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Prologue
The garish lights from the Las Vegas Strip
shone through the slit in the room-darkening curtain, which
did little to either dim the light in the room or soften the
sounds from the Strip. The only sound in the room was the
soft voice of the young woman singing to her new daughter
whom she held to her breast. Her loving eyes watched her
baby nurse greedily. “Nicoleta
Sofia, va creste înţelept, puternic şi frumos. Chiar daca nu
pot viziona, veţi şti că te iubesc…puteţi simţi, nu poti
nici iubirea mea?” “Nicoleta Sofia, you shall grow up
wise, strong, and beautiful. Even though I can’t watch it,
you’ll know I love you. You can feel it, can’t you, my
love?” The baby responded with a gurgle and waved her
hands—the growing bond with her mother exciting her.
Bianca began
singing the Romanian lullaby again, continuing till her
baby’s eyes drifted closed and she no longer suckled.
Wrapping her daughter in the last clean blanket in the room,
she placed the sleeping child in the middle of the
queen-sized bed. Lovingly, she placed pillows on either
side. Yesterday, alone in this room, she’d given birth. The
labor thankfully had been short. The premature baby was born
small but grew stronger by the hour. Bianca smiled. Perhaps
her daughter would be able to heal as fast as her mother, as
it was the one ability Bianca didn’t regret. Turning to
the paper on the desk, Bianca wrote down her baby’s name.
Nicoleta, in honor of her own mother and Sofia, in honor of
her grandmother.
Deliberately, she left off the surname. If she wanted her
child raised without danger from their enemies, she must
make certain none knew of Nicoleta’s existence. Block
letters: NICOLETA SOFIA. She would put the paper in the
baby’s blanket when she left her. When she
escaped, no one knew of her pregnancy. Bianca would need to
place Nicoleta with strangers before the searchers found
her. With the last of her money spent, Bianca knew time was
limited. Tonight would be her last night to hold her baby.
Her stomach grumbled, complaining she had yet to eat today.
Searching the room, she found the last remaining slice of
stale bread, remnants of yesterday’s dinner. Giving in to
her hunger, she wolfed it down. Walking painfully into the
bathroom, she rinsed out a dirty plastic cup. Draining it
twice, she hoped to ease the emptiness in her belly. She
prayed it would help to create enough milk to feed Nicoleta.
Picking up
her discarded clothing, she stepped into her now-baggy
leggings. Their bulk under her tunic tops had hidden her
pregnancy well, but now she couldn’t keep them up. Panicked,
she searched the room finding only her shoelaces to use as a
belt. Her long-sleeved, oversized knitted top hung past her
hips to rest against the tops of her thighs. Looking in the
mirror, she nodded at the pale woman standing there. Bianca
felt her own mother wouldn’t recognize her with her light
blonde hair blackened, dark circles smudging her thin
cheeks, and contacts hiding the blue of her eyes. She prayed
those searching for her wouldn’t either. Discarding
her now useless, comfortable, tennis shoes, she pulled her
four-inch spike heeled boots from her bag. She hadn’t been
able to wear them for the past two months. Originally
purchased to confuse the searchers, she’d put them away when
pregnancy caused her feet to swell. Sighing, she began
stuffing her puffy feet into the tight boots. The zippers
rebelled, but her stubborn efforts soon prevailed and she
managed to get them zipped. The effort
cost her. Her ability to heal fast, hampered by her lack of
food, didn’t help the weakness and exhaustion of childbirth.
She couldn’t seek medical help; the searchers would find her
and Nicoleta. Bianca knew she would gladly die before
letting those searching for her, or even Nicoleta’s
biological father, find her. She needed
to find a safe place to leave her baby. A place where
Nicoleta would be discovered and cared for without a search
for her mother. She kissed her sleeping baby and headed out
to find such a place. She left the “Do not disturb” sign
hanging on the door where she’d placed it after her water
broke. Like all
casinos, to get outside she had to pass through the gaming
floor. This particular gaming floor had all the games and a
full-scale circus and carnival midway. After ten minutes of
wandering, trying to find her way out, Bianca stopped a
staff member. “Unde
este o biserica?” Bianca brought her hands together in
the universal shape of prayer. “Sweetie, I pray too. Every day,” the brassy woman laughed.
“You want to go to church?” At Bianca’s nod, the server took
a good look at the girl/woman in front of her.
“Catholic?” she guessed.
“Catholic, da.” Bianca smiled and nodded. Putting down
her tray, the server took Bianca’s shoulders and turned her
toward the closest door. With broad hand signals and raising
her voice, she directed, “Out this door, turn right.
