‘But she was desperate. There was nowhere else for her to go.’
‘How about me? If she’d needed a bone-marrow donor for her son, preferably a “related” compatible donor—’ his lips curled as he drew mocking quotation marks in the air before his voice dropped to a base boom of fury ‘—then why not come to me if I’m the child’s father?’
His stabbing finger stopped just short of his brother’s chest, but Rio hadn’t flinched an inch, he had just stood there looking as guilty as hell. A bit late for that, brother!
‘Because you—’ Rio had visibly bitten down on what he’d been about to say and finished flatly. ‘We’ve got the same DNA. The child urgently needed a bone-marrow transplant from a...yes...preferably related donor. Should I have refused her request?’
‘You should have told me...and because what? What were you going to say about why she hadn’t come to me instead of you?’
‘Because,’ his brother had finally flung at him, ‘you were all over the tabloids with that blonde flashing her ample cleavage in your face while coyly saying in a totally unconvincing way that your relationship was strictly professional. I had no reason to disbelieve the rumours that you were about to get engaged—and you certainly didn’t deny it.’
‘It was purely professional,’ Roman had gritted back, dismissing the irrelevance with a wave of his hand. ‘Petra was an agent for the film distribution company liaising with the publisher.’ And a great loss to the acting profession.
The first time she had displayed her stage skills, Roman hadn’t seen the cameras, so he hadn’t had a clue what was going on when she had whipped off her glasses, unfastened several buttons of her blouse and plastered herself against him, her myopic blue eyes sending him a warning dagger look as she’d muttered an instruction to ‘play along’, snuggling up to him before displaying a very realistic shock when a series of camera flashes had exploded in their faces.
She had earnestly backed up his stony declarations of ‘No comment’ with a fluttering display of denials guaranteed to look suspect.
Roman didn’t like this reminder of poor judgement on his part. Initially Petra’s machinations had amused him and it hadn’t seemed important then, so he had allowed the situation to go on longer than he should have. By the end, though, Petra had been in danger of forgetting she was acting—or that might have been an act too, for all he knew.
‘Professional?’
He’d scowled at his brother’s scepticism. ‘A trade-off, then. The film company execs were throwing fits because I had refused to participate in a promotional tour of the latest movie and I don’t give interviews, so they figured that, because everyone loves the idea of a romance, the occasional photo op with Petra would keep me and, more importantly, the film, on the front pages, without me having to say a word. I really don’t see what that has to do with anything.’
‘Then you really are stupid as well as forgetful.’
‘So because I am stupid you decided that you would ride to the rescue and save my child while taking it upon yourself to conceal the fact I even had a child from me—and now you thought you’d ease your conscience by confessing all. Tell me, Rio, whose idea was it not to tell me in the first place? Yours or Marisa’s? Did you offer her a shoulder to cry on? Yes, I can just see it now...’ And he had, so vividly, been able to see Marisa’s blonde head on his brother’s shoulder, her soft body pressed against Rio’s hard one... The taunting images had flashed in front of his eyes, and he’d furiously shrugged off Rio’s placatory hand on his shoulder.
‘I don’t expect you to forgive me, Roman, but I truly meant it for the best—’
Playing the scene over and over again in his head, Roman was sure that Rio had seen the fist coming but he’d made no attempt to avoid it, he’d just stood there waiting for the punch to land.
Roman had left his brother lying on the floor, rubbing his jaw and staunching the nose bleed he’d acquired from hitting the coffee table on his way down, and had walked away, or at least had driven away at high speed. It had been thirty minutes later that he had realised he didn’t have a clue where he was driving to, as for once his legendary sense of direction had deserted him.
As he’d drawn over to the side of the empty road he’d remembered his twin’s penultimate words... ‘The jet will be waiting for you when you need it.’
Roman had rejected the offer out of hand. ‘You think I’m going to chase after her?’
‘I thought you might like to see your son. If I were you, I would. They are in England.’
‘You’re not me, though, are you? And you can keep your nose the hell out of my business! I’m finished with you!’
Now the red mist had cleared, the fact there was a jet ready and willing to take him where he needed to go was not so inconvenient.
‘Santiago.’ Drawing his attention back to the here and now, Roman tipped his head in acknowledgment to the man who had been responsible for both him and his twin getting their pilot’s licences, as the older man walked over, his hand extended.
The handshake morphed into a manly clap on the shoulder before the pilot stepped away, searching his face.
Something in his calm steady gaze lowered Roman’s tension a couple of notches. ‘It’s been a long time, Santiago.’
‘Two years, but who’s counting? Oh, and thanks for the tip—still keeping your hand in, then?’
Roman looked blank for a moment, then a grin flashed momentarily, lightening the sombre set of his carved features. ‘You invested in Raoul’s start-up, then, like I recommended?’
The older man nodded. ‘I’d still be kicking myself if I hadn’t. Your friend wouldn’t have any problem raising money these
