Venice Nights (His Submissive #4.5)(20)
Author: Ava Claire

The only woman he ever let me meet was Allegra, and when I was older and asked about his time in Italy, he changed the subject.” Jacob leaned back against the counter. “It wasn’t until I took the reins of the company and we hosted a film festival in Venice that I started spending a good deal of time in the country myself—and met Isabella.”

I sipped my wine, sparks of warmth firing all over me. “You’ve only known each other for a couple of years? You seem a lot closer.”

He sliced a hand through his hair, his eyes hardening. “That makes sense. We were almost family.”

I frowned, not understanding.

“Isabella was one of the women my father hooked up with while he was abroad,” he explained.

I had figured as much. “But he was only in a long term relationship with Al, right?”

Jacob nodded. “That’s right. He was hopelessly devoted to Allegra. Hell, he completely ended things with Isabella as a show of his love to Al because they were friends.” Jacob put his wine glass aside, all liquid gone.

I shook my head in a mixture of awe and disgust, but I still did not understand what that had to do with Jacob and Isabella almost becoming family.

“This all sounds like some soap opera.”

“Oh, this is better than any soap,” Jacob said with a bitter chuckle. “My dad was a real romantic—just not to the wife he had back in the U.S. And to hell with the other other woman that was carrying his child.”

My eyes bulged from my skull. “Your dad had another kid?”

Jacob bit off a single word. “Yes.”

The final pieces clicked together. “Isabella.”

I finished my wine in a single gulp. I was not sure what was more shocking; that Jacob had a half brother or sister, or that Allegra had been friends with Isabella.

But then there was the painting. The look on Jacob’s face as he showed it to me. It had something to do with Isabella.

The Grieving Mother.

I gasped as a chill settled over me. “Jacob, she didn’t lose the baby, did she?” I knew the answer, but I did not want to believe it.

“A little girl.” His voice was hollow inside. “Yes, she lost the baby.”

A sister.

I rushed to him, throwing both arms around him and squeezing tight. Tears flooded my eyes. “I am so sorry.”

He did not hug me back, his body rigid and unyielding. He waited until I took a step back to speak. “You have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t abandon Isabella when you knew she was pregnant, and ignore her after the baby was born too soon with extensive health problems. Health problems that could have been solved with a flick of his pen.”

I didn’t know what to say. The whole situation was so heartbreaking. As mean as Isabella had been to me, I felt so terrible for her. It must have destroyed her, having a sick child and knowing the father was a celebrity with an abundance of money and influence that he refused to provide.

“She didn’t go to the press?” I said, ticking off the questions in my head. “Did Allegra know about the baby?”

“As far as the press was concerned, there were countless women lined up and ready to dish about their affair with Carlton Whitmore. A story about a woman giving him the finger would have been more of a novelty than my father having a love child.” Jacob pushed away from the counter, moving to a sculpture on the other side of the room. His voice carried back to me. “I can’t speak to what happened between Isabella and Allegra. Neither of them acknowledges the other’s existence.”

That was the answer in and of itself, but I did not want to push it, so I asked a different question. “How did you find out about your sister? Through Isabella?”

Jacob studied a different sculpture, his face as frozen and shut-off as the marble one he gazed at. “It was in my father’s records. Isabella’s pleading letters stuffed beside invoices.” He crossed his arms, jaw clenching. “One of the many surprises I discovered when I took over.”

I inched toward him. The physical distance Jacob put between us, pretending that losing a sibling didn’t affect him, were all signs this still haunted him. He was Jacob Whitmore. His name  was whispered in hushed reverence by his fans and hissed out of earshot by his enemies.

The solemn quiet contradicted the taut lines of his body. He had so much bottled up inside that my first inclination was to stay back. When he inevitably exploded, I might not want to be in the immediate vicinity.

His hand shot toward one of the paintings, and I winced. I expected him to rip it from the wall and hurl it across the room, like he was hurling away the hurt that ate at him. He was clearly struggling to ignore the impact of a father who perfected the art of ignoring his responsibilities. But Jacob did not unleash hell on the portrait. He righted it and stood back, arms slashed across his chest.

“I ran into Isabella in a cafe. When she saw my face, she crumbled to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.”

I stepped beside Jacob, catching the pain that streaked across his face before he hid it away.

“She told me I looked just like him. That she saw my sis—” He stopped, clearing his throat. Catching the moment of vulnerability before it ran away from him.

I took a risk and pushed through the invisible wall he put up, placing my hand on his back. “Jacob, I am truly sorry.”

He tilted his chin in my direction, opening his mouth like he was about to share more, but thought better of it and snapped it shut, looking away.

“You don’t have to spare me the hard stuff,” I said softly. I willed him to look back at me, hope sparking when the muscles in his back relaxed slightly. “You can trust me.”

He took a step away from me, the hope evaporating. “That’s interesting, coming from you.”

My defenses went up. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s ironic that you’re talking about trust and opening up when you still haven’t opened up about how you feel about our relationship, now that the press are on Leila Watch.”

“Leila Watch?” I repeated with a face.

“Watching and waiting. Figuring out what buttons to push to make you go boom.”

The knot in my throat was impossible to swallow. My eyes darted around the room, expecting to see a camera flash

Keep it together! I straightened my spine. “There’s nothing to open up about as far as the press is concerned. Sure, they’re an inconvenience, but that comes with the territory.” It was my voice that was cold now. Indifferent.