APRIL IN ROME
Chapter Thirteen

The sting of the pelting rain failed to tame the turmoil that was wreaking havoc upon the suffering soul’s ravaged senses. This scorching August day in the city of angels was like a stifling steam trap; he could barely breathe. Even though an early morning shower might normally grant one dispensation from the persistent sweltering temperatures, today it was smothering, suffocating. This must be what hell and damnation feels like—sheer purgatory, he darkly mused.

Of course, sweet deliverance from pain and suffering had escaped him for endless weeks now and regrettably, relief was still out of reach. Upon finally reaching his offices and after bestowing a curt stoic greeting to his staff, he heavily closed the door for privacy and wearily trudged across the room to flounce down behind a massive oak desk. Laying a dripping drenched head back against the neck rest of a plush leather chair, the tortured man closed anguished eyes against the haunting memories of the last four months. Jack Dawson almost wished he could erase it all—almost.

Finally accepting the horrific, nauseating fact that she was lost to another older man was the largest hurdle he had ever tried to overcome. But, her indomitable spirit still refused to go away—it refused to leave his memory! How was he ever to forget her—or was it even possible? Tragically, he had come to realize that love was Rose. As soft, as beautiful and as delicate a creature that the world had ever created. The seductive blossom had lured him to its nectar—like a bee drawn to honey. But then her thorns had viciously torn his heart to shreds—pricked and ripped it into a thousand pieces. He had tried hard to rid himself of her sweet poison and it should have worked. In the past, after spurning former dalliances, there were never any lingering longings or regrets. As soon as he was through with them, they were blessedly out of mind! But this time, it was different. This time it was Rose…no comparison…no other. God, why did love have to be so incredibly beautiful yet hurt so damnably much?

After the Grammy Award fiasco, he had lit right out of town intent on "purging" her from his system. He had frequented all his former "hot spots" in the Big Apple picking up several sultry beauties just ripe for the plucking…but she had always been there. Rose’s thorns remained stubbornly imbedded under his skin—buried deep in his bleeding heart, rendering him…well, useless. She had mentally castrated him, ruining him for other women. The harder he had tried to forget her in another’s embrace, the worst it had gotten. With embarrassment he recollected the astounding fact that he just couldn’t complete the act! Hell, who was he kidding…he couldn’t even start! God, he resented her for it—he despised her ghost-like presence that still pumped through his veins, rendering him as inadequate as a damn eunuch!

Why couldn’t he just get on with his life? Rose had obviously done just that! Rome had meant nothing to her! Ignorantly twisting the truth in this own muddled mind, Jack concluded he had just been a pawn—a boy toy for a girl bent on some type of warped revenge! With bitterness and contempt etched into his screaming soul, Jack couldn’t shake the wretched image of Don Hockley marrying and possessing his soulmate. Why was life dealing him such a cruel blow? What had he done to deserve this? Damn it all to hell! But, he hated Hockley most of all—now that was one sick old man! Shit, Rose was young enough to be his daughter!

Breaking into his silent mourning revelry and forcefully bursting into his office unannounced, Emma Dawson’s stern domineering voice reverberated off the walls like clapping thunder.

"Is my son in?"

The heavy oak double doors to Jack’s office suddenly blew open and slammed shut in a streak of lightning, startling not only the office personnel, but mainly the grieving despondent man sequestered in solitude against the raging storm.

Jumping to his feet, Jack surprisingly greeted, "Mother! Where in the world have you been lately?"

Ignoring her son’s petty question, Emma authoritatively cut straight to the point, "We need to talk, Jack!"

Perplexed and sensing the no nonsense approach that emitted from his mother’s imperious demeanor, Jack curiously albeit cautiously conceded.

"Sure, about what?"

"About Rose DiStefano," Emma coolly replied.

Jack sat back down in stunned silence and dread. He inwardly threatened, if Tommy Maguire has opened his big mouth and betrayed my confidence, I’ll throttle him! His stomach actually started to rumble, heave, and lurch; therefore, he quickly glanced away from probing eyes of cold steel.

