It was a terrible thought. And one that made Briana feel as if she had committed a crime that carried a life sentence. It was not the first time that the gravity of the decision she’d made in leaving Buenos Aires five years ago hit her so hard. But never before had it swept over her leaving such destroying hurt and regret in its wake. Faced with the flesh-and-blood reality of the handsome, vital man in front of her, she began to see exactly what she had done to him. Because of her he had suffered humiliation and torment—and he was suffering doubly now. Instead of going through with the marriage and committing herself to the man she had truly loved she had let fear and doubt rule the day—and this scene that was akin to torture was the result.
Again she wished that she’d had a better example of a man than her deceitful, cruel father … Whatever way she reflected on it, her actions had resulted in denying Pascual the opportunity of having a relationship with his own son. Even if he potentially might have strayed in their marriage—and Briana had to recall the devastation she had endured when she’d seen him in the arms of his ex in Buenos Aires and believed the worst—he surely didn’t deserve that? Breathing out a troubled breath, she moved a few paces towards him. With all her heart she wished she knew a way to make everything right again, but she realised that was like wishing she could turn back time. It was simply beyond human capability.
‘You were always there at the back of my mind, Pascual. I suppose I just got caught up in the day-today demands of trying to run a business and support myself and Adán,’ she explained. ‘And because so much time had gone by without us speaking I worried that if I did contact you, you’d either slam down the phone or … if I went to Buenos Aires … shut the door in my face!’
‘Knowing that I had a son? You really believed I would do that?’ With even more disbelief, Pascual dropped his hands to the lean, masculine hips encased in black corded trousers. ‘It makes me realise even more that you do not know what kind of man I am Briana. Words desert me at the idea that you thought I would not be interested in the fact that I had fathered a son with you!’
Disturbed by the thought that clearly she hadn’t really known Pascual as well as she’d thought she had, and feeling a sense of shame wash over her, Briana lifted her shoulders uneasily. ‘What can I do to help make things right?’
Levelling his black velvet gaze right at her, Pascual did not hesitate to illustrate. ‘Apart from doing as I outlined and coming back to Buenos Aires with me? You can arrange for a car to drive us to where you live so that I may at last become acquainted with my son!’
‘But that’s three hours away and another three back … You won’t make dinner tonight with our clients if we do that.’
When she saw how Pascual received that particular piece of information, Briana instantly regretted speaking her thoughts out loud. But she hadn’t only been thinking of what her clients would say if he did not meet them for dinner as arranged. She was genuinely concerned for her son, and how he would cope if she suddenly arrived home with a man he’d never seen before and declared that he was his father!
‘Do you think I care about attending a business dinner over seeing my child for the first time?’ Pascual uttered furiously. ‘Tell them I will meet them in London tomorrow instead … they can name the venue. You can say that something of the utmost importance has called me away. Why not?’ The formidably broad shoulders beneath the perfectly fitted black shirt lifted in a dismissive shrug. ‘It is the truth.’
‘First I’ll have to ring my mother to tell her we’re coming. She’s been looking after Adán for me while I’ve been away this weekend.’
‘Do that—and then arrange for a car. I am anxious to get going as soon as possible.’
‘I have my own car here. I can drive us.’
‘Good. Then go and make your phone call and let us not waste any more time, hmm?’
Clearly dismissing her, Pascual turned away to reach for the water jug and glass on the coffee table to pour a drink. Feeling as if her limbs had turned as fluid as the water in the jug, Briana moved towards the door and silently exited the room.
Once outside, in the monastic quiet of the corridor, she briefly leant against the panelled wall, trying hard to stem the sudden onrush of fear and doubt that had overtaken her about the impending visit home. How would it be, she wondered, when father and son came face to face for the very first time? Her little son could be shy and uncommunicative even with people he knew—let alone strangers. How would Pascual react if his child appeared to reject him?
Feeling for them both, she felt hot tears well helplessly behind her eyes and spill over onto her cheeks. Impatiently scrubbing at them with the heel of her hand, she pushed away from the wall and returned to her room to make the phone call …
The house was situated down a pleasant tree-lined street in one of London’s less busy boroughs. It was a neat terraced property, painted white, and next to the other less bright edifices on either side of it easily stood out. As Pascual followed a definitely subdued Briana up the short path that led to the front door, with its pretty stained glass panelling, adrenaline shot through him like rapids at the prospect of meeting his little son.
He’d quizzed her on the way about him, but she’d seemed almost reluctant to give him answers—just as if she was preserving the right to hold onto that information … as if she feared that if Pascual knew too much he would make it even harder for her to keep the boy to herself. It infuriated him that Briana was still reluctant to let him into their lives when all he wanted was the chance to be a proper father. Every bit of trust between them was gone. It had all been smashed into the dirt five years ago. And now they stood on either side of the ground they were both determined to capture—like warring factions in a soul-destroying battle instead of the passionate lovers they had once been.
