needed to get some facts. "Do you believe she overdosed as part of a suicide attempt?"
He stared back at her. "Well, you get right to it, don't you?"
"I'm finding that people don't tend to speak to me for long, so I can't waste time with chitchat."
He smiled. "You have her candor, too. She was always too honest. She liked to tell people what she thought, and they usually didn't care to hear it."
"What did she think of you?"
Before he could answer, a server entered the room and put her glass of wine on the table. "Do you need anything else?" the man asked.
She shook her head. "No, thanks."
Constantine waited for the server to leave and then said, "You asked me what Natasha thought of me."
"Yes."
He thought for a moment. "She said I was too dark, too reckless, too caught up in making money. She kept trying to save me from myself."
"How did she do that?"
"She would tempt me away from work, seduce me into long weekends at the beach or in the mountains. Yes, we were lovers," he said, meeting her gaze. "I suspect you know that."
Maya nodded. "She wrote about you in her journal. She said you tempted her in a way no other man had. I didn't really know what she meant."
He smiled to himself. "I do."
"You didn't answer me before. Do you think she took her own life?"
"No, I don't think it was deliberate. However, she was depressed, and I saw her taking pills on a few occasions. She seemed torn up inside, not sure what to do next. Her career was still strong, but she'd had a falling-out with her favorite director."
"Was that Anthony Cordero?"
"Yes, another one of her lovers. Although she would never admit to me that she slept with him. I suspect she just didn't want his wife to know. She and Anne were good friends."
"They were? I spoke to Anthony's son, Blake, and he said his mother hated my grandmother, that they weren't close at all."
"That's not the way I remember it. Natasha and Anne spent hours in the club, having drinks, listening to music, and talking. Anne loved books, and you might not believe this, but your grandmother was a huge reader. She told me that she might write a book one day." He paused. "You said she kept journals…perhaps she wrote stories there?"
"Mostly just diary kind of stuff. Although, there is one book with some odd notes in it that I can't quite decipher. Maybe she was plotting something out." She took a breath. "If you don't think she killed herself, what do you think happened to her?"
"I believe it was an accident. She simply took too many pills and didn't realize what she'd done until it was too late."
"She died in her car, but I heard that she usually had a driver. It seems odd that she'd be doing drugs and driving when she wasn't known for liking the LA freeways."
A shadow passed through his eyes. "As I said, I think she was sad and perhaps she needed to be alone."
"She said in her journal that she hated being alone, that her mind raced too often when she had no one to distract her."
"It's my fault," he said, surprising her with his words.
"What do you mean?"
"She wanted me to marry her. I told her marriage was not in my plans and I asked her why she'd want to marry again when the first two had ended so badly."
"What was her answer?"
"That she loved me and that she couldn't believe I loved her the same way if I wouldn't commit to her. She wanted marriage or nothing. I didn't like her ultimatum, so I told her I would have to choose nothing. Two days later, she was dead." His words were thick with emotion. "You don't know how many times I have regretted that conversation and wished I could take it back. I realized too late that Natasha had a need to be loved and I think it stemmed from her childhood. Her mother died when she was a child. Her father passed on a few years later, and she was sent to live with a relative here in the States. That woman died right after Natasha turned eighteen. She suffered so many losses. I think that's why she fell hard and fast for Phillip. She was terrified of being on her own. But even when she had her marriages, she wasn't happy. She was always looking for more."