“And yet you slept with me.” It didn’t add up. Did she sleep with him so she could stop Raymond Casillas from calling in her debt? “According to you, I’m just like your father.”
“I thought you were,” she said quietly before she walked away. “I’m not so sure anymore.”
* * *
The next evening, Ashley was on a luxurious patio that overlooked a private beach as she watched the sunset with Sebastian’s mother. A group of children were playing in the sand. Music drifted from the open windows of the Cruz mansion and Ashley heard Sebastian’s sisters bicker while they prepared the dinner table.
“Why is this the first I’ve heard of you?” Patricia Cruz asked as she intently studied Ashley.
Ashley hid her smile. She had a feeling that Sebastian took from his mother’s side in temperament. “I don’t know what to tell you, Mrs. Cruz. Perhaps you should ask Sebastian.”
She gave a throaty chuckle. “He’s not very forthcoming.”
Neither was his mother. The older woman wasn’t a tiny and weathered woman who favored housedresses and heavy shawls. This woman was tall and regal. Her elegant gray shift dress highlighted her short silver hair and tanned skin.
Patricia Esteban Cruz was polite but wary. She had expected Sebastian’s family and home to be just as guarded. When Ashley had seen the iron gates open to the Cruz’s beachfront mansion, panic had curled around her chest. She had looked out the window and saw a forest of palm trees flanking the long driveway.
Ashley had tried not to gasp when she spotted the villa at the end of the winding lane. The home was unlike anything she had seen. She had expected the Cruz mansion to be a dramatic and modern house. A fortress. But this was gracious and traditional with its terra-cotta rooftops and soft white exterior. Ashley was used to high society but this was another level. It was a reminder of Sebastian’s power and influence.
“His sisters, however, are very warm and open,” Ashley said. They had easily welcomed her. Sebastian’s siblings were boisterous and inquisitive, but they had made Ashley feel as if she belonged.
And they had no reservations talking about Sebastian. At first it had been a trickle of information and it quickly became a flood of memories. The anecdotes and stories all described Sebastian as curious, volatile and too smart for his own good. He had been a lot of trouble, but everyone spoke about him with pride, love and exasperation.
“Yes, they didn’t have as hard of a time as Sebastian,” she said with a heavy sigh. “When my husband died, Sebastian became the head of the family. He was only a boy. Not even fifteen.”
There was a fine tremor in the woman’s fingers and Ashley noticed the gray pallor underneath the woman’s skin. It was clear Patricia was still fragile from her surgery. “Sebastian doesn’t talk about that time in his life. Or his father.”
“He lives with the constant reminder,” the older woman said. “He looks just like his father. My husband was very much a traditional man. Proud and artistic.”
“Your husband was an artist?” Ashley asked.
She nodded. “He was a painter. Watercolors. He wasn’t famous, but he was very respected in the art world. Some of his landscapes can be found here in my home.” Patricia’s eyes grew sad. “He stopped painting when we moved to the ghetto. He was working two jobs and feeding a growing family.”
This was why Sebastian scoffed at the way she made a living. She may repair and maintain Inez Key, but she never had to do hard labor. She didn’t know the strain of having a family depend on her.
“Which of your children inherited your husband’s artistic talent?” From what she could tell, all of the Cruz daughters were brilliant, successful and creative.
“Mmm, that would be Sebastian.”
“Really?” Sebastian thrived in the cutthroat business world. She hadn’t seen any indication that he had an artistic side.
“You should have seen the work he did at school,” Patricia said with a hint of pride. “His teachers encouraged him to find classes outside of school. If only we had the money. But Sebastian told he me didn’t have the inclination to pursue it.”