Love’s Unselfish Gift Read online

  What a way to answer a question.

  “Mark,” I said, turning to face him. Now I had cause to worry. “You owe me this much.”

  “I don’t owe you anything, Suzy, but I’ll give you something to hang on to. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t dig for too much information. You’re going to ruin your best chance for a real romance again. Don’t throw that away because of some kind of sick need you have to make Marco into the kind of man you want to hate for reasons other than dying on you.”

  “I could never hate him.”

  “I have a feeling you could.”

  “So he cheated on me?”

  “I thought you were more concerned about the gambling and his involvement in throwing the games?”

  “I am but there’s more to this than throwing games and collecting pocket change on the side.”

  “We aren’t talking mad money here, Suzy.”

  “Millions?”

  “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Maybe not, but he will be. You’d be a first-class fool if you let him get away now.”

  “Well that’s a swift change, don’t you think? Why is that, Mark? First, you didn’t want me anywhere near him. Now you can’t wait to hand me over to him. What’s next? Will you be his best man if he asks?”

  He glared straight ahead.

  “How much fucking money did Marco hide and where do I find it?”

  “Like I said, we aren’t talking the kind of money someone hides in their toddler’s piggybank.”

  “Millions?”

  “More than Marco would’ve ever made in the PFC over the course of seven lifetimes.”

  I swallowed tightly. “And how much is that?”

  “Like I said, you’ll have to talk to your boyfriend.”

  Satisfied with his answer, I revisited the earlier question Mark didn’t want to address. “Mark, if I ever meant anything to you, please tell me the truth. Did Marco have other women?”

  Mark’s skin looked white as snow, and he shook his head. “No, Suzy. Marco didn’t have other women.”

  Reaching for the box, Mark’s hand touched mine and he caressed the back of my fingertips. “Walk away from this,” he said quietly.

  In that very moment, something occurred to me. The package of Marco’s memories held all the answers, the evidence I needed to prove Marco wasn’t who I thought he was. Glancing inside the box one last time, a photograph caught my attention, one I hadn’t noticed before.

  Yanking it out of the small container, I stared at the picture in disbelief. “Suzy,” Mark said. “Give me that.”

  “This…this man has his…oh my God! He’s holding hands with Marco!”

  Mark grabbed for the snapshot, but I held fast to the only proof I needed. “He wasn’t having an affair with a woman but…but…”

  The door slammed behind us, and I looked up in time to see Alanzo stalking toward us. “What have you been telling her?” he demanded.

  “Nothing,” Mark promised. “The pictures say plenty.” Then he said, “And no, he wasn’t having an affair—with a man or a woman.”

  Fury existed in every step Alanzo took. “What the hell are you doing, Suzy?” he asked, taking the glossy five by seven and ripping it to shreds.

  “He was gay?” I just couldn’t process any other explanation. There was a picture of Marco and he was holding hands with a man.

  “He wasn’t gay for crying out loud,” Alanzo yelled. “And that picture was taken right after the Rascals signed him so you weren’t even a passing thought.”

  “I saw the picture. He was holding hands with an older man. When they were together doesn’t matter to me.”

  Alanzo shook his head. “You’re mistaken.”

  “Mark?”

  “Suzy, I told you to drop it.”

  “Maybe your ex isn’t as dumb as he acts after all. Why don’t you listen to him?” Alanzo suggested, a dark edge embedded in his tone.

  “No, why don’t you tell me the truth?”

  “Tell her,” Mark encouraged. “You tell her or I will,” he added, strolling toward the foyer.

  Mark left, but I don’t remember hearing the door open or close. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Alanzo. I waited to hear everything. From start to finish, I wanted to know it all.

  “I loved him,” I whispered, the tears drifting over my cheeks. “I loved him so much.”

  “And he loved you.”

  “He. Was. Gay!”

  “No, Suzy, he was controlled.”

  “What do you mean, controlled?”

  Alanzo walked over to the bar and poured himself a club soda. Then he sipped it like he might have savored a single malt scotch.

  Rubbing his finger around the rim of his glass, he finally said, “The man in the picture is Geoff Alberto. You’re familiar with the story surrounding Marco’s first girlfriend’s death. That man is her father. If you’d looked closer, you would have noticed Marco’s death stare. Marco didn’t want his picture made with Geoff, but Geoff grabbed him by the hand right before he walked away from the table. The photographer took the shot at the precise moment when Geoff reached for him.”

  “And you’re saying Geoff controlled Marco and his career?”

  “You think a nobody from Kansas made it all the way to starting quarterback of the Dallas Rascals without someone pulling a few strings? How do you think my parents packed up and moved to South Padre the second Marco secured his deals?”

  “I’ve never thought about it.”

  “My brother was in bed with the wrong people, but not literally, regardless of what that picture may imply. Suzy, I didn’t want you hurt or mixed up in any of this.”

  “Wait a minute. What are you talking about? Mixed up in what?”

  Alanzo took a deep breath. “The charities you and Marco have supported, at least for the most part, are those set up by the family Marco supported during his lifetime, and you’ll be expected to support them now.”

  “I’ll be damned first.”

