Diavolo

Gabriel scratched his chin, staring at the plain looking girl. She had enormous blue eyes behind awful-looking nerdy glasses, and a sweet pouty mouth. The rounded neckline of her dress and high empire waistline disguised her feminine form.

Gabriel was accustomed to barely-dressed groupies with too much makeup and attitude throwing themselves at him with their big fuck me eyes.

The little blonde at his brother's arm intrigued him so much he almost forgot the reason why he pulled up the man's picture in the first place.

There were more pictures, most of Daniel receiving awards or performing at charity functions.

His brother, it seemed, had earned quite the reputation of being an upright honorable man with many achievements.

Gabriel suddenly felt inadequate, but quickly squashed that feeling. It wasn't his fault he'd grown up middle class while his brother grew up in the lap of luxury like a king. Besides, it wasn't as if Gabriel was poor now anyway. He was lead singer to a rapidly rising band already known around most of the world. A little more than twenty-four hours ago, he'd been in Finland performing before thousands at a metalfest.

Shaking his head, he focused on Daniel Montoya II again.

Daniel looked nothing like him. His skin was fair and his face soft and classically handsome. He looked like he was very tall, or the girl was very petite, though she had long coltish legs.

Vaguely, he wondered how a sweet, shy, little thing like her would react if she ever saw him, the lead singer of Diavolo. Would she give him the fuck me eyes too, like every female he came across, or would she blush and turn her eyes away, deeming him too vulgar and wild for the likes of her?

She looked like an uptight prude. She'd run screaming, thinking he was a devil worshipper because he was in a metal band. Typical.

He snorted, his own thoughts filling with amusement. Narrowing his gaze, Gabriel looked from his brother to the little Pop Tart on his arm.

Was she his girlfriend? They looked like they belonged together. Daniel II was straight laced and respectable, the little Pop Tart looked like the kind of girl who might just lay there passively as her man got off.

Gabriel would never let her get away with that of course. He'd get her wound up, panting and scratching at his back in mere seconds or he'd whack off his own dick.

Shaking his head at the wayward path of his thoughts, he switched off his computer and rose from the chair. He couldn't very well drill his grandmother for answers due to her delicate health, but he was going to get to the bottom of this. The answers as to why he was the bastard son of Daniel Montoya Senior lay in those letters and diaries up in the attic.

Chapter One

Four months later...

Abigail rubbed her temples, her headache growing by leaps and bounds the closer the car drew to the Montoya estate. Thankfully, the chauffer didn't try to strike up any conversation. She had much to contemplate.

Her sister Mikayla had done it again; disgraced the family with her ungodly behavior. It wasn't enough she'd taken Abigail's childhood boyfriend away, now she was bedding some god-forsaken rock star while engaged to Daniel Montoya II.

Daniel was a good man. They'd been very close when they were children and teens before her adoptive auntie Paulina sent her and Mikayla away to boarding school. The all-girls' school hadn't tolerated Mikayla's undisciplined behavior and she was expulsed.

She didn't see her sister for many years afterward, even as Abigail's romance with Daniel II flourished...or so she thought.

Daniel sent her numerous letters at first, lovely poetry, CD's with classical music, and even books for her to read.

As time passed, however, the letters became more sporadic. She thought nothing of it. He was, after all, pursuing a doctorate in his early twenties and being groomed to take his deceased father's place in North Star Records. He had the finest tutors and attended the best schools. He was a virtuoso with the piano and violin and performed at many charity functions for his mother, Paulina.

Daniel was perfect. Abigail had been heartbroken when she heard he'd become engaged to her younger sister, Mikayla.

She didn't blame him though. Mikayla was gorgeous with her flowing red hair and bright green eyes. Always the life of the party, her sister was fun and bubbly, if not a tad wild a little too promiscuous.

Even her name was exotic and alluring.

The complete opposite to Abigail Brown.

Gazing out the window, she contemplated her reflection in the tinted windows of the Audi.

She'd pulled her honey blond locks into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, as usual, and, likewise, her face was bare of any make up. Her blue eyes, which she always thought were too big for her face blinked back at her through the lenses of her black rimmed glasses.

Abigail wasn't ugly. She just realistically accepted the fact that she was unremarkable. Passably pretty. Girl next door, and all that.

