‘Turns out, you see, that it wasn’t motherhood she couldn’t cut, it was me. And to escape me she ran all the way to America, where she has a lovely family she dotes on, bakes cakes for the church fetes and fundraisers for the local school. But, yet again, I’m only telling you what you already know—aren’t I?’
‘I am so sorry, Marisa,’ Roman said, aching for her pain, seeing vividly the little girl who had lived with the worst possible rejection grow up only for it to happen all over again. ‘If I had known—’
What, Roman? What would you have done?
Protected her!
The thing she needs protecting from is you! sneered the unrelenting voice of disdain in his head.
‘Do not dare say that,’ she hissed through clenched teeth. ‘And don’t dare to act as if this is all news to you. You already know everything about me, whether I’ve chosen to tell you or not.’
‘I know you’re the bravest, kindest, warmest, strongest person I know.’
And I love you, he thought desperately as the self-deception he had clung to like a lifeline finally slipped through his exhausted grip like wet rope. Maintaining that deception had been such a struggle, but letting it go came without relief because along with it went the protection it had afforded.
While he had been able to deflect and think only of chemistry, sex, passion—anything but love—he had been able to tell himself that this situation was manageable, desirable even.
People spent their lives looking for love, but he had spent his life avoiding it, knowing better than most the dangerous, destructive powers of living with such an all-consuming obsessive passion.
The sincerity in his voice as he’d listed her qualities had clearly only made her angrier than ever. She gave a shudder of disgust and held up her hand as he surged towards her, his hands outstretched. ‘No!’
He stopped at her command, his hands falling to his sides once more, his face a mask of pain.
He saw the hurt, the pain, the utter rejection in her face and felt his heart sink. Was she right to hold him off? True, he hadn’t done what she’d imagined, he’d never read that extended report on her, but he was capable of doing a lot worse, he knew that. He was never going to be a positive influence in her life or Jamie’s.
How could he be? He was far too flawed. His father had not set out to hurt him, but the end result was the same and he was his father’s son, wasn’t he? It was a fact and a fate that he could not escape.
His father had crushed his mother with his love, instead of setting her free. The idea of inflicting that sort of pain on Marisa and their son was too painful for Roman to contemplate.
In one way at least he could prove that he was not his father’s son, that he was better than that, or at the very least possessed some self-awareness of the damage he could do.
The cost...the price...would be high but the only way he could prove his love for Marisa and Jamie was to let them go.
It was something he knew he had to do before his selfish instincts, the ones that were screaming at him to keep them close, drowned out his better self.
‘I’m sorry.’
It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but the change, the something in his manner brought a defensive stiffness to Marisa’s attitude. She found herself bracing herself for something—though the what remained elusive.
‘I think you’re right, this isn’t working,’ he said.
She knew this, she’d been screaming for him to recognise this, so why did hearing him confirm what she already knew feel as though someone had just kicked her in the stomach?
‘So what...?’
‘If you want to go home I’m not going to stop you.’
She took a deep breath, and refused to flinch as his words and their meaning hit painfully home. She passed a hand across her eyes as she blinked away tears of anger and humiliation. This was one occasion when she didn’t want to be proved right.
It didn’t matter that she’d been planning to walk through the door anyway. It was, she discovered, an infinitely more humiliating thing entirely to have it held open for you as you went.
‘I never needed your permission,’ she flared back before, a moment later, her haughtiness morphed into bitterness. ‘So you got bored with being a father after all.’ It was as if he’d just decided the hassle was all too much trouble, easier by far to walk away. Only better still, he didn’t have to because this was his home and she was the one walking away from him.
Something flashed in his dark eyes, but a moment later it was gone. His voice was flat and even as he said quietly, ‘I’ll make sure the jet is available.’
Pride was the only thing stopping her falling down as he walked away. The moment he vanished so did her defiance, but she was robbed of the release of tears because Jamie arrived smelling of the stables and demanding she come with him so he could show her the correct way to groom a horse.
The castillo had never felt this empty before.
Roman had locked himself in his study and sat looking at a decanter of brandy, although his glass remained empty. He knew it wouldn’t help because it would take a lot more than alcohol to dull the pain, the emptiness inside him.
The first time his mobile rang he ignored it. The second time he intended to do the same, then with a sudden intake of breath he reached for the offending instrument. What if it was Marisa and she needed him? It was amazing how many nightmare scenarios a man could imagine in
