The Bravo Billionaire Part 20

"It's all right," Emma told her. "He's with me. And Jonas is expecting me. We'll just go on in."

"But-"

Emma didn't stick around to listen to objections. She'd heard enough of those downstairs. "This way, Marsh." She led him through the doors into the huge corner office with its stunning views of Los Angeles .

Jonas was sitting at his giant-sized desk, his back to one of the two walls of windows. Behind him and to his right, the city seemed to go on for miles, an endless sprawl silvered with smog and dotted with gleaming towers of steel and gla.s.s.

Jonas rose from the desk, his midnight glance flicking from Emma to the man at her side, then back to Emma again. "Emma." His tone teased her. His eyes did not. "You should have mentioned you were bringing a guest." He came around from behind the desk and extended his hand. "I'm Jonas."

The other man took it. "Marsh Bravo."

Jonas shot Emma another glance. This one had What the h.e.l.l is going on here? written all over it.

"I ... met Marsh down in the lobby. He's been trying to get hold of you. He called and called and couldn't get through. So he came in person, early this morning. He's been waiting downstairs for hours."

"I see," Jonas replied, using the same words and the same guarded inflection that Marsh had used earlier, when Emma had told him he looked like a Bravo. Jonas turned to Marsh. "You'll forgive my people." His tone was courteous, but not especially apologetic. "I pay them to be cautious. Sometimes they get a little carried away."

Marsh nodded. "I understand."

A silence ensued, an awkward one.

Jonas broke the silence with another by-rote courtesy. "Will you join us for lunch?" The food was all laid out on the table in the small dining nook where the two inner walls met the meal that was supposed to have been for just Emma and Jonas. "I can get us another place setting."

Marsh seemed no more eager to share their lunch than Jonas had been to offer it. "Thank you. But no."

"Have a seat, then." Jonas led them to the sitting area, near an inner wall not far from where the food waited.

Emma perched on the couch. Jonas sat beside her.

Marsh took one of the wing chairs across the gla.s.s-topped coffee table from them. He set his briefcase on the coffee table, then rested back in his chair.

"d.a.m.n. I can't believe it. I'm here. And now I don't know where to begin."

Emma had to order her body not to squirm and her mouth to stay shut. She'd gotten him up here. Surely he could manage everything else on his own. No doubt he would prefer it that way.

But Jonas was not looking terribly receptive. He was sitting too still, his face way too composed.

Well, and what, exactly, had she expected? For him to offer up a nice, big hug the minute Marsh had said that his last name was Bravo? Sometimes, lately, since she and Jonas had grown closer, Emma actually forgot what a cold and careful man he could be.

Marsh said, "The first thing I need to tell you, I think, is what I told your wife down in the lobby. That my father was Blake Bravo. And that he didn't die thirty-two years ago in that apartment fire as I'm sure you were told."

Jonas glanced Emma's way again. The look he gave her was far from a pleased one. He didn't believe what he'd just heard. He also didn't appreciate that she'd dragged Marsh up here.

Well, too bad. Marsh was here. And Jonas was going to listen to what he had to say.

Emma granted her husband her sweetest, most rea.s.suring smile.

Jonas did not smile back. He looked at Marsh again. "Excuse me? I'm sure I didn't hear you right."

"Unfortunately, you did."

"You expect me to believe-"

"Listen. From what I can piece together, my father faked his own death to get past a manslaughter rap, I think. I'd guess that the man who died in his place must have been some poor vagrant, someone my father thought wouldn't be missed."

Jonas sat forward. "But the body was identified. Positively. As Blake's."

Marsh shook his head. "According to newspaper accounts of the fire, the body was burned beyond recognition."

Jonas still wasn't going for it. "Dental records proved-"

"He must have found a way to fake them. That's the only answer that makes any sense. We'll probably never know exactly how he pulled it off. But he did pull it off."

"You seem certain of this."

"I am."

Maybe Marsh was certain. Jonas clearly wasn't. "Where is your father now?" He put just enough emphasis on the word "father" to make it clear he doubted even that part of Marsh's story.

"Dead." Marsh said the word without expression.

"He wasn't dead then but he is now?"

"That's right."

"You're positive?"

"I am."

Jonas made a low sound in his throat, one that spoke all too clearly of his total disbelief. "As I just pointed out to you, we were all pretty positive that Blake died thirty-two years ago. What makes this second 'death' any different?"

