“Just one minute,” the senator called after them. “Will, can I have a word with you?”

Roscoe stopped, his hand poised on the doorknob. Curious, Will figured it was worth a few minutes of his time to hear the senator’s excuse as to why he and his sister had used him. Hell, yeah, he wanted answers. If for no other reason than so no woman would be able to dupe him again like Julianne had.

They both turned back to face the senator, who was still seated on the corner of the desk.

“Alone, if you don’t mind.” He phrased it as if it were a question, but all three men knew it wasn’t.

Roscoe shot a sideways glance at Will, an eyebrow raised in question. Will nodded.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Roscoe mumbled as he slid past. “We’re almost home free.”

A roar went up in the other room as Roscoe slipped out. Will remained where he was. Propping a shoulder up against the doorjamb, he tucked his arms across his chest. He tried to give the impression that he couldn’t care less about what the senator had to say, when in fact apprehension coursed through his veins.

The senator heaved a sigh. “It seems I owe you an apology.”

“Yeah, I believe that’s what the written statement is for.”

“No, a personal apology. It’s because of me you’re in this mess.”

Will arched an eyebrow at him, wishing somehow one of the hundreds of media piranhas outside could record this. “You and your sister, you mean.”

He brushed Will’s comment aside with a hand through the air. “Julianne was tangential to my reasons for giving the information to the committee. I honestly thought I was doing the right thing.”

“If you consider ruining a man’s career the right thing,” Will said tersely.

“Obviously I misjudged the whole situation. I thought I was doing her a favor.”

“By having her spy on me and seducing my secrets out of me so you could drag me in front of your committee and totally unman me?”

“That wasn’t how it was,” the senator argued. “Julianne wasn’t spying on you. I could barely get her to tell me how the baby was, much less answer questions about you.”

“Really, so I’m supposed to believe those cozy phone calls and texts every day were innocent?”

“Yes!” The senator yelled. He leaped off the desk and began pacing the room. “When I dragged you up here that first day, it was to help the baby. For Julianne. She was sick with worry over the possibility of losing her son. I certainly never intended to force her to marry you.”

Will tried not to cringe. Apparently, even the duplicitous sister of a con-man senator wasn’t good enough for a boy from the Seaside Vista Trailer Park.

“She was out of her mind, selling her business to pay his medical bills. Too proud to ask for help. So yes, I called her every day because I was worried about her and Owen. I was full of guilt for pushing her down a path she might not have otherwise chosen.”

“You’ve made the point quite clear that I’m not the first choice either of you would have made.”

The senator snorted. “Yeah, well, I was wrong. Very wrong.”

The breath in Will’s lungs began to seize up again.

The senator pinched the bridge of his nose. “Apparently, she was blissfully happy being married to you. Until I screwed it up.”

Will’s body went rigid, his heart slowing to a near-stop as he contemplated the senator’s words.

“I should have guessed that she was in love with you by the way she so vehemently defended you that day on the phone. She never intended to tell me your secret, but it was out before she could stop it. You have to know she had no inkling of anyone in the Senate investigating you. It would never be on Julianne’s radar.”

He let the senator’s words sink in. Julianne had been telling the truth. She hadn’t told her brother on purpose. And Will hadn’t believed her.

“She’s let me know in no uncertain terms how she feels about you since then, though.” He sat down lethargically in the chair Roscoe had occupied earlier. “Not to mention how she feels about me. Definitely not the same feelings, in case you were wondering.” His smile was rueful. “So please, don’t blame her for my actions. I was simply playing big brother. I saw an opportunity to get her out of the marriage before the agreed-upon time frame, and I exercised it. She would never believe this, but I would use anything at my disposal to make her happy. Even if it meant making an enemy out of you.”

Will was stunned. He was afraid to move a muscle in case this was all some sort of dream. First he’d been exonerated from Bountygate. Now he was hit with the truth about Julianne: She did love him. And she hadn’t sold him out. His heartbeat was more rapid now and his body burned to take action. He only hoped it wasn’t too late. Unfortunately, the senator was in a mood to commiserate.

“The truth is I don’t know my sister as well as a brother should. Julianne’s mother, Daria, was my father’s second wife. My dad never really loved my own mother. Theirs was one of those society marriages, the kind good for a diplomat’s career.” He looked at Will as if he expected him to agree. “Dad worshipped Daria, though. When she died, he was devastated. He couldn’t bear to look at Julianne anymore because every time he did, he saw Daria. Our father didn’t care that the poor girl had just lost her mother; he sent her off to boarding school almost immediately. I was in the States, in law school with a life of my own by then.”

The senator dragged his fingers through his hair. “She grew up without anyone to protect and guide her. I’m a father myself now and I now know how lonely Julianne’s life must have been. I let her down. I guess I just thought . . .” He shook his head in disgust, not bothering to finish his thought, before standing to face Will. “Anyway, for what’s it’s worth, I apologize. To both of you, for all the trouble this has caused. Please, tell her I was only doing what I thought was best for her and Owen. It may have been misguided, but it was out of love.”

Will shifted to his full height, amazed his body could still move. He felt like he’d taken a pounding from an entire offensive line.

“I’m sure she’d rather hear it from you.” Will had his own groveling to do.

“She hasn’t returned a text or phone call.” The senator shoved his hands into his pockets, a melancholy expression on his face. “The only message she left was to tell me she never wanted to see me or anyone with the last name Marchione again. She even refused the money from our grandmother’s trust she’d asked me to secure for her.”

