by Lucy King
Everywhere he looked he saw photos. On the desk, on the shelves, on the walls. Of the man who could be his double bar the scar and the broken nose, sometimes wrapped around a beautiful brunette, sometimes with a small child, mostly with both. In all of them, everyone was either smiling or laughing, clearly relaxed and happy, a tightly knit trio of emotions, history and belonging, and the closer and longer he looked, the greater the roll of his stomach and the chillier the shivers that ran down his spine.
He had no concept of such things. Living on the streets as an adolescent for four years had taught him that emotions rendered a man weak and vulnerable. They led to manipulation and exploitation, not intimacy and connection. As he understood, relationships involved attachment and commitment, compromise and understanding, none of which he’d ever experienced. They were for other people, not him, which was why Carla’s reference to further potential relatives, the nephew and the sister-in-law, not to mention the nature of the occasion today, a family occasion, had unexpectedly knocked him for six.
He and this brother of his might look similar, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that DNA was the only thing they had in common. Judging by the photographs before him they certainly didn’t share a temperament. Finn’s eyes lacked the hard cynicism Rico knew lurked in the depths of his own, and the fine lines fanning out from the corner of them suggested Finn knew how to laugh and mean it. His brother wasn’t a loner who preferred the shadows to the limelight. He had family. Friends. A life full of laughter and joy.
They’d evidently had very different experiences of growing up, quite apart from geography. Finn’s relaxed, content exterior clearly didn’t hide a great, gaping void where his soul should be. He couldn’t have spent his formative years fighting for survival, sleeping with one eye open and scavenging for food in order to stave off the kind of hunger that made you hallucinate. And had Finn ever found himself part of a gang as a kid, searching for somewhere to belong, somewhere where he counted, only to be forced to do things he didn’t want to do and badly let down by people in whom he’d impulsively and unwisely put his trust? It didn’t seem likely.
It had been a mistake to make this trip here, Rico thought darkly, a frown creasing his forehead as he shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked over to the window in an attempt to escape the photos and the inexplicable resentment and jealousy he could feel brewing at the injustice of his and Finn’s very different upbringings. A mistake to allow himself to be recklessly driven by an intuition he didn’t understand to such an extent that he’d rashly dismissed the advice of his doctors to stay put and had ordered his plane that he had on permanent standby at the airport in Venice to be readied instead.
He’d acted on instinct and hadn’t given a moment’s thought to the ramifications. But, with hindsight, he should have because Carla’s parting comment that Finn had been searching for him for months and that he’d be thrilled to have found him made his scalp prickle and his stomach churn. He wasn’t interested in a sentimental reunion or a prolonged catch-up on the last thirty-one years, in back-slapping hugs and the swapping of life stories. The mere thought of engaging in a You like chess? So do I! You’re a billionaire? So am I! kind of conversation punched the air from his lungs and drained the blood from his brain.
He didn’t need anyone, least of all a sibling he’d known nothing about his entire life. He never had. Family might mean everything to Finn but Rico didn’t know what it meant, full stop. Not now. He’d spent most of his life alone and he was used to it that way. He was dependent on no one and had no one dependent on him. The only person he trusted was himself and should he ever be let down now he had only himself to blame.
He didn’t belong here, in a beautiful home among beautiful people who led beautiful lives that didn’t deserve to be sullied by his darkness. He didn’t belong anywhere. He never would. So he had nothing to gain from actually meeting Finn. Carla had already confirmed the suspicion he’d come to investigate for himself. He’d done what he’d felt compelled to do. He didn’t need to hang around any longer to find out more and feel the embers of resentment and jealousy flaring into a hot, fiery burn that would scorch and destroy what little good was left in him.
In fact, if he took control of events and left right now, he could be in the air in half an hour. He’d be home by dark. And once there, he could set about resuming the life he’d led before the accident and forget that today had ever happened.
* * *
‘What do you mean, he’s gone?’
At the table beneath the gazebo, now cleared of lunch and instead spread with everything needed for the provision of coffee and tea, Carla stared at Georgie open-mouthed, the party and the guests milling about outside all but forgotten.
‘Exactly that,’ Georgie replied quietly, her face filled with confusion and worry. ‘Federico Rossi is nowhere to be seen. Finn’s just spent twenty minutes scouring the house and the grounds. He couldn’t find him anywhere.’
Noting that her hand was trembling slightly, Carla carefully put down her coffee cup. ‘I put him in the study and asked him to wait,’ she said, a chill of apprehension and dismay running down her spine. ‘He couldn’t have just left.’
‘I think he must have done.’
‘No note?’
‘No nothing,’ said Georgie with a shake of her head. ‘Did he give any indication he might leg it?’
Carla racked her brains, the conversation they’d had spinning through her head and filling her with shame, since it should have been about Finn but instead had been all about her. ‘No.’
