Playboy Prince, Single Dad (Love Is Priceless Book 4)

by Holly Rayner

  “Baby, you know we only hired a tutor temporarily. She was always planning to go back to America after a while.”

  “I know,” Lara admits. “But when she got here, it seemed different.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She really liked us, didn’t she?”

  “Yes,” I say slowly. “I think she really did.”

  “So I thought she might decide to stay and be a part of the family. Like Anne.”

  “But Lara, honey, you know Anne isn’t really a part of the family,” I say. “She loves us and we love her, but she works here. She goes home to her own family at night. And Emma’s family lives in New York. She has to go home and see them, right?”

  “No,” Lara says in the sulky tone she uses when she knows I’m right, but she wants to keep arguing.

  I laugh a little. “No?”

  My daughter looks up at me, her eyes earnest. “We could have been her family, Daddy. I love her. Don’t you love her?”

  “Sure I do,” I say quietly.

  “We have plenty of room in the house.”

  “I know. But it’s not really about how much room there is. People can’t become family just because you want them to.”

  “But isn’t that what happens when people get married?” Lara asks. “They decide to become family.”

  Once again, I’m struck by my child’s wisdom.

  “How did you get so smart?” I ask her.

  “I read,” she says sweetly. “So? Why couldn’t you two get married? Then we’d be a family.”

  “Getting married is an awfully big decision,” I say. “Two people have to know each other really well before they can agree to it. There’s a lot of thought that has to go into it. I do like Emma. But that doesn’t mean I can just marry her.”

  “You’re not marrying anybody else,” Lara points out, pouting.

  I sigh. “I wish I could fix this for you, Lara. Unfortunately, there isn’t anything we can do. Sometimes we just have to say goodbye to people and let them go, as much as we might like them and want them around. Emma is ready to go back to New York, so our job is to respect what she wants and let her do that. We want her to be happy, don’t we?”

  Lara nods, her eyes filling with tears again. “But I wanted her to be happy here with us.”

  I hug my daughter close and don’t say what I’m thinking—I wanted that too.

  “I gave her a present,” Lara says after a while, after her tears have subsided.

  “That was sweet of you.”

  She nods against me. “I don’t want her to forget me.”

  “I’m sure she’ll never forget you, honey.”

  I’m not sure of that at all. Emma is leaving us, putting this chapter of her life behind her. She’ll meet someone eventually and fall in love—how could she not, as wonderful as she is—and Lara and I will fade to nothing more than an anecdote. She’ll talk about the weeks she spent as a tutor in a foreign country, and maybe she’ll mention the bright little girl she worked with and the employer who took her on a weekend getaway to London. She might think of us fondly. But she won’t feel the sharp sting of the attraction between us the way I know we both feel it now. That will disappear.

  It’s painful to think about that, so I refocus my attention on my daughter instead. “What present did you give her?” I ask.

  “Do you want to see?”

  “Yes please.”

  “I’ll get my tablet, okay?”

  “Okay. I’ll be right here.”

  She slides off my lap and scampers out of the room, returning a moment later with the tablet clutched in one hand.

  “Here it is,” she says, holding it out to me.

  I take the tablet and look. The photo is one of the many Lara had Anne take while we were in London. We’re standing outside the restaurant where we had dinner the first night, about to go in, and my heart clenches at the memory. This was one of the last good moments we had together before everything fell apart. Emma looks so calm and happy here, her hair loose and blowing in the wind, her hand on Lara’s shoulder, an easy smile on her face.

  I look happy in this picture too, I realize. And suddenly it occurs to me that I haven’t seen such a pure, simple smile on my own face in years. If I needed any further evidence of my feelings for Emma, here it is in my hands. The worry lines I’m used to seeing in the mirror are gone. The tightness around my smile, which always seems to show up in paparazzi photos, is nowhere to be seen. No one looking at this photo could doubt my happiness.

  “I bought a frame for it,” Lara says quietly. “Anne helped me. And I gave it to Emma to take back to America with her. Do you think she’ll hang it up?”

  I’m still staring at the picture, caught up in Emma’s beauty and the joy on all of our faces. “Yes,” I say. “I’m almost sure she will.”

  “I hope so.” Lara leans against my shoulder.

  I wish I could step into the picture I’m holding. I wish I could go back in time to this moment, before I came on too strong and ruined everything that could have been between Emma and me. And as that wish forms in my head, I remember what she said about the London Eye and how she felt like descending from the giant Ferris wheel was like sinking into one of the photos she’d been looking at all her life.

  There’s a way into this photo. There has to be. There’s a way for me to get back there.

  I feel on the verge of something big, as if the puzzle pieces in my head are inches away from connecting. As if all I need to do is rotate something, or nudge something slightly closer, for it to fall into place. I can see the picture now. I just can’t figure out exactly how it all comes together.

  There has to be a way back.

  And then my mind skips back even further, and I’m remembering that afternoon in New York when Emma and I drank coffee together and I thought that here was a woman like no other I’d ever met. Every word out of her mouth seemed fascinating. I could have listened to her all day. I was drunk on her thoughts, her ideas, the melodious sound of her voice.