  “No, Suzy. Marco already made sure you were damned, or at least you will be if you don’t have someone here taking care of things for you.”

  “I don’t need your help! Don’t you think you and your family have done enough?”

  “Like it or not, I’m taking care of this problem for you. Marco would expect me to protect you.”

  “Protect me? So now I needed protection?” I stared at the crumbled photograph in Alanzo’s hands. Then, my gaze lifted to his. “Are you in bed with them too?”

  He leaned back on the sofa, crossing his left leg over his right while spreading his arms out over the top of the cushions. “Do you honestly think I’d ever snuggle up with someone hell bent on controlling me?”

  Looking at his thick arms then, not to mention every other visible masculine feature, I seriously doubted Alanzo was any man’s financial bitch. Then again, Marco once looked much the same way. I shook my head and walked to the kitchen, leaving him to sit in his sexy little position all by himself.

  “Go ahead, Suzy. Pour you a drink. Drown your sorrows. The truth is still going to slap the shit out of you tomorrow.”

  I walked across the ceramic tiles still faster, allowing the clickety-click of high heels to sing to me while strolling toward the cabinet where Mark left the whiskey several nights before.

  Yes indeed, I was pouring a drink. Oh, hell yeah, I was sinking into my misery. But first, I had a few things to say. I immediately turned around, facing off with a man who needed to understand how I interpreted the problem.

  “Marco didn’t tell me because he wanted to protect himself. He was afraid I’d go to the PFC commissioner or worse, go public. Marco loved the image he created for his fans. He was such a good guy, an upstanding citizen who happened to make a little more money than the average fellow and for what? To funnel money to the mob? He knew shit would hit the fan. I don’t support this kind of thing.”

  “Oh real
ly?”

  I glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Forget about it,” Alanzo said. After a beat he said, “Marco didn’t have a choice.”

  “If he didn’t have the right to choose, how in the hell do you expect me to think you do?”

  “Because,” he said smirking. “I’m not my brother. I’ve been trying to tell you that for quite some time. Suzy, you need me right now, and you need me more than you know. Now that the speaking engagements are over, you’ll be approached. Alberto’s men have already been circling here. Mom saw some of them stalking the cottage.”

  “Oh my God,” I said, covering my mouth. “That’s why you wanted the cottage sold?”

  “Yes, part of the reason. You’re safer here.”

  “Safer? You think they’ll kill me?”

  “If you don’t do what they tell you, probably.”

  “You mean if I don’t pay up when they ask?”

  “They know Marco skimmed off the top.”

  “Skimmed off the top?” Oh I was angry. “It was his damn money!”

  “He was supposed to pay them ninety percent of everything he made, one way or the other, through one charity or foundation or another. Since they didn’t get what they thought they were owed, they’ll suspect someone did. That someone is you.”

  “I’m a wealthy woman,” I told him. “But my wealth didn’t accumulate because of Marco or what he gave me.”

  “No, but you have more than enough coming to you to keep up with their demands, at least initially.”

  I resented the hell out of this. “How did Corby and Mark get involved?”

  “There were a few thrown games where Corby and Mark were suspicious. They’ve been involved in football long enough to notice. They approached Marco and he didn’t deny it. Come to find out, Mark was already in deep with Geoff Alberto, too, or at least soon would’ve been. Alberto’s men approached him after a season opener three years ago and threatened Cassie and the kids.”

  “I can’t deal with this,” I whispered, turning back toward the kitchen.

  “You’re not going to cope with the truth any better tomorrow.”

  Like hell.

  “This problem will still be here when you sober up, Suzy. You have to face this. You can run from it, but you can’t hide because you’re scared of what you don’t know, or what you didn’t understand about Marco’s life.”

  I took a deep breath and studied Alanzo. He didn’t seem too worried. He, in fact, looked relaxed.

  Good, I decided. Let him worry about this. His brother caused this mess. Alanzo should clean it up.

  I wouldn’t face anything tomorrow or even the day after. I was going to drink until I couldn’t feel. Then, I’d awaken from the first binge and crack open another bottle, so I could start all over again.

  Maybe when I finished with the booze in the basement, Alanzo would be gone. If not, he was a better man than his brother.

  Chapter Eleven

  Two Weeks Later

  I woke up in a strange place. Numerous hospital lights overhead were dim but blinding nonetheless. The blue fluorescent bulbs cast a glare across the room where it met the bright sunshine gleaming outside the window. The dust particles in the place lingered in the center of the space like they had nowhere to hide.

  Rolling over to a plaster wall, I looked up to see if I spotted an IV hooked to my arm. No IV and no hospital gown. Oh shit, I thought, sitting up all at once.

  Rehab.

  “Nice of you to join us, Mrs. Giovanni.”

  “It’s Miss and it’s Illiani,” I corrected. Hell, I might as well take back my maiden name. After recent discoveries and feeling like the butt of every man’s joke, I needed to return to the Suzy I was before I met Marco, the woman I liked much better than the mousy broad Marco created for his own pleasure.

  “All right, I’ll make a note of it,” the nurse said.

