Millionaires' Destinies(161)

After that potent kiss, Ben was surprised and oddly disgruntled when Kathleen simply grabbed her coat and walked out without even waiting to say goodbye to Destiny or to Mack and Beth.

That was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? He’d wanted to scare her off. He should have felt nothing but relief that his plan had worked and his aunt’s plotting hadn’t succeeded, but he felt a little miffed, instead. That wasn’t a good sign. All of the Carlton men loved a challenge.

Which probably meant that Destiny had advised Kathleen to go with her patented “always leave ’em wanting more” maxim. Alone with Destiny now, he gave his aunt a grim look.

“What are you up to?” he asked as she sat on the sofa, her feet tucked under her. With her soft cloud of brown hair and bright, clear brown eyes, she looked to be little more than a girl, though he knew perfectly well she was fifty-three.

Destiny sipped her brandy and regarded him without the slightest hint of guilt. “You’re too suspicious, Ben. Why would I be up to anything?”

“Because it’s what you do. You meddle. Ever since you decided Richard, Mack and I were old enough to settle down, you’ve systematically worked to make it happen.”

“Of course I have. I love you. What’s wrong with wanting to see you happy?”

“I am happy.”

“You’re alone. Ever since Graciela died, you’ve been terribly unhappy and guilt-ridden. It’s time to put that behind you, Ben. What happened was not your fault.”

“I’m not discussing Graciela,” he said tightly.

“That’s the problem,” Destiny said, undaunted for once by his refusal to talk about what had happened. “You’ve never talked about her, and I think perhaps it’s time you did. She wasn’t the paragon of virtue you’ve built her up to be, Ben. That much has to be clear, even to you.”

“Destiny, don’t go there,” Ben warned. He knew that his family had never held a high opinion of Graciela, but he’d refused to listen then, and he was equally adamant about not listening now, even with all of the facts still burning a graphic image in his head. He’d seen her with that polo player, dammit. He didn’t need to be reminded of what were only rumors and speculation to everyone else.

“I will go there,” Destiny said fiercely. “She was hardly a saint.”

“Dammit, Destiny—”

She cut him off with a look that made her disapproval of his language plain. “Leaving her was the right thing to do, Ben. You’re not responsible that she stormed off that night far too upset and drunk to be driving, and crashed her car into a tree. That was her doing, hers,” she repeated emphatically. “Not yours.”

Ben felt the words slamming into him, carrying him back to a place he didn’t want to go, to a night he would never forget.

The argument had been heated, far more volatile than any that had gone before. He’d caught Graciela cheating on him that afternoon, found her with a neighboring Brazilian polo player, but she’d tried to explain away what he’d seen as if there could possibly be an innocent explanation.

In the past he would have accepted the lies, because it was easier, but he’d reached the end of his rope. Loving her and forgiving her had worn him down, the cycle unending despite all the promises that she would change, that she would be faithful. He’d been foolish enough to believe them at first. He had loved her unconditionally and for a time had thought that accepting her flaws was a part of that.

Then he’d realized that what he felt wasn’t love, but an obsessive need not to lose someone important again. He’d seen the truth with blinding clarity that afternoon. He’d realized finally that he’d never really had her anyway.

On that fateful night he’d told her to get out and he’d meant it. Her hold on him had finally snapped.

“You’ll change your mind,” she’d said confidently, slurring her words, her expression smug, beautiful even in her drunken state.

“Not this time,” he’d told her coldly. “It’s over, Graciela. I’ve had enough.”

If that had been it, he could have moved on with his life, buried the repeated humiliations in the past and kept his heart hopeful that someone else would come along. But Graciela hadn’t even made it out to the main highway when she’d crashed. He’d heard that awful sound and run outside, only to find the mangled wreckage, her body broken and bloody and trapped inside as the first flames had licked toward the gasoline spilling across the drive.

Frantic, he’d tried to drag her to safety, knowing even as he struggled that it was too late, that nothing he could do would save her.