"This time the body was ... intact. Identifiable."

"You identified it?"

"Yes. My father died really died five months ago in Norman , Oklahoma , at the hospital there. He died of a second ma.s.sive heart attack after open-heart surgery. I saw the body afterward. It was my father's body and if you'll only bear with me for a few minutes here, I think I can prove what I'm telling you."

"You're saying that you have evidence to support this claim?"

"Yes."

"Show me."

"I will. In a moment. But first, let me-"

Jonas cut him off. "I'd like to see the evidence. Now."

"Jonas, don't!" The words just kind of popped out of Emma's mouth. She sincerely had not meant to interfere. But how could she help it? Someone had to get this conversation moving on the right track.

Jonas said nothing, only looked at her, the kind of look meant to shut her up but good.

Too bad. He ought to know by now that there was no shutting her up when something needed saying. "You have got to quit givin' the man the third degree and let him tell it his own way."

"Oh, do I?"

"Yes. You do. It is called listening, Jonas Bravo. And I think you should try it. Now."

He stared at her hard and long. She stared right back. Finally, he turned to Marsh again.

"My wife seems to think there's something to what you have to say."

Marsh raised both hands, palms up. "Just let me say it, let me get it all out. Then decide for yourself."

Jonas took what seemed like forever to answer. But in the end, he nodded. "All right. Have it your way."

"Thank you." With a hard exhalation of breath, Marsh forged on. "I think you do need to know that my father and I were not close. In fact, I wanted nothing to do with anything that was his. Which is why it's taken me so long to get here. I swear to you, I would have come sooner, if I had only known..." Marsh speared his hand back through his thick dark hair. "There's too d.a.m.n much to explain. And I'm doing it badly."

Emma just ached for him. She started to speak to grant him a few words of rea.s.surance. But Jonas caught her eye. He shook his head. She held her tongue.

Marsh spoke again. "I guess I'm ... making excuses for myself. Apologizing for not getting here months ago, right after my father died, when I should have gone to his house and..." He glanced away, then faced Jonas once more. "Look. I knew this wouldn't be easy. But it's worse than I expected. Just ... bear with me. Please."

"I a.s.sure you, I am trying." Jonas's voice was so cold. Emma wanted to reach over and give him a good shake. But she held herself in check.

In her heart, she felt certain that Marsh was every bit as much a Bravo as the man sitting at her side. But Jonas was more careful. How could he help it, after all he'd been through? He needed further convincing. Emma really couldn't blame him for being more cautious than she.

Marsh said, "About a week ago, I finally decided to go and clean out the shack that my father called home. There was a certain room in that house, the room my father called his 'office.' He always kept it padlocked. No one was ever allowed in there. What we found in that room-"

"We?"

"Yes. My wife went with me. Her name is Tory." Marsh's bleak expression lightened a little. A soft gleam came into his eyes. Emma recognized the look. Marsh Bravo loved his wife deeply.

Marsh said, "Together, Tory and I went through that office of my father's. Once we realized what we'd found there, I considered taking everything to the police. I suppose I probably should have done exactly that. But I honestly do not believe there's a h.e.l.l of a lot the police are going to be able to do at this, point. No one is ... at risk anymore. My father the guilty party is dead. So much time has pa.s.sed. And the truth is, I couldn't help thinking that if our positions were reversed, yours and mine, I'd rather you brought everything straight to me."

Jonas said nothing. He only sat there, utterly still. Waiting.

Marsh reached for his briefcase. He worked the locks, popped the latches and propped open the top. "In that room I just told you about, my wife and I found this." He handed Jonas the age-yellowed photo alb.u.m.

Jonas read the word taped to the front of it. He sent a baffled glance at Marsh. "Surprise?"

Marsh shrugged. "My father's sick sense of humor. Before he died, he kept telling me he had a big surprise for me. That book was it or at least, a crucial part of it."

Jonas opened the book and slowly began turning pages. It started with family photos of the L.A. Bravos years before Jonas had even been born. Emma recognized the young Harry and Harry's father and mother from the pictures she had seen of them at Angel's Crest. She also recognized Blake. Who could ever forget that man's wolfish pale eyes?

Marsh reached across the coffee table and pointed at Blake in one of those early family pictures. "That is my father."

Jonas looked up.

Marsh went on, "He got older. Craggier. Meaner, if that's possible. But those eyes never changed."

