The Villa

you?"
    "He wouldn't dare." Secure in her own power, Rene smiled. "He knows if he does, I'll kill him. I'm not the passive, patient wife. Tony told me what a lousy lay you were. We laugh about it. My advice? If you want to keep Cutter on the string, pass him down to your daughter. She strikes me as someone who knows how to entertain a man in bed."
    Even as Pilar whirled, Sophia opened the door. "Oh, what fun. Girl talk? Rene, how brave of you to wear that shade of green with your coloring."
    "Fuck you, Sophia."
    "Erudite, as always. Mama, you're needed at the villa. I'm sure Rene will excuse us. She'll want plenty of room and privacy to fix her face."
    "On the contrary, I'll just leave the two of you alone so you can hold your mother's hand while she dissolves into helpless tears. I'm not finished, Pilar," Rene added as she opened the door. "But you are."
    "That was entertaining." Sophia studied her mother's face. "You don't look like you're about to dissolve into tears, helpless or otherwise."
    "No, I'm done with them." Pilar dropped her lipstick back in her bag, closed it with a snap. "Sophie, honey, your father married her today."
    "Well, hell." On a long sigh, Sophia stepped over, put her arms around her mother, laid her head on Pilar's shoulder. "Merry Christmas."

CHAPTER EIGHT
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    Sophia bided her time. She needed to catch her father alone to say what she had to say, and not when Rene was draped all over him like poison ivy on a tree trunk. She promised herself she'd be calm, mature and crystal clear. Losing her temper was not an option.
    She worked the crowd as she waited, danced once with Theo, who'd been so entertaining he'd nearly cured her sour mood.
    When she spotted Rene on the dance floor with Jerry, she made her move.
    It didn't surprise her to see her father tucked into a corner table flirting with Kris. It revolted her slightly, but didn't surprise her he'd turn on the charm for another woman on his wedding day.
    But as she approached, she caught the subtle signals—a light touch, a promising glance—that told her it was more than flirtation. And that did surprise her.
    Her father, she was certain, was cheating on Rene with Kris. Still, it was so like him, so ridiculously like him, it barely put a hitch in her stride.
    She didn't know which of the three of them in that sticky triangle was the biggest fool, and at the moment, it wasn't her problem.
    "Kris, I'm sorry to break up this tender moment, but I need to speak with my father. Alone."
    "Nice to see you, too." Kris got to her feet. "It's been so long since you've bothered to come by the office, I nearly forgot what you look like."
    "I don't believe I report to you, but I'll be sure to send in a photo."
    "Now, princess," Tony began.
    "Don't push it." Sophia kept her tone quiet, level, but the look she sent her father had his color going up and his mouth closing. "Let's just put this entire situation down to Christmas-party insanity. We'll have a meeting, Kris, in my office, when my schedule permits. For tonight, let's put business aside for personal matters. You can consider yourself lucky I saw you before Rene did. Now I need to speak to my father on family business."
    "With you at the wheel, your family's not going to have much of a business." Deliberately Kris leaned down, skimmed a fingertip over the back of Tony's hand. "Later," she murmured and strolled away.
    "Sophie, you have the entirely wrong impression. Kris and I were just having a sociable drink."
    Her gaze cut like a blade. "Save it for Rene. I've known you longer. Long enough not to have the slightest interest in your bimbos. Please don't interrupt," she said before he could sputter out a protest. "This won't take long. I hear congratulations are in order. Or if not in order, required by elemental manners. So fucking congratulations."
    "Now, Sophie." He stood, reached for her hand, but she snatched it out of reach. "I know you're not fond of Rene, but—"
    "I don't give a damn about Rene, and at the moment, I don't give much of one about you."
    He looked sincerely surprised, sincerely hurt. She wondered if he practiced the expression in his shaving mirror. "You don't mean that. I'm sorry you're upset."
    "No, you're not. You're sorry I've cornered you about it.
    You were married today, and you didn't bother to tell me. That's one."
    "Princess, it was a small, simple ceremony. Neither Rene nor I felt—"
    "Just be quiet." His answer had been quick and smooth,