Rico shook his head. ‘I was angry, yes, but I never thought of taking you away from Lola. I will admit that I saw a future where Lola was in my life and you were sidelined…but I don’t see that future any more.’
‘You don’t?’
He shook his head. ‘No.’ His voice was a little gruff. ‘I see a future with all of us together. I don’t want this to end in fifteen months. I don’t want to let you and Lola go. I want more than that, Gypsy. I want us to be a family…’
Gypsy started to tremble from her feet up. What Rico was saying was so huge. Massive. He wanted them to stay together. For ever? It was all at once the most exhilarating thing and the most terrifying. And in the midst of it all was her bone-deep ingrained fear and panic.
That snide voice was reminding her that men like Rico were masters of getting what they wanted. That he had swept in and taken them over. Look at them now—living on an island, effectively cut off from everything and everyone. And she had no idea how Rico really felt about her. He might be able to forgive her now, but what if that resentment was still there, buried and festering away? What if his desire waned and he wanted another woman?
Gypsy shook her head and started to back away, noticing the flash of Rico’s eyes. He stood up straight at the desk, and his quick anger at her less than compliant response seemed to add fuel to her reasoning.
‘You want me to agree to your plans just like that?’ She snapped her fingers. ‘You’ve been in our lives for a month, Rico, and suddenly you think that we can be a family?’
His frame bristled with energy. His jaw was tight. ‘You’re just saying that because it’s hard for you to trust me.’
‘Don’t patronise me, Rico. From the word go you’ve stormed in and had it all your own way. This is exactly what I was afraid of.’
‘Gypsy—’ he sounded frustrated now ‘—you’re not being rational.’
Something deep within Gypsy was surging up—something that had been buried for a long time. ‘I am not my mother, Rico. I am not mentally weak. I have skills. I can take care of myself and my daughter.’
‘I’m not saying you can’t. What I’m saying is that I want to be there too. I want us to be together.’
‘Because you want to control us.’ Gypsy knew now that she was being irrational, but she couldn’t stop.
‘No! Dammit, Gypsy, no. Not because I want to control you but because I love Lola. I don’t want to be separated from her and I—’ He stopped abruptly, concern etched on his face. ‘What? What is it?’
He even came towards her, but she waved him back—if he touched her now…For a heart-stopping moment she’d thought he was about to say he loved her, and when he hadn’t…she’d felt like collapsing. Of course he loved Lola. And he wanted to do what was best for her. A million miles from her own father. Suddenly Gypsy felt ashamed.
Rico’s voice was tight. ‘Look, what is it going to take for me to prove that you can trust me and that I’m not like your father?’
Gypsy lifted stinging eyes to Rico and, with a guilt that nearly crippled her, said the one thing she wanted least. But she couldn’t stop it—as if on some level she thought if he could prove this then she would gladly give him everything, even if he didn’t love her.
‘I want to know that you will let us go if we want to—that you won’t cut yourself off from Lola just to punish me.’
With his features pale and stark, Rico said nothing for a long moment, and then he walked out of the study. Before Gypsy could wonder what he was doing he came back and held out a key. She saw that it was the key to the Jeep.
‘Go on—take it. I’ve instructed Agneta to pack up some things.’
Numbly Gypsy took the key and looked up into Rico’s eyes. They were a cool slaty grey. ‘You’re just going to let us go? Right now? Like this?’
His mouth was a thin line. ‘That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s what it’s going to take?’
Suspecting he was just proving a point, but feeling utterly confused and bewildered, and thinking that perhaps even Rico had had enough by now, Gypsy nodded dumbly. She’d meant that she wanted him to assure her that he would let them go if she wanted, but now she realised that she might not have trusted that either. And through all of that was the heart-searing realisation that he could let her walk away—because she meant nothing to him.
Things happened quickly, and through it all a numbness settled over Gypsy as bags were put in the boot of the Jeep and as she strapped a bemused Lola into her chair. Poor Agneta was looking on, wringing her hands as if she had done something wrong.