  I studied the older woman. She looked nice enough. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled tightly into a neat bun high on top of her head. She showed off her pearly white teeth when she flashed a pleasant smile, and she had kind eyes proving she had a soul somewhere, which was a relief. I’d had enough of rubbing shoulders with those who didn’t possess one.

  “Do you know where you are?”

  “Sure I do. I just woke up about five minutes ago and, what do you know, I’m in a hospital, a rehab, I presume.”

  “Yes and you’re in South Padre.”

  “Perfect,” I drawled. “And let me guess who brought me here.”

  “Your mother-in-law.”

  “I was going for the brother-in-law, but Anna makes sense.”

  “Do you want to leave?”

  “I have a choice?”

  “We all have choices in life. I think you should stay, but we can’t hold you against your will.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Seven days.”

  “And I’m just meeting you for the first time?”

  “You were sedated.”

  “Excellent. Can you knock me out again for the rest of my natural life?”

  The woman took a deep breath. “Your brother-in-law filled me in on your particular case. You went on a drinking binge because of some disturbing news you discovered about your deceased husband?”

  “Sure, disturbing. If that works for Alanzo and Anna, I can play along.”

  “What would you call it?”

  I coughed. “I…well, I can’t exactly tell you. Ask me again in a few hours. Disturbing works for now.”

  She handed me a clipboard. “I need you to go over these papers. You were originally here under a court order for your safety, but now you have the option of leaving or staying. We’ll need you to sign over your consent for treatment.”

  “Court order?”

  “Yes, your mother-in-law secured a court order to seek emergency medical and detox treatment for you after your brother-in-law found you in your Dallas home.”

  He didn’t find me. He was with me. Evidently, he wanted to protect his name in the media. Apparently, they didn’t think about mine when they secured a court order. I was probably front-page tabloid news by now.

  “I’m not signing these papers.”

  “I recommend—”

  I stood and the act wasn’t easy. Wobbling to find my balance, I said, “I don’t give a damn about your recommendation. I need you to call someone to pick me up. I can give you my ex-husband’s number.”

  “If you want to call a friend or a family member,” the woman said sweetly, “you can do it yourself. We don’t offer concierge services here, Miss Illiani.”

  At least she had the name right now.

  “Can you point me toward the nearest phone?”

  “No, ma’am. If you choose to leave here, you’ll walk out. There’s a convenience market about a mile down the road, and if you have change in your purse, you should be able to use the phone there or at least use your debit card at the ATM.”

  I scoured the room for my handbag. “Where is my purse?”

  The woman walked across the room, and before she left, she said, “Beats me. I wasn’t here when you arrived. However, we have a policy here at Oceanside Detox, and all of our patients are assigned private rooms with lockers. Your personal effects are in the locker behind the bathroom door. If you came here with anything other than the clothes on your back, I imagine you’ll find your belongings there.”

  With her last remark, the nurse, who I mistakenly believed could become an ally, walked away with a tight grin on her face. She must’ve decided she wasn’t in the mood to form alliances when I didn’t agree to sign her stupid forms. So much for a soul, the woman didn’t even have a heart.

  Taking short steps toward the bathroom, I slammed the door and found the locker. Desperate, I yanked it open and found nothing there except my house slippers.

  “Fuck my life!”

  This definitely had the earmarks of Anna Giovanni. This was the last straw.
It was time to take my life back. The Giovanni family had controlled me for the last time.

  Sliding the slippers over my feet, I glanced around the room for anything else that might belong to me. Then I marched out the door and down the hall.

  * * * *

  It was raining. I didn’t care. I crossed my arms and stomped down the twenty-some brick steps and followed the long brick driveway back to the main road.

  I could smell the salt water in the air and resisted the urge to run for the beach, assuming the only way to the ocean from where I stood was on the other side of rehabilitation. I rushed by the large sign welcoming guests to Oceanside Detox Center. Right under the logo, a mission statement read something along the lines of “Where privacy and rehabilitation remain our priority.”

  Yeah right. That was prior to my entry there. I bet they had a long list of individuals waiting for admission after they signed me in as a patient.

  In the PFC, one didn’t have to worry about keeping up with the Joneses. It was more along the lines of keeping up with the Tellers, and since I was still affiliated with them, it was a safe bet every wealthy woman in the state of Texas wanted their twenty-one days at Oceanside Detox.

  I kept walking. Surely, I’d run into the press, and if I did, then someone there would gladly take me home.

  The rain came down in sheets. I rounded the bend and that’s where I spotted him. At first I was relieved. After all, walking down the street in the pouring rain with my slippers splashing from one puddle straight into the next didn’t offer a lot of appeal. Then I remembered.

  The man behind the wheel of that little red Corvette was ultimately responsible for my trip to South Padre. I kept right on walking even when his wheels rolled through a few deep puddles and the automobile slid to a sudden halt.

  “Suzy!” Alanzo called out. “Suzy! Damn it. Get in this car.”

  “No way in hell.” I kept right on trucking it, swinging my arms as fast as I could in order to get to where I was going. I didn’t care where I ended up as long as I wasn’t near a Giovanni or a detox center.

  I broke into an outright run, and soon after, Alanzo grabbed me from behind and swung me over his shoulder. “You’re not running away from me.”