Tito stepped outside, stopping for a moment and resting his hand against one of the tall columns. Live here? Him? He'd told her he'd think about it, but he couldn't really imagine it. He much preferred the small apartment he'd taken over from Maria when he'd gotten out a prison, since she and their little brother Joey had already been living with Ritchie. Eleanor was correct that it wasn't the best neighborhood, but he'd lived in worse places and after eight years in prison he knew how to take care of himself.

Moving from there to an estate on Fisher Island was too bizarre to even contemplate.

Eleanor had said she'd call a driver to take him back to the ferry, and had urged him to wait inside in the cool. But he'd had to get out. It was another byproduct of the years in prison. The feeling, sometimes, that the walls were closing in on him, and the need to get outside and breathe fresh air and see the sky.

He had a lot to think about after everything Eleanor had told him. Maybe she was telling the truth. He didn't know. He'd have to do some investigating, since he wasn't going to just accept her story at face value. He also had to face telling Maria, and wasn't sure how she'd react. Her life was going really well and he hated to do or say anything that could upset that. She'd been through so much, and he still carried the burden of guilt that he hadn't been there for her. That he'd been sitting in prison due to his own stupid choices, while she'd had to leave college and be the sole caregiver for their mother. While she handled everything when their mother died. When she gave up her own plans and dreams to work two jobs and raise their half-brother Joey, who had only been seven years old then. And when Joey got into trouble at 13 it had been Ritchie, not Tito, who had been there to get him back on track.

It was guilt that ate at Tito in the middle of the night, and made him feel like he didn't deserve the good things that had come his way since he was released from prison.

He certainly didn't deserve a 10 million dollar Trust, or living in a mansion.

Tito looked over as the door to one of the five garages opened and a dark Bentley pulled out and then stopped right in front of him. The passenger side window slid down, and Chloe leaved toward him from the driver's seat.

"Well, get in."

"I thought someone was picking me up."

"I told Eleanor not to bother calling for a driver. I'm right here." She waited, and when he didn't respond, said, "So come on, what are you waiting for?"

Tito opened the door and got into the passenger seat. "Why do I think you have some agenda in driving me yourself?"

"Um. Intuitive," Chloe said. "I know why Eleanor asked you here today. I realize I haven't known her that long, but I was with her when she got the news that her son had died. And I know something about the struggles she was going through before that, trying to come to terms with her son's refusal to have any contact with you and your sister. She may seem strong but you don't know her. She's actually really vulnerable, and I don't want to see her get hurt."

"Got it," Tito said, narrowing his eyes as he turned toward her. "So you wanted to warn me off. Well don't worry, because I have no intention of-"

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all. And I guess I take back that comment about you being intuitive because you're really missing the mark right now."

"Then why don't you tell me what you mean," Tito said evenly.

"What I'm saying is I hope you will seriously consider moving in for three months as she requested, and getting to know her. She's not getting any younger, and you and your sister are the only family she has left. If you stay away out of anger, you might regret it later, and it could be too late."

Tito gave a short laugh. "Believe me, I know plenty about regrets." His life was already full of them.

"She hasn't gone anywhere, not since her son died. She was already pretty reclusive, but it's gotten worse. She doesn't even drive anymore, and has me take the cars out sometimes just to make sure they keep running."

"How many cars does she have?" Tito asked, just curious.

"This one was her husband's. She actually finds it a little pretentious but hasn't given it up for I guess sentimental reasons."

Pretentious was right, in Tito's opinion. Why anyone felt the need to buy a car that cost as much as a middle-class house was beyond him. There were so much better uses to put that kind of money to.

"It makes me nervous driving it," Chloe admitted, seeming to read his thoughts. "I mean, this car costs more than I've racked up in student loans, and that's no small number."

"So Eleanor used to drive it herself?"

"Occasionally. She has a little sports car she prefers."

"A sports car? Eleanor? What kind?" Tito couldn't resist, and was finding it hard to picture the dignified elderly woman he'd just met behind the wheel of a sports car. Frankly, he would have thought the Bentley ran more true to type.

"Um, it's a classic Aston Martin convertible."

"No shit."

She glanced over at him.

"Sorry," Tito said. "I'm kind of into classic cars myself. Do you know what model?"

"Haven't a clue, Just that she actually bought it new sometime back in, I don't know, the 1980's or 90's? Treats it like it's her baby. I'm not really into cars myself. I just want reliable transportation. But hey, see? You and your grandmother already have something in common."

"Yeah," Tito said. "Maybe."

* * *

Caylee stared at the phone on her credenza. She couldn't concentrate on the case Jack had her working on, as interesting as it was, because she knew the phone could ring any minute and it would be him.

Or more likely, he wouldn't call at all for a few days, because he'd know she was expecting him to. He'd taunt her with the fact that he knew where she was, where she worked, and could reach out whenever he chose. On his timetable. It was the kind of cat and mouse game he particularly enjoyed.

The hell with that. Caylee was tired of playing the victim.

She'd uprooted her life and moved to Miami in part to get away from the constant nagging worry, and she'd be damned if she'd let it follow her to her new life.