Emma intuitively recognized the range of emotions that passed over her son’s face. It was the hurt that flickered in the aqua blue depths that disturbed her most. Yes, he can try to run from his problems, but he can’t hide them…not from me…from the one person in the world that knows him best!

Jack listlessly stared out the window completely ignoring her query until impatiently, she forced the issue.

"Tell me, Jack!"

"I never want to hear that little slut’s name again!" Jack shot back with heated venom. He refused to glance in his mother’s direction. Instead, he was intent on staring down the Los Angeles skyline.

"Jack!"

"No, mother, never!" Jack forcefully bit out.

Placing her hands on her hips, Emma exasperatedly prodded, "What in the world went on in Rome?"

No answer. Not even a sign that he had heard.

"Answer me, Jack Dawson!"

A long silence followed until finally, "She’s just a conniving, deceitful little whore that saw an opportunity to use me, a young rich celebrity, to judge the difference between an old man’s performance…" Jack suddenly went quiet, not wishing to reveal the hurt, the shame, and the humiliation of what he erroneously believed Rose had done to him.

Emma was furious at her son’s ludicrous false accusations because the girl she met in Texas was not one to be foolishly led or wooed by entertainers, not when Rose’s own father was one of the world’s most famous! Jack was barking up the wrong tree and needed to be set straight once and for all.

"So you actually think your notorious fame and fortune seduced and influenced Rose?" Mimicking a network news correspondent, Emma smugly continued as if reading a cheesy tabloid headline, "Mister Jack Dawson’s Star Power Attracts Curiously Greedy & Ambitious Girl! HA! You actually think you were her trophy? How utterly ridiculous! Well think again, son. Arrogance and conceit do not become you!"

"You’re way off base, Mother. Just drop it!"

But, Jack knew Emma would not let this exasperating interrogation end with his somewhat lame explanation; therefore; feeling like he was trapped and backed into a corner, he sprang to his feet while vehemently defending, "She tried to make her old man jealous while he was off with his harem of groupies on tour. But she had hers all right! ME! Want to hear more, Mother?"

Jack was visibly shaking from the anger and jealousy coursing throughout his heart and body. Voicing the hurt was forcing him straight to the edge of virtually collapsing into a fit of temper, so he unconsciously negated the consequences of his next revelation.

"Well, she’s now living with a man twice my age and thrice her own!"

Too late—he fervently prayed his mother didn’t catch that last inadvertent admission.

"My God, Jack! Just how young is this girl anyway?" Emma was trying desperately to tamper down her quaking voice to keep from being overheard in the outer offices.

Although she suspected Rose was young, this piece of information was very disturbing and quite daunting. The interminable silence followed again. Emma was becoming extremely exasperated at her belligerent son’s lack of responses—having to painstakingly pull every piece of information from him.

"Answer me, Jack!"

Again, no response.

"Listen, Jack Dawson…I demand an answer…NOW!"

"Seventeen! OK? Are you satisfied?" Jack forced out with thunderous spite tampered with belated remorse and embarrassment.

Sudden silence fell like an eerie calm after a deadly storm. Immediately, Emma’s quivering hand came up to cover her mouth in horror and disbelief.

Parroting the same words that Rose had whispered to him in Rome that first April night that had instigated their initial physical relationship, Jack shamefully admitted, "She didn’t look like a child!"

Completely discounting Jack’s ridiculous excuse, Emma inadvertently reacted in the same exact manner that Don Hockley had succumbed to when he had initially found out about Rose’s pregnancy.

"My God, Jack! She’s just a baby herself!" Abruptly turning on her unscrupulous and irresponsible son, Emma ripped further. "Just who took advantage of who here?"

Emma was more than simply irritated—she was furiously livid at Jack for his foolish and immoral "adult" games with a mere teenage girl. Catching him totally off guard, she audaciously stabbed, "Was she a virgin?"

Jack refused to answer these kind of personal questions from his own mother of all people. He didn’t want to think about it any longer. He simply could not get the words out to answer. Jack realized he had been unprincipled and selfish in Rome and he shouldn’t have taken her. But…damn, she was too irresistible—he knew exactly how Adam must have felt when tempted by Eve!

