The Petrelli Heir

by Kim Lawrence

  ‘I had bone cancer. I was lucky it was picked up early when they X-rayed me after a climbing fall. Not pretty.’

  ‘They’re part of you,’ she said, looking surprised.

  ‘Lauren didn’t think so. I don’t blame her—any woman would have felt the same.’

  Izzy raised herself up on one elbow, wondering if he defended the indefensible because he still loved her. ‘You have a very low opinion of women.’

  Roman looked at her fondly. ‘Not everyone has your strong stomach.’

  Not everyone had a man like Roman in their bed, including the shallow and stupid-sounding Lauren.

  As Gennaro pulled into the outside lane of the motorway Roman closed his laptop.

  ‘Are things all right?’ Last night had been the first time he had spent a night away from Izzy and Lily. He had spent most of the time wondering what they were doing. He wouldn’t have gone at all if Izzy hadn’t insisted.

  Parenting was a steep learning curve. The time he spent working he felt guilty he was neglecting his family and the time he spent with his family he felt guilty he was neglecting work.

  When he had discussed it with Izzy she had laughed and said, ‘Welcome to my world, big boy. Women have been feeling that way for ever and a day!’

  Izzy … The situation was working out better than he could have hoped. There was just one development that he had not expected. People said things in the throes of passion they did not necessarily mean, but three times now she had moaned, ‘I love you!’ Roman was certain that she was just babbling nonsense; she had to be. The whole point of their relationship was to be together without falling in love …

  ‘What’s that?’ Izzy asked, looking at the gift-wrapped box.

  ‘Open it and see.’

  She flashed him a smile and unpicked the prettily tied bows, resisting the impulse to tear them. She carefully unfolded the beautiful layers of tissue paper to reveal the item that lay beneath.

  ‘It’s beautiful!’

  ‘How do you know? It’s still in the box! It’s a dress.’ He had given women gifts on many occasions, many more expensive than this one, but he had never watched his gifts being opened before. Now he found himself feeling almost nervous, experiencing a desire for them to be pleased.

  Taking hold of the fabric, she took it out, gasping as the beaded silk unfolded to reveal the most glamorous dress she had ever seen.

  ‘It’s beautiful.’ Her wide eyes took in details of the low-waisted, heavily beaded, twenties-inspired dress. It was made of silver-grey silk; the tiny beads arranged in geometric patterns were silver and they winked and caught the light. ‘Real golden age Hollywood,’ she enthused.

  ‘It is only a dress.’

  It was nothing.

  Conscious that through his sophisticated eyes her reaction might seem a little over the top, Izzy damped down the enthusiasm levels of her response as she pointed out sensibly, ‘But I’ll never wear it.’ Holding the dress against her, she studied her reflection in the antique mirror she had recently installed on the opposite wall.

  ‘Why not?’ he asked. She reminded him of a child opening her presents on Christmas morning.

  She arched a delicate brow. ‘When did you last see me in anything that didn’t involve jeans?’

  She looked very good in jeans, he thought as his eyes slid to her tightly rounded derrière. Especially the pair she was wearing now, which clung in all the right places.

  ‘You will have an opportunity tonight.’

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘You have spent the last three weeks in some sort of self-imposed exile.’ As exiles went the one they had shared had not been a trial, but enough was enough. ‘We are going out.’

  ‘Is this you asking?’

  ‘No, this is me being masterful, or, if you prefer, autocratic?’ He grinned and she thought just how charming he was.

  ‘It is all arranged. I have asked Chloe to babysit. You have no problem with that?’

  Chloe was an art student who had been helping Izzy out with the sample boards.

  ‘It seems to me that she is level-headed and responsible.’

  ‘Yes, she is.’ And Lily loved her.

  ‘So tonight we will dress up and dine together.’

  ‘But why? Do you want to check out my table manners or something?’ she teased. ‘Check out I’m not a social liability before you sign on the dotted line,’ she added, only half joking now.

