Sorcha worked hard. He knew few people who worked as hard as she did with as few complaints. Her work ethic was only surpassed by the quality of her work, which was why he’d always respected her.
He’d seen how modestly her family lived, too. He had known pretty much from the start that she sent money home and knew she was still squeezing funds for them from her savings. He had padded the account he’d set up for her to ensure she could keep helping out at home without denting anyone’s pride. He admired her even more since their marriage, now that he’d seen how far she’d come from her disadvantaged beginning to the position she’d held with him.
And she was kind. Warm and cheerful and never one to strike back at rudeness with equal harshness. He liked to keep the pressure on. Not everyone responded well to that. Aside from the occasional dark look, she’d always sucked up his demands with a smile.
Sorcha was that rare creature: a good, solid, hardworking person.
To see her devastated like that, eyes hollow, calling herself trash...
Cesar wound his way through the crowd until he spotted Diega, then reminded himself to keep his hands by his sides, rather than forcibly remove her from the home she so coveted.
She was holding court with his parents and Rico, her smile smug.
He leaned in from behind and spoke through his teeth next to her ear. “Leave. Now. You know why.”
Rico sent him a startled glance. “Mind your manners, big brother.”
Diega paled, turned her head and looked past him for Sorcha before her mouth tilted into a disdainful smile. “I don’t know what she told you—”
“Just as I will never know exactly what I said to you, when I saw you before I crashed. Was I really proposing, Diega? Was I?”
She held his gaze, but her eye twitched. It might have been the confrontation. He’d never come at anyone with this much animosity, but it might have been a tell. He scented a lie.
“Cesar.” Rico brought up the back of one firm hand to press it against Cesar’s chest, obviously reading his dangerous mood.
But he wouldn’t soil himself by touching that viper.
“Our family does not attack itself,” he told Diega. “You won’t be invited to join it. Leave. Quietly. Don’t make a scene. You will regret it.”
“Cesar!” his mother protested in a shocked whisper.
“She leaves or my wife and I do, Mother. Take your pick.”
His mother was speechless for about half a second. “An explanation would be nice!”
“Diega gave up ‘nice’ months ago, when she hired someone to follow Sorcha. Didn’t you? You weren’t surprised she was pregnant. You knew and didn’t tell me. I’ve often wondered how I went through that rail. Did you slip me something, trying to keep me at your house?”
Rico swore under his breath and his hand dropped from Cesar’s chest.
“No!” Diega gasped. “That’s a repulsive accusation!”
Cesar wanted to believe that was earnest horror, but bringing Tom here set a high bar on how ugly she played. “You just took advantage of the situation once I’d crashed?”
“I will leave,” she said with a lift of her chin. “I won’t stand here to be insulted.” She scanned the crowd.
“See her into her car,” he said to his brother, barely staying inside his skin, he was so livid. “I’ll find Tom.”
* * *
They arrived at his penthouse late. It hadn’t been a long drive from his parents’, but Sorcha had fallen asleep in the car, sliding on the leather seat so she wound up slumped into Cesar’s shoulder.
Disconcerted by his stiff, silent air of threadbare tolerance, she settled Enrique for the night, then moved to the bedroom to begin undressing.
She really didn’t know how to take his mood. He was sipping a whiskey, standing at the door to the small terrace off the master bedroom.
“Mother expected Diega to help her organize a fund-raiser for May. She mentioned as we were leaving that it might be better if we host it at the new house, take the focus off the fact that Rico and Diega won’t be marrying after all.”
“Um, okay.” She removed her earrings. He’d given her the pretty yellow sapphires before they left the house. She picked at the catch on the matching bracelet, trying to open the clasp. “I’ll call her tomorrow to ask the details?”