grandmother, and you know it,” Stella said. “You were my mother’s oldest sister.”
“That’s right. I was her oldest sibling, not her mother, for cripes’ sake,” Auntie Elo said getting up from her chair, collecting her phone then planting a kiss on the top of Stella’s head and Dario’s, too. “I’d better go claim one of these bedrooms before I’m too old to walk that far.”
“Sleep tight, Auntie Elo. Love you,” Stella said and blew her a kiss, choosing to ignore her last comment lest she got her even more worked up.
“Love you too, darling. Sweet dreams,” Elo said, taking her leave, but not without first turning back toward Stella with her fingers crossed.
Stella looked at Elo, imploring her with her eyes to stop it before Dario saw what she was doing. Fortunately, Elo got the drift and disappeared.
Stella laughed all to herself and shook her head, as frustrated as she was amused by her aunt’s ways. One of the things she’d always loved about Elo was that no matter what they were facing because of Stella’s legacy, Elo found some way to lighten the mood.
Stella had loved her mother dearly—Auntie Elo’s youngest sister Grace—but she’d never had a sense of humor. Perhaps if she had, the life of being Odysseus Anastas’ wife wouldn’t have been too much for her.
Grace had died of an accidental overdose twenty-six years ago, when Stella was eighteen. She’d been found by her personal maid in the bathroom of their Paris apartment. At the time, Stella had been on holiday at their seaside mansion in Ibiza with her Auntie Elo. Auntie Elo had never left her side since.
If it hadn’t been for her aunt’s unwavering support and love, and her sense of humor, most of all the humor, Stella wasn’t sure she would have recovered as easily from her mother’s death. And there was no way she would have had the strength to assume the leadership of her father’s dynasty, following his death, less than one horrible year later. Her eighteenth and nineteenth years had been nothing but total heartbreak.
Sometimes still, Stella couldn’t believe how long her parents had been gone. There were days when she had a hard time remembering what it was like to have a family to share life with. Harder still to believe was that she’d been controlling her father’s fortune—and increasing it—for more than two decades, soon to be three.
Stella missed both of her parents, but especially her father. She missed him most at times like this when he’d know exactly what to do and already have their people working on it.
She looked out at the calm waters of the Sarasota Bay, surrounded by the city’s downtown skyline. Spot lit palm trees and landscape lighting sprinkled the shores and illuminated the multi-million dollar homes nestled into the beachfront properties.
Her father would have enjoyed the view from here—the third story, covered veranda of this incredible home. Amore del Mar (Love of the Sea)—the name the house had been christened with—was a property her father would not only have approved of but one he would have probably purchased on the spot.
“It appears that I’m screwed,” Dario said, snapping Stella out of her temporary pity party. He’d been scrolling through the stories coming into their phones every few minutes from various celebrity-reporting sites, while she was doing her best to ignore them. “At least the press hasn’t figured out who you are.”
“It won’t be long,” Stella said.
Her guise had worked for almost four months in The Keys, so she supposed she should be thankful for the reprieve, short-lived or not.
“I don’t know. You might have them fooled. I sure didn’t recognize you at first,” Dario said. “Even after you introduced yourself, I wasn’t completely sure. You look so different.”
“I look a lot better than I used to, right?” Stella asked, knowing without asking that it was true.
“I’m not saying that at all,” Dario said,
KyAnn Waters, Natasha Blackthorne, Tarah Scott