Rico stood back. The only thing he said was, ‘This doesn’t mean you’re out of my life. Lola will always know I’m here.’
Gypsy got into the Jeep and held herself together as she started it up with a shaking hand. She had no earthly idea what to do or where to go. She was proving her point, and it was a disaster. But she drove out of the villa anyway, and set off along the coast road.
Almost immediately a plaintive wail came from the back of the Jeep. ‘Papa!’
In her shock, Gypsy nearly swerved. Hearing Lola call Rico Papa for the first time, as if she’d just made the connection now that they were leaving, undid her completely. She had to pull over to a layby because her eyes were so blurred with tears.
And then Lola was wailing in earnest at Gypsy’s distress.
The two of them were sitting there sobbing when suddenly Gypsy’s door was wrenched open and Rico stood there, demanding, ‘What is it? Did you crash? What’s wrong?’
But Gypsy couldn’t get a word out. She was crying too hard, even though Lola’s wails had stopped and she was saying tearfully from the back, ‘Papa…Papa…’
Rico took his attention to Lola and said wonderingly, ‘She just called me Papa…’ And then, soothingly, ‘Everything is OK, mi pequeña—do you want to go home?’
Clearly Lola did something to indicate the affirmative, because then Rico was lifting Gypsy expertly into the passenger seat and suddenly they were turning around and driving back to the villa.
Through a blur of tears Gypsy saw Rico take Lola out and kiss her, before handing her to a relieved-looking Agneta, saying something in Greek which had Agneta nodding and smiling. And then he was at her door and lifting her out before she could protest. In all honesty Gypsy felt as weak as a rag doll.
Rico took her straight up to his bedroom and sat down on a chair in the corner with her on his lap. Gypsy was still sniffing and taking big convulsive breaths. Wordlessly Rico handed her a hanky, and she blew her nose loudly.
When she was more composed, and becoming very aware of sitting on Rico’s steel-hard thighs, she tensed.
‘Now…’ he said. ‘Do you believe that I’ll let you go if you want to?’
Gypsy’s heart beat fast. She looked at him suspiciously. ‘You weren’t far behind us.’
‘Answer the question, Gypsy Butler. Do you believe that if you really want it, I’ll let you go?’
Slowly she nodded her head, because she did believe it. In all honesty she’d believed it even before he’d orchestrated his little enactment.
He said now, ‘I was following just to see that you were OK. You looked shell-shocked—I was worried. And,’ he added, ‘it’s good that you believe me, because I’m never going to let you go again.’
Gypsy couldn’t even gasp or act affronted. She just felt sadness well upwards. Tears formed again. She felt him tense, as if expecting a fight, and rushed to explain. ‘It’s not that I want to leave, I don’t. But I don’t see how loving Lola is going to make you happy in the long run—won’t you want to meet someone else and settle down?’
Gypsy waved a shaking hand, not letting Rico speak. The tears were back, constricting her voice. ‘I mean, Lola adores you, and you adore Lola, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen, and I know now that you would never hurt her like my father did me…’ She gulped in a breath. ‘But it’s going to get awfully embarrassing because…’ Her heart thumped hard once, and then it spilled
out. ‘Because you see I adore you too, and I don’t ever want you to send me away, and I do trust you, but it’s scary because I’ve never trusted anyone, so I didn’t believe it, and you won’t thank me for these feelings when you want to move on…’
Rico shifted so that Gypsy fell into the cradle of his lap. He brought his hands to her face and wiped away the tears, and said gently, ‘Can you stop talking and crying for one minute?’
There was such warmth in his voice that it shocked Gypsy’s tears into stopping. She hiccupped once. And blushed when she could feel the press of his arousal against her bottom. How could either of them be thinking of that at a time like this?
‘Gypsy Butler…’ Rico began, making sure she wasn’t looking anywhere but into his eyes, which glowed, making her heart beat fast. ‘Can you not tell how deeply and irrevocably in love with you I am?’
Wordlessly, shock hitting her, she just shook her head.