“Then what did she use to finance her new company?”

“You knew about that? She gave me the impression that was supposed to be a surprise.”

Chagrined, Will shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Her plan hadn’t been a preemptive strike, after all, but a well-thought-out business proposal. “It was a surprise,” he admitted. “Julianne released the details to the public today.”

Her brother was caught off guard also. “Did she, now? I must have missed it with all the hullabaloo in there,” he said, gesturing to the hearing room. He rubbed the back of his neck contemplatively. “Julianne has a lot of wealthy friends whom she could have asked for financing, but she’s careful about combining her business with her friendships. There are only two other people she trusts, who she’d turn to in order to help her out of a jam: Carly or Nicky. Your guess is as good as mine as to which one.”

The senator held out his hand to Will. “I understand if you can’t forgive me, but I do appreciate you listening.”

Will was still for a moment, staring at the outstretched hand of the man who’d tried to ruin not only his career, but his one chance at happiness with the woman he knew he couldn’t live without. He hesitated before finally shaking the senator’s hand. Trust was a perilous thing, Will was learning. Something he needed to give as well as receive.

* * *

“Nicky,” Julianne crooned as she buried her face in the priest’s neck. His arms wrapped around her in a familiar embrace she always found to be comforting. She’d been on pins and needles all morning, worried about how the hearing was going for Will. ESPN was televising it live, but she and Carly had decided against watching it. Nicky’s arrival provided a welcome diversion.

And yet things were so different now. For most of her life, she’d had a crush on the man holding her close. But in a moment of absolute clarity, she realized that what she thought had been love was nothing more than genuine affection and admiration. Not the deep soul-wrenching love she felt for Will. No man in Julianne’s life had ever measured up to Nicky. Until Will. In a way, her epiphany was freeing, but it also made her sad. If Nicky were to be suddenly gone from her life, she’d miss him, but she’d survive. Julianne wasn’t sure how she’d survive if Will refused to forgive her.

“I told you that you didn’t have to come,” she said. “You could have just wired the money after you found a buyer.”

“The Vatican has diplomatic business here in Washington. I was able to combine business and pleasure this trip.” He pulled away from her, holding her at arm’s length. “You look marginally better. Still not as happy as I would like to see you.”

Julianne forced a bright smile onto her face. It was the least she could do for her oldest friend. He was doing her a huge favor, after all.

Carly entered the spacious screen porch of the house Sebastian had rented. “Owen is sound asleep.” She placed the monitor on the rattan table and took a seat. “I want to go on the record as saying that I think it’s a terrible idea to sell your mother’s paintings, Julianne. They are all you have left of her. If you don’t want me to invest, than at least let me loan the money to you.”

“Actually, the paintings have already been sold.” Nicky wrung his hands as he looked between both women.

“They have?” Julianne had trouble controlling her emotions. She needed the money their sale would generate, but she thought she’d have a little more time to adjust to the loss of her mother’s heirlooms. Carly was right, the paintings were the last link to her mother, and Julianne suddenly felt a little sick to her stomach at the thought of never admiring them again, and of Owen never seeing them. “Will they go to a private collector?” she managed to choke out.

“Yes, but he’s allowed for them to be displayed indefinitely at a small gallery in Milan.”

Hope burned in her chest once more. “So Owen might be able to see them when he grows up?”

Nicky looked sheepish. “Actually, he’ll be able to do more than that. The paintings now belong to Owen.”

“What?” Julianne leaned forward in her chair. “Owen doesn’t have any money, Nicky. Who bought those paintings?” She glanced sharply at Carly, figuring it would be just like her friend to find a covert way to lend her the money, but Carly’s face showed as much bewilderment as Julianne felt. She shrugged her shoulders at Julianne’s questioning glare.

“They were bought by the person who gifted you the paintings in the first place.” Nicky reached out to take her hands between his. “Your father.”

Shock reverberated through Julianne’s body as Carly released a surprised gasp.

“I don’t understand.” And really, she didn’t. Her father had barely been able to look at her much less speak to her since the accident that took her mother from them so many years ago. He’d washed his hands of any reminders of her mother—both her artwork and Julianne—immediately after the funeral and moved on with his life. The scars left from his rejection still stung. Will’s rebuff had stirred up all the insecurities her father’s banishment had caused, and Nicky’s words weren’t helping. Julianne was suddenly light-headed and unable to manage coherent speech.

Nicky gently squeezed her hands as Carly left her chair to kneel at Julianne’s feet.

“Breathe,” Carly prodded. Julianne’s chest squeezed and tears pooled in her eyes as her body ached for the feel of Will’s big hand comforting her, admonishing her to breathe. How could this be happening?

“Why? My father doesn’t care about my mother’s paintings,” she managed to sputter out. “Or me.”

“That’s not true,” Nicky said.

Anger pulsed through Julianne, rapid and hot. She yanked her hands out of Nicky’s as if her skin was burned by his betrayal. “Don’t you dare take his side!”

“I’m not taking his side.” Nicky reached for her hands again, but Carly had gathered them up in her own, throwing a menacing glare at the priest. He pressed on anyway. “You know I disagree with how your father treated you. But grief is a weighty emotion. It does things to people. Changes them. Believe me, in my profession you see what type of damage grief can do, how it can destroy a person. Or, worse, a relationship.”