  Wishing she had not introduced a reference to the subject that was always the elephant in the room, Izzy veiled her eyes, but not before her cheeks had grown self-consciously pink.

  ‘I have had no opportunity to show you off and it is your birthday, isn’t it?’

  Her blue eyes widened as they flew to his face. ‘How did you know?’

  He thought of the report he had downloaded on his laptop. He did not imagine that its existence would endear him to her, so instead he turned the question back on her. ‘I think the question should be why didn’t you tell me?’

  Izzy was conscious of a fizz of excitement. The idea of dressing up and eating a meal with an incredibly handsome man was not totally awful. If you had fallen deeply, hopelessly in love with said man it did not detract from the idea of making yourself beautiful for him and seeing his eyes light up with, if not love, she’d settle for lust.

  She was a realist and this relationship could work if only she could keep her damned tongue under control. Luckily the few times her feelings had got the better of her and she’d blurted out her true feelings for him he hadn’t noticed, but she couldn’t rely on her luck holding out. She had to keep her mouth shut.

  ‘Where did you have in mind?’ She held the dress out at arm’s length, admiring the way the hand-sewn beadwork caught the light. It was beautiful, but awfully dressy for the local places she knew of.

  ‘Edinburgh … actually just outside.’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘Edinburgh!’

  ‘The Dornie.’

  ‘Dornie!’ Izzy was neither star-struck or a foodie, but everybody knew about the restaurant that had been opened the previous year. You needed to know someone just to get on the waiting list! It was apparently the place to be seen and she was assuming the food wasn’t bad either.

  ‘I have a jet on standby; we will be home before the witching hour if you wish. Do not look at me like this is everyday stuff for fairy godmothers.’

  And billionaire playboys, except she had been forced to rethink many of her assumptions about him over the past few weeks, including the playboy reputation she had believed him to have. Izzy gave a wistful glance at the dress. ‘Really?’ The prospect of wearing something feminine was incredibly tempting.

  ‘Would I lie to you?’

  Izzy’s smile faded. ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘I don’t think you would.’

  When had that happened?

  She trusted him, which was no reason to cry, she thought, blinking back the hot tears she felt swimming in her eyes. She looked down and sniffed and when she lifted her head her blue eyes were guarded. It was just as well he hadn’t been there when she had realised she had fallen in love with him.

  That had been the day she had discovered her old sketchbook and had seen his face drawn on every page. It had hit her almost immediately that each likeness of him she had sketched had been drawn with love. Her sketchbook was a love story—an unrequited-love story. She had cried over the pages until they were soggy. She’d experienced love at first sight and she hadn’t even known it!

  ‘What time do we leave?’

  There was a slight pause and when he replied she had the impression he had been on the brink of saying something else.

  ‘Six-thirty …?’

  Her mouth opened in a silent O of protest. ‘I’ll never manage that. Lily needs—’

  ‘I will see to Lily. You go get ready.’

  Tipping her head in acknowledgement of this suggestion she turned to leave, then, with her hand on the door handle, turned back. ‘It’s a lovely b
irthday present, thank you, Roman.’

  ‘It is not your birthday present.’ He watched her eyes flicker wider, saw the question in them and smiled. ‘I hope the dress fits.’

  It did fit.

  It couldn’t have fitted better and, nibbling her full lower lip, Izzy viewed her reflection through narrowed eyes from several angles.

  It was perfect. The only thing she would have changed were the freckles on the swell of her bust where the square-cut neckline of the bodice was not as modest as it had appeared. But the rest, she gave a little nod of approval. Below knee length the beaded panels of the drop-waisted skirt swirled outwards when she moved, falling against her legs with a sexy swish.

  The question was would Roman be as impressed?

  The jury was still out on that one. She walked into the room a little while later complete with a jewelled, flapper-style headband placed in her glossy chestnut hair, her figure elongated by a pair of elegant spiky heels. Roman simply stared at her for what felt like a century, then tilted his head and said, ‘You look good.’

