“What is it?”
She pressed the notepad to her chest as though she didn’t want me to read it. “I think Thomas did something to you.”
“Let me see that.”
She reluctantly handed over the notepad, then twisted her hand in the mass that haloed her head.
I rapidly flipped the paper, skimming the words I’d written down at some point during the night. I’d used the entire pad. Nausea rose swiftly, followed by a wave of light-headedness. I sank onto the bed edge and swore. “This is why Thomas had to tell me about my ID in person.” I waved the pad in the air. Paper rustled, fanning with the movement. “He wanted me to come to him and he was ready for me. The bastard had me hypnotized.”
I tossed aside my notes and shot to my feet.
Thomas was my brother. He was also my sons’ uncle. A man they’d be exposed to should my screwed-up head figure out how to fix itself. Because James would want to return to California.
I paced to the window. The sun was already three-quarters across the sky. My gaze shot to the clock by the bed. 3:45 p.m. I’d slept away the day.
“Now do you see why I want you to be their guardian?”
“Carlos—” she started.
“Do you want Julian and Marcus exposed to people like that?” I gestured wildly at the notepad.
“Of course not.”
“They will be. That’s the family they’ll celebrate their holidays with. That’s who they’ll spend their summer breaks with. That’s who will want my sons working for their business.”
“You don’t know that.”
“That’s James’s fucking family, Nat. My family.” I smacked my chest.
I shoveled both hands into my hair and gripped tight. My gaze zigzagged from Natalya to the clock, and then to the notepad before coming to a skidding halt at the closet. I stomped across the room and hauled out my suitcase. In the bathroom, I gathered up my belongings and dumped them inside.
“What’re you doing?”
“Packing. I’m going home.” Then I remembered that I reeked.
“Carlos?”
I picked out clean clothes, grabbed my toiletries again, and went to the bathroom.
“Carlos!”
“What?” I snapped from the doorway.
Her cheeks took on a rosy hue. “There’s more going on here, Carlos,” she said firmly. “About your feelings and the way you feel about James and the Donato family.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Your reaction toward them is fierce.”
“It’s warranted, Nat. My brother had me hypnotized against my will.”
“Yes, I understand why you despise him. But when it comes to your sons, you have this primal need to keep them safe.”
“That’s part of being human, and my being a father.”
“Not every father feels the same. Otherwise there’d be a lot fewer cases of child abuse and neglect in the world today.”
I shifted my clothes under my arm. “What are you getting at?”
“Has it occurred to you James felt the same way about his family as you do? His oldest brother nearly raped his fiancée. You’ve told me about the dreams you used to have of Aimee before you knew who she was, and the terror you felt about not being able to protect her. Don’t leave until you learn about James. Because if you used to be anything like the man you are today, and I have to believe you are, James will give up his own life keeping Julian and Marcus safe.”
CHAPTER 19
JAMES
Present Day
June 27
Hanalei, Kauai, Hawaii
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” James lunges to his feet. The back of his legs itch from grass and sand, but he ignores it. “What in the world are you talking about?”
Natalya tilts her head. The glow from the house lights outline her silhouette, leaving her face dark. He can’t read her expression.
“The paperwork. What’s it for?” he asks more specifically.
“Guardianship of Julian and Marcus. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
He raises bent arms. “No!”
“But you said on the phone . . .” She stalls.
“I said what?” He moves a step closer.
She frowns and takes a deep, shaky breath. “Jeez, this is confusing. I was talking about Carlos, not you. It’s that every time I look at you, I see . . . him.”
While today is the first time he’s seen her in person, she’s been around him for years. The reconstructive surgery to his face helped Aimee separate him from Carlos in her mind, but to Natalya, he looks identical to the man she loved.
Her shoulders bow and chin lowers. “This is so weird.”
He slides his hands into his pockets and ducks his head to look up at her. “If it helps any, I’m floating in that same boat.” Seeing her is like seeing a character from a novel come to life. He’s read so much about her. Knows numerous intimate details, such as why she wears scars on her lower belly and that she hurt as much as the women her father left behind when he traversed the globe.
His eyes have slowly adjusted to the night sky and he sees a flash of white appear when she quickly smiles. A light breeze ruffles her skirt and he’s quite taken with how beautiful she is. His body has made love to her. His hands have touched every secret fold. And his mouth has worshipped every feminine curve.
His mind, though, can’t recall a damn second of it, and strangely, James regrets that.
Natalya gathers her hair, gives it a twist, and drops it over her shoulder. “Let me rephrase so this isn’t confusing to either of us. Carlos didn’t want his sons raised around the Donato family. He didn’t trust them, and that includes you. He was also convinced you wouldn’t want to be burdened with two kids you didn’t ask for. He asked me to assume legal guardianship. He told me he was going to give you an ‘out clause’”—she air-quoted—“by writing in his journal that I would take your kids should you not want to raise them. When you called and said you want me to watch your sons—”
“Not indefinitely.” He slices a hand outward in the space between them. “Maybe just a week or two, if that. But let’s get back to Carlos. There’s one thing we can agree upon, and that’s my family. I don’t trust my brothers anywhere near my sons.”
Natalya releases a long, steady breath. She smiles gloriously. “I’m so relieved to hear that.” He now realizes why she gave him the cold reception at the airport. She thought he was unloading his sons on her.
“My mother, though, is another story.”
“Yeah.” Natalya rolls up on her toes and back. “That was a shocker. I can’t believe Carla is your mother. Should I be worried?”
He itches the back of his neck, then his elbow. “I can handle her. The boys don’t know about her, and I’m not sure how they’ll handle the news.” He takes the empty bottles from Natalya and motions for her to follow him back to the house. Mosquitoes are biting. “They’re already mad at me because I’m not their real dad. How do you think they’ll feel when they learn the old lady next door that bought them ice cream and churros isn’t who they thought she was either?”