Sighing, she looked down at her short-nailed, unpolished fingers clenched in her lap. She'd worn a two-piece grey suit that consisted of a tailored jacket and loose slacks. Sensible black pumps with low heels gleamed primly on her feet. The only piece of jewelry she wore was the white gold Chanel watch her auntie Paulina had given her. A bit too ostentatious for her tastes, but she was never one to disappoint anyone, and stoically wore the gaudy piece of jewelry whenever she visited the Montoya estate.

Paulina Montoya wasn't really her auntie. The woman and her mother, Marjorie Brown, had been good friends since childhood.

When Abigail and Mikayla's father had passed away many years ago, Paulina Montoya had taken them into her home and treated them like family.

Abigail was eternally grateful for her auntie sending her abroad to the best schools where she studied, art, music and philosophy.

After Daniel and Mikayla announced their engagement, Abigail felt shamed into saying that she actually wanted to pursue a vocation as a nun and Paulina had promptly sent her to the best nunnery in Italy.

Surprisingly, Abigail had found peace at the convent tucked away in the mountains, but her Mother Superior lovingly accused her of trying to run away from her problems by hiding at the convent and refused to allow her to take her final vows as a nun.

Abigail was prepared to prove her Mother Superior wrong, but the call from her mother, hysterical over the situation with Mikayla, Daniel II, and the rock star had her boarding the first of a series of planes to get her from Italy to the west coast of the United States.

Her mother begged her to talk sense into her younger sister, before Paulina found out and tossed them all out of the mansion. Marjorie hadn't a penny to her name during all these years. Aunt Paulina had given them everything.

They would indeed be homeless. Her mother would be exposed to the ridicule of the society she ran in now, something that was obviously very important to her.

Perhaps Mother Superior was right. It was time Abigail came back home and perhaps started working, putting to use her many degrees in art, music, literature and philosophy. She could provide for her mother and her sister. Her family would just have to adapt at living modestly.

Closing her eyes, she did her best to convince herself that her spoiled sister and mother would accept that fate graceful and gratefully. Deep inside, she knew they'd be outraged and mortified, but there was nothing else she could do.

The car finally passed the immense gates to the Montoya estate.

She rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants before stepping out of the rear of the car when the chauffer opened the door for her.

"Thank you, Edvard," she said with a smile.

The young pimple-faced chauffer nodded and stepped back to retrieve her luggage.

About to tell him she could manage her small case by herself, she turned when she heard her mother call out to her.

"Oh, thank-god you're here!"

Marjorie had aged much since last Abigail saw her mother.

Her short blond hair was stylishly cut into a sleek bob that accentuated her sharp chin. Mother wore a silky cream-colored blouse, a pair of pale green palazzos, and gold ballerina flats. The modest string of pearls caught on the buttons of Abigail's. jacket when she pulled away.

Lines bracketed Marjorie's mouth and eyes, as if all her mother did was frown and worry.

"How are you mother?" Abigail said politely.

She was about to tell her mother how much she missed her, but was interrupted by her mother's impatient, "Why did it take you so long to get here? I called you two days ago."

Abigail resisted the urge to curl her shoulders in dejection. "Mother, I was in Italy. I took the first flight I could find—"

"Oh, no matter," her mother shook her head dismissively, her lips pressing into an angry line. "You got here just in time. Daniel is out of the country dealing with business and Mikayla is getting ready to go to a party at that—" Marjorie's face twisted into a moue of distaste, "that long-haired devil spawn's hovel."

All color drained from her mother's face and for a panicked moment, she thought the woman would swoon.

"Mother!" Gripping her mother's frail arms, Abigail steered her farther along the circular driveway lest the employees overhear their embarrassing conversation.

"Mother, I've never seen you so distraught. It's probably another one of Mikayla's passing—"

"Oh, Abby, if only I could tell you the extent of the nightmare."

"It can't be as bad—"

"But it is," her mother snapped facing Abigail with frenzied eyes. "It the revenge of the deceased Daniel Montoya. He's sent his spawn here to torment us!"

"Mother, please calm down. What are you saying?"

"That man, Gabriel...he's the long lost son of Paulina's sister, Rosalina."

