Dani Collins - Modern Romance March 2019 5-8

This was what Bruno had walked away from. Seeing it up close made her appreciate for the first time just how much he had turned his back on for the woman he loved, just what he had sacrificed.

She had thought that the home and business his parents had built was Jamie’s inheritance, preserving it had been her focus, but now she was here she realised that this was Jamie’s birthright too.

She glanced down at the baby sitting contentedly, his sun hat slightly askew on his dark curls, and experienced a moment of mind-clearing clarity.

Her chin lifted. Yes, she would fight to keep the business going, so that, unlike his father, Jamie would never have to choose. ‘None of this actually matters. Jamie’s true birthright is his parents’ love.’

She hadn’t been aware that she had voiced the realisation out loud until the pressure against her spine increased and Ivo’s deep-voiced cynicism, etched in every syllable, floated down to her, making her wince.

‘You put a high price on love.’

She was still blinking as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the more subdued light after the brilliant sunshine outside, when a man approached. Neat was the word that popped into her head when she saw him. Everything about him was precise, from his neatly trimmed beard to the parting in his slicked-back hair; she could have seen her reflection in his highly polished shoes.

‘Ramon.’

‘Sir.’ He greeted Ivo with a deferential tip of his head.

’Flora, this is Ramon, my grandfather’s major domo, who makes this place run like clockwork. Ramon, this is my fiancée, Ms Flora Henderson, and Jamie.’

‘Hello.’ The way he looked at the hand she had extended made Flora wonder if she had broken some sort of etiquette, but his smile was genial as he took it in a dry-handed grip.

‘If you’re here as an escort, Ramon, explain to my grandfather—’

‘Jamie needs feeding.’ Flora had been watching the baby push his chubby fist into his mouth. Experience told her they had about five minutes before the hungry wailing started.

‘There, you see, my grandfather will have to wait.’

The older man cleared his throat. ‘Of course.’ He nodded his head as three people appeared. They responded to instructions he delivered in his precise voice with lots of nods. ‘Actually, sir, I was hoping... The doctor is here and your grandfather has given him permission to speak with you.’

Flora felt Ivo’s splayed fingers tighten in the small of her back; her eyes went to his face. His features were still. Despite the lack of any discernible expression at all on his face, or maybe because of it, Flora sensed the emotions under the surface.

If everyone had a secret fear, she decided then that Ivo’s was anyone who suspected he was human.

‘You go,’ she said, drawing the attention of the older man to herself. ‘We’ll be fine.’ She stepped away from his supportive touch and curled her fingers around his on the handle of the baby carrier. ‘I can manage,’ she said and turned, while around them the rest of the luggage and baby paraphernalia was being carried up the stairs and along one of the wide galleries that ran around the upper floor perimeter, before vanishing.

‘I can manage,’ she repeated with another tug.

Ivo didn’t release his grip but he did put the carrier down on the floor. ‘Give us a moment, will you, Ramon?’

The other man moved away to a discreet distance.

Flora glanced over her shoulder towards him and, pitching her voice low, said softly, ‘I’m sorry.’

He arched a brow. ‘What for?’

‘That your grandfather is...’

‘What? Dying? Well, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Smile, cara , this might be good news for you. I know you were too polite to ask how long but this does looks promising for you, so fingers crossed.’

It wasn’t just the sneering intonation in his voice or the coldness in his eyes as they swept over her face, it was the fact that she hadn’t seen it coming. She focused on stopping the tears she felt pressing at the backs of her eyes and told herself it was ridiculous to feel this level of hurt.

‘Why are you being so hateful?’

He flinched inwardly at the unconscious dignity in her stance, but he ignored the guilt nudging his conscience and refused to even acknowledge the odd wrenching sensation in his chest as he looked down into the reproachful blue eyes that shimmered up at him, bright as jewels.

He gave a negligent shrug. ‘What can I say? They tell me it’s one of my talents.’

‘Odd. I get the impression you’re working hard at it.’ The bewilderment in her face was genuine. ‘Why are you pushing me away?’

Wishing the words unsaid, not even knowing where they had come from, Flora veiled her eyes as she pushed her way through a wave of cringing embarrassment by sheer force of will.

Pushing you away...! It was the sort of thing that people in a relationship said. She twisted the ring on her finger and reminded herself it was very much for show.

He flinched inwardly, then dealt with the direct hit the only way he could—he ignored it. ‘Ramon.’

The other man hurried over.

Flora was aware of Ivo saying something to him but it wasn’t until the dapper bearded figure reached for the baby carrier that Flora reacted. Possibly he was slow because he thought the request was beneath his pay grade, but Flora got there before him, tugging up the carrier in two hands and holding it against her front.

‘I can manage.’ Anger shimmered through her as she walked, stiff-backed, towards the staircase. A lot of things were uncertain but one thing she knew for sure: she was not going to waste her sympathy on Ivo Greco again, or imagine he was something he was not.

* * *

The doctor, actually two of them, stood outside his grandfather’s bedroom. One he recognised as Salvatore’s personal physician, the other was a stranger. If he’d had any doubts remaining, their professional expression, that blending of gravity and sympathy that all medics perfected, said it all.

Ivo took a deep breath and dragged a hand through his hair, banishing the lingering memory of the hurt in Flora’s eyes that had plagued him as he’d walked down the corridors feeling like a total heel.

What was the British saying? If the hat fits...

Well, it did, he decided, removing his hand from his hair, not bothering to smooth down the spikes. Flora’s only sin in this instance was being in the firing line when he had realised this wasn’t one of the old man’s games, he really was dying, and rather than admit even to himself that he cared, his reflex had been to hit out.

Obviously at one level he had known that it was a possibility that for once in his life his grandfather was being forthright, and he should have been prepared, but deep down he had never actually believed that Salvatore, who had always seemed so indestructible to him, was dying.

The irony was he hadn’t even known he was in denial until the moment he had heard the truth in Ramon’s voice.

This wasn’t just another of the old fox’s schemes. It was for real.

Not quite the classic case of the boy crying wolf but a toxic, twisted version of it.

‘He is waiting for you.’

Ivo never had responded well to authority, and this went double for the white-coated variety. He was not impressed by medical degrees. Men with more degrees than wall space had not stopped his damaged father killing himself or his mother dying. ‘And yet you are out here.’

‘We wanted to speak to you before you go inside. Actually, we wanted to speak to you much earlier, but we were constrained by your grandfather’s wishes.’

That would be right, Salvatore would always have the last word, even if that word was a dying word...‘Is it cancer?’