‘So why did he go?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘I wish he’d never come here in the first place,’ Georgie muttered, her expression hardening. ‘To dangle a carrot of hope like that and then whip it away... Why would anyone do that? How could he be so cruel? Why wasn’t he interested in getting to know Finn? Or me and Josh? What’s wrong with us? I’d sort of already slotted him into our lives if that makes sense—a relative, a real relative, who could maybe join us for Christmas and birthdays and things—and it was going to be so great.’ She gave a big sigh. ‘I’m such an idiot.’
Georgie was the last person in this scenario who was an idiot, thought Carla, her heart beginning to thump as the truth dawned on her. She was the one who’d been an idiot. And not only that, but also a shockingly and appallingly self-centred one.
Under any other circumstance she’d have considered every possible consequence of leaving Rico alone in Finn’s study. She’d have weighed up what she’d learned about him, however little, and assessed the risks. Doing precisely that was part of her job, a job she’d had for the best part of a decade and supposedly excelled at.
But she hadn’t. She’d fled without a moment’s thought because she’d been too desperate to escape his overwhelming effect on her to think straight. For the first time in years, despite her recognition of the danger he presented, she’d let her emotions get the better of her and dictate her actions, and as a result she’d ruined everything.
What if her parting comments had been the trigger? What if Rico had been spooked by her insistence about the importance of family and her claim about how pleased Finn would be to meet him? She’d noticed his discomfort at the idea of a family occasion. If she hadn’t been so derailed by her need to get away from him she’d have been more considered with her words.
‘I should have locked him in,’ she said, the weight of guilt and self-reproach crushing her like a rock on her chest. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ said Georgie darkly. ‘It’s his.’
‘How’s Finn?’
‘Completely gutted.’
‘That’s understandable,’ said Carla, feeling sick at the realisation of how thoughtless and self-absorbed she’d been and how badly she’d let her friends down.
‘Maybe he just needs more time.’
‘It’s possible.’
‘And what else can we do but wait and see if he gets back in touch at some point?’ said Georgie with a helpless shrug that cut Carla to the quick. ‘It’s not as if he left any contact details. All we can do is give Alex what we have and let her get on with it.’
Yes, they could indeed do that. With a new name to add to the mix, no doubt Alex Osborne of Osborne Investigations, hired by Finn to track down his biological family, would be able to unearth no end of information. But she’d only be able to find the facts. Carla could probably do better than that.
Because Georgie was wrong.
Rico had left his number.
He’d handed her his card, which she’d intended to toss into the bin where it belonged but had put in her bag instead.
Why, she had no idea, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she had a way of contacting him, which was excellent because she wasn’t having any of this. She wasn’t having Finn and, by extension, Georgie devastated by anyone. Georgie’s pain was her pain, and her best friend meant far too much to her to let it lie. She owed Georgie quite possibly her life.
Carla had been only fifteen when she’d fallen into the clutches of a man twice her age, who’d spotted an opportunity to prey on a naïve, vulnerable teenager and taken it. Starved of attention and affection by her parents, desperate to have proof that her love for them was returned and not getting it, she’d willingly been swallowed up by his flattering interest and the close emotional bond he’d deliberately and maliciously created. She hadn’t questioned his requests to send him increasingly explicit pictures. She hadn’t noticed she was becoming more and more isolated. When he’d finally persuaded her to run away with him she’d thought herself so sophisticated, so mature, so in love. She’d been so excited and such a fool. If it hadn’t been for Georgie, who hadn’t given up on her even when she’d been truly horrible, who’d eventually managed to come to her rescue, things could have turned out very differently.
Carla still didn’t trust compliments and emotional intimacy. She still found it hard not to instinctively question men’s interest in her and her ability to judge what was healthy when it came to relationships and what wasn’t, which was why she tended to steer well clear of them, opting for short, casual flings instead. But at least, thanks to her best friend, she’d regained her self-confidence and self-esteem. At least she knew that what had happened hadn’t been her fault and believed it.
Her abuser’s previous victim hadn’t been so fortunate. After the trial that saw him locked away for five years it had been revealed that Carla wasn’t the only girl he’d preyed on. His first victim had been groomed in the same way, only she hadn’t escaped. When she’d become too old for him and he’d left her, she’d been so messed up she’d taken an overdose and died.
Without Georgie, that could easily have been Carla’s fate, so there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her. They might not share any DNA, but they were sisters in every way that counted. In fact, they were closer than many of the pairs of actual siblings she knew.
So, whatever her personal feelings about Rico Rossi, Carla could help. She wanted to. And not only that. She needed to fix the mistakes she’d made today. Rico had invited her out for dinner and she’d accept. She’d use the occasion to try and change his mind about meeting his brother. Failing that, she’d mine him for information that she could then pass back to Finn in the hope it might give him at least some comfort. It wasn’t a brilliant plan, but it was a start.
She could ignore the effect he had on her, she told herself, determination setting her jaw as it all came together in her head. Now she’d had some breathing space she could see that she’d overreacted earlier. He posed no threat. He was just a man. A devastatingly attractive one, sure, but she was immune to that. She had no interest in the hypnotic blue of his eyes and the way they seemed to look right into her, and she’d certainly soon forget how well his body filled out his clothes and the easy confidence with which he moved.
