The Petrelli Heir

by Kim Lawrence

  ‘Relax, Roman, people say things in the heat of the …’ Her eyes dropped as memories of the occasions when she had been unable to totally keep her feelings inside caused her rigid composure to slip.

  ‘In bed,’ he supplied bluntly.

  ‘Let’s leave bed out of one discussion.’

  ‘It’s the one place we have no discord.’

  ‘You can’t live in bed!’ Struggling for composure, she lowered her voice to a dull monotone, adding woodenly, ‘I know that you don’t believe you’ll ever—but what if you do fall in love with someone else, Roman? What happens then?’ She thought that she could just about cope with the pain of loving him and knowing her love would never be returned, simply because she knew the pain of not being with him would be so much worse. But could she really bear to witness him falling in love with another woman and all the time wishing and wanting it to be her?

  ‘It will not happen.’

  His quiet certainty made her want to scream. ‘All right then, if I fall in love.’ She pulled back in her seat, shocked by the expression of black fury that surfaced in his eyes.

  ‘I will make sure you don’t.’

  She did not read too much into that statement; she had challenged his male ego, that was all. She was his property.

  ‘I know you think you can do anything.’ And most of the time he was right. ‘But you can’t stop falling in love with someone.’ Ask the expert, she thought dully. ‘It just happens.’

  ‘Happens? Things do not happen unless we allow them to and you will be too busy juggling the demands of our children with your work and—’ He broke off mid-sentence, frowning fiercely and muttering something in his native tongue under his breath.

  ‘Wait a moment.’ The screen separating them from the driver swished silently down. ‘Why are we stopped?’ Roman rapped, realising that they were no longer moving, though he had no idea of how long they had been stationary.

  The driver replied with a slightly embarrassed, ‘We’re here, sir.’

  ‘We’re not ready yet. Just keep on driving.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Was he going to carry on driving round and round until she said yes?

  ‘What is so funny?’

  ‘You … me … us, I suppose. You said children?’

  ‘Well, we managed it once and we weren’t even trying. I see no reason why we shouldn’t try again.’ The sardonic humour in his voice was edged out by a harder tone as he admitted, ‘I do not like to think of Lily as a lonely only child. So, yes, not immediately but—’

  ‘Were you lonely?’

  ‘Isabel, do not change the subject. Will you marry me?’

  ‘You’re the one who changes the subject every time I ask you anything about yourself.’

  ‘I have told you more about myself than any other person on the planet.’ He took her calf and pulled her foot into his lap. ‘Very pretty,’ he admitted, turning her foot to admire the thin-strapped high heels she wore. His fingers slid upwards over the curve of her calf. He felt the shiver that rippled through her body and smiled. ‘You have a tendency to think too much about the past.’

  ‘Better than ignoring it.’ She broke off, closing her eyes and gasping as his fingers slid higher under the skirt of her dress. The rush of moist heat to the juncture of her thighs was instantaneous.

  ‘Please, Roman, we’re not alone …’ she appealed, flashing a warning look towards the driver.

  He flashed a predatory grin and withdrew his hand with a show of reluctance, but kept her foot in his lap. ‘You like rules and conformity. I’d have said that marriage and you are a match made in heaven.’

  ‘Are you saying I’m boring?’ Helpless to evade his unblinking black stare, she dodged the question. ‘I never saw myself married.’

  ‘I never thought of myself as a father. Marriage will be a legal contract, nothing more. It will formalise what we have.’

  ‘What do we have?’ Say love, she willed him. Say love.

  ‘We have Lily and the desire to make a home for her. We would not be going into this with any unrealistic expectations—that has to put us ahead of the game.’

  For unrealistic expectations, she read love. The logic behind the confident pronouncement passed her by, but she was fully occupied in trying to fight the sudden desire to burst into tears.

  ‘We will make it work for us because it’s the best thing for Lily. You know it and I know it. Yes or no, Isabel?’ He looked at her steadily, his normally expressive voice flat almost. The rigidity of his expression and the faint hint of colour along the sharp edge of his chiselled cheekbones were the only outward indication of the tension within.

  Izzy sucked in a deep breath. Roman was not the shallow womaniser she had initially taken him for and he was a good father. He loved Lily—wasn’t that enough? Ignoring the voice in her head that told her she was settling.

  Yes, she was settling. She would never have a place in Roman’s heart, but she could have a place in his life. They would be together, a family; it would be enough, she told herself. It would have to be, warned the voice in her head.

  ‘Yes, I will marry you.’

  For a moment his expression was unguarded. Then a moment later the blaze of male triumph was concealed by the dark mesh of his lashes.

  Izzy felt a stirring of unease. He had got what he wanted, but for how long? What chance did such a onesided marriage have? Pushing away the voice of doubt, she took the ring from its velvet bed and slid it onto her finger. ‘It’s very beautiful,’ she said, holding out her hand for him to examine. She would have to have enough love for both of them.

  ‘It’s too big.’ He had wanted it to be perfect.

  ‘Not really …’ The ring slipped around her finger and she shrugged. ‘Well, maybe a little,’ she conceded.

  ‘We can get it adjusted. What are you doing?’ he asked as she slipped it off.

  The sharpness in his voice brought her head up. ‘I can’t wear it, Roman. I’ll lose it.’

  ‘You won’t lose it.’ He took her hand and pushed the ring back down her finger. ‘It looks good on you,’ he said, retaining the grip on her hand. Her fingers curled of their own volition around his.

  Izzy felt her cheeks heat and her breathing quicken as their glances tangled and locked. The sexual tension that materialised from nowhere was so dense it had a texture and a taste of its own. Her eyelids felt heavy and her body, conditioned to respond to him, ached.

  She swallowed and whispered an agonised. ‘Oh, God!’

  His dark, hawkish gaze riveted on Izzy’s face and Roman expelled a long hissing sigh. ‘Just hold that thought for later. In the meantime …’ He gave a regretful sigh and, releasing her hand, leaned back in the seat.

  ‘In the meantime?’ she prompted.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ He saw her expression and gave a rumble of laughter. ‘In a three-star Michelin sort of hungry?’

  ‘I knew that … and, yes, I am.’

  He dragged a hand across his face and wrenched his eyes off the pouting invitation of her luscious lips. ‘Then let’s go see if this place lives