As Briana let herself into the narrow hallway with her key, along with his great anticipation at meeting his son Pascual sensed the full extent of her betrayal of his heart as he had never sensed it before—and right then his soul had never felt bleaker …
CHAPTER SIX
HER mother was the first person to greet them. Her usually calm and attractive features looking strained, Frances Douglas glanced behind her daughter at the tall, startlingly good-looking man behind her and frowned. When Briana had told her that she was unexpectedly returning home early, and bringing Adán’s father back with her to visit, her ensuing soft intake of breath had spoken volumes.
Whilst knowing that her mother wouldn’t unfairly judge any decision she made—and indeed had never judged her for leaving Buenos Aires so abruptly, calling off her planned marriage and returning home pregnant—Briana realised that this impromptu visit by Pascual would naturally fill her with anxiety about her daughter and grandson’s future … as it did Briana herself. But right this minute her heart was thumping like a full-blown percussion band inside her chest at the knowledge that Adán might run out into the hallway at any moment to set eyes on his father for the very first time …
‘Hi, Mum.’ Her gaze was quizzical as she kissed the older woman’s scented, powdered cheek. ‘Where’s Adán?’
‘Asleep on the couch. I took him swimming. They had all the inflatable toys out in the pool, and he was tired by the time I got him home. He’s been out for the count for about half an hour or so.’ Warily, Frances glanced up at the dark-haired Adonis who was currently making Briana’s tiny hallway resemble the entrance to a doll’s house instead of a normal-sized dwelling. ‘I presume this must be—’
‘Pascual Dominguez.’ Standing aside to make the awkward introductions, Briana somehow made her lips form a smile. ‘Adán’s father. Pascual—this is my mother, Frances.’
Catching the instantly disturbing drift of his expensive cologne as he extended his hand past her to greet her mother, Briana sensed his disapproval of her informality.
Her intuition was proved right when he announced, ‘Mrs Douglas … it is good to meet you at last.’
‘As I’m
sure you heard me tell Briana just now,’ her mother replied, ‘Adán is asleep and may not stir for a while.’
‘It does not matter. I have waited a long time already to see my son. I will wait as long as I have to until he wakes.’ This time Pascual made no bones about casting his meaningful gaze at Briana directly, so that she couldn’t mistake his displeasure with her.
‘Well … shall we go into the living room, then? That’s where he’ll be if he’s asleep on the couch.’
‘And in the meantime … shall I make some tea for us all?’ Frances suggested, her even-voiced tone acting as temporary balm to the tension that had enveloped them all.
‘A cup of coffee would be most welcome … black, no sugar … gracias.’
‘And you, darling?’ Briana’s mother started to move towards the long galley kitchen at the end of the hallway, with its cheerful red and white checked curtains.
Hardly able to think straight for the emotion that was tightening her chest, Briana answered distractedly. ‘Tea would be great—thanks.’
‘After you.’ Observing her glance towards the living room door, Pascual gestured that she precede him.
In the small square room with its pine bookshelves crammed with books and CDs, its small television, compact music system and carpeted floor strewn with various children’s toys, her small son was lying asleep on the smaller of the two dark gold couches. His slumbering form was covered warmly with a cheerful patchwork rug Briana had made last winter. On the pillow his curly dark hair framed a sweetly heart-shaped face that wouldn’t shame an angel, she thought lovingly, her heart constricting with a surge of strong emotion as she gazed down at him.
Sensing Pascual move next to her, she glanced up, her pulse racing hard at the realisation that his handsome face was equally affected. He was moved by what he saw. Adán was an exceptionally beautiful child, and people often stopped her in the street to tell her so. But then how could he not be beautiful when he had a father who looked like Pascual? Briana concluded.
Straight away she knew that he could see that the boy was his. At least there would be no degrading speculation about paternity to deal with, on top of all the other accusations that he’d levelled her way, she mused with relief.
‘He looks not unlike myself as a small boy,’ he commented quietly beside her, the warmth in his voice replacing its previous chill.
‘He’s often mistaken for a girl with those lustrous curls!’ Briana smiled back. ‘But I can’t bring myself to cut his hair short yet.’
‘My mother would feel the same if she saw him. She had the same dilemma with me.’
‘Did she?’
Almost afraid to say anything, in case she broke the suddenly intimate spell that seemed to enfold them, Briana crossed her arms over her silk shirt and chewed apprehensively down on her lip. She remembered Paloma Dominguez well. The woman was as tall and striking-looking as her son, and could be equally intimidating. Once upon a time she had been one of the world’s most famous fashion models. It was hard to imagine her as a relaxed young mum, making a fuss of her beautiful little boy …
‘How long will he sleep, do you think?’ Crouching down beside the couch, Pascual leaned forward to brush back some of the wayward silky curls from the child’s creamy smooth forehead.
Watching, Briana almost held her breath. Knowing from experience how tender as well as passionate this man’s touch could be, she knew a spontaneous longing for him to touch her as gently and reverently. All the things she had loved about him were coming back to her in a beguiling wave of powerful memory, and every defence was suddenly terrifyingly open and vulnerable to him. Seeing him with their child, Briana felt even more exposed.
‘He should wake very soon. He’ll be hungry,’ she answered.
Rising to his feet, Pascual studied her deeply. ‘How could you have kept him from me?’
