Immortal Billionaire, page 17
“If you have always been the head of the house, what happened to Máximo and Cariña’s children?”
“Máximo became very wealthy. Through him, the de León fortune extended beyond Corazón to the other de Perlas islands. His children went on to found their own dynasties.”
“I wonder if they ever questioned why their father never aged.”
“I guess they put it down to good genes.” Sylvester laughed. “And the magic of Corazón.” His face became serious. “Once they were adults, they didn’t remain on the island, so none of them was around long enough to question why I didn’t age.”
Connie frowned. “Didn’t it become strange for you when Cariña did age? When you were still a young man but she was an old woman?”
“My memories of that time aren’t clear enough for me to answer that. Apart from the lifetime I am living now, I have only vague recollections, snippets of what has happened during the many years of my life. I remember everything that has happened to Sylvester, but my life as Máximo or Emilio is less clear. Sometimes it gets annoying, like when you try to remember the name of a film or a song title and it just won’t come to you. When you try to force it, it becomes more elusive.” He stopped, catching her by the hand, so she turned to face him. “I know how much I loved Cariña...loved you, love you still. I never dreamed that I would see you again. Not until I returned to Valladolid. These few weeks, having you here, having love in my life again after so long, has been the most amazing gift. Many men have older wives, and it would have been a gradual change, something that crept up on us. What I know for sure is the hardest part was losing her.”
The hurt in his eyes when he spoke of losing Cariña told her all she needed to know about the end of the first part of their love story. They might never know why she had been reborn now and not at any other time during the last five hundred years. Perhaps it was part of some plan Corazón had for them, or maybe it was an accident of time and fate. Puzzling over these things only seemed to create more questions. It was a timely reminder that this part of their story was drawing to a close. Each time she thought about it, the hurt was as fresh and raw as the first time. I will never grow used to this pain. Never accept that he must be taken from me this way. Even when I am old and gray, I will never say, “It was meant to be.”
“If we had stayed in Valladolid...” She wasn’t sure where the words came from, or even what they meant.
She couldn’t see Sylvester’s eyes because the moonlight shadowed his features, but she sensed their warmth on her face.
“You sound just like her. Even though Florida was her home, Cariña loved the old house at Valladolid. But, for so many reasons, staying there wasn’t an option. Firstly, it was as if we were always meant to return here. The pull of Corazón was too strong for us to resist. And, in spite of everything, this has been my home for a very long time.” He turned and they both looked up at the beautiful, golden building. It looked like a house of happy endings. How could it lie to them? How could it let things turn out so badly?
“Secondly, there was danger for Cariña in Valladolid. It was the capital of Castile, home of the Spanish Inquisition. Although she attended Mass, she was an outsider and the strange story of her traveling across the world to join Máximo attracted attention. It only needed a wrong word and trouble, greater than a Calusa curse, would have been headed her way.”
Connie smiled. “And let’s not forget the third reason.”
“Third reason?”
“That you, Máximo de León y Soledad—” calling him by that name sent a frisson of pleasure down her spine “—are an adventurer. One who couldn’t resist the lure of this ‘new world.’”
“Ah, yes. That reason. I’d almost forgotten about that.” He gave a soft laugh. “And we returned with Spanish gold. It enabled us to buy this island, and later others in the de Perlas chain, from the Calusa. As the Calusa numbers dwindled, the king who followed Yargua withdrew his chiefs from this part of his realm. He was glad to receive our money in return for these lands.”
“You built up quite an empire in those early days.”
“All for nothing. Although Máximo and Cariña’s children each inherited their own islands, their descendants traveled farther afield, to Spain and Cuba. The curse took everything over time. Gradually the old woman’s words took shape. None of them were bad people, but their hearts weren’t pure enough to withstand the curse. We had everything except good fortune.” His voice was hollow. “That’s why the de León family dwindled over the centuries and I’m forced now to turn to strangers when I make my will.”
“Where did your immortality come from?” It was a question Connie had wondered about ever since he had told her.
“I don’t know. I wondered if Sinapa cursed me with immortality when she cursed the de León family. But I will disappear on Sylvester’s thirtieth birthday and turn up on Máximo’s thirtieth birthday in 1521. Sylvester doesn’t exist after that and Máximo doesn’t exist before that. I’m not born and I don’t die. I don’t see how Yargua’s mother could have worked her magic on me to make that happen when she hadn’t met Máximo until he arrived here.”
“So you could lose this memory of our time together once you return to Valladolid?” Connie said. “In the same way you have lost parts of the last five hundred years.”
His face was sad. “I hope the magic allows me to capture at least something of this time. As for the rest, I don’t understand any of it. I just know how it is meant to be.”
Connie stood on the tips of her toes to brush his lips with hers. “That’s the point of magic. You don’t get to understand it.”
His hands on her waist were warm and firm through the thin cotton of her dress. “There is magic every time I look at you and I understand that. It’s called love.”
“Charmer.” She teased her tongue along his lower lip, delighting in his indrawn breath and the tensing of his muscles.
