by Dani Collins
“How can you when...?” Her entire being ached with yearning. With a longing she had suppressed successfully for most of her life. “I don’t know how to be with you and keep myself from being destroyed,” she admitted.
He inhaled as though she’d sunk a knife into his belly.
“I love you, Javiero. That is the problem. Because love is never a solution.” Her lashes dampened. “I love you and I want to give you everything. My heart, my independence, my son. I want to live in your house and wear your ring, and I’ll even be nice to your mother. But what do I get in return?” she asked with anguish. “Are you going to give me every last ounce of pride you possess? Do you even know how to love when all you’ve ever been taught is hate?”
“This is how you tell me you love me?” The pupil in his eye obliterated all the color in his iris. “You say it in the same breath as you accuse me of lacking the capacity to love you as completely as you love me?”
“Do you?”
“Yes, damn you, not that you’ll believe it. Do you?”
She clasped her arms across her middle, trying to make sense of words he’d thrown at her like the scattered shards of something broken.
“Do you?” he demanded.
She searched his expression, wanting to believe him—
At her hesitation, he shot to his feet, overturning his chair with a clatter. His face was transformed with fury. He looked around. For one stark moment, she expected him to sweep the deck clean of furniture, throwing everything into the sea with a roar.
She pressed into her chair, frozen with apprehension and holding her breath.
“Every last ounce of pride? That’s the price? Damn you, Scarlett. Damn you.” He walked away.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SCARLETT DIDN’T KNOW what to say. She sat there for the longest time, clenched fists against her cheeks, heart pounding at the worst confrontation ever between them. She closed her eyes, trying to convince herself to simply believe. Maybe the fault was in her. Maybe her tattered self-esteem wasn’t capable of seeing herself as lovable.
When the nanny turned up, she took Locke gratefully. Holding him brought her comfort for a few minutes. She continued to hold him after he nursed, pointing out a seaplane that was landing not far away.
He probably didn’t take in more than its movement and sound, but when she smiled at him, he smiled back and that brightened her spirits.
Their game was interrupted by the buzz of the seaplane’s propeller approaching. She looked up to see it taxiing right up to their yacht.
Javiero appeared. Stewards trailed him with their luggage.
“Get in,” he said.
She hesitated, astonished.
“For God’s sake, Scarlett, trust me this much.”
She did, unquestioning because she didn’t want to damage things between them any more than she had.
They flew over water, heading north as far as she could tell and went over some mountains. They descended far too soon to be in Spanish airspace. The plane skimmed down onto a jewel of a lake surrounded by green hillsides dotted with elegant villas and mansions.
“Where are we?” she asked, her stomach filling with butterflies. She had a good idea, she just didn’t believe it.
Javiero remained grimly silent.
Her suspicion was confirmed when they taxied toward Kiara, standing on the end of a private dock. She held Aurelia’s hand and used the other to shade her eyes. Val stood next to them dressed in his usual black. He wore aviator sunglasses and not one hint of welcome.
Every last ounce of pride.
“Javiero, you don’t have to do this,” she said in a strained voice.
“Who do you want at our wedding, Scarlett? Who is the one person you want there?”
“You,” she insisted.
“When? If I don’t do this, when are you going to marry me? When are you going to trust in what we have?”
She didn’t get a chance to answer. They were close enough that Val caught at one of the uprights on the wing. He used his weight to lever the plane into the dock, then helped the pilot tie off.
Seconds later, Scarlett disembarked into Kiara’s open arms.
“Is everything okay?” Kiara asked anxiously into her hair. She drew back to study her with concern. Her expression softened and she smiled. “You look better. A lot better.”
“You, too.”
Kiara was glowing, her dark eyes full of adoration for the husband who came to stand next to her.
“When Kiara said you wanted to drop in, I didn’t realize she meant it so literally,” Val said.
Scarlett didn’t look at him, unable to bear what was bound to become a smirk or worse. This was her fault. He was going to flay Javiero to pieces. She half wished they could turn around and leave, but there was Aurelia, holding up her arms, wanting to be lifted and hugged.
“You darling. You smell like cookies. I might have to eat you.” Scarlett made chomping noises at her neck so the little girl shrieked with giggles.
Javiero emerged with Locke in his infant seat.
“And you’re still bringing good news and sunshine with every visit,” Val said in a scathing undertone.
Scarlett searched for something to say that might encourage Val to be merciful, but she’d never once conjured that particular magic spell successfully.
“I have to talk to you,” Javiero said bluntly to Val.
“I don’t have to listen,” Val retorted in the annoyingly droll tone he liked to use when he stonewalled. “There’s this thing in modern society called consent.”
Just like that, hackles went up and their stares locked.
“Javiero, I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” Scarlett began, touching his arm.
At the same time, Kiara moved to stand in front of Val. She touched his jaw to force him to look at her.
“Right now would be an excellent time to set a good example for a sugar bowl with big handles.”
Val’s gaze flicked from Kiara to Aurelia, who was reacquainting herself with Scarlett’s lock pendant, something she’d found infinitely fascinating while they’d been in Greece.
“This is my very best behavior, bella. I allowed them to tie up, didn’t I?”