The men stared at each other and something s.h.i.+fted. Emma was sure of it. Right at that moment, Jonas began to believe.

Jonas resumed turning pages. The family photos ended and the newspaper clippings began. "Blake Bravo Indicted on Manslaughter Charges," one headline read. And then there were several articles about the fire that had supposedly claimed Blake's life. "Disinherited Bravo Dies in Apartment Blaze" and "Fire Claims Life of Younger Bravo Son."

There were pages and pages of clippings concerning Russell's kidnapping, a long series of ugly headlines including, "Bravo Baby Vanishes" and "Two Million in Diamonds Paid in Ransom for Bravo Baby," and "No Leads in Bravo Baby Case." After that, there were clippings about Harry's death, about Blythe's mental collapse.

And it didn't end there. The stories continued, down the years, stories cut not only from the tabloids, but also from the LA. Times and the Daily News, the San Francisco Chronicle and the Examiner. Stories about Jonas, growing up, attending Stanford and Yale, hunting in the Sudan, dating an endless succession of beautiful women, settling down to make billions with Bravo, Incorporated.

There were stories about Blythe and her charitable activities: "Blythe Bravo Campaigns for Animal Rights," "Bravo Matriarch Contributes One Million to Save Street Kids," "Blythe Bravo, Angel of Angel's Crest."

And finally, near the end, there were clippings about Mandy: "Billionaire Baby" and "Blythe Bravo: Proud New Mom at 58" and "The Littlest Bravo: Amanda Eloise."

An icy s.h.i.+ver crawled down Emma's spine. Just to think of that man with those terrible eyes, cutting out articles about Mandy, carefully pasting them into the yellowed book...

It was enough to make her decide that maybe Jonas wasn't so paranoid, after all.

"My G.o.d," Jonas said quietly. "This is a trophy book."

"Exactly," said Marsh, his voice bleak. "My father's little souvenir. A way for him to relive his greatest accomplishments. Faking his own death..."

Jonas looked up and met Marsh's eyes. "...And kidnapping his brother's child without ever getting caught."

"That's right," said Marsh. "Look at the last page."

Jonas turned to it. "Something was taped here."

"A key. To a safe-deposit box. My wife and I went to the bank where my father kept that box." Marsh unhooked the snap in the top of the briefcase, the snap that held the accordion file shut. He pulled the file open. It was empty, as before.

But then he reached in and raised the back wall of the file from the base, revealing a pocket concealed behind it.

Nestled in that pocket was a black jeweler's bag. Emma felt for Jonas's hand then. He let her have it without hesitation. She gave a squeeze and he squeezed back.

Marsh said, "Right before he died, my father got a lot of pleasure out of making cryptic references to my 'inheritance,' to some 'big, glittering surprise' I was going to get as soon as he was gone. I didn't have a clue what he was talking about. As I said earlier, I didn't want to know. I wanted to forget..." Marsh's voice trailed off.

He made himself continue. "I wanted to forget everything that had to do with my father, from the h.e.l.l that was my childhood, to all the things he had stolen from me. And there were a lot of those, of things that he stole. Things other people take for granted. Things like hope, things like happiness. Things like love..."

Marsh took the bag from its hiding place, pressed the back wall of the file into place and hooked the snap that anch.o.r.ed it shut. Then he closed the briefcase and pressed the latches shut, as well.

When all that was done, he spoke again. "After my father died, I did find happiness. I found the love I had thought lost to me forever. And I found the daughter I didn't even know that I had. For a while, I ignored the past. I told myself it was behind me, that I'd let it go. In a strange way, my father had returned what he'd stolen from me, by calling me back to my hometown when he was dying."

Marsh hefted the bag in his hand. "So for a while, I was able to tell myself that the past was over and done with. But it nagged at me. And finally, after several months, I discovered I was ready to deal with it. That's when my wife and I went to my father's house. That's when we found that sc.r.a.pbook and the key to a deposit box. That's when we went to the bank, with the key and my birth certificate and my father's will, which left everything to me. The bank officer verified that I had a right to the contents of the box. He took me into the vault, helped me open the box. And then he left me alone to do as I wanted with whatever was inside.

"Which was this bag." Marsh loosened the drawstring that held the bag shut. Very carefully, he shook the contents of the bag onto the coffee table.

Emma already knew what would fall out. Still, she couldn't hold back a gasp as the sparkling trail of diamonds spilled across the gla.s.s.