Claire tried to consider Gena's allegations, but still, none of it made sense. She felt nothing but gratitude toward Ryan Stevens. Besides, he had a beautiful girlfriend, or whoever that woman at the mall was, which meant he was taken, and perhaps it wouldn't have changed a thing even if he wasn't.

She had to think of something else; anything but Ryan Stevens. Claire decided.

While tossing and turning in bed, the idea of opening the envelope she had received from her grandfather popped up. She stood gingerly and stalked barefoot into her walk-in closet, where she pressed the combinations of the inside vault and snapped it open. She took the envelope and returned to the bedroom.

What lay inside the envelope were a few documents: the land deed, bank papers, a share transfer agreement, and a letter. Claire wasn't surprised, for she had known what to expect from this, even though to what extent her expectations were was still a mystery until now. The first she did was unfold the letter that read:

Dear Claire,

If you're reading this it means my time in this world has come to an end. Don't cry, please. You're more beautiful when you smile and I'm sure one lucky bastard will be ensnared by that smile someday and treasure you like the diamond you are, even though I once heard you talk to your friend that men are wicked and you needed none. Alas, I wasn't spying on you; it was purely by chance, sweetie.

Claire paused to read. A choke of laughter accompanied her tears, and yes, she was with Gena in her room when she said those words. How did he hear them? Sniffling the tears, she crossed her legs Indian style and continued:

It's true men are wicked, but there must be someone for you, and perhaps you'd be the only one to control his wickedness. My point is, do not ever settle for less. I'm terrible with words, right? No wonder I chose to be an architect and not a poet. My daughter, I know I'm not the best father in the world as you used to call me when you were little, and even saying sorry won't make up for it. But I am sorry. You are, and you've always been the best daughter to me and I am so very proud of you.

As you're reading this you're probably on your way to become the interior designer, if you're not one already. My advise: let nothing stop you from being what you want to be. Not your scary childhood memories, and not even the scars I've inflicted upon you.

Be brave, Claire. Be you.

With so much Love,

Dad.

Claire crumpled the letter tightly in her hand. A little girl in her wept painfully to think she was all alone in this cold world, while the older girl in her had no idea what she felt at this moment. So she cried and cried until her eyes gave up, and the first light of the dawn found her coiled in a fetal position at one side of her bed.

___

The next day Claire had to go back to her grandfather, as the only place she could think of. She didn't have anyone else to share this news on such deep levels as she could with Grandpa Robles. She spent the whole day with him, talking to him, and together they had something to ease their pain while taking a walk at the beach.

And the sun began to fall in the West, Claire went Bruno's restaurant. She had to see him again for some reason, and the curly haired brunette couldn't hesitate to swoop her into a tight hug, ignoring his staff and whoever was in the restaurant parking area.

"I was worried about you. Did you get home safe that day? I realized I didn't even get your number, dammit!" he asked, making Claire sigh at the memory. He frowned. "What? Did something happen?"

"Well, it's a long story but I got home safe in the end," Claire replied vaguely. "Are you going somewhere?" she asked, realizing that he was carrying a backpack as though ready for some trip.

"Uh, yeah. Something like that," he replied. "I was about to go home when you arrived." He slid the strap of his backpack off his shoulder.

"Oh? In that case, I'll just drop by some other time. I've come unannounced anyway," Claire said.

"Some other time when? Don't be silly." Bruno grinned impishly. He was in khaki shorts and a white button-up shirt today. Simple, boyish, and handsome. "I have a better plan." His grin widened.

Claire shrieked back cautiously.

"Which is?" Her single eyebrow torqued skyward.

She wasn't afraid of anything he was about to say, but rather unready to be dismayed by his profound spontaneity.

"Come with me to my house," he said simply.

"Excuse me?"

A burst of laughter made Bruno's body shake mirthfully. "Chill out, Claire. I mean, the house where my family stays—not here. And yes, as a friend!" He was aware of Claire's next concern way before she knew it.