He spun around and put his shaking hand on the windowsill bracing his tall stiff body while closing his shimmering blue eyes. He knew his mother well enough to know she wouldn’t halt this relentless interrogation until she reamed all her answers from him.

"Answer me, Jack Dawson! Was she a…"

"Maybe her body was…but you have no idea…" Jack’s ragged voice trailed off to a mere whisper.

Halting any further explanation, Emma incredulously retorted, "Maybe she was? Either she was or she wasn’t!" Furiously pacing, Emma ranted, "Have you ever heard of the crime of statutory rape, Jack?"

With an exaggerated countenance, Jack furiously turned around facing his mother while jabbing an index finger at his heaving chest, "With me? HA! Go tell that one to old man Hockley. Besides, he’s the man sleeping with a seventeen-year-old girl every night! He’s the one banging her now!"

"How dare you, Jack Dawson! Stop being so vulgar in my presence!" Emma harshly reprimanded.

She was becoming more flustered and disgusted as the seconds ticked by. Her ignorant son just didn’t fully comprehend the precarious, potentially dangerous situation he was in. Don could literally have Jack incarcerated if he had a mind to! And rightfully, she couldn’t blame him under the circumstances.

Instantly regretting the crude remark that he had literally yelled at his mother, Jack shamefully ducked his head an instant and ruefully apologized, "Sorry…But let anybody prove it! I’d say that’s the pot calling the kettle black though. Besides, in case you’re not aware, Mother…her name is Rose DiStefano-Hockley now." Jack’s voice virtually cracked as he spit out the hated Hockley name.

Emma couldn’t help but knowingly smile inwardly yet she pitied her son just the same. And although she felt she already knew the answer to her next question, Emma had to ask for all their sakes.

"Do you love her, Jack?"

No answer. However, by the deafening silence along with the thick tension that flooded the tomb-like room, Emma knew without a single doubt. Going over to her heart-broken son, she laid a consoling hand on his rigid arm and empathetically implored, "What happened, Jack?"

Taking a deep halting breath, Jack scornfully ground out, "Gabrielle Astor is what happened."

Misunderstanding his scathing response, Emma disbelievingly asked, "You left Rose for her?"

"Hardly…"

At last, Jack sat wearily down and reluctantly began to recount most of their fateful April love story until he was literally exhausted and drained of all energy and emotion. When he was finished, he prayed enough was revealed to hopefully pacify his mother’s curiosity and constant badgering! He simply refused to divulge the most sensitive and intimate subjects…those were only for him and her to remember.

Emma sat back in her chair and stared at her devastated son. She knew she shouldn’t butt in and attempt to straighten all this out herself. Rose and Jack had to work things out between themselves; however, maybe she could try and guide them a bit.

"Jack, did you look for her afterwards and try to reconcile?"

"Mother, I had dozens of the best private investigators in the country scanning the whole state of Texas for months. We never even came across a Rose DiStefano anywhere. There were no cities or towns officially listed by the name of Rosedale where she supposedly lived. Not even any records of her existence…She obviously lied to me about everything--including that she loved me. Either that or she’s capable of loving two men at once and if that’s the case, well, I’d rather have no part of it. As you well know, Mother, I don’t share very well especially the woman I love."

"Jack, how many women did you employ in your little investigative team anyway?"

Jack looked at Emma as if she had suddenly grown two heads, completely bewildered.

"What has that to do with anything?"

"Oh, nothing I suppose. It’s just we women notice little things that men seem to overlook and take for granted at times. Now take locations for instance…men see places in black and white pictures. It has to be a specific country, state, county, or city. Yet, we women see things entirely differently. We see the gray areas--like a place can be a home…ranches, farms, plantations—you know?"

Still baffled and becoming impatiently irritated with his Mother’s seemingly shallow and irrelevant insights, Jack blandly commented, "Whatever, Mother! Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. She’s Hockley’s wife now!"

