Forgiven but Not Forgotten?

after our father’s spectacular crash and burn? I shouldn’t be surprised.’

It took long seconds before Siena realised that it wasn’t Andreas who had spoken in his deep voice. It was another voice—one that rang the faintest of bells. She tore her eyes from Andreas and looked to her left. She felt the blood drain from her face.

Rocco DeMarco. Her brother.

Siena barely heard Andreas acknowledge him tersely, ‘DeMarco.’

Her brother’s dark brown eyes left Siena momentarily to flick to Andreas, and he inclined his head slightly. ‘Xenakis. I see that my little half-sister Siena has found a benefactor to keep her in the style to which she’s accustomed.’

His resemblance to their father stunned her anew, as it had all those years before, and Siena wanted to weep with the ill-timing of this meeting. It was effortlessly confirming his worst opinion of her.

Faintly she said, ‘You recognise me.’ It wasn’t a question.

Those dark eyes went back to her. His mouth curled. ‘I followed the demise of our father in the press with great interest. You and your sister were featured prominently, but it would appear you’ve landed on your feet.’

Feeling weak, Siena said, ‘This…it’s not what it seems.’

Disgust was evident in Rocco’s expression, ice in his eyes, and Siena felt an ache in her heart. He was her flesh and blood.

‘Did you really think I would ever forget you? After you and Serena stepped over me like a piece of trash in the street? And as for our father… Tell me—have you heard from him?’

Siena shook her head, feeling sick. How could she explain here and now to this man that she hated her father as much as he did?

Just then a petite and very pretty red-haired woman joined Rocco, slipping her hand into his arm. The change in her brother was instantaneous as he drew her close and looked down at her, warmth and love shining from his eyes. When he looked back at Siena the ice returned and she shivered.

‘This is my wife—Gracie. Gracie, I’d like you to meet Siena. My youngest half-sister.’

Siena watched the woman tense and a wary expression came into her kind hazel eyes. Clearly she understood the significance of this meeting. She held out a hand, though, and Siena forced herself to shake it, feeling sick. She only noticed then the other woman’s very pregnant belly, and something sharp and poignant lanced her at the realisation that she might have a nephew or niece already.

Rocco looked at Andreas and said with deceptive lightness, ‘I presume from your expression that Siena hasn’t told you about our familial connection? Or about when I confronted our father and he knocked me to the ground as if I was nothing more than a dog in the street?’

‘Rocco…’

Siena heard his wife speak reprovingly, but his face remained ice-cold.

Siena found herself appealing to the other woman instinctively, saying, ‘I was only twelve. Things really weren’t as they seemed.’

The compassion in his wife’s eyes was too much for Siena. She pulled free of Andreas, whose expression she did not want to see, and all but ran from the room. The emotion blooming inside her was too much. Here was incontrovertible proof that she and Serena were on their own. She’d known very well that she couldn’t go to their brother, but it was another thing to see it for certain, no matter how kind his wife looked.

She’d always harboured a secret fantasy that one day she might go to Rocco and explain about their lives. That truly they weren’t all that different in the end…they had a common nemesis: their father.

Her throat burned as she tried to suppress the emotion, expecting Andreas’s presence at any moment. He wouldn’t stand for her running out like that. Not when she had a duty to fulfil by his side. Perhaps he’d be so disgusted by what he’d just learned that he’d be happy to see the back of her?

She heard his voice, cold behind her in the quiet part of the lobby she’d escaped to.

‘Why didn’t you tell me Rocco DeMarco was your half-brother?’

Siena didn’t turn around, struggling to compose herself. ‘It wasn’t relevant.’

Andreas snorted indelicately. ‘Not relevant? He’s one of the most powerful financiers in the world.’

Siena turned then and looked up at Andreas, steeling herself for his expression. It was exactly as she’d feared: a mixture of disgust and confusion. Siena retreated into attack to hide her raw emotions. She shrugged minutely. ‘As you can see he hates my guts, and my sister’s. Why should I bother myself with my father’s bastard son—born to a common prostitute?’

Siena’s insides were lacerated at her words. It was the opposite of what she believed. After that day when he’d confronted their father Siena had used to dream of him returning in the dead of night to take her and Serena away with him. But there was no way she would reveal that to Andreas.

‘Why, indeed?’ Andreas said now, and looked at her strangely. And then he started walking away, towards the entrance.

Siena faltered for a moment and went after him, having to hurry to keep up. When it was clear he was asking for his car, she asked a little breathlessly, ‘Don’t you want to go back inside?’