"Oh?" Claire chuckled, glancing away to brush off the demur in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was imagining," she breathed.

Bruno shook his head to the sides, utterly entertained. "At least you're admitting that you were thinking of something. But even if I was taking you to lair, what's wrong with that?"

Everything. How could I end up in a single man's home—a stranger still—and just the two of us? Wasn't this an attraction for disaster? Claire could never trust these handsome creatures called men. Not even their winsome charm.

"Um, forget about that. The truth is... I don't think I can go to your home, Bruno. I only wanted to say hi before I return to the city," Claire told him after considering it for a second. "It's my first day at work tomorrow; I must be home early."

"Oh, is that so?" A bit disappointed, Bruno scratched his stubbled-chin thoughtfully, and suddenly his eyes gleamed up again. "Just one hour and you'll go back."

"Brunooo!" Claire cried.

"Come on, beautiful! My house is not far from here, and the food will be great. I know you love eating." He winked.

"That's embarrassing." Claire flushed immediately, luckily there was no one to listen to hear their cheesy conversation.

"Come on, let's go!" Bruno held her hand, pulling her toward his red convertible.

"Fine." Claire couldn't refuse him, for he wasn't the type to accept rejection without a fight. "Just one hour," she articulated.

"Yes, ma'am." Bruno bowed rather dramatically.

Jeez! Claire couldn't understand where he got the energy to be playful and carefree at all times. He was a happy person, it showed, but she couldn't trust his constant smile either. Everyone has a dark something, she always believed.

What could be Bruno's though? A topic for another day.

They slipped into an Audi-R8 and buckled in. Pulling the car with ease, Bruno put on some Spanish music as they slid away, letting an easy silence fall upon them.

"Why do I feel like you need a wingman for this visit to your house?" Claire broke the silence, eyes at him.

"What?" Bruno retorted, and this there wasn't that smile of his—the one he wore like a crown.

"Am I right? Is there anything I should be aware of?"

He laughed indulgently. "What makes you think that way?".

Because she could recognize the dark look in his eyes at the mention of family. It was the same kind she'd personally show whenever she was speaking of hers to anyone but Gena.

"Nothing. I can be pretty judgmental sometimes," she said, taking an easy sigh.

"I haven't been home for two years," Bruno began, his voice laced with rue. Claire didn't utter a thing; she didn't expect him to even say this much. "I returned from Barcelona just the day before I met you at the cemetery." He glanced at her, his fingers tight around the driving wheel.

"Oh, I see," Claire uttered softly. Unable to understand something, she asked, "And why does it scare you to be back? Are you afraid of something?"

Bruno's jaw ticked, and his fingers tightened even more around the steering.

He was tense. Claire could see it through the whiteness in his knuckles and the ripple of his arm muscles.

"I'd rather not talk about it." He smiled tightly at her.

"Okay." Claire understood, and so she smiled back.

Their ride was taciturn from this point. Claire was lost in each landscape sliding by, the hills and green grass overlaying in harmony, and then the sea. She smiled, recalling how she hated everything during that rainy evening.

And while doing so, the car had turned into a dusty road amid the splendid fields of trees. Her eyes awoke, fully and widely. She knew this way, and the memory flashed back without a fog the more the car tires swept over.

"Wait," she uttered, glancing at Bruno briskly. "Is this the way to your house?" she asked urgently.

"Yes," Bruno answered. "Why? You look like you've seen a ghost." His lips curled into a confused grin.

Indeed, Claire mumbled in her head. It was the same road heading to the Stevens' mansion. Ryan drove her that afternoon through these same fields, and she couldn't stop admiring the tranquility.

"Are you related to the Stevens? I mean, Mr. Stevens and his grandson, Ryan?" Claire asked.

"Um, yeah," Bruno affirmed. "Mr. Stevens, as you call him, is... actually... my grandfather. Wait! How do you know him? And Ryan, too?" He was stunned, smiling bemusedly as the car neared the large gates of the house.