Emma was secretly grinning and rejoicing despite her previous agitation and aggressive tirade that she had deservedly lambasted Jack with. Her poor unenlightened son just didn’t get it. Never looking beneath the surface. Of course, she had to admit that she was privy to some very vital clues along the way and had the Hockley name to go on. Nonetheless, it was ironic that Jack had spent thousands of dollars on a male-directed dead-end search yet it had only cost her a single long distance phone call. Amazing the resourcefulness of women!

Still she chose to jab further.

"Yet, you know Don Hockley was never intimate with her before Rome. You know this as fact. Right?"

Again, no answer…the only sign she received that Jack was even alive or heard was that he rebelliously spun back around and continued staring outside oblivious to her sparring.

Shaking her head, she comically bragged, "WOW! Mr. Hockley must have had some will power, huh?"

Jack snapped his head around and shot his mother a hard penetrating glare. Regardless, Emma didn’t seem to take heart or offense for she was practically oozing with downright giddiness that further annoyed Jack.

"Oh, never mind. Tsk, tsk!" Emma impishly clucked her tongue.

An idea suddenly struck like a bolt of flashing lightning and Emma girlishly twirled around exclaiming with an enthusiastic lilt, "You’re going to take me to the premiere in New York on Saturday."

"I’m not going!" Jack caustically rejected.

"Oh YES you are! Trust me, you’ll want to take this trip! We’re not going to miss this for all the oil in Texas!"

"But they’ll be there, Mother and I just can’t handle it!" Jack dejectedly pleaded.

Snidely to tweak his nose and completely ignoring Jack’s trivial objection, "By the way, Jack, where is Gabrielle anyway these days?"

Jack was seriously beginning to doubt his mother’s rational well being. Hell, she was grating on his last nerve! Her crazy subject hopping was becoming habit of late especially during this awful, abhorrent conversation. What was her point, anyway? Nevertheless, he reluctantly decided to go along and placate her in order to halt the torturous inquisition he was currently being bombarded with.

"Last I heard she’s in Rome with Rose’s cousin, Fabrizio DiStefano, why?"

"Well, I’ll be damn. I’ve always heard Rome is magical. Don’t know why everyone always claims that Paris is the city of love."

Suddenly bursting with glorious happiness and blissful exhilaration, "Arrivederci, Jack! See you Saturday!" Emma bent down to place a motherly kiss on his pale, clammy cheek and couldn’t resist further teasing, "Cheer up, dear, we’re not going to an opera you know!"

Emma stormed out as suddenly as she flew in—like a whirlwind that blasted in and upon doing the desired damage, just simply disappeared into the clouds.

Jack Dawson instantly became violently sick at his stomach. Looking heavenward, he dreamily began to ponder, A sinister dark entity must be controlling my destiny. Surely the angels of heaven and the demons of hell have fought a bloody war between good and evil and it appears Lucifer has come out the winner!

Saturday night in New York came too soon and not soon enough. After waving to screaming fans and posing for numerous publicity photos, Jack and Emma Dawson finally entered the theater. Jack’s entire face hurt from the fake pasted on smile he felt compelled to wear for the crowd and cameras. After awhile, they both encountered Martin Stefano and decided to engage him in conversation. Shortly, it was Martin that brought the volatile subject to the forefront.

"So tell me, Jack…how did you enjoy visiting Rose’s plantation in Texas? Rosedale is absolutely gorgeous, isn’t it?" Martin innocently inquired.

Jack stared in wide-eyed wonder. Glancing at his mother, he instantly caught the devilish twinkle in her starry blue eyes. Not knowing anything else to say, he muttered as he shrugged his wide shoulders, "I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been."

"Oh? That’s too bad. I thought you were practically in route after we last talked on the phone. I suppose you two are still as cozy as you were in Rome?" Martin was playfully grinning from ear to ear.

If it were possible, Jack was becoming more uncomfortable and depressed by the minute but managed to grimly reply, "Not quite. I assume you haven’t heard?"

Completely confused and baffled, Martin curiously inquired, "No, what? I’ve been out of the country for awhile but…"

As pale as his snowy white shirt collar, Jack sardonically explained, "She married somebody else!"