Guardian Angel Cathedral will be just before Desert Inn
Parkway on your left. You’ll see Cathedral Drive on the
left.” With a final wave of her arm to first the right then
the left, the server nodded encouragement. “Hope those
boots are comfortable. She’s got a long walk ahead of her,”
she muttered to herself as she picked up her tray and
continued on to the bar with her orders. Out in the
blinding sun, Bianca dimmed her highpowered sight. Before
she did, she could see the spire of the cathedral in the
distance to the right. Sighing, she headed down the broad
four-lane road. Honking cars zoomed past, forcing her to
control her oversensitive hearing too. Then she moved as far
to the right as she could get. Within a few blocks, her feet
hurt but she could see the cathedral spire getting closer
ahead and her heart soared at the sight. Her
attention on the distant church, she failed to notice a man
of medium height following her, drawing closer as fatigue
slowed Bianca’s steps. With her hearing muffled, she failed
to sense him closing in. Silently, he drew a switchblade
knife, the sounds of traffic covering the click of its
opening. With it hidden by his hand, he walked faster to
catch her. Catching
movement out of the corner of her eye, Bianca managed to
avoid his reaching hand. Reflex and past training had her
sidestepping, flinging her leg upward in a powerful,
adrenaline-fueled, martial arts kick, she aimed her spiked
heel at his throat. She connected with his trachea just
below the larynx, crushing both. His arms windmilling, his
knife hand came up, slicing her leg from her inner thigh
diagonally across both the superficial and deep femoral
arteries as he fell. Feeling her
life draining away, Bianca cried for her newborn child.
“Nicoleta Sofia, inima mea este cu tine, Dumnezeu vezi că
veţi găsi un iubitor de acasa. Viata mea este de peste, a ta
este început—Nicoleta Sofia, my heart is with you. May
God find you a loving home. My life is over, but yours has
just begun.” Her voice faltered as blackness engulfed her in
the bright Las Vegas sun. The gathering crowd of onlookers
could do nothing to save her while the wail of approaching
medical help seemed to crawl toward them. Up in hotel room 474, Nicoleta woke screaming at her
mother’s last breath. Chapter One
Twenty-Two years later, Sacramento,
California Searching the mass of faces, Nicoleta Sofia
Parcells smiled at her adoptive parents as she accepted her
college diploma. She waved it merrily at them while she
quickly followed her classmates back into the audience. When
the final student accepted his diploma and shook the Dean’s
hand, all hell broke loose in the student body. What had
been a sedate, orderly, and quiet crowd became a sea of
cheering students and family members. Mortar boards flew
into the air, gowns were shed, and students hugged one
another in celebration of their success. Soon, they
separated from friends to find family and continue the
merriment. “Nicky, Nicoleta, we’re over here!” Not needing
her hypersensitive sight, she followed Wayne’s booming voice
until she reached her two fathers, Wayne and Mike. With a
lump in her throat the size of Mt. Hood, she managed gulp
back the tears that threatened to fall. Breaking free of the
human mass, at last, she raced into their open arms,
enjoying the feeling of love and security she always
achieved in a “family hug.” “Did you
see? I stumbled on the steps going up to the platform. I
thought I was going to land on my face and embarrass you.
I’ve never been so nervous in my entire life. Did you get
photos? I hope so, I got some selfies in the crowd while the
speeches droned on…why do they have to try to bore you to
death at these things? God, how I love you both so much!”
With the last, she hugged them both again before stepping
between them, running an arm through each of theirs. “So,
what do you have planned for celebrating this momentous
event? You are taking me out to dinner, right? Then what?
You know I’m old enough to drink now, think we could have
some champagne? Why not do dinner at The Winery? They would
have champagne for sure.” Turning his
head to his husband, Nicoleta’s father Mike asked, “Wayne,
do you think she needs champagne? She seems far too bubbly
without it at the moment. I think champagne would depress
her spirits. What do you think?” “Well, I
don’t think it could keep up with her. She’s wound so tight,
I doubt she could eat a decent meal. Let’s go home and talk
about it. Love, you’ll want to change clothes anyway. Those
pants are not exactly within the dress code of the place
where our reservations have been made.” Wayne turned loose
of Nicoleta as they reached the car. He held the car door,
first for his husband, Mike, and then for his daughter
before walking around to the driver’s side. Nicoleta
racked her brain trying to think of a place her parents
would like that would require formal wear. The drive out to
the Foothills was quiet while she envisioned all the
restaurants they frequented. None were formal. Wayne and
Mike just were not into the club scene and after twelve
years in the family, Nicoleta seldom dressed up for a night
out with them. Pulling into
the drive, Wayne half turned to Nicoleta in the back. “Now,
there’s a dress laid out on your bed, and put your hair up
for us. We want to see the adult you’ve become tonight. When
you’re ready, we’ll be down in the living room. There’s
something we need to tell you. Dinner reservations are for
six, so we’ve got lots of time. Take yourself a nice hot
bath and relax.” More puzzled
than before, Nicoleta ran up to her room. Opening the door,
tears sprung unbidden to her eyes when she saw the sparkly
gold and black gown on the bed. Mike must have designed it.