Scarlett bit back a sigh. “Val, I only want to ask if Kiara—”
Javiero cut her off. “I want to talk to Val about more than that. Kiara, would you please take Scarlett and the children to the house? Give us a moment?”
Scarlett hesitated, rife with misgiving. Javiero and Val were holding another staring contest that drew lines in the sand.
“Of course,” Kiara said quickly. “I’m not going to stand here wasting time that I could fill with holding a baby.” She leaped toward Locke, taking him from Javiero. “Come see our home,” she said to Scarlett. As Kiara passed Val, she added ominously, “We’ll wait for you on the terrace.”
The women walked up a line of stepping stones that formed a path toward a modern split-level villa with expansive windows and abundant outdoor living space. There was likely a pool behind the hedgerow. The terraced grounds were blooming. Stretches of lawn were littered with climbing gyms, a playhouse and other outdoor toys.
It was very Val. Lavish and tasteful with a disheveled projection of indolence, yet compelling and appealing at the same time.
“This is nice,” Javiero said.
“I know.”
Javiero bit back a curse of impatience and walked away from the pilot, who was checking oil levels. He turned onto the stretch of pebbled beach and glanced at what he suspected was Kiara’s studio.
“Scarlett is inviting Kiara to our wedding.” Javiero angled himself so Val wasn’t in his blind spot.
“Where?” His voice was crisp. “When?”
“Tomorrow. In Gibraltar, likely, since that’s where I can accomplish it
fastest. Do you have other plans?”
“No, but I’d rather fill my pockets full of rocks and walk into that lake than spend a minute with your mother.”
Same, Javiero resisted saying. “She won’t be there. Just you and Kiara and the children.”
“You’re not seriously asking me to be your best man? There are so many things wrong with that, I don’t even know where to start.”
“Give it a rest, Val. This has to stop. Our kids won’t have a chance if it doesn’t.”
Javiero had walked away from Scarlett a few hours ago so furious he hadn’t known how to contain it. Oddly, he had known immediately that this was the price she was asking, even though she hadn’t said it in so many words. He’d balked out of reflex, but there was no cost that was too high, not if he finally won the woman he loved.
Once he had recognized that, making a few calls—one of them to Kiara—had been easy.
Which didn’t make this conversation with Val easy, but it had to happen for the exact reason he’d just given.
Val didn’t say anything, only bent to pick up a handful of rocks. He picked through them, discarding all except a flat one that he moodily sent skipping a dozen times across the water. His infamous, million-dollar brooding pout was firmly on display.
“It didn’t even occur to me,” Javiero began carefully. “That someone as confident and contrary as you are could be taken advantage of.”
“We’re not talking about that. Ever.” His voice was as flat as the next rock he found. It was a stone-cold warning, but after Val sent another pebble across the water’s surface, he said darkly, “It wasn’t up to you to save me.”
No, Val had saved himself because their father hadn’t.
Weary disgust washed over Javiero. So much time and energy and emotion wasted. So much damage. For what?
“I’ve tried to tell Scarlett what a sociopathic nightmare he was. She never saw the full scope of his ugliness, though,” Javiero said.
“Kiara’s the same. It’s probably a good thing they never saw him at his worst. He always did like women, though.”
“He liked them to like him,” Javiero corrected. “To want things from him.”
“True fact.” Val sent another stone spinning.
It struck Javiero that Val was the only person on this earth who understood his loathing of their father without his having to explain any of it. They were two sides of the same bent coin.
“How is Scarlett?” Val asked. “Kiara said she has postpartum depression. I don’t know much about it, but Kiara’s been worried about her.”
“Therefore you are?” Javiero asked skeptically.
Val shrugged. “Scarlett’s the little sister I never wanted. I felt sorry for her, working for Dad all those years because we wouldn’t.”
“Yeah. About that.” Javiero squeezed the back of his neck. “She’s improving, but I don’t want to jeopardize her recovery. She’s as bad as you or I when it comes to burning the candle at both ends.”
“Me?” Val splayed a hand on his chest. “I’m lazy as hell.”
“And you work harder than anyone imagines at projecting that image.”
“You know me so well.” Val shot another rock into the water, this one hitting a ripple and sinking after two skips. “And I know you. You’re going to charge in on your white horse to take over Dad’s fortune. This is a courtesy call so I don’t kick up a fuss. Have fun with that. I could care less.”
“Actually, it’s more than I can handle on top of my present responsibilities. I’m going to propose she let the two of us help her. She won’t trust anyone else to have our children’s best interests at heart. It would be temporary. As much or as little as she wants to delegate. She can fire us and take over whenever it suits her.”
“You want me to work for Scarlett. Help her manage Dad’s money.” Val showed the rocks in his palms. “These really are going in my pockets while I take a long walk off that short pier. You have a bigger pair of rocks than I ever gave you credit for.”
“You love irony,” Javiero cajoled. “What better revenge could we possibly dream up?”
“He would roll over in his grave, wouldn’t he?” Val let the rocks fall away and dusted his palms. “Hell, it would put both our mothers into an early one. There’s a selling feature.”