They turned and walked back the way they had come. Dinner had been a subdued meal. After the attack on Jonathan, Guthrie had insisted he and Lucinda eat in his room. They would not be leaving its safety, he had informed Sylvester, until a boat arrived that could take them off the island.
Jonathan had sustained two broken ribs in the attack, but it was his head injuries that worried Roberto most.
“This wasn’t like the attack on Matt. Jonathan wasn’t meant to recover from this,” Roberto had said, his usually pleasant face serious, after he had finished examining Jonathan. “And I don’t think he’s out of trouble yet.”
Roberto had moved into Jonathan’s room to care for him and had joined Sylvester, Connie and Matt at dinner. Juan had declined an invitation, choosing to eat in the kitchen with Vega instead.
“There must be someone hiding on the island.” Roberto had been insistent. “It’s the only possible explanation.”
“We’ve searched everywhere,” Sylvester had said.
“That just means we haven’t found his hiding place. Yet.”
The house was silent now as they entered, even though it was still early. It would be easy to follow Guthrie and Lucinda’s example and remain locked away until they were able to leave the island. But Connie refused to spend her last few days with Sylvester in hiding.
She headed toward the stairs, but Sylvester took her hand and turned toward a room she hadn’t been in until now. “This is my study.” He opened the door and flicked on the light. “I don’t pretend to be an artist, but I painted this many years ago from memory.”
He stepped back so she could view the picture on the wall. Set in a plain wooden frame, it depicted a very old, very beautiful, house built of rose-colored brick. Fading sunlight just touched the terra-cotta roof tiles and the wrought-iron rails of the uppermost balconies. Although this house was the grandest, it clearly formed part of a square of other homes, and Connie glimpsed the spire of a church in the background.
That tingling feeling of a memory that was more than remembrance came back to her again. This time it was like a warm embrace. Briefly, she heard the cries of street vendors in the town square, felt the dusty Spanish heat and smelled the scent of the orange groves. She turned to Sylvester with shining eyes.
“It’s the old house at Valladolid.”
“In a few days’ time, when I am gone, I want you to have this picture.”
Unable to speak, she crossed the distance between them and was swept into his arms.
* * *
Connie opened her eyes, unsure what had woken her. All she knew was that it wasn’t a dream this time. She had been sleeping soundly when her eyes flew suddenly open. Used to sensing danger, she had never before woken so abruptly or with such certainty that there was someone in the room.
She was so sure menace lurked in the dark corners of Sylvester’s bedroom that she didn’t even allow the gasp that rose in her throat to escape her lips. Instead, barely breathing, she tamped down the panic that threatened to consume her and lay still, allowing her eyes to roam over the shapes and shadows.
There! Near the open balcony door...the door that had been closed when she’d fallen asleep in Sylvester’s arms. The slightest shift, so subtle it was barely a movement at all, caught her eye. Her instinct for peril had been right. Someone was in the room. Tired of haunting her dreams, her stalker had returned to her reality at last.
Inching her fingertips across the space toward to Sylvester, she reached for his hand, intending to wake him. Relief flooded through her when he lightly gripped her fingers with his, warning and reassuring her at the same time. He was awake and as aware of the intruder as she was.
When the stalker sprang, it was fast, and it wasn’t in the direction Connie expected. He didn’t come for her. Fluid, merging with the darkness, the attacker launched himself at Sylvester. By the light of a thin streak of moonlight sneaking through a gap in the drapes, Connie caught a glimpse of a knife blade and cried out in terror.
Around her the shadows erupted and Connie strained her eyes to make out what was happening. Her hand hovered over the lamp switch. If she illuminated the scene, would she help Sylvester or risk giving the advantage to the stalker? He was the one with a weapon; if he could see, it would make Sylvester an easier target. In the end, she decided darkness might work in Sylvester’s favor. All she could do was hope she was right. That, and try to get to the door so she could raise the alarm.
Sliding from the bed, she crouched low, grateful she had fallen asleep wearing a tank top and her underwear. Perhaps modesty wasn’t important at a time like this, but she was glad she didn’t have to knock on doors and attempt to cover her nakedness while she asked Matt or Roberto for help.
Her eyes were growing more accustomed to the darkness now and she could make out two distinct figures engaged in a desperate fight. As she made a dive for the door, one of the men turned his head and looked her way with a snarling sound. Although she couldn’t see his face, she knew who he was. He had been her constant companion for the last four years. The thought caused her to freeze.
“Run, Connie.” Sylvester’s words brought the stalker’s attention back to him and the knife gleamed briefly in the attacker’s hand before making a deadly downward arc.
Sylvester’s guttural cry told Connie the worst had happened. He had been stabbed. She had no idea how bad it was. Her impulse was to go to him, no matter what danger might be waiting for her. Her own safety didn’t matter. She couldn’t leave Sylvester, not if he was hurt.
“Connie, go...” Sylvester’s voice was breathless, urgent.