He had the best taste. She had no doubts that it would fit
and look amazing. He’d done the same thing for her high
school prom. He would draw out the design and choose the
fabrics for his old theater friends to create the gown. She
was the luckiest girl in the world. Thanks to Mike, she wore
original gowns created by a master of design who loved her. Afraid to
pick it up until she was ready to dress for fear her tears
would fall on it, she ran to the bathroom. Once she had a
bubble bath running, she turned to the mirror, grabbed her
long black hair, twisted it into a bun, and secured it on
top her head. This would do for her bath, afterward, she
would create something more formal. Maybe she would be able
to get a couple of curls along her neck or framing her face.
With that thought in mind, she plugged in her curling iron
before stripping and climbing into the luxurious scented
bubble bath. Relaxing down into the tub until the bubbles
tickled her chin, a long drawn out sigh escaped her smiling
lips. The hot
water and bubbles worked magic. All the stress of finals,
the worry of embarrassing her parents, and the excitement of
the day seemed to drift away. A smile played around her
lips, flitting into being then disappearing as her brain
played over the past week. Classes had been a bitch, waiting
for test scores had been tense, then rewarding. Now to find
a job in her chosen field. With a 3.9 grade average, she
should be able to find something. Her downfall
to a perfect 4.0 had been “History of Creative Writing.”
Seriously? Who cared about what was creative back in days
gone by. She wanted to be on the cutting edge, not just
riding in a sea of mediocre writers. She found she had a
difficult time editing the work of friends, she simply
couldn’t tell them that what they gave her sucked. It wasn’t
in her nature to criticize something another writer had
worked hard to create. Thank God, that class was done. Never
again would she be forced to critique works which should
have never been written. A deep frown crossed her face. Oh
God, what if her fellow students thought the same about her
work? True, she’d had nothing but praise, but what if they
were like her and unable to hurt another person. OMG…what if
her work stunk? She felt the icy breath of self-doubt.
Jumping from
the tub, she suddenly knew a way to get feedback unbiased by
friendship or relationships. A pen name and an online group.
There had to be critique groups online…she would find some
and join one or two. True, she would have to critique
someone else’s work in exchange but maybe the anonymous
nature of a pen name would give her less guilt than having a
friend know she didn’t like their story. Smiling once
more, she paused at the mirror to apply makeup. Walking back
to her bed, she looked at the dress. Returning to her makeup
table, she reached into the drawer and brought out the gold
eyeshadow and sparkly highlighter, black eyeliner and the
mascara. She studied her features, trying to be objective,
before applying her cosmetics. Her eyes
were almond shaped, irises a golden color with flecks of
green when she was happy or excited. Tonight, the gold would
pick up the color of her dress; maybe she should use the
green eyeshadow to bring out the unusual flecks which she
could see. No, gold for the dress would be more dramatic.
Her cheekbones were fine and high, her skin color at this
time of year was a golden olive from the sun. In the winter,
she would be a creamy color with the olive undertone. She
wondered for the millionth time what ancestry would give her
this combination of skin color, eye color, straight thick
black hair, and face shape. In her teens, she’d spent hours
watching beauty pageants and shows on Discovery, Science
Channel, and National Geographic. Trying to see all the
races of the world and find one that she resembled. She
accepted herself but she just wanted to know something about
her origins. Sighing, she applied her makeup, added the dramatic
eyeshadow, a thick black line on her eyelid and under her
eye to accentuate their size and then finished with black
mascara on her long lashes. “Whoa. Maybe I should take
some of this stuff off…I’m not certain how adult the guys
want me to look, but I’m damn certain they don’t want me to
look like I was just picked up off the street.” She
laughed at the woman in the glass before gently removing the
eyeliner from her bottom lid and toning down the eyeshadow.