“Mine’s halfway there. When I tell her I’m married and she wasn’t invited but you were...?” Javiero blew out a breath. “I’m stepping on your brand.”
Val snorted, then said without heat, “Scarlett doesn’t want me at her wedding. Why do you?”
“Scarlett needs to know I can put all of this behind me.”
“Wow.” Val scratched under his chin. “You’ve got it bad, haven’t you?”
“Oh, you don’t?” Javiero chided, prickling at having his deepest vulnerability poked at. Still, he wouldn’t flinch from showing his heart. Not now. Not ever again. Scarlett was too important to him.
Which didn’t mean he was above some old-fashioned fraternal ribbing when he saw the same in Val.
“I knew you were sunk that day at the hospital, when you backed down for Kiara’s sake. She’ll feel better if we agree to a truce. Especially if it means Scarlett will have the support she needs.”
“You can’t snow the snowman.” Val’s eyes narrowed. “I was raised on emotional manipulation. I can smell it a mile away.”
“This isn’t a snow job. It’s past time we put our swords down,” Javiero insisted. “For the women we love. For our kids. For ourselves.”
Val’s disobliging profile turned to focus on the far side of the lake.
At least Javiero could tell Scarlett he’d tried, he thought grimly.
Behind them, a high voice called, “Papà? Do you and Tio want lunch?”
They turned to see Aurelia loping toward them. She let go of her nanny’s hand and ran the rest of the way across the sand.
“Kiara must be worried we’re not playing nice.” Val scooped up his daughter as she reached them. He threw Aurelia high into the air, making her scream with laughter, then caught her and hugged her close.
She curled her arms trustingly around his neck, then lifted her sweet, happy, innocent face and pointed at Javiero. “Tio got hurted.”
After a surprised beat, Val said, “He did.” His tone was somber enough to resonate like a cold bell inside Javiero’s chest. Val turned a flinty look on Javiero, saying cryptically to his daughter, “He’s what we call collateral damage. He wasn’t supposed to be hurt. It just happened.”
It wasn’t an apology, but it was an acknowledgment that Val’s actions had had repercussions he hadn’t intended. They’d both suffered, but neither had deliberately caused what the other had endured.
“Tio is Locke’s papi.” Aurelia disregarded the big words she didn’t understand.
“You’re full of important information, aren’t you?”
She nodded, probably not fully getting that, either.
“But do you know that you...?” Val tickled his fingers into her chest, making her squirm and giggle and catch at his hand. “You are the reason Tio and I will eat our lunch with our spoons?”
Not knives. No more swords.
A strange whoosh rushed through Javiero. He had told himself he didn’t care whether he won Val over, that trying would be enough. If anything, he had expected a sense of triumph if he did. There was no satisfaction, though, only relief. As though he had put down something inordinately heavy. As though the rocks in his pockets fell away and he was able to kick to the surface and breathe.
“It’s not soup,” Aurelia was telling Val, holding his face in her hands, earnest and completely oblivious to what was going on between the men. “It’s capelli d’angelo.”
“Your favorite.”
“And yours.”
“And mine,” he agreed, then sent Javiero
a look of mild disgust before jerking his head toward the house. “Mi casa and all that. Let’s eat some angel hair.”
They walked up to the house with Aurelia between them, holding their fingers while she leaped and swung, feet barely touching the ground.
“Do you know what a flower girl is, Aurelia?” Javiero asked her. “It means Auntie Scarlett and I want to buy you a very pretty dress and that you get to hold some flowers for us at our wedding.”
Her little feet hit the ground and she stopped moving. Pale blue eyes blinked up at him as she said importantly, “I have a dress for when Papà and Mama had a wedding. I am a flower girl.”
God help him, he might fall in love with her. “I came to the right place then.”
They were close enough to the terrace that Kiara came to the rail and looked down at them. She held Locke, and Scarlett appeared beside her.
“Did I hear that we’re going to a wedding?”
“Sì. And you have a decision to make, bella. Are we going overnight or are we bringing your paints and staying the week? He’s paying either way.” Val motioned toward Javiero.
Kiara shook her head in affectionate exasperation. “You’re incorrigible. He’s teasing.”
“I’m not,” Val assured him.
Javiero shrugged it off, not even looking at his brother. He was too entranced by the glow of sheer happiness in Scarlett’s face. He didn’t care what the wedding cost him. No price was too high if it meant he would be with her every day for the rest of his life.
They landed late in Gibraltar and everyone went straight to bed.
Scarlett didn’t properly absorb what was happening until she woke at dawn, fed Locke and put him back to bed, then stood watching the sunrise off their private balcony. Through the haze across the water, she thought she glimpsed Morocco.
“What are you thinking?” Javiero asked in a rough morning voice. His arms came around her from behind.
“That one day, when Locke is old enough, we should take him on safari.”
He shifted, releasing her so he could turn his back on the view. He leaned his hip on the rail and regarded her with his one eye. He wasn’t wearing a stitch, not even his eye patch, but his mutilated eye socket and scars were something she saw only in the way she noted that he hadn’t shaved or had forgotten his watch. All these battle marks were simply him. The man she loved.