She was no longer an innocent teenager yearning for adventure and love, wild, gullible and ripe for the picking. She was older, savvier, stronger, and well able to withstand any attempt at seduction Rico might be foolish enough to make, especially if she reinforced the control she wielded over her emotions so that it was unbreakable. She was tenacious and focused when it came to a goal and, at the end of the day, it was only dinner.
‘I might have an idea,’ she said to Georgie, the need to put things right for the people she cared so much about now burning like a living flame inside her. ‘Leave it with me.’
CHAPTER THREE
HIS PLANE HAVING just taken off from the small private airfield that was located conveniently close to Finn’s house, Rico was travelling at a speed of three hundred kilometres per hour, staring out of the window, a glass of neat whisky in his hand, his relief at having made a lucky escape soaring with every metre they climbed.
Carla had called his aborted meeting with Finn life-changing, but he didn’t need his life changed, he told himself grimly, knocking back half his drink and welcoming the heat of the alcohol that hit his stomach. He was perfectly happy with it the way it was. Or at least, the way it had been before the accident that had not only broken his body but also, he could recognise now, short-circuited his brain.
What on earth had he been doing these last few weeks? Yes, he’d had time on his hands and little to occupy his brain, given that he’d spent much of it dosed up on morphine and therefore in no fit state to work the markets, but to cede all control to an intuition he didn’t even understand? He had to have been nuts.
He should have got a firmer grip on the curiosity that had burgeoned inside him on coming across that photo. He should have forgotten he’d seen it in the first place. He should certainly never have allowed any of it to dominate his thoughts to such an extent that it sent him off on a course of action that he barely understood.
Well, it all stopped now. He needed to return to being the man he’d been for the last fifteen years, who lived life on the edge and to whom nothing and no one had mattered since the moment he’d escaped the gang he’d joined, his dreams destroyed and his soul stolen, and he’d realised he was better off on his own. He needed that familiarity, that certainty, that definition of who he was. He didn’t like the confusion and the doubt that had been crippling him lately.
His lingering preoccupation with Carla, with whom he’d irrefutably crashed and burned, had to stop too. Despite handing her his card, he wasn’t expecting to hear from her, so he had no reason whatsoever to dwell on what might have happened had she accepted his invitation. No reason to continue contemplating her stunning green eyes and lush, kissable mouth. She wasn’t the first woman he’d wanted, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. She was hardly irreplaceable. In fact, when he got home he’d set about doing precisely that.
The beep of his phone cut through his turbulent thoughts, and he switched his attention from the wide expanse of cloudless azure sky to the device on the table in front of him. He didn’t recognise the UK number and on any other occasion would have let it go to voicemail, but today, now, he was more than happy to be disturbed.
With any luck, it would be someone from the London-based brokerage firm he used with something business-related. Details of a unique and complex opportunity in an emerging market, perhaps. A forex swaption recommendation. An unexpected profit warning. As long as it was something that made him money and required significant focus, he wasn’t fussy.
‘Pronto.’
‘Rico? Hi. It’s Carla Blake. We met earlier.’
At the sound of the voice in his ear—very much not the head of research at the London-based brokerage firm—every inch of him tensed and his pulse gave a great kick. Her words slid through him like silk, winding round his insides and igniting the sparks of the desire he hadn’t managed to fully extinguish. He could visualise her mouth and feel her hair tickling
his skin. It was as if she were actually there, beside him, leaning in close and making his groin tighten and ache, and all his efforts to put her from his mind evaporated.
‘How could I possibly forget?’ he said, sitting back in his seat and forcing himself to get a grip on his reaction to her and relax.
‘I was hoping that might be the case.’
‘Why?’
‘I’d like to take you up on the offer of dinner.’
The jolt of pleasure that rocked through him at that took him by surprise. ‘I see,’ he said, deciding to attribute it to satisfaction that she hadn’t been able to resist him after all.
‘If the invitation still stands, that is.’
He ought to tell her it didn’t. He’d intended to wipe today from his head—every single second of it—and pursuing Carla with her connection to the brother he wanted nothing to do with would not be conducive to a return to his former shackle-free, nihilistic life.
But he didn’t like rejection. He didn’t like failure. He wasn’t used to either. And the fact remained, he did still want her. Badly. Plus there was the intriguing volte face. Why had she changed her mind when only at lunchtime she’d been so adamant in her refusal? Had she finally decided to accept the chemistry they shared and act on it? The potential for a night of scorching, mind-blowing sex wasn’t something he was going to ignore. Reclaiming the upper hand and taking back control of their interaction wouldn’t hurt either.
‘It still stands,’ he said, anticipation at the thought of seeing her again and everything that might entail now thrumming through him and setting his nerve endings on fire.
‘Excellent.’
‘Why the change of heart?’
‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’
‘I can hardly wait.’