With a strangled sob, she reached for the handle, just as the door flew open. Light flooded the room and Roberto was framed in the doorway, clad only in sweatpants. His black hair stood up in every direction as though he had just woken.
“Something woke me, almost like someone shaking me awake. Then I heard a noise. Someone cried out...”
Before Connie could move, the masked intruder covered the distance between them. His hand drew back and the knife, already red with Sylvester’s blood, plunged hilt-deep into Roberto’s stomach.
Roberto crumpled in a helpless heap on the floor.
Sylvester, his shoulder and arm drenched with blood, staggered forward and swung the bedside lamp with both hands. It crashed into the stalker’s back, toppling him forward on top of Roberto.
“Get his mask off.” Swaying on the spot, Sylvester’s complexion was gray, his features etched with pain and shock. He was clearly having trouble staying upright, let alone speaking.
“I can’t.” The words came out as a terrified whisper. After all this time, she couldn’t touch him, couldn’t bear to look into his eyes. She dreaded learning the final, awful truth of who he was. This man had controlled her life for so long. He controlled it still. Her body refused to make a move in his direction, urging her instead to follow her instincts and flee from him once more. Four years of conditioning were too much to overcome. Her natural motion was away from him not toward him.
As Sylvester lost consciousness, Connie ran from the room, attempting to call out for Matt and Guthrie. No matter how hard she tried, the sound that left her lips was no more than a croak. After a few attempts, she caught her breath, her desperate footsteps slowing to a halt. Wait. What am I doing? No matter how afraid she was, she had left Sylvester and Roberto while they were helpless with the stalker...and the knife.
She had no more than a split second to think. Keep going and get help or go back? Did she choose fear or love? Taking a deep breath, she turned around, making her way back along the corridor to Sylvester’s room. Fear, cold and visceral, held her tightly in its grip, but she remembered all the times she had told herself she wouldn’t allow him to defeat her. That she would rather be dead. A tiny moan escaped her. Me. Not Sylvester. Don’t let Sylvester be dead.
Almost afraid to look, she pressed her shoulders to the wall, risking a swift glance around the door frame. Roberto lay still, exactly as he had fallen, the knife still protruding from his stomach. He didn’t appear to be breathing. Sylvester was on his hands and knees, slowly attempting to get to his feet.
The stalker was gone.
Chapter 14
The world swam dangerously out of focus as Sylvester leaned heavily on Connie and they made their way to the bathroom. He eased himself down onto the commode, his good hand flat against the tiled wall for support.
“Roberto?” If he could find the energy, he’d have cursed the weak note in his voice.
“He’s dead, Sylvester.” Her voice broke on a tiny sob and he sensed the effort it was taking her to hold herself together.
He bowed his head, thinking of the man who had worked for him for the last twenty years. The man who had been more friend than employee. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. You blacked out again as you tried to get to your feet. I knew that at least you were alive then, so I left you for a few minutes while I checked on Roberto. He has no pulse.” She swallowed hard, clearly fighting back the memory. Bending her head, she examined the deep gash that ran from the shoulder to the elbow of his left arm. “I don’t want to leave you alone, but I need more than just water to tend to this. I need to get Roberto’s medical kit from Jonathan’s room.”
“Can you clean me up for now, then we can go together to Jonathan’s room?”
She nodded. Opening the medicine cabinet, she found painkillers and shook two out of the bottle. Pouring water into a glass, she held the pills out to him. “Take these.”
His hand shook as he accepted the water from her and Connie closed her fingers around his, lifting the glass with him so he could drink without spilling the cold liquid all over himself. He swallowed the pills, leaning his head back against the tiles as Connie took the glass away. The bathroom he knew so well kept swimming out of focus. Shock or blood loss? He wasn’t sure which. Maybe it was a combination of both.
“I heal fast,” he said as Connie soaked a washcloth and, kneeling between his knees, began to clean the blood from his torso. He attempted a smile. “Immortality has its compensations.”
The tears she’d been trying so hard to keep in check began to roll down her cheeks at those words. “When I thought I’d lost you just now, it hurt more than anything I could ever have imagined. And in a few days’ time, I get to do it all again for real.”
She rested her forehead on his now-clean chest, and he brought his good arm up to stroke her hair. After a few moments of this indulgence, Connie seemed refreshed and returned to her task. “Did you get any sense of who he was?”
Sylvester hissed a sharp breath in as she began to clean the wound itself. The action gave him a moment to collect his thoughts. Had he recognized his attacker? No. Did he know who he was? Know was too strong. Did he have an idea? Yes. Was he ready to share it? That was a whole other question. “It all happened so fast. I just wish I’d been able to knock him out with that lamp.”
“I couldn’t take his mask off when you asked me to.” Her voice was low and anguished. “I couldn’t touch him.”
He ducked his head, attempting to look at her face. “I understand, Connie. Really, I do.”
“Each of the men on the island, except Juan, has been attacked now,” she said as she continued to thoroughly swab the gash.
