Elizabeth Lane - Rags To Riches - At Home With The Boss - The Secret Sinclair / The Nanny's Secret / A Home for the M.D.

Raoul was a taker, with little interest in giving back. When he looked at her with those lazy, brooding eyes she could sense his interest. Some of his remarks carried just that little hint of flirtation, of deliberately treading very close to the edge. He had possessed her once, much to her shame. Did he think that he could possess her again?

She returned with Oliver to find him at the kitchen counter, dutifully chopping the onions as instructed.

Oliver had brought in a handful of his blocks, and Sarah sat him on a chair and then called Raoul over. She made sure to keep her voice light and friendly, even though every nerve in her body tingled as he strolled towards them, a teatowel draped over one shoulder.

‘Blocks … my favourite.’

She had sat at the table, next to Oliver, and now Raoul leaned over her, his strong arms trapping her as he rested his hands on the table on either side of her. Sarah could feel his breath whisper against her neck when he spoke.

‘Did you hear that, Oliver? Raoul loves building things! Wouldn’t it be fun for you two to build something for me? What about a tower? You love building towers! Do you remember how high your last tower was? Before it fell?’

‘Twelve blocks,’ Oliver said seriously, not looking at Raoul. ‘I can count to fifty.’

‘That’s quite an achievement!’ Raoul leaned a little closer to Sarah, so that the clean, minty smell of her shampoo filled his nostrils.

She shifted, but had almost no room for manoeuvre. Her eyes drifted compulsively to his forearm, to the fine sprinkling of dark hairs that curled around the dull matt silver of his mega-expensive watch.

‘Why don’t you sit down, Raoul?’ she suggested stiltedly. ‘You can help Oliver with his tower.’

‘I don’t need any help, Mum.’

‘No, he really doesn’t. I sense that he’s more than capable of building the Empire State Building all on his own.’

Oliver glanced very quickly at Raoul, and then returned to the task in hand.

Sarah heard Raoul’s almost imperceptible indrawn breath as he abruptly stood back, and when she turned to look at him he had removed himself to the kitchen sink, his expression one of frustrated defeat.

‘Give it time,’ she said in a low voice, moving to stand in front of him.

‘How much time? I’m not a patient man.’

‘Well, I guess you’ll have to learn how to be. Good job with the onions, by the way.’

But she could feel his simmering impatience with the situation for the rest of the evening. Oliver was not so much hostile as wary. He answered Raoul’s questions without meeting his eye and, dinner over, finally agreed to go outside with him to test drive the car which had been abandoned in the sitting room.

Through the kitchen window, Sarah watched their awkward interaction with a sinking heart.

She had planned on sitting Oliver down and explaining that Raoul was his father once a bond of trust between them had been accepted. To overload him with too much information would be bewildering for him. But how long was that going to take? she wondered. Raoul was obviously trying very hard.

She watched as Oliver sent the oversized car bouncing crazily into the unkempt bushes at the back of the tiny garden, losing interest fast and walking away as Raoul stooped down to deliver a mini-lecture on mechanics.

The consequences of him missing out, through no fault of his own, on those precious first four years hit her forcibly. Another man, with experience of growing up in a real family, might have had something to fall back on in a situation like this. Raoul had no such experience, and was struggling to find a way through his own shortcomings.

She abandoned her plans to have him read something to Oliver before bed, which was their usual routine. Instead, she told him to wait for her in the kitchen while she settled Oliver.

‘You can help yourself to … um … whatever you can find in the fridge. I know dinner was probably not what you’re used to …’

‘Because I’m such a snob?’

Sarah sighed heavily, ‘I’m just conscious that we’re … we’re miles apart. When we were working out in Africa there wasn’t this great big chasm separating us …’

‘You need to move on from the past.’

‘ You haven’t moved on from yours!’

‘I’m not following you?’

‘You thought you could buy Oliver with lots of presents because that’s what your past has conditioned you to think! And then you got impatient when you discovered that it doesn’t work that way.’

‘And you can’t move on from the fact that—okay … yes—I dumped you!’ Raoul thundered. ‘You want to find something to argue about— anything at all —because you’ve wrapped yourself up in a little world comprised of just you and Oliver and you can’t deal with the fact that I’m around now! Dinner was disappointing because it was stressful! I didn’t know how to deal with him.’

Hell, Oliver had played with his food, spread most of it on the table, and had received only the most indulgent scolding from Sarah! His childhood memories of mealtimes were of largely silent affairs, with rowdy behaviour at the table meriting instant punishment.

‘I don’t know how to deal with him.’

Dumbfounded by that raw admission, Sarah was overcome with regret for her outburst. He was so clever, so all-knowing , that she hadn’t really stopped to consider that now he really was at a loss.

‘I’m … I’m sorry, Raoul. I shouldn’t have said that stuff about your past …’ she mumbled.

‘Look, we’ve found ourselves in this situation, and constantly sniping isn’t going to get either of us very far.’

Mind made up, Sarah nodded in agreement. ‘I’ll take him up for a bath … Yes, you’re right … it’s difficult for both of us …’ She managed a smile. ‘I guess we both need to do some adjusting …’

She returned forty-five minutes later and looked as fresh as a daisy. He felt as though he had done ten rounds in a boxing ring.

‘I think he’s really beginning to warm to you!’ she said cheerfully.

Raoul raised his eyebrows in an expression of rampant scepticism. ‘Explain how you’ve managed to arrive at that conclusion?’ He raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head with a short, dry laugh. ‘There’s no need to put on the Little Miss Sunshine act for me, Sarah. I may not know much when it comes to kids, but I’d have to have the IQ of a goldfish not to see that my own son has no time for me. You were right. All those toys were a complete waste of time and money.’

‘You’re just not accustomed to children. You don’t know how they think. Sometimes it’s hard to imagine you being a kid at all! Oliver enjoys pushing the boundaries. Most children do, Raoul. He’ll fiddle with his food until I have to be firm, and he’ll always go for just another five minutes or one more story or two scoops of ice cream, please .’

‘Whatever happened to discipline?’ Raoul scowled at her laid-back attitude.

‘Oh, there’s a lot of that. It’s just knowing when to decide that it’s really needed.’

She looked at Raoul thoughtfully. The man who could move mountains had discovered his Achilles’ heel, and she was sure that he would never ask for her help. He was stubbornly, maddeningly proud. To ask for help would be to admit a weakness, and she knew that was something he would find it very hard to do.

But helping him was the only solution—and, more than that, helping him would give her a psychological boost, even out the playing field.

‘Okay, well, he’s now thrilled with the car. Tonight I’ll pack away all the rest of the stuff you brought for him. I can bring bits out now and again as treats.’ She folded her arms and braced herself to take control with a guy who was so used to having the reins that he probably had no idea relinquishing them was a possibility.