  What had we talked about?

  It seems important, suddenly. I have a feeling that if I could just remember the details of that conversation, something would be solved.

  And then, like lightning, it comes to me.

  Just like Anne promised it would.

  I know what I need to do. I don’t know if I can convince Emma to trust me, to give me a chance, but I have to give it a try, both for myself and for my daughter, who in her own way has fallen just as much in love as I have.

  She senses something, a change in the way I’m holding myself, a new tension, and looks up. “What is it, Daddy?”

  “Has Emma left yet?” I ask her.

  “I don’t think so,” Lara says. “She was waiting for Karl in the foyer when I went to get my tablet. I guess he might have gotten there by now, though.”

  I jump to my feet. Lara’s right. There’s not a moment to waste. Emma could be walking out of my house, and out of my life, at any moment. I have just one last opportunity to reach her, and I’ve been sitting around moping instead.

  “Are you going to get her to stay?” Lara calls after me as I stride toward the door.

  “I’m going to do everything I can,” I say, and hurry out of the library and toward the stairs. All I can do is hope that it’s enough.

  Chapter 16

  Emma

  The foyer of Tomas’s house seems smaller now than it did on my first day here. I never thought it would happen, but I’ve gotten used to this place.

  What’s even stranger is that I think I’m going to miss it.

  I’m definitely going to miss Lara. That goes without saying. I did my best not to get too emotional today, because I don’t want my departure to be any more significant than it needs to be in her life. She’ll miss me for a few days, I know, maybe even a few weeks, but she’s young, and we really haven’t known each other that long. In a few months, she’ll hardly remember me.

  But I’ll remember he
r. I shouldn’t have favorite students, I know that, but I think she’ll always be one of them. She was always so happy to see me, so eager to learn new things. And she has a special way of looking at the world. She reminds me of my grandfather in a lot of ways. It’s there in her photographs. She’s not technically skilled yet, but you can tell she’s got an eye for the art.

  I’ll miss Luxembourg too. I’ll miss walking through the city in the morning and taking in the views, and I’ll miss the scenery in the countryside. I’ll miss the people here, who seem to speak more languages than I’ve ever even heard of. It’s been a beautiful place to live and to take pictures. I never would have thought I’d want to leave New York permanently, but I could see myself living in a place like this long term.

  And then there’s Tomas…

  I don’t know how to describe how I feel to be leaving him behind. In large part it’s a sense of relief. Working for a man I have undeniable feelings for has been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. I feel like my head has been turning in circles since I arrived in Luxembourg. I’ve been trying to balance my need to be professional against my attraction to him, and it’s a massive relief to know that I’ll no longer have to keep doing that.

  But at the same time, it’s heartbreaking to be saying goodbye. There was something here, something that woke up a part of me I didn’t know had been in deep hibernation. I’ve been content to ignore my heart for years now, to put up walls and protect myself against the dangers of love. Somehow, Tomas slipped past those walls.

  I think I’ve fallen for him.

  It’s all I can do to hang onto the last vestiges of my professionalism as I sit on top of my suitcase, staring out the front window of the house and waiting for Karl’s car to pull up. I can’t break down here. But as soon as I’m in that car, I know, I’m going to start crying.

  I reach into my carry-on bag and pull out the framed picture Lara gave me at the end of our session today. Our day out in London was so beautiful, unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Exploring the city with Tomas and Lara, I could feel what it must be like to belong to a family. This was how it would feel to have a partner, to walk along beside someone, to watch your child skipping happily ahead of you and discovering the world for the first time. So many times that day, I wanted to reach out and take his hand, but I never dared.

  By the time we arrived at the restaurant in the picture, I felt like I was buzzing from the inside. It seemed inevitable that something magical would happen before the day ended. And it had happened, of course. The kiss at the rooftop bar. Everything had fallen apart so fast after we’d kissed, but there had been a moment before that. And that moment had been perfect.

  Looking at this picture, I feel like I’m seeing myself perched at the top of a roller coaster.

  Footsteps jolt me out of my thoughts. I turn around to see Tomas crossing the foyer.

  “You’re still here,” he says.

  “I’m just waiting for Karl.” I turn to glance out the window, and as I do, Karl’s long black car pulls into the driveway. “There he is. I should be going.”

  “Wait,” Tomas says. “We haven’t had a chance to say goodbye.”

  We’ve had plenty of chances, actually. He’s been hiding up in his office all week. And I was glad to avoid him, honestly, because the last thing I want is some awkward, drawn-out farewell.

  But I need to do the professional thing here, so I hold out my hand for a handshake.

  “It was a pleasure working for you,” I say. “I know Lara’s going to do great. She’s so smart and hardworking.”

  He hesitates, then takes my hand. But to my surprise, he doesn’t shake. He just holds on, looking me in the eyes.

  Yep, this is the kind of awkward scene I wanted to avoid.

  “Do you need a hand with your luggage?” he asks, indicating my suitcase. “I could bring it out to the car for you.”