‘Well, I am. I was about to tell you earlier, but then you looked as if you were going to faint. I started falling for you when I saw you in the club that night. I was ready to walk out, bored beyond tears, cursing myself for having gone in at all—and then you walked in, and I couldn’t look away. You looked so wild and free and totally different to anyone else.’
His thumbs stroked her cheeks, and Gypsy could feel herself leaning against him, melting all over.
‘And then…that night…it was magical. I felt like I’d met the one person who connected with the real me. Not the tycoon. And I was such a fool to leave you like that in the morning, but I was freaked out by how much you’d made me feel: possessive, and yearning for something I’d never even noticed I wanted before…’
‘It was like that for me too,’ Gypsy said, feeling shy, still not really believing she was hearing this.
‘And then you were gone, and all I knew was that I’d spent the night with a temptress called Gypsy and I didn’t even think that was your real name. For the past two years you’ve haunted my dreams and my life. I tried to recreate what I experienced with you but it never happened. I was growing increasingly cynical and delusional and then I saw you again. I thought I was dreaming you up.’
‘But…just now…you let me walk away…’
An intense light lit his eyes. ‘To be honest I didn’t think you’d go through with it. But then I realised I had to let you go, or else you never would have trusted that I could let you go. You and Lola mean everything to me, but if you’re not happy here then I would never keep you against your will. I have to warn you, though, I’ll follow you wherever you go…’
He drew her head down to his and started to kiss her, as delicately and tenderly as if she were made of fine bone china. Impatient with his restraint, Gypsy deepened the kiss, her tongue stroking erotically along Rico’s until she heard him groan and finally he gave in to his passion.
She was being lifted from the chair, and suddenly they were tumbling onto Rico’s bed and his hands were everywhere, desire rising to fever-pitch as they both struggled to be free of conflicting clothes, needing to forge a deeper union.
Finally, blissfully naked, Gypsy arched her whole body against Rico’s hard physique and revelled in his indrawn breath. He pressed her down and moved over her, both hands framing her face, her hair spilling out around her head.
He looked down at her, and nothing but love shone from his eyes.
‘There’s just one other thing.’
For a second something familiarly panicky skated over Gypsy’s skin, and she asked warily, ‘What?’
He waited for a moment, a wicked glint in his eyes. And then said finally, ‘If it’s not too scary a prospect, and if I promise not to ever control you but to give you all the freedom you want, will you trust me enough to marry me, Gypsy Butler?’
Love and passion infused every cell, and she felt the final release of all her old fears. She smiled up at Rico tremulously and reached up to caress his jaw. ‘I trust you with all my heart, and our daughter’s life. And I’d love to marry you.’
Rico saw the tears forming in her eyes and started to kiss her again, moving over her body so that she could feel his hardness. He growled mock-seriously, ‘No more tears. I won’t allow it. Only smiles and laughter from now on…and love.’
He joined their bodies, and Gypsy gasped at the exquisite sensation, too distracted to think about crying any more even if they were happy tears.
Epilogue
LOLA handed Rico’s phone back to him and lisped through her two missing front teeth, ‘There you go, Daddy, now you have the newest newest ringtone.’
Rico repressed a grimace when he thought of the effect the last ringtone had had on a recent high-powered meeting, and said, while holding back a wry smile, ‘Thanks, Lola, I wasn’t so sure about that last one.’
Lola flung her arms around Rico’s neck and gave him a quick sloppy kiss, ‘You’ll love this one. It’s really loud so you’ll always hear when we’re calling you.’
Rico shook his head indulgently and watched as she sped off to play with Agneta’s grandson, from whom she was inseparable, her hair bouncing with wild and curly disarray around her shoulders.
Just then Gypsy appeared, wearing a short sundress that did nothing to conceal her gorgeous body and everything to send Rico’s pulse-rate soaring. Her hair was only slightly less wild than their daughter’s, with long tendrils curling over bare sun-kissed skin.