  It was hard not to feel deflated by such an underwhelming reaction, but then she had a tendency to expect too much when it came to their relationship.

  Izzy felt impatient with herself. Maybe, she reflected grimly, I ought to write ‘He doesn’t love you’ a hundred times, then it might sink in. Then she might stop laying herself open to this sort of disappointment.

  When she had walked into the room Roman’s vision had blurred. It had taken all his control not to grab her and take her right there. Ironic it had taken him some time to persuade her to wear the thing and now all he wanted to do was rip it off!

  He had stood there like a statue struggling to control his rampant arousal, knowing that he couldn’t even move without revealing his condition. His libido-whacked brain hadn’t even been able to come up with something to cover up his lapse—he must have looked like a total idiot.

  He wanted to cringe every time he thought about it.

  But why?

  Expressing his desire for Izzy had never been a problem for him, and definitely not an embarrassment! But this wasn’t just desire, it was … He shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the word hovering there just on the outer limits of his consciousness, telling himself instead that she was just getting under his skin. On the other hand she was the mother of his child and it was only natural that there was a degree of emotional attachment. It didn’t mean …

  Bringing this internal debate to an end with a muttered curse, he shook his head and walked across the room, filling a heavy leaded crystal glass with brandy and lifting it to his lips.

  It meant nothing, he told himself, draining the glass.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘I THINK I could get used to this,’ Izzy admitted as they disembarked from the private jet and into the waiting limousine. She repressed the urge to pinch herself. It felt as though she were playing a part in a film, but this was real.

  ‘I think people might think I’m someone important,’ she confided as he slid into the seat beside her.

  ‘You are someone important.’

  Her heart started thudding. ‘I am?’

  ‘You’re the mother of our child.’

  She hid her disappointment behind a smile of dazzling brilliance. While she was proud of being Lily’s mother, she would have liked to be important for herself, not because she was part of a package deal.

  ‘You owe me.’

  If her film had been a romantic comedy he would have said, ‘because you are the woman I love,’ but this wasn’t a romantic comedy or even a film.

  It was her life and by most people’s standards it was pretty amazing, so she told herself to stop whining and enjoy.

  ‘I owe you?’

  ‘The first person to mention the subject.’ Baby talk by mutual agreement had been banned for the evening. ‘And that was you.’

  He lifted a concessionary finger and looked amused as he leaned back in his seat. Slipping the button on his dinner jacket, he shrugged and held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘All right, you win.’

  ‘So go on, give it up.’ She held out her hand. ‘What’s my prize?’

  Roman took her hand and placed it behind his neck. Leaning in close, he positioned his mouth over hers, catching her eyes with his as he whispered throatily, ‘This.’

  Her eyes closed as he kissed her with small tantalising, nipping kisses that tugged at her lip, touched the corner of her mouth before going deeper. His arms were like steel bands wrapped around her, drawing her closer as he kissed her with a passion that amounted to desperation, kissed her as though he would drain her life force.

  When his head lifted they were both breathing hard. They stayed close, his nose pressed to the side of hers, his fingers curled around her chin, stroking down the curve of her cheek.

  ‘Was that my birthday present?’

  ‘Pay attention, cara. That was your prize. This,’ he added, leaning back in his seat to search the pocket of his jacket, ‘is your present.’

  Izzy looked at the small velvet box he held in his hand. ‘I don’t wear jewellery.’

  ‘I’d noticed. I’ll admit it does make present buying more difficult.’ Though in his opinion her perfect satin-soft skin needed no adornment. He felt the familiar heat flicker in his belly as his eyes slid down the smooth column of her marble-pale neck and down to the freckle-sprinkled slopes of her breasts.

  The flicker became a flame.

  ‘So it’s not jewellery?’

  ‘Open it and see,’ he urged, frowning at her apparent reluctance. He had taken a lot of trouble planning this moment, but her reaction was the one thing he wasn’t able to plan or, as it turned out, predict.

