House of Dreams Read Online Free

Tracey recovered, the cover-girl smile firmly in place as she turned and rushed to Antonio, looping her arms in his. “I see you’ve met everyone,” she said too brightly.
    It was hardly noticeable, but he disengaged their arms. “I have met your sister, but I have not met your daughter,” he said somewhat quietly. His smile was brief.
    Cass’s antenna went up. Trouble in paradise? Something was up, and she had to know what.
    â€œAlyssa, come meet my boyfriend, Antonio de la Barca. Tonio, this is my beautiful daughter, who is seven, I might add.”
    Alyssa finally came down the stairs. “I saw your picture in Vogue. With my mother.”
    Antonio stooped so that he was not towering over her. And he smiled and it was wide and genuine, marking him as a man who liked children. “Your mother is the kind of woman that photographers wish to photograph. I have no doubt that one day you will be the very same kind of woman.”
    Cass fell in love with him in that moment. The sudden, shocking depth and intensity of feeling immobilized her. It was the kind of feeling she’d had once before—a sensation of absolute free-falling, a headlong plunge, into the abyss of emotional space.
    Cass had gone there once before and barely survived. She stared at her sister, her niece, and the stranger in their midst, paralyzed.
    Antonio continued to smile at Alyssa. Very slowly, very slightly, Alyssa smiled back.
    And Cass could not move. She could not even think, she could only feel. She was stunned. Terrified.
    He was so gorgeous and so Old World, so masculine, so intelligent … Jesus.
    And he was her sister’s.
    Which was just fine.
    This could not be happening, she thought.
    â€œI have a son,” Antonio continued, “only three years older than you. Maybe one day you will meet him.”
    Alyssa’s eyes brightened. And when she spoke, it was clear to Cass that she was doing all that she could to sound detached—but her tone was breathless. “What is his name?”

    â€œHis name is Eduardo, and he lives with me in Madrid, just a few blocks from the Plaza de la Lealtad. We live near a beautiful park, El Retiro, where many children play soccer and Rollerblade in the afternoons.” Antonio straightened. Tracey was wearing four-inch heels. At that moment they were the exact same height.
    â€œI would love to go to Madrid,” Alyssa breathed.
    It suddenly clicked in Cass’s very befuddled and stunned mind why Tracey had sent Alyssa several postcards from Madrid. Now she knew why Tracey had been channel-hopping. And she had a very unladylike but very New York City thought. Shit.
    Cass tried to get a grip. She tried to recover her composure. She did not know de la Barca, not at all, and it was insanity to think that she had just discovered some kind of profound feeling for him.
    She was not falling in love.
    No way. Not now, not ever, not today.
    â€œWell, one day I am sure you will,” Tracey said, moving into the center of the tableau. “Look at what I have brought you, darling,” she said, digging four packages out of her Vuitton duffel bag and handing them all at once to Alyssa.
    Alyssa clasped her hands in front of her, staring down at the giftwrapped boxes. “Thank you, Mother.”
    â€œYou have to open them!” Tracey cried. Then, “Aunt Catherine! There you are, and just in time. I have something for you, too!”
    Catherine was coming down the stairs. She was smiling, and Tracey flew into her arms. They embraced warmly, and then Tracey handed her a small box that could only be from a jeweler.
    Cass went to Alyssa, trying to avoid looking at de la Barca. “Do you want to take the gifts upstairs to your room and open them privately?” she asked softly, for Alyssa’s ears only.
    Alyssa nodded. Tears had formed on the tips of her lashes.
    Cass wanted to hug her, hard. Suddenly she wanted to turn and shout at Tracey that