"But that’s impossible! I just talked with her father this past week and he never mentioned a word." Martin was totally bewildered and shocked beyond words. Inwardly musing, no way that Don Hockley would permit his only child to marry so young and unexpectedly. Not the overly protective father he personally knew and respected.

"Well, she did and quite suddenly I might add. I think I need a drink! Excuse me, Martin…Mother."

At that, Jack made a hasty departure leaving Martin scratching his graying head in disbelief. Glancing at a bemused Emma, Martin couldn’t help but doubtfully question, "Emma, has the boy lost his mind or what?"

"I believe we are all in for quite a revealing experience tonight, Martin. It seems my dear son is about to be enlightened and I’m afraid made a complete fool of!"

After quickly guzzling a stiff drink, Jack was ordering up another when none other than Daniel Lyons suddenly approached him. Curious about the mysterious absence of Dawson’s beautiful Roman companion that had captured both their hearts and imaginations, Daniel jovially prompted, "So tell me, Dawson. Where’s our lovely costar this evening?"

Deliberately ignoring the meaning of Daniel’s annoying inquiry, Jack innocently quirked, "Carmen Davis and her date are standing right over there, Lyons."

Amused, Daniel prodded, "You know who I am referring to, Dawson. Still trying to keep her all to yourself I see!"

"I have no idea who you’re talking about Lyons."

At that precise moment, Daniel perused the front entrance and a huge admiring leer spread across his handsome face.

"Ah, there she is! As beautiful as the rose itself!"

Unable to help himself, Jack whirled around and froze. His heart skipped a beat in time then turned completely over. He couldn’t look away--held captive by a coveted presence that had eluded him for four lonely miserable months. Across the distance, Rose floated into his line of vision—an ethereal angel emitting an aura of fragility and beauty beyond all Jack’s comprehension. She literally stole his breath. His mouth dropped open and he became hypnotized by the sheer magic of her mystical illusion.

Gowned in a long, flowing lavender chiffon dress with an empire waist, her silky copper hair was partially cascading down her back in waves although the front was pulled up with marcasite and amethyst combs. She wore matching Victorian amethyst and marcasite jewelry that lent a fascinating glamour to her glowing mesmerizing beauty. Even from the distance, Jack could readily make out her tempting full lips—actually trembling.

In the meantime, Don Hockley was shaking hands with Martin Stefano seemingly as if they were long lost brothers that irritated Jack for some unfathomable reason. Furthermore, in the next instant, his own mother glided over and warmly embraced both surprised Hockleys, like they were next of kin no less! Jack stared harder and something about Rose began tugging at his aching heart. Something about her was different—but what? Mrs. Hockley seemed as if she bore the weight of the world upon her delicate shoulders. Gone was the vivacious, laughing, confident, and outstandingly innocent girl he cherished and claimed in Rome. Absent was the provocatively sexy, sultry, mature, sophisticated seductress that he lusted after and craved in Los Angeles. In her place was a vulnerable, sad, timid and very nervous woman that still held his heart captive.

It was then that both pairs of magnetic love-starved eyes met and interlocked. Fiery blue sparks collided with soft jade.

They next thing Jack knew, Rose blanched and bolted to the ladies room with a hand covering her mouth as if she was going to wretch. An instant later, Emma Dawson briskly followed with worried concern marring her endearing motherly face. Jack felt like an innocent bystander that had just made it to the theater at the end of a play. He was missing something but what…

As Rose bent over the toilet, she couldn’t stop pitifully emptying her nervously upset stomach. After she finally thought she might be finished, Rose felt a comforting hand on her back and turned to find Emma with a cool cloth to freshen her pale drawn face. Closing her frightened misty green eyes, she weakly murmured her gratitude but immediately became aware that the severe nausea still persisted.

Jack was out there! Of course, she knew all along that he would be here tonight. But, how could she make herself leave the sanctuary of this room? Just the thought of seeing him with her made her squeamish prompting her to slightly tremble. She had been somewhat fortunate thus far. As soon as their eyes had made magical contact, she had cowardly retreated—closing her misting eyes against Jack’s female companion that was most likely lurking nearby. She couldn’t look—wouldn’t watch them—refused to face it. Had Jack noticed her condition—was it obvious yet? Her middle had grown so fast in the last couple of weeks! Oh, why had she allowed her father to pressure her into this horrendous trip to subject both her babies and herself to witness their father with another? Where was her old spirit? She should have just insisted—lied to him if she had to!

