Ruthless (The Calvettis of New York 2)
I take a second to process what he said and what it means. Drawing in a deep breath, I look him straight in the eye. “You read the letter, didn’t you?”
Our pleasant dinner just ran into a roadblock in the form of my boss snooping through my desk. Dale dropped off an envelope at Garent’s reception on his way to the airport. Barrett handed it to me sealed which means that he read it after I’d opened it.
Setting his fork down next to his half-eaten slice of cheesecake, he nods. “I did.”
That sets me on my feet. “You had no right to do that.”
He’s up too, chasing me down as I head away from the table. His hand on my elbow stops me just as I reach the living room.
I turn and face him. “Why would you do that? I told you it was personal.”
“Why did you listen to my phone conversation the day you came to the office early?”
Busted.
His hand slides down my arm to circle my wrist. “Curiosity, Bella. I was curious. It was the same for you when you heard me chew out my father.”
I step back in shock. He knew I was there? He was talking to his father?
Reading my expression, his tone softens. “I smelled coffee. When you took off, I heard your heels on the floor. I know you hid in the washroom.”
“You didn’t say anything,” I whisper, bowing my head in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
His finger finds my chin. Tilting it up until my eyes meet his, he smiles. “You did mean to eavesdrop. Just as I meant to read the letter.”
Chapter 35
Bella
He’s right. I can’t argue his point. My eavesdropping was intentional. I had no idea that I was listening to his side of a conversation with his dad. His sister was the woman he was talking about. I wasn’t aware he had a sibling. I didn’t bother researching his family the night I was drooling over pictures of him online.
His hand leaves my chin, and I instantly feel bereft. I’ve never craved the touch of a man as much as I crave his. I shouldn’t, but I can’t control the need I feel every time I’m near him.
I cover my mouth with my hand to hide the heavy sigh that escapes me. My lungs ache. My body is both numb and on fire. Everything’s changed, yet it all still feels the same.
He doesn’t say anything, so I take the reins. “You have a sister?”
It’s an obvious question after his confession that the man he was talking to was his dad. It’s hard for me to imagine a confrontation like that with my dad.
“Three.” His arms cross his chest. “Technically, they’re all half-sisters. We share the same father. There are three mothers in the equation, including mine.”
“Where do you fall in that? Are you the oldest, the youngest or in the middle?” I ask trying to piece his family tree together.
“Oldest.” He half-smiles. “One is three years younger than me. Another is seven years my junior and then, last but not least is Henrietta. She’s four.”
Thirty years separate him and his youngest sibling. The span between Gina and me is barely three years, and I sometimes wonder if we have anything in common.
“My father likes being a father.” He laughs. “To my sisters more than to me.”
His confession is marred by a pained look behind the laugh. From the outside looking in, I can tell it’s a complicated situation.
“I’ve lost touch with my sisters.” He pushes a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to bridge the gap since two of them live here.”
“In New York?”
Circling his thumb over my wrist, he nods. “My dad found love and a vineyard in California a few years ago, so Henrietta is a west coast kid. Before that, he settled here after my folks split up.”
The sound of my phone chiming lures his gaze over his shoulder toward the table. When he turns his attention back to me, his jaw is clenched. “Dale is still waiting for an answer to his big question. Are you going to visit him in Philly?”