"Who?" Abigail had never heard of her. All these years she'd thought Paulina an only child. Orphaned when she was young.

Marjorie shook her head and crossed herself. "God forgive me. The deceased was engaged to be married to Rosalina, but Paulina wanted him. I'd never seen her lust so after any man. She'd cry herself to sleep every night and was growing sick. She was my friend, more of a sister than Rosalina ever was to her, and I had to help her."

Abigail stared hard at her ranting mother, feeling confused. "What are you talking about?"

Her mother gripping her arms brutally tight, making her wince. The older woman leaned close, her blue eyes showing whites. "We got them drunk. Rosalina was going to give herself to Daniel for the first time after their engagement party. He was madly in love with her and the wedding was to take place the beginning of June, but we got them drunk."

Marjorie almost crumpled and it was Abigail who had to hold her up now. "Mother, please compose yourself and explain what your trying to tell me. Daniel's father wasn't to marry aunt Paulina?"

"No. He was in love with Rosalina, her younger sister. They threw a party to celebrate their formal engagement. It was a whirlwind romance and they were the talk of all society. That night, Paulina kept giving Rosalina cup after cup of champagne until the poor girl could barely stand. We managed to pry Daniel away from her to help her up into Paulina's bedroom. Later that night, I went to Daniel and told him Rosalina had sent me to tell him she was waiting for him in her room."

Abigail gasped, realizing what her mother was saying at last.

"It was Paulina waiting for him. They were sisters and were the same height, weight...they even had the same voice if Paulina pitched hers to speak softly. Daniel had too much to drink, he never turned on the light...I had to help because he passed out on her."

Marjorie shook her head. Abigail was glad because she really didn't want to hear about what that help entailed.

Cupping her throat in panic, Abigail asked, "Daniel is the product of that...that night?"

Marjorie scowled at her. "No. Paulina never conceived that night. Daniel never touched her. She faked he had seduced and taken advantage of her and that she was pregnant. A few months later after he'd married her we had to devise a convincing way for her to lose her baby because fucking every employee in the household was not resulting in her getting with child."

Abigail stared horrified at her mother. "That's awful, mother. How could you stoop to such—"

"Listen here, young lady," her mother hissed, "if Paulina hadn't married that rich son-of-a-bitch you wouldn't have studied abroad nor had the comfortable lifestyle we've all been enjoying thanks to Paulina's generosity."

Abigail abstained from voicing her outraged opinion. She could care less about luxury, especially when it stemmed from such heinous measures of depravity.

"Anyway, she managed to separate Rosalina and Daniel, but not for long. That slut, Rosalina had her wicked way with him after all, and got herself pregnant with Gabriel."

Abigail raised her brow at her mother calling the younger sister a slut when it clearly had been Paulina who'd sinned first by stealing her sister's betrothed.

"When Paulina found out about the birth of her husband's bastard son, she demanded he give her a child of her own. The man never touched her. They slept in separate rooms and then even separate houses. Paulina threatened to kill herself and this time I actually thought she'd go through with it until he conceded going to a clinic with her and just donating his sperm. Paulina had another woman carry the child for her and nine months later Daniel was born."

Abigail closed her eyes in horror. What her mother had just told her was...outrageous. "Does Daniel know about all this?"

"Don't be stupid. Of course he has no idea."

"Well clearly none of this was his fault, but he should know he has an older brother. It's family."

"Bite your tongue!" her mother admonished. "Have you even seen this man? Of course you haven't. He's a devil worshiping heathen, and your aunt Paulina will have none of her fortune squandered away on whores and drugs by this man. He'd drag the prestigious family name through the mud by the time he was through. Is that what you want for your precious Daniel?"

Abigail shook her head, swallowing hard. Dear sweet Daniel did not deserve any of this.

"I don't know if that man has any idea who he is, but he must be kept away from the Montoya estate. Paulina would have a fit if she knew he was still around threatening her position."

"How did Mikayla meet him? Did you tell her any of this?"

Marjorie's eyes widened. "No. She must never know. You know how she gets. She might tell the press in one of her tantrums. Paulina would toss us out on our ear from the embarrassment. Where would I go, Abigail? We would be homeless. " Marjorie covered her face, distraught. "I would be homeless and penniless."

