‘Roman, my, you are a difficult man to get hold of.’
His shoulders sagged. ‘Mother.’
‘So glad you recognise my voice after all this time and, before you say it, I know I wasn’t very welcoming the last time you saw me, but hospitals really do not bring out the best in me. I wanted to tell you that I am back home now after what I hope will be my last surgery. Everything went well and I’m planning to visit my granddaughter shortly. I thought you could possibly join me at the beach house? You have no idea how happy I am that at least one of you is settled. I was always worried about Rio.’
‘Why Rio?’ Roman asked, pretending an interest he didn’t feel as he reached for the decanter and filled the glass. It might not help but he was now working on the theory that it could surely not make things any worse.
‘I know I’m being silly, but he could just be so possessive as a child and, when he was angry, he had a way of holding his head that occasionally made me think of... But of course, he is nothing like your father.’
Roman placed the glass down with a bang that sloshed the contents over the polished surface. ‘Rio, like Father?’ He had to have misheard.
‘I know... I know, so stupid of me. You are both your own men, and you always were.’
‘Rio?’
‘Are you all right, Roman?’
‘People used to say that I was like Father.’
His mother’s merry laughter echoed down the line. ‘What people?’ she scoffed. ‘Heavens, are you serious? You?
‘You are nothing like your father at all. In fact, you are the total antithesis of him, which is why I never worried about you as much as I did Rio. You are moody and emotional, and your father was a very cold and calculating man. Oh, he spoke a lot about love, but the truth was he was incapable of feeling the emotion, because he was all about control and revenge. The only thing you inherited from your father was your head for business! Roman, are you still there?’
‘Yes, Mother, but I have to go now.’
Could it be true?
Was it possible that he was so afraid of becoming the very thing he’d most despised and feared, he had created a scenario that did not exist, and he had seen monsters in him that were not there?
He picked up the framed drawing from the desk before the spreading brandy reached it, and stared at the childish drawing, feeling as if his heart would burst.
He ached for Marisa.
He ached for their son too, yet his suffering was of his own making. He’d thought he was being noble, doing the right thing for them...but what if all he was actually being was a coward?
He had sent them away! A sound of disgust was wrenched from his throat. He was sitting here alone, being a martyr, when actually he was simply a fool—a coward and a fool.
A sense of calm settled over him as he brushed the mess off the desk with his forearm and placed the picture back carefully centre stage, which was where his family should be.
He reached for his phone to call his pilot.
‘Santiago, I have a favour to ask.’
The ‘staying cheerful’ thing was taking its toll. Marisa already felt exhausted after a journey from hell to the private airport, during which Jamie had loudly demanded to take his pony and Roman, not necessarily in that order, back home with him.
All she wanted to do was curl up in a corner and cry, but crying was not a luxury that mums always had.
And now, just when she’d thought the worst was over, the flight, for some reason that was too technical for her to grasp, was delayed. At least they were delayed in luxury and the on-board staff were keeping Jamie amused playing games. She glanced towards her son, who was crying out, ‘I win, I win,’ after he had carefully counted out six on the dice.
‘Excuse me.’
She turned to see the pilot standing beside her.
‘Not more delay?’ She sighed.
‘Everything is moving along nicely,’ he soothed. ‘But there is an issue with some of the luggage. If you could just come outside for a moment?’
‘Luggage?’
He shrugged and smiled. ‘These officials can be persistent.’
Which told her nothing at all. She glanced over at Jamie.
‘He’ll be fine. I’ll keep an eye on him myself.’
She recognised the sleek supercar before she even saw the driver.
‘Hello, Marisa.’
She spun around, her blonde hair flying around her face. Brushing the shiny strands from her face gave her time to think, except of course she couldn’t. Thoughts were firing off at wild tangents in her head, not making any sense, the processes of logic completely overwhelmed by the surge of raw emotion that blocked out everything else... There was just her heartbeat and the sensation of deep longing.
‘I like your hair loose.’ His caressing glance drifted over her pale hair before coming to rest on her face, his own settling into an expression that hinted at an aching loneliness inside him.
She cleared her throat and looked away, refusing to see things that were not there. She had to deal with the real world, not fantasies, which were lovely while they lasted but so, so painful when you woke up.
‘What are you doing here, Roman?’
Her chin lifted as she added silently, Besides compounding my misery. She hadn’t asked to fall in love but she had, and as she looked up at his perfectly gorgeous face she could not imagine a time when he did not make her ache with longing.
With a tiny groan she squeezed her eyes closed and begged huskily, ‘Will you just go away and leave me in peace?’
‘No.’
Her eyes opened in response to the thumb under her chin.
He was there standing right in front of her, his body blocking out everything else, but then when he was around there was nothing