  She took a deep breath and opened the box, her normally animated voice sounding oddly flat to his ears as she said, ‘It’s beautiful.’

  Beautiful hardly did the ring justice. The central diamond was massive and surrounded by dozens of smaller gems arranged like petals around the glittering centrepiece.

  Frustrated, he compared her almost childlike enthusiasm for the dress with the stiff formality of her forced smile.

  ‘You expected something else?’ He placed his thumb under her small round chin and tilted her face up to him. ‘You don’t like diamonds?’

  ‘Diamonds are … Is this an engagement ring?’

  She had to be the only woman in the world who would need to ask. ‘That was the idea. You do not have to sit on your hand. I will not force it on your finger.’

  With a self-conscious flush she pulled her left hand free. ‘But you said we wouldn’t talk about—’

  ‘Marriage,’ he completed when she choked on the word. ‘I agreed to wait and see if the trial was working, to see if we could work together as a unit, as a family.’ Up until this moment he had thought they were a perfect fit, and not just in bed where she continued to delight and amaze him. ‘I had thought that we were.’ He arched a sardonic brow. ‘You think differently?’

  ‘No … not really,’ she admitted slowly. ‘But it’s early days.’

  Her addendum drew an incredulous look. ‘How long did you have in mind?’ he asked sardonically. ‘Twenty years and then we will review the situation? I am sorry, Isabel, I have been very patient. These weeks have not been … unpleasant?’ he bit out sarcastically.

  Her reluctance felt like a betrayal. Their relationship had always been about Lily, about being with her, but he did not just look forward to seeing his daughter at the end of a day. He looked forward to seeing Isabel and spending time with her too. The sex between them was sensational and he had assumed they were on the same page here. But her lukewarm reaction had felt like a slap in the face … Actually the blow landed somewhat lower. It wasn’t as though he had expected her to clap her hands and jump up and down with enthusiasm—well, actually, yes, he had.

  Her lashes swept downwards. ‘No, you know they haven’t been unpleasant. Of course they haven’t.’

  He gave a shrug and
waited.

  ‘Can’t we just leave things as they are?’ The expression on his taut face made her stop and swallow before continuing in a fake cheery voice. ‘I mean, like they say, if it’s not broke don’t fix it,’ she quoted.

  ‘I do not give a damn what they say,’ he ground out. ‘It may come as something of a surprise to you, but there are some women who would not consider it such a terrible thing to be married to me.’

  ‘Well, marry them, then—all of them, for all I care!’ she flung back.

  ‘They are not the mother of my child.’

  No, and that encapsulated the problem. The only reason he wanted to marry her was for Lily. Was it so wrong of her to want more?

  Wrong maybe, unrealistic definitely. You’re not going to get more, Izzy, said the voice of practicality in her head. You take what’s on offer or walk away from the table.

  The stark choice made her shiver. Over the past few weeks she had experienced the sort of life she had never even known existed. It wasn’t just the incredible sex—though the thought of never losing herself in the sheer joy and bliss of belonging to him made her grow cold. No, it was so many other things too. Just hearing his voice, watching his face as he watched Lily, his dry sense of humour.

  It was all about love.

  She took a deep breath and thought it was worth a try.

  ‘You’re not going to pretend you’re in love with me?’

  She lowered her lashes in a defensive sweep; his silence spoke volumes and Izzy was lanced with an intense pain.

  ‘I love Lily.’

  She nodded. ‘I know.’ Watching Roman fall under the spell of his little daughter had been like watching a tender love story unfold, one that on occasions had brought emotional tears to her eyes. She squared her slender shoulders and lifted her head.

  ‘Are you asking me to say I love you, Izzy? Is that what you’re asking? Because I’ve already told you that—’

  Pride made her keep her eyes trained on his face and not reveal by as much as a flicker how much his comment had mortified her. ‘You don’t do love. Yes, I know.’ Izzy even managed a credible laugh as she hid the pain in her heart behind a practical façade.