Her gaze locked with the heartbreak in his unguarded ebony eyes, and regret and sadness almost made her stumble. ‘I see now that it was wrong of me,’ she said, her voice dropping to almost a whisper.
‘Yes … it was. Whatever you think I did to you … I did not deserve this!’
‘Mummy?’
At that very moment Adán stirred, and both adults’ attention was immediately diverted.
Hurriedly wiping at her moist eyes, Briana dropped down onto the edge of the couch and drew the small sleepy form into her arms. ‘Hello, my angel. Grandma told me she took you swimming … did you have a lovely time?’
‘Yes …’ Adán’s voice was still husky from sleep. He leant his curly dark head against his mother’s chest, then glanced up warily at the tall dark man looking down at him.
Bestowing a kiss at the side of his soft cheek, Briana tightened her arms a little round his pliant warm frame. ‘Sweetheart … I’ve brought someone home to meet you. His name is Pascual, and he’s—’
‘A friend.’
To her complete surprise, Pascual dropped down onto his haunches and took one of Adán’s small chubby hands in his own. ‘I have heard a lot about you from your mother, Adán and I have been looking forward so much to meeting you. I hope you do not mind?’
Her heartbeat regaining a more normal cadence, Briana threw him a grateful glance. His sensitivity in not immediately declaring who he was to their son completely took her aback, and she gazed at him as if confirming what he had said a while ago—she hadn’t really known him at all, all those years ago. Instead she’d allowed her fears of being rejected to consume her and colour her judgement of him completely.
To her surprise, Adán was smiling at Pascual as if he was far from a stranger, and he was struggling to sit up straight so that he could more easily talk to the man who still held his hand in his. ‘I’ve got lots of cars!’ he declared. ‘Would you like to see them?’
‘Of course. I would love to see them.’
Smiling, Pascual quickly stood up, moving swiftly to the side as the small whirlwind on Briana’s lap jettisoned itself off the couch and flew across the room to drop down beside a large blue plastic box in front of the television. Several small model cars were plunked onto the floor and pushed towards Pascual as Adán retrieved them one by one from the box.
‘Look!’ he said, eyes shining. ‘I’ve got a Ferrari!’
‘I’ve got one of those too.’ His face perfectly serious as he knelt beside him on the carpet, Pascual held up the toy car to examine it interestedly.
‘What colour?’ Adán demanded.
‘Silver.’
‘I like this black one best.’
‘You are right. It is a much better colour than silver.’
Adán beamed.
Briana’s mother returned with the tea and coffee. As she straightened from leaving the tray on a small side-table, she glanced pointedly at her daughter. ‘Is everything all right, darling? Do you want me to stay, or shall I leave you all alone for a while?’
Now she glanced over at Pascual, seated on the floor with her small grandson. He looked as at home with him as if he’d been a father to the boy from day one.
Gazing back at her, Pascual formed his lips into the most disarming of smiles. ‘Do not worry, Mrs Douglas … I am only here visiting with Adán. I do not intend to make a scene … you have my word on that.’
‘She’s done a good job in raising him … you’ll soon find that out.’ An emotional catch in her voice, Frances quickly withdrew her glance from Pascual’s and returned it to Briana. ‘Are you staying here tonight, or do you have to go back?’
‘We are going back,’ Pascual said clearly. The expression in his eyes was hard to decipher, momentarily duelling with Briana’s. ‘Unfortunately I have one more meeting that I need to attend. But I will come and see Adán again tomorrow.’
‘Do you mind staying over with Adán tonight, as planned?’ Briana asked, her mind whirling at the implications of returning to Warwickshire with Pascual. And yet she felt an undeniable sense of relief sweeping through her at not having to let down her clients afte
r all.
A very special dinner had been arranged for tonight, in Pascual’s honour, and a lot of hard work and organisation had gone into getting it exactly right. He might believe that her business was failing, and that she should be relieved to put it behind her, but she still felt committed to seeing it through right to the end and giving the service her clients had hired her to provide. It was a matter of pride, if nothing else.
‘Of course I don’t mind! You know I love taking care of him. Shall I come back in, say …’ she glanced down at her watch ‘… one hour?’
‘That would be great. Thanks, Mum.’
‘I’ll see you then.’
‘She lives just down the road,’ she explained as the door shut behind her.
‘That must be a big help to you.’
His observation of her had not lingered over-long. Pascual had returned his attention once again to his son, who was busy delving deep into the large box to eagerly display the full extent of his impressive collection of toy cars.
‘It is.’
Reaching for her mug of tea, Briana carefully sipped at the steaming hot liquid and wondered how long this apparent peace between them would last before Pascual once again demonstrated his disappointment and disapproval of her. But then, quickly becoming engaged by the only ever before imagined scene of father and son together, she determinedly put her fears aside and willed herself at least to try and relax for the moment.
He fixed his tie—then pulled the knot apart and fixed it all over again. He seemed to be all fingers and thumbs this evening, and it was not like him. But then how was he supposed to function normally when he had just spent the afternoon with his son for the very first time? The boy was incredible—beautiful—his own flesh and blood.
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