She led a small endearingly grumpy-looking boy by the hand; Zack had obviously woken prematurely from his nap, and Rico opened his arms so that he could clamber up and snuggle into his chest, promptly falling asleep again with a thumb stuck firmly into his mouth, exactly as his older sister had used to do.
Rico pulled Gypsy gently down beside him on the family lounger. She leant in to give him a long, lingering kiss. When they broke apart he caressed her jaw, rubbing her bottom lip with his thumb, and sighed with obvious but good-humoured frustration. The look that zinged between them said it all.
Gypsy smiled ruefully and put a hand on her swollen belly. ‘I’d forgotten that I can never seem to nap when I’m pregnant…’
Rico smiled too, and growled softly, ‘In which case we should aim for a nice early bedtime tonight…it’s been far too long since I felt your naked body against mine, Mrs Christofides.’
Gypsy blushed to think of how they’d woken so entwined that morning. Rico had only had to make a subtle movement to bring them into more intimate contact. It had been slow and unbearably sensual. Full of love. She smiled. ‘You’re insatiable.’
‘Only for you, mi amor.’ Rico smiled, his eyes tender on his wife’s face, revelling in the oceans of love that surrounded them. ‘Only for you.’
The Call of the Desert
Abby Green
CHAPTER ONE
“THE Emir of Burquat. His Royal Highness Sheikh Kaden Bin Rashad al Abbas.”
Kaden looked out over the thronged ballroom in London’s exclusive Royal Archaeology Club. Everyone was staring at him and a hush had descended on the crowd, but that didn’t bother Kaden. He was used to such attention.
He walked down the ornate marble steps, one hand in his trouser pocket, watching dispassionately as people were caught staring and turned away hurriedly again. Well, to be more accurate, the men turned away and the women’s looks lingered—some blatantly so. Like that of the buxom waitress who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs to hand him a glass of champagne. She smiled coquettishly as he took the glass but Kaden had already looked away; she was far too young for his jaded heart and soul.
Ever since he’d been a teenager he’d been aware he possessed a certain power when it came to women. When he looked in the mirror, though, and saw his own harsh features staring back at him, he wondered cynically if all they felt was the seductive urge to wipe away that cynicism and replace it with something softer. He had been softer … once. But it was so long ago now that he could hardly remember what it had felt like. It was like a dream, and perhaps like all dreams it had
never been real.
Just then a movement on the other side of the room caught his eye, and a glimpse of a shiny blonde head among all the darker ones had his insides contracting. Still. Even now. He cursed himself and welcomed the sight of the club’s managing director hurrying towards him, wondering angrily why he hadn’t yet mastered such arbitrarily reflexive responses to the memory of something that had only ever been as flimsy as a dream.
Julia Somerton’s heart was palpitating, making her feel a little dizzy.
Kaden.
Here.
In the same room.
He’d descended the stairs and disappeared into the throng of people, despite his superior height. But that first image of him, appearing in the doorway like some sleek, dark-haired god, would be etched on her retina for ever. It was an image that was already carved indelibly onto her heart. The part of her heart that she couldn’t erase him from, no matter how much she tried or how much time passed.
She’d noted several things in the space of that heart-stopping split second when she’d heard his name being called and had looked up. He was still as stupendously gorgeous as he’d been when she’d first met him. Tall, broad and dark, with the exotic appeal of someone not from these lands—someone who had been carved out of a much more arid and unforgiving place. He’d been too far away for her to see him in any detail, but even from where she’d stood she’d felt the impact of that black gaze—eyes so dark you could lose yourself for ever. And hadn’t she once?
Some small, detached part of herself marvelled that he could have such an effect on her after all this time. Twelve long years. She was a divorcée now, a million miles from the idealistic girl she’d once been. When she’d known him.
The last time she’d seen Kaden she’d just turned twenty—weeks before his own twentieth birthday. Something she’d used to tease him mercilessly about: being with an older woman.
Her heart clenched so violently that she put a hand to her chest, and one of her companions said with concern, “Julia, dear, are you all right? You’ve gone quite pale.”
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