“I don’t,” said Casper.
“Neither do I,” said Sarah. “Who are they?”
“Keep still,” barked Romina.
Both children looked downcast, their coolly impervious air gone. Flynt had no trouble reading their young faces now. They regretted displeasing their mother. His eyes shifted to Angelica, who was watching him closely.
He frowned. How should he play this? Angelica would probably laugh in his face if he segued into the role of Good Cop. Did she already know who her father was? And if she didn’t, shouldn’t she have some sort of preparation for such a momentous disclosure?
He scorned himself for even considering her reaction, let alone caring about it. He should be hoping she’d be so stunned, she would drop the damn gun!
He glanced at Romina. Why didn’t she say something? What was going on with these people?
Flynt felt his body churn with unaccustomed frustration. Never had he felt so clueless. He’d long prided himself as an expert in interpreting facial nuances and body language, in gauging motive and reaction. Not now. In the Carrolls, he’d hit a human brick wall.
“Feel free to jump in at any time, Romina. Otherwise, I’ll just go ahead and say it.” He looked at Romina. Who still didn’t say a thing.
“So go on and say whatever it is, why don’t you?” Casper taunted.
“Don’t bother,” said Angelica. “We’re not afraid of any threats you came here to make, so stop wasting our time—and your own—and leave. Now.”
Her finger lightly caressed the trigger in a gesture so obvious, Flynt knew she’d deliberately done it to goad him.
“This is ridiculous.” He sucked in his cheeks. “I don’t know what game you’re all playing—Family Stonewall, maybe?—but I’ve had enough.”
He took a deep breath and forged ahead. “I am not here to make threats. And I am not leaving until I tell you why I really am here.”
“Okay, let’s hear it. And then get out,” Angelica commanded.
“I arrived in Birmingham today, accompanied by Brandon Malone Fortune. He is your father, Angelica, and he wants to meet you as soon as possible. I came here first as a kind of advance man, a facilitator, to, uh, help ease whatever initial awkwardness there might be.”
He thought it best not to mention the blackmail threat just yet.
Anticipating some initial awkwardness had been optimistic, Flynt thought grimly. The silent tension that blanketed the room reminded him of the eerie, thick stillness that preceded weather phenomena, like killer tornados.
The silence stretched on for so long that Flynt himself felt the need to break it. “Somebody say something.” He made it a demand, not a request.
“Brandon in Birmingham.” Romina finally spoke. Her voice was cold and devoid of emotion. “Well, that’s good for a laugh, I guess. And since there aren’t any world-famous, luxury hotels in town, I’m sure neither of you will be staying. Brandon isn’t one to compromise his standards and settle for anything less.”
“We’re staying at the Premier Living Suites,” replied Flynt, naming a complex for business travelers. Romina’s insight surprised him. Even after all the years spent apart from him, she had accurately pegged Brandon’s reaction to accommodations lacking the prestigious five-star or diamond ranking. Brandon would have been satisfied to arrive and leave the city the same day that he squeezed in a meeting with his daughter, but Kate’s determination that he stay and try to develop a relationship with Angelica nixed a quick exit. Besides he’d grown fond of Kate and didn’t want to disappoint her. When their meeting had ended, the Fortune matriarch had drawn him aside and told him she had high hopes that having a daughter would give purpose and direction to Brandon’s life.
“Brandon is willing to meet you at his suite or here in this house or wherever you say, Angelica. It’s entirely your call,” said Flynt, hoping he sounded reassuring.
Unfortunately his irritation at Romina for placing him in the position of news breaker, gave his voice a harsher edge. Worse, he could tell that the news he’d broken really was news to Angelica and the kids.
For Flynt had seen the flash of shock and something that might have been pain cross Angelica’s face in the seconds before she composed her lovely features back into a mask of stoic cool.
“I’m well aware that Brandon Malone Fortune is my father, Mr. Corrigan.” Angelica sounded bored. “And I don’t want to meet him—anytime or anywhere.”
But Flynt was alert to the almost imperceptible pauses before she’d spoken her father’s name. Before she’d said the word father. She was covering well, but he perceived that the news had made an emotional impact upon her.
Angelica had not known Brandon Fortune was her father; every instinct Flynt possessed told him so.
Her next action confirmed it. Angelica silently walked to the bookcase in the living room, just off to the right, and placed the gun on the top shelf. Flynt watched her, his eyes fixed on the gentle sway of her hips as she walked. On the smooth white skin of her midriff, exposed when her shirt rode up as she stretched to stand on her toes to reach the highest shelf.
Tension hummed in his body. He continued to stare as she rejoined them in the small vestibule.
Angelica looked up at him, as if surprised to still find him there. “I told you I didn’t want to meet Mr. Fortune. Now why don’t you go back and tell him so, like a good, loyal lackey?”
That stung. Flynt scowled. “I’m nobody’s lackey, little girl. Remember that.”
“Only if you’ll remember not to ever refer to me as ‘little girl’ again.” Angelica’s eyes were flashing.
“You can reveal a lot in anger, Angel,” Romina warned. “Far too much.”
“I don’t mind revealing that I do not appreciate sexist comments about my height or my gender, Mama.” Angelica was ostensibly speaking to her mother, but her dark gaze was fastened on Flynt.
“Your uncle Gabe calls his wife, that’s your aunt Rebecca, ‘Shorty,’ and she doesn’t seem to mind,” Flynt said conversationally. “Of course, she’s not actually short so maybe it doesn’t seem to be that big a deal to her.”
“Angelica, just think, you have aunts and uncles!” exclaimed Sarah. “Tell us about Angelica’s father, Mr. Corrigan!” The girl was clearly astounded by the revelation and didn’t bother to conceal it. “Is he my dad, too?”
“And mine?” echoed Casper, who looked so hopeful that Flynt felt an overwhelming urge to throttle Romina.
Why had she let it happen this way? Why had she permitted her children to hear such personal, sensitive news from a stranger? From him! He felt like a purveyor of sleaze for the lowliest tabloid.
“Brandon Fortune is Angelica’s father, kids, but not yours,” Flynt said, when it became clear that Romina wasn’t going to answer them.
Was that the shine of tears in Angelica’s dark eyes? Flynt stared at her, watched her struggle to maintain her facade of control. He wanted to break through it, to get an emotional reaction from her. And wondered why.
After all, his own wall of reserve was as strong as a fortress. If he’d been in Angelica’s position, he would have responded exactly the same way she had. By concealing any pain. Controlling it by denying it. So why did he care?
Chapter 2
“W hy did her father come here to Birmingham?” quizzed Casper. And then his eyes widened and his mouth