  “I can handle it.” I flew here from New York with this bag, and I handled it just fine then.

  Is he trying to prolong my departure for some reason? I really want to grab my bag and bolt for the door—the tears I’ve been trying to hold back are threatening. This will be the last time I’ll ever see Tomas von Meyer. All the chemistry and tension between us will be forever unresolved. And I know it’s for the best, but that doesn’t make it any easier to go through.

  “Let me walk you out,” Tomas insists.

  “All right.” The sooner I can get in that car and start dealing with my feelings privately, the better.

  Tomas takes hold of my suitcase and hauls it out the front door and down to where the car is waiting. Karl pops the trunk, then opens my door for me. I know I can’t get in without saying an official goodbye to Tomas, so I wait while he stows my luggage in the trunk.

  He comes back around. “I guess this is it,” I say.

  But to my surprise, he slips past me and gets into the car himself.

  I bend down to look at him. He’s slid across the seat, leaving room for me to get in beside him.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “I thought I’d ride along with you,” he says, patting the seat beside him to indicate that I should get in. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  I mind very much, actually. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but there’s nothing he could say right now that I would want to hear. Is he going to try to convince me not to go? It won’t work. I’ve made up my mind.

  Or what if it’s something even worse? What if his plan is to tell me that everything that happened between us was a mistake? Even though I’m pretty sure that’s what I believe myself, it would be torture to hear it from Tomas.

  But what am I supposed to say? It’s his car. Karl works for him.

  “I guess that’s fine,” I say, and climb in beside him. It looks like I’ll have to hang onto my emotions for a little longer than I’d anticipated.

  “Take us to the airfield, Karl,” Tomas calls up to the front seat.

  “Wait a minute.” My ticket home is on a commercial airline, and the flight is scheduled to leave in a little over two hours. I don’t have time to make extra stops on the way to the airport. “Maybe I should call a taxi,” I say.

  “A taxi?” Tomas raises his eyebrows. “What for? Don’t you like Karl’s driving?”

  “What are you doing?” I ask. “You know I don’t have a problem with Karl. But I need to catch my flight. Isn’t the private airfield in the opposite direction from the airport? I’ll lose half an hour if we stop there first, won’t I?”

  “Oh, no, you misunderstand,” Tomas says. “I’m sorry. That’s my fault. I know I had booked you on a commercial flight, but as it turns out, I’ll be able to take you back to New York on my plane.”

  My blood turns to ice in my veins. I’m sure he’s trying to be generous—the private plane is far and away more comfortable than a commercial plane seat—but the idea of spending nine hours with Tomas and no one else for company is mortifying. What would we possibly talk about?

  “I can’t accept that,” I stammer. “I’ll take the commercial plane. It’s fine, really.”

  “No, no, no need,” Tomas says. “I was just on the phone with a potential client upstairs arranging a business meeting, and as it turns out, I need to fly to New York today. So you’ll come with me on my plane.”

  Again, how can I refuse? I don’t have the money to pay for my own plane ticket home; I was counting on Tomas to pay for it. He’ll save money by taking me on his own plane instead. I don’t think the amount of money he’s going to save here is going to be that significant to him, but it’s not my place to say so. All I can do is be grateful for what he’s giving me.

  But how can he think this is a good idea? Not only will we be together for nine hours, with no one to break the tension between us, but we’ll also be confined together in a small space. There will be nothing for us to do except talk to each other.

  That must be what he wants, I realize. He wants another chance
to talk about what happened, or what he thinks could still happen.

  How many times are we going to have to do this? I thought, when he stayed away all this week, that he understood there was no use trying to persuade me. I thought he realized that my decision was made.

  But even as I think this, I have to admit that I was a little hurt when he didn’t try.

  And that part of me—the part that, in spite of everything, hung on to a spark of hope—is curious to see what Tomas wants now.

  I don’t think I’ll ever find something like this again. I might be able to find love. I haven’t given up on the idea that it’s out there for me. But a love this powerful, this overwhelming, that pulls on me like gravity, that sucks me into its orbit until it’s the only thing I see…that seems once in a lifetime.

  It isn’t practical. I have to let it go.

  But it will be the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do.

  I’m beginning to see that letting go of us is going to be as hard on Tomas as it is on me.

  I glance over at him. He’s watching me, those green eyes searching for answers I don’t know how to give.

  We can’t.

  It’s impossible.

  You’re a father.

  I don’t know how to let myself be loved.

  I want to say all these things to Tomas. I want to tell him I’m sorry we couldn’t work it out. I want to tell him to get out of the car and let me be. I want to fling myself across the seat into his arms and promise to try harder, to figure out a way forward for us.

  But the words die in my throat. All I can do is lean against the window and look out at the beautiful Luxembourg countryside one last time.

  Chapter 17

  Emma

  I take the farthest seat away from Tomas on the plane, but of course that isn’t very far away at all—only a few feet of cabin are between us. The minute the airplane door closes, I imagine I can feel all the tension between us escape our bodies and fill up the cabin. It’s as if I’m attached to Tomas in some fundamental way, and everything he feels, I feel too.