Abigail gathered her mother close and kissed her head. It had been so long since she'd kissed her mother and held her. "Mama, please. Don't cry. I can get a job and rent a little place out near the coast. We can be happy on our own."

Marjorie pushed out of her arms and scowled at her daughter. "A job? Rent some little hovel? Are you mad? Look around you," her mother said walking in a small circle, her arms thrown out dramatically. "You expect me to leave all this for some shitty little apartment you want to rent?" she laughed humorlessly. "Live off your paltry paycheck. You've never worked a day in your life. Have you any idea what minimum wage is?"

"I have various degrees—"

"Worthless!" her mother spat, surprising her. "You were being groomed to be Daniel II's wife. Had I known giving that little twat some good pussy would be enough, I'd have sent you to Vegas instead to learn to be a stripper like your sister."

"Mother!" Abigail gasped, feeling her face flame at the vulgar way her dear sweet mother had just expressed herself...and then she wondered about Mikayla. Had her little sister become a stripper? Why had no one told her?

Her headache began to pound harder, making her nauseas.

"Mikayla is getting ready as we speak to go to a party at that devil spawn's house. You must stop her, or if not, talk to that damned man. Make him see reason. She can't mean anything to the likes of him anyway."

Abigail shook her head. "Why would you say that? How can you be so sure?"

Marjorie's lips twisted into a sardonic grin. "He's nothing but a drugged up, alcoholic rock star. His kind just fuck any willing female. They rarely tie themselves to any one."

Abigail winced again at the expletive. She'd never heard her mother express herself in such a common manner. It was disturbing. She felt as if she really didn't know the woman standing before her. A complete stranger.

Her mother was pulling her now toward the house. "We need to hurry. She doesn't know you're here."

It had been at least five years since she'd been here, the sprawling estate where she'd been raised since she could barely walk.

She'd always been afraid of getting lost within the walls of the castle-like mansion. It was said that as one grew, your childhood home shrunk and seemed less foreboding. It was not so with the Montoya mansion. She was reminded of a movie Mikayla made her watch of a haunted house that grew all on its own.

Abigail always kept to the immediate area of her rooms and dining area. She was never one to wander off. Her exceptions were the library where she and Daniel II spent hours quietly reading next to each other.

She thought of poor Daniel and wondered how he'd react to knowing Mikayla was cheating on him. He'd be heartbroken. Although he'd broken Abigail's heart, she didn't want to see him suffer. He'd been quite contrite and apologetic when he personally called her and explained how he'd become smitten with Mikayla. Told her he'd understand if she hated him, but that he loved her enough to want to do the right thing and be upfront and honest with Abigail.

Heart plummeting to her feet, Abigail had thanked him for his honesty and then lied telling him that she was a bit relieved because she really wanted to be a nun. He seemed so relieved afterwards, she hadn't minded the guilt at having to lie to him. He deserved to be happy, not ruin his and Mikayla's happy moment with regretful thoughts about poor dejected, wretched Abigail.

As they entered the estate foyer, they were met by auntie Paulina.

The woman, although well into her late fifties, was regal. Tall and willowy, her blond hair was swept up in an elegant twist at the back of her head and she wore a champagne-colored. Silk, two-piece pants set that looked like it cost a fortune. Her glossy beige Louboutin's barley made a sound on the pristine stone floors as she glided toward them in the foyer.

Dark, almost black eyes pinned Abigail to the spot, and her pale painted lips twitched into a tiny smile of welcome. Clutching Abigail's hands, she leaned forward and kissed the air to either side of Abigail's cheeks. "My child. What a surprise to see you here." Those dark eyes honed in on Abigail, as if trying to see into her soul. It made Abigail almost want to cringe under its intensity, and she immediately understood her auntie Paulina was wondering if she was going to make a scandal about being jilted by her son after all.

"I've been gone for so long. I just got a little homesick," Abigail replied sweetly.

Her aunt's smile didn't reach her eyes. Then again, when did it ever. "Well, it pleases me to know that my home feels like your home to you. It's all I ever wanted for you and your mother to feel. Like you're home."

Abigail gulped. Her steely meaning couldn't have been clearer.

Next to her, her mother giggled and clasped Abigail's arm. "Abby is really excited to hear Mikayla's plans on the wedding."