“Now at least, we won’t get arrested by the Vice Squad.” Putting away
her eyeshadow and mascara, she pulled out her assortment of
blush and highlighters to accentuate her cheeks. Tilting her
head from one side to the other, she chose blush of a deeper
shade because of her skin tone. She layered in the deeper
rose, softened it with a powder blush with light sparkles,
and then reached for her reddest lip-gloss. She used the red
gloss sparingly, but enough to make her lush lips a focal
point on her face. Looking at the mirror, she smiled,
satisfied with the overall effect. Walking to
the bed she let her bathrobe fall to the floor before
lifting the gown and sliding it over her head. She made
certain no fabric touched her face. She took a deep breath
and managed to zip up the back thankful for the built-in bra
because there was no way any bra she owned wouldn’t show
with this dress. She dug around in her lingerie drawer to
find the one thong she owned. She bought it once “just in
case” and had yet to wear it. Well, this was the dress to
need it. The style of
the dress was a deep V-neck in a wide vertical band of
glimmering gold fabric that ran down to the floor in the
front and back. The V in the back exposed her smooth olive
skin almost to her waist. Either side of the glimmering gold
was shiny black satin, soft and clingy to the skin. The
right side of the body-shaped long skirt was slit to the
middle of her thigh. What in the
hell were her parents thinking? This dress would do justice
to an affair like the Academy Awards if worn by the sexy
starlet of the season. How had it ended up here on her bed?
Did Mike realize how this dress looked? Well, it wouldn’t
hurt to wear it downstairs, but she wasn’t going to wear it
to any restaurant in Sacramento, and that was a fact.
Testing the stretch and slide of the fabric, she moved
around her room before going back in front of the bathroom
mirror to pin up her thick black hair. The woman in
the mirror. OMG. Nicoleta knew it couldn’t be her but every
time she moved, the image in the mirror did too. Finally,
she accepted it was her reflection and spent ten minutes
putting her long hair into a bun on the top of her head with
a few stray locks on her neck and a couple of hard-won curls
framing her face. Nodding lightly to the stranger in the
mirror, Nicoleta turned and left the safety of her room to
show her parents the final product of the dress, the woman,
and the makeup. At the base of the stairs, she found a pair
of gold lamé sandals waiting for her. Three-inch heels,
straps around her ankle, delicate strap over her toes with a
black onyx set over the arch of her foot. Mike never did
things halfway. She slipped her foot into the sandals and
buckled the strap around her ankle. Now, she was ready to
appear in the living room. Smiling
shyly, she put her shoulders back and straightened her spine
as Mike had taught her and walked into the living room. “OMG. Wayne,
I told you but you wouldn’t believe me. Now, you can’t deny
it any longer. Nicoleta, you are gorgeous! But sweetie, we
have to tell you something. Sit down on that stool over
there, you don’t want to wrinkle.” Mike pointed to one of
the tall stools used at the kitchen counter they had dragged
into the living room. “Did Wayne
think I was ugly?” Nicoleta asked with a smile after sitting
cautiously on the edge of the stool. “No, little
love. Your father knows you’re gorgeous, always has. But
we’ve been having an argument for the past eleven years and
now he has to admit I’m right. You look nothing like either
of us, we can no longer let you think you’re our blood.
Honey, as much as we want to claim you…you’re adopted.” Mike
said the last as though imposing a sentence. “Guys, I was eleven when I arrived in this house. I think
I’ve known for quite a while that you two are not my blood
relatives. However, no one will ever convince me you’re not
the parents of my heart. I love both of you so much and I
know how much you’ve done for me. I want to say ‘Thank you’
for everything. You didn’t have to accept me—several
families didn’t—but you took me in and gave me love and the
security of belonging to a family. I can never repay you. I
love you both so much.” “Seriously,
you mean all this time you knew you weren’t our
blood? Damn, what gave it away? My freckles or Mike’s
coffee-and-cream complexion?” Wayne managed to look shocked. Nicoleta
laughed at their antics. “Okay, now tell me. Where do you
think we’re going for me to be in this dress? I can’t think
of any place in town this formal.” Nicoleta looked from one
man to the other, waiting for them to explain. “Well, Sweet
Cheeks, don’t you want to know what we got you for
graduation? The dress doesn’t count that’s a special outfit
for you to go job hunting.” Wayne laughed at Nicoleta’s
expression when he said job hunting. “What kind
of job do you boys think I’m going to apply for? In this
getup, it might be on a corner in the redlight district.”