"Rose, are you okay?" Emma questioned with concern.

As pale as angel’s wings, Rose slightly nodded struggling hard against an overwhelming urge to cry. Abruptly, it dawned on her that Emma Jackson was actually here…standing here comforting her when she needed someone the most. Just like she promised at Rosedale!

Tears immediately sprung to her emerald eyes and the only audible sound that would come forth was a ragged, "Ms. Emma?"

Falling into outstretched welcoming arms, Rose began to wretchedly weep. Emma held her like a small child gently stroking her soft red hair while whispering soothing words like a protective mother to an injured toddler.

Rose’s mind was dancing with so many fragmented thoughts that she couldn’t seem to keep any of them straight inside her head. Erroneously, she still believed she had been a mere passing fancy for Jack--like a shooting star that had shone brilliantly for two splendid weeks in April before burning itself out. But he had left behind more than a memory. He had unknowingly given her the best part of himself that she would never give up. Sadly, she realized that Jack might never know about his children. Of course, he would probably have more with her. Then she stared into Emma’s all too familiar sapphire eyes—those same wonderful glittering eyes and she knew…

It was a long time before the tears dried and Rose could utter a single syllable.

"Oh God…you’re really Emma Dawson, aren’t you? I should have seen it before."

"I’m so sorry for the deceit, Rosa. I had so many unanswered questions that I desperately needed answers to. I had to see you for myself. Can you ever forgive me?"

"No, don’t apologize, Ms. Emma. I knew there had to be a reason that I felt such an immediate bond with you…I can’t explain it! Besides, I couldn’t have chosen a more wonderful grandmother for my children than you!"

Rose’s enlightened eyes were puffy and she comically began to hiccup. Emma Dawson empathized with her sorry plight and softly stroked her flushed cheek with tender loving care.

"Oh, Rose. You’re so gracious, understanding and very special to me. But, I want you to know that I feel the same exact way about you!"

Heaving a heavy, burdensome sigh, Rose dreadfully asked, "Ms. Emma, is she out there?" Rose nervously chewed her bottom lip and her red swollen eyes begged for a negative answer to her heart’s desire.

Emma smiled and negatively shook her blond head.

"Dear, you and Jack have so much to talk about. After the premier, it’s imperative that you don’t leave without talking with him…he doesn’t understand…only you can straighten all this out. Whatever you do…come hail or high water…please don’t leave here tonight without making the stubborn man realize the errors of his ways and suspicions. Even if you have to take a bullwhip to him! Listen to me…I’m talking like a true Texan!"

Both women softly laughed at Emma’s self-mockery.

"Now, as for as your fears are concerned, I will tell you this…There is no other she!"

Immediately interrupting Rose’s objections, Emma held up a halting hand, "Now, we all know that appearances can be deceptive, so let’s just say destiny has led you both down two narrow, crooked roads thus far. It’s time for those paths to cross. Now calm down…miracles are about to happen! Trust me. And speaking of little miracles, how are my precious grandbabies?"

Emma softly patted Rose’s swollen abdomen before laughingly commenting, "They’ve really grown this last week, haven’t they, dear?"

Shaking her head, somehow Rose began to relax and felt the nausea ebb away. After refreshing her face, another thought suddenly hit her. Not only was she overwhelmingly nervous and tense about the upcoming confrontation with Jack, but there were the colorful movie scenes between them both that were about to be aired! Her father and Jack’s mother were about to see what had really transpired between the two. Rose was unsure even if she could endure it for the duration! The entire general public were about to become witness to their incredible and documented "union". She couldn’t help wondering, What must Jack be thinking and feeling right now?

But moreover, if miraculously no other woman truly existed in Jack’s life, what in God’s name had really happened that awful, fateful April night in Rome that had brought them both so much pain and grief? Dear God, please help us out of this malady with our hearts intact!