Caylee picked up the desk phone and dialed the number that unfortunately she knew by heart from all the times it had popped up unwanted on her cell phone. He picked up on the first ring.

"Well, Caylee, what a pleasant surprise. This must mean you've missed me."

The smooth, polished tone made her skin crawl.

"You know damn well I haven't."

He made an annoying tsk'ing noise. "Well, sweetheart, there's no need to get testy."

She spoke slowly and clearly, while her hand gripped the receiver so hard her knuckles turned white. "I'm not your sweetheart and I want you to leave me alone."

"Now, now." The voice dripped with fake sweetness tinged with hurt, and Caylee battled back nausea. "It's you who just called me."

"You sent me flowers. And you called my office this morning and spoke with my assistant," she said through gritted teeth.

"Did I?"

"You know you did. Stop your games, Gregory."

"Games? You know I don't play games, sweetheart. To the contrary, I'm serious about the things I'm interested in. You might say, deadly serious."

"I am not your sweetheart," Caylee said again. "And I couldn't care less what things you are interested in, as long as they don't involved me."

"Now we both know that's not true. In fact, I think you've become a little obsessed with me, since we broke up."

"We did not break up, because we were never together."

"Hmm. I'm sure many of our mutual acquaintances would disagree. And remember the charity events we attended together."

"Showing up at the same event and getting yourself assigned to the same goddamn table as me isn't being together."

His voice stayed absolutely calm. "I'm sorry you see it that way. In fact, just yesterday I happened to run into your mother. She's very disappointed in some of your recent choices. I must say, I agree with her."

"You stay away from my mother."

"Come back to New York where you belong, and we'll discuss it. Don't you think it's time we cleared up this little misunderstanding?"

"If by misunderstanding, you mean the stalking complaint I filed against you in New York, that was no misunderstanding. I know exactly what you are."

His voice hardened. "I'm getting tired of your games Caylee. You took it a step too far by quitting your job and moving to Miami. I'm afraid you might regret it."

"Are you threatening me, Gregory?"

"Are you recording this phone call, Caylee? I believe that's illegal in Florida."

"So is stalking and harassment."

"I hear Miami is a lovely place to visit. Maybe I'll see you soon."

"You come anywhere near me and I'll . . . " Caylee stopped talking when she realized he had disconnected the call.

It infuriated her that her hand was trembling as she replaced the receiver. He was not going to get away with it. Not this time.

She used her cell phone for the next call.

"Caylee?" Her mother's slightly irritated voice came through the phone. "I'm about to leave for a committee luncheon."

"I won't keep you long." She steeled herself. "Did you tell Gregory Van Haverton where I'm working?"

The brief hesitation told her everything she needed to know.

"Mother, you know he was harassing me. Why would you tell him where I am?"

"Well I didn't know it was a secret that you took a job with the firm in Miami." There wasn't even a trace of remorse in her mother's voice. "I don't actually recall what I said, but I did run into him at the Club last week. He was there with his parents and a young woman I assumed he's dating. When they asked about you, I may have mentioned you were working with your cousin Jonathon at his firm. I really don't remember."

"Unbelievable."

"Don't be so dramatic, Caylee. Haven't you caused enough trouble for the Van Havertons when you made that embarrassing complaint to the police last year? Actually, I'm surprised Babs even approached me at the Club. We were on several committees together and it was very uncomfortable for both of us while the situation was being addressed."

"I made things uncomfortable for you. By filing a stalking complaint to protect myself from an obsessed lunatic."

Her mother was, as usual, nonplussed. "Well if it had actually been stalking, the police wouldn't have dropped it, now would they? Honestly, Caylee, in my day a young woman would have appreciated being pursued by an eligible young man from a good family like the Van Havertons. Couldn't you just have told him you weren't interested?"

"I did!" Caylee raised her voice, then concerned that someone might hear her even through the closed office door, lowered it again. "I did tell him. Repeatedly. Do you think I would have gone to the police if I had any other option? His behavior was not normal."

Her mother sighed. "I honestly don't know why you felt the need to escalate the situation, but what's done is done. If you prefer, I simply won't discuss you with Babs or anyone in the Van Haverton family, even if they ask."

"Yes," Caylee said. "That's exactly what I would prefer." She paused as another thought struck her. "You didn't give him my new cell phone number, did you?"

"Of course not." Her mother sounded so indignant that Caylee believed her.

Caylee relaxed slightly. "All right, Mother. I'll let you get to your luncheon."

It was only after she hung up the phone that Caylee realized her mother hadn't even asked how she'd known that her mother had spoken with Gregory.

No one took her seriously about this. Not even her own mother. Not the police who had taken the report, but then been taken in by Gregory's charming denials and phony apologies. Not her friends who had teased her good-naturedly about how he always seemed to show up at whatever party or other event she was attending. People thought it was sweet.

There was nothing sweet about it. He was manipulative and creepy and possibly dangerous and she was apparently the only one who could see it.

When her cell phone rang, she almost jumped out of the chair, then scrambled for it in her purse, afraid to look and afraid not to. 

Author's Note:  What do you think Caylee should do?