Does that mean he and Ryan are brothers? Holy shit! How is this possible? Claire's eyes were broader and rattled.

"Well, it's a bit of a long story," she replied vaguely, finding it too disturbing to share.

"I have enough time to listen, Claire," Bruno said with a faint smile that lightened his deep brown eyes anyway, like the glow of the twilight sky.

"Okay, I almost had an accident that evening," Claire said, "and your grandfather... I mean, your brother, Ryan, was the one who helped me. Well, both of them did. So I spent the night at your house and—"

"Hold on," Bruno cut her off, halting the car stoutly in front of the gate, waiting for someone to open it. "You had an accident? How?" He looked worried.

Another sigh escaped Claire before she said, "Their car nearly ran me over."

It was a lie because she had no better explanation to it. She couldn't even tell the whole truth to the man who saved her life, after all. It was her secret to keep.

"Shit! I'm so sorry, Claire. I shouldn't have let you leave like that," Bruno said, remorse thick in his voice.

"Hey, it's alright." Claire smiled in assurance. "I'm in one piece, as you can see, and it's not your fault that nature decided to punish me for my stubbornness."

Bruno sighed heavily. "I'm glad you are."

Bruno's sight was a surprise to the gateman, a rugged man in jeans and a polo shirt, wearing a hat that he quickly took off to have a proper glance at him.

"Bruno?" he gasped, dusky eyes bigger in shock.

Claire smiled at the dramatic shrug of the shoulders Bruno made. He was a clown, she thought to herself.

"Long time no see, German. Hope you're married to that florist by now," Bruno teased.

"Fuck off, man! She fled back to Santo Domingo, that Chapiadora!" German cackled, but shock in his eyes prevailed. "Welcome back, Bruno. The hacienda has never been the same without you."

Bruno nodded stiffly.

They wandered inside, and the house was as beautiful as Claire remembered. Martha was the first person they came across, and she almost dropped the wooden tray carrying a glass of juice when she saw Bruno.

"Yes, it's me, Nanny. I'm not dead yet," Bruno said, and the old lady cast the tray aside on the console table, her eyes wet. "Oh, not the tearworks, please." He pulled for a warm hug that left Claire with so many questions.

What was happening? She stood at the corner.

"Martha, when will I get that juice, woman? Is it on a flight from America or something?" Mr. Steven's grumpy voice echoed, and he was approaching slowly toward them. "Can't you see this heat..." His voice trailed off.

Pulling out of Martha's arms, Bruno breathed, "Grandpa," with tears welling in his eyes.

Stupefied, Mr. Steven's gaze held Bruno's intently.

Claire's eyes shifted between the old man and his protegee grandson, the mystery yet to unfold. Silence blanketed the atmosphere, a pin drop would make a ruckus.

Why am I here again? Claire wondered, and much to her dismay, another familiar voice hit her eardrums.

"I'll be back this evening, and we'll talk then," Ryan uttered casually, talking to someone on the phone.

Claire beheld his terrific features instantly, and frozen was his eyes upon seeing her, and mostly, his young brother, Bruno Stevens.

Into the phone, he muttered, "Later, please." He hung up.

"Hi, Bro." Bruno grinned.

After a long minute of shock, Ryan managed to murmur, "You bastard."

Claire couldn't understand a thing until the two men grabbed each other for a tight hug that explained the deep brotherly love she hadn't known until this moment. So they're family? She couldn't shake this off. It was so strange and unexpected and she needed time to process everything.

"Allow me to kill him first, and maybe you two can hug in the afterlife!" It was Mr. Stevens's voice, angry yet reprieved, as he made his way toward Bruno.

What a twist of fate! Claire sighed softly.

"Um, I need to use the restroom," she told Martha in a low voice, for this was too intimate, and it was only fair to give them privacy as a family.

__________

A/N: So, we have two brothers in the house lol. Had seen it coming? Thank you so much for reading, and I'd be happy to hear your comments.