”
Rogen glanced over at her. “Jewel…”
“It’s not about your mother,” she assured him. “There’s something I have to do.”
He frowned, not liking her secrecy. But he pulled out of the space and hit the road.
No one spoke. What was there to say at the moment? It was impossible to relive those twenty or thirty minutes of Rose-Marie’s excruciating confession and the horrifying pictures she’d painted. And who the hell wanted to mention how unnatural she’d sounded, so traumatized and resentful? Toward herself.
Jewel couldn’t fathom existing with that sort of torment day in and day out. Year after year. Rose-Marie needed some serious help.
One thing Rose-Marie could count on, Jewel knew, was that her mother would lend the support needed. She’d perpetuated a lie for the Angelinis, after all. So that they could save face. Appear to be normal following their tragedy. Because Sophia knew the importance of appearances.
She would be able to commiserate and empathize with Rose-Marie’s feelings related to her daughter’s death, even if Sophia hadn’t lost a child herself. Jewel was certain it was a maternal thing that lived and breathed in every mother. And Sophia had adored Taylor.
While Jewel’s heart went out to Rose-Marie, Gian, and her own parents, she was a bit worried about Rogen. She rested a hand on his thigh. He covered it with his own hand. Gently squeezed.
They reached the porte cochere at the mansion and Rogen said, “There’s Mother’s driver.”
Jewel breathed a sigh of relief.
Vin opened her door again and she asked Rogen, “Will you pop the trunk for me?”
He did, and she rounded the back of the car to retrieve her oversize Louis Vuitton tote, hitching the straps over her shoulder. Vin shut the trunk for her.
“Want me to carry your bag?” he asked.
“No, thanks. This is something I have to do myself.”
They ascended the steps to the gorgeous terrace that ran the length of the front wing of the manor. A valet escorted them in, also asking if he could assist with Jewel’s tote. She politely declined.
Rogen and Vin flanked her as she headed toward Gian’s study. His assistant, Elizabeth, had a massive desk outside the sanctuary. Jewel was quite familiar with her, given all the time she’d spent calling Gian’s office directly to try to engage him in entertaining her offer on the land, prior to the gala. Which now seemed like a million years ago.
Elizabeth glanced up from her computer at the sound of Jewel’s heels clicking on the marble floor.
“Gentlemen. Miss Catalano,” the attractive chestnut-haired thirtysomething greeted them.
“I’d like to see Mr. Angelini.” Jewel didn’t wait for a response, just kept walking.
The assistant jumped up and rushed ahead of the trio by just a step so that she could dutifully announce, “Miss Catalano, Rogen and Vin to see you, sir.”
His head snapped up from paperwork he was reviewing. “I didn’t realize we had an appointment.”
“I’m sorry,” Jewel said, striving for a professional tone but not succeeding. She was still rattled to the core. “I didn’t have a chance to make one.”
“Then to what do I owe the honor?”
He didn’t sound condescending, as she’d half-expected. Rather, he seemed intrigued by her presence. Perhaps a bit admiring of her verve. She suspected very few people barged in on him.
Jewel stopped in front of his desk and set her bag on the corner. Then she extracted a large box. Placed it in front of him. She simply said, “Open it.”
Now he eyed her suspiciously. But he took the bait. He stood and unlatched the numerous sturdy clasps. Then folded back the lid. Another box was nestled inside, and he flipped the top. Peeled away layers of black velvet. Then let out a snort filled with distain.
“You’ve resorted to taunting me with the decanter?”