When Emma had unexpectedly greeted Don, Rose and Martin, it had been such a wonderful heartwarming surprise, especially for Don Hockley, that he had barely had time to say hello before his daughter had rushed to the ladies room with Emma in quick pursuit. Guiltily, Don reasoned that he shouldn’t have adamantly insisted that they come tonight, but his parental curiosity and pride over his child’s accomplishments had simply taken reign over the potentially disastrous situation. However, he had solemnly vowed to protect Rose and he would at all costs. Nevertheless, Dawson was here—and vilely leering at Rose like he rightfully possessed her! And after what he had done to her! God, how he hated that bastard!

Martin Stefano broke into Don’s spiraling musings.

"Don, is Rose going to be all right?" Martin questioned with apparent concern.

"She hasn’t been feeling well lately. I’m sure she’s just experiencing anxiety or opening night jitters at watching herself on screen for the first time," Don hastily eluded.

Recalling Valor and Cora’s sizzling "love scene" that had cost the film a restricted rating—that one and the same in which Don was about to become witness to, Martin warily agreed, "Well, I can see why she might be somewhat nervous."

Martin adamantly hoped that Don was as open-minded and liberal as he remembered him to be in the past. Yet, he somehow doubted it, especially when it concerned his precious daughter. Quite hesitantly, Martin worriedly probed, "Has Rose told you anything about her character or the plot?"

"No, not a word, the little pistol! I guess I’ll just have to be surprised like everybody else."

Coughing slightly, Martin softly murmured under his breath, "

Ahem—and a surprise it will be for sure!"

But aloud for Don’s ears only, he sincerely questioned, "I heard some startling news right before you two came in that was just too hard to believe, Don."

"Oh?" Don arched a wondering brow.

"One of Rose’s fellow actors mentioned that she had recently married. True or false?"

Don knew exactly who that "fellow" actor was…Dawson! It was then that flashing eyes of green clashed with glaring pools of blue across the lobby. Both men went absolute rigid with hostility. Somehow, Don miraculously managed to tap down the hatred infused in his voice to deny, "False, Martin. It’s a long story but you know me better than that I hope. I know it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other but some things never change—I’m not that crazy, yet!"

"Humph, didn’t think so, Don. Anyway, let me assure you that Rose was magnificent on the set—conducted herself like an experienced seasoned actress. She has the potential for greatness, you know!"

Martin could only hope his high praise of Rose’s professional behavior on the set would defuse Don Hockley’s initial furious temper when he became privy to the passionate and lusty acting abilities of his daughter! Her extraordinary performance had seemed so real and true-to-life that it was downright disconcerting to both cast and crew! The previews that he had assisted in editing had even made him blush like a schoolboy!

"Well, Martin, it seems my daughter’s days as an actress may have to be put on hold for awhile anyway. You might as well know since you’re family, but I’m about to become a grandfather in January—to twins no less!"

Stunned speechless, Martin didn’t know what to say or how to exactly act—whether to be congratulatory or consoling. Don must have sensed his perilous dilemma because he boastfully slapped Martin on the back and heartily bragged, "My daughter is great, Martin. Whether she’s on a movie set, up on stage or off. I’m extremely proud of her. However, I admit there’s a particular insect crawling nearby that I’d absolutely love to squash—catch my drift?"

And Martin Stefano certainly did. He became keenly aware of Don’s veiled threat and knew exactly who the rodent was. Guiltily recalling his own abominable part in Jack and Rose’s introduction, Martin hung his head in shameful regret. Of course, Martin couldn’t blame his cousin-in-law in the least because if the suave playboy had done the heinous deed to his own daughter well…! He certainly applauded Don’s rigid self-control especially when the fiend was standing less than thirty feet away! Furthermore, despite his admiration for Jack Dawson’s brilliant performances in their period epic, Martin’s loyalty remained with their honorable Italian-American family.

Simultaneously both angry men turned and glared menacingly across the room towards the culprit himself—an increasingly nervous Jack Dawson!

Chapter Fourteen
Stories