She tried but failed to keep the shock she felt out of her
voice. “Honey, we
didn’t mean what you’re thinking. We’re going to a major
charity ball up at South Lake Tahoe tonight. Mike managed to
get us all on the guest list. We hope, while there, you’ll
meet and make a good impression on the right people so when
you apply next week, they’ll remember just how well you can
fit into their level of society. A publicist to the rich and
famous needs to look the part.” Wayne’s expression was fond
pride as he looked Nicoleta over from the fancy dress to the
fancy shoes. Relief
washed through her. For a few minutes, she’d been seriously
worried about how her parents viewed her. No child wanted
their parents to think of them as a slut, or even as a woman
willing to trade on her sexuality to get a job. “You had me
worried. Okay, a charity ball, I can do that. How will I
know anyone? Even dressed like this, I can’t just walk up to
a VIP and offer my services without them thinking I’m
offering something other than media management.” “Oh, we
thought of that too. You remember Melody Menendez? You know,
the wife of our godson, the mayor of some Nevada city? She
offered to guide us, meaning you, through the crowd. With
her connections, she knows everybody who needs to be known.
She also knows all the dirt and who to avoid. This is going
to be sooo much fun,” Mike gushed. “But before we head out,
we still have to give you your graduation present.” He
turned to Wayne, and they exchanged a scheming look.
“We know how
much you’ve always wanted to know about your past and your
origins. For your graduation, we hired a firm to look into
the circumstances of your birth and how you ended up as a
foster child. Here is their report. I found it very
interesting.” Wayne handed a large brown manila envelope to
Nicoleta, then continued. “It’s not near enough to give you
what you’re looking for. So, we ordered this DNA kit from an
online company who promises to process it for both your
Mitochondrial and for the Autosomal DNA. Since you
don’t have any male relatives, they can’t do the
Y-chromosome test. The Mitochondrial will give you your
heritage along with your mother’s line and the Autosomal
will help define the part of the world where your ancestors
originated.” Wayne looked over at Mike and then the men both
smiled at Nicoleta, proud to have found her the perfect
gift. “How did you know? I’ve never told
either of you that I want to know more about where I came
from and how I ended up here in Sacramento. I’d never hurt
your feelings by even suggesting the family you’ve made for
me isn’t enough.” Nicoleta’s heart felt nigh to bursting as
she looked from one proud man to the other. They’d loved her
when no one else would keep her. Her earliest memories were
always of being handed back to the social workers with the
adult saying “she just doesn’t fit in with our family” as
they turned and left her behind. “Honey, it’s only natural. You should
want to know. You have beautiful features which don’t
exactly match your skin color or the color of your eyes.
We’ve always guessed European with a touch of the Middle
East, but from the time you understood such things you’ve
been researching ethnic traits. I’m really surprised you
didn’t follow that research in college.” Mike smiled at her,
a question hanging in his eyes. “By the time I got to college, I
accepted my looks and coloring as being simply me. Not
something I could change by knowing why or where they came
from. My only questions were how did I end up in the Foster
Care system. You and Wayne accepted me and loved me
regardless of my background, and that was enough for me to
accept my differences.” She stopped there, not going into
the extent of her differences. Some things even Wayne and
Mike didn’t know, and she wasn’t about to tell them at this
juncture. Her overactive senses and psychic abilities had
become undeniable as she progressed through puberty. She’d learned to
create a mental wall to keep the world out and keep herself
from “feeling” all the emotions floating around wherever she
happened to be. The same mental wall would dim her sight and
dull her hearing so she could function without extreme
sunglasses or earplugs. She also learned to control her
urges to “help” those around her feel better or do what she
wanted. Controlling the urge to influence others had been
her greatest challenge. Every day she had to keep from
interfering with situations she knew she could change.
Like the time she got a speeding
ticket. She could have used her talent to keep from getting
it, but her conscience had kept her from influencing the
officer. She did use her talent once and that time she knew
it was the right time. A man with a gun, she hadn’t seen it
but knew from his stance and the dark aura around him that
he had it, wanted to rob the quick mart she and others were
buying lunch at. She turned her talent on him, urging him to
not rob the place and to go back outside. Then she followed
him outside and walked behind him until he reached the
river. Under her influence, he’d thrown the gun out in the
water before turning for the drug clinic down the road. Once
there, she’d made him want to go inside and get clean of the
drugs in his system. All that had made her late back to
class, gave her a horrendous headache too, but she felt good
about what she’d done. “Gee, you guys…” Tears welled in her
eyes as she jumped down from the stool and carefully hugged
each of them. “I’m not going to mess my makeup by crying—but
where did you hide the tissues?” She looked for the closest
box only to have Wayne hand her one before he used one to
blot the moisture from his own eyes. “Nicky, we’re so proud of you. You’ve
done nothing but make us happy since we took on the
challenge of raising a very special young girl and watching
her become a special young lady.” Wayne hugged her again.
“Wayne, watch out, you’re going to wrinkle the dress.” Mike
pulled Wayne back and hugged Nicoleta carefully, holding her
by the shoulders and kissing each cheek lightly.
“Congratulations, Sweetie. Now, let’s get going, it’s after
five.”
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