Marisa had not been anticipating anything on this scale. She was accustomed to a home that many considered grand, but this building eclipsed anything she had seen.
It was a castle in every sense of the word.
A possibility that ought to have occurred to her on the journey here now popped into her head, and she wondered if there would be family members on hand to judge her.
This had all happened so quickly, the pace that everything had moved at was a million miles from her normal controlled, cautious approach where there were normally no surprises, unpleasant or otherwise.
She slid a covert glance at Roman’s patrician profile, the carved angles emphasised by the reflection from the outside lighting. It was hard to think of life around Roman as not containing surprises—admittedly not quite the sort that her dad had used to spring on her. She really couldn’t imagine Roman announcing that it would be fun to sell his Rolls-Royce so they could travel on public transport—but it was another reason she told herself to be glad that this visit was not a prequel to spending her whole life with him. She wasn’t interested in living a life of surprises any more.
This was about what was best for Jamie, who had a right to know his father so long as that father was good for him.
Transferring her gaze to the façade of the looming building that looked grander and more ancient the nearer they got, she was conscious of the heavy nervous thud of her heartbeat. The darkness didn’t help—it probably exaggerated the imposing vibe. Not that she was holding out much hope of it appearing any more cosy in daylight, but she would settle for less daunting.
She was starting to realise that there were a lot of other questions she ought to have been asking instead of simply allowing Roman to call the shots and rush her.
‘Will any of your family be here?’ It wasn’t as if there wasn’t room—a dozen families could have shared the place and not bumped into one another.
He turned his head briefly, his expression impossible to read in the fading light, his proud profile a dark silhouette. ‘Unlikely. I assume my brother will be avoiding me for the considerable future.’
She took the sardonic comment as a reminder that she was responsible for a falling-out between the twins and squirmed uneasily in her soft leather seat, but then a noise from the back seat made her turn her head to look at her son.
Jamie was still sleeping, one hand thrown above his head, his face flushed. When he had been ill she had only ever thought a day ahead, and the only thing she had dreamt of was him being well. It had certainly never crossed her mind that she was in some way depriving him because he was an only child. She had been an only child and she hadn’t felt deprived, but last week when she had picked him up for a play date and seen him watching on as his little friend dropped a sloppy kiss on his chubby baby sister’s forehead it had made her wonder.
Jamie’s expression had brought a lump to her throat, despite the fact the children’s mother had admitted ruefully that for the first six months big brother had been jealous of his new sister.
She hadn’t missed out as a child, but twins, she thought, had a particularly special bond that shouldn’t be broken. She settled back into her seat, silently vowing that if there was some way she could repair the damage she’d wrought, she would, though at that moment, reading Roman’s grim profile, she couldn’t summon much optimism on the subject of her influence over him. He was probably still thinking about the last few hours that he’d never have back again.
Looking at him was a mistake, because once she’d started it was hard to stop. There was something about his features that just pulled her in... Her eyelids half closed as her thoughts drifted back to the airport again, to the moment when his fingers had cupped her cheek. The gesture connected in her mind to the ache she felt deep inside.
Confusion pressed down on her; she had never needed a male shoulder to lean on. Sure, Rupert had been there for her in her hour of need, but his condition had meant that for most of their relationship he had been the one doing the leaning and that had felt normal to her. Her dad had been like a kid pretending to be an adult sometimes, and from early on it had been up to her to look out for him.
She comforted herself with the knowledge that the airport situation had been the result of a combination of factors—all high stress—and it didn’t mean she had turned needy. She dragged her gaze free from his face, turning a deaf ear to the voice in her head that pointed out the multitude of flaws in her argument.
As the car crunched over the gravel, the purr of the powerful engine that had been imperceptible became more noticeable by its absence as they drew to a halt. The sudden silence made her aware of every sound inside the intimate space of the interior, the soft hiss of their intermingled breathing, the squeak of fabric on leather and, more distant, the eerie sound of an owl’s call as Roman opened his door, allowing the fresh night air to flood the car.
She turned her questioning gaze to him and found her eyes snared yet again. Something in his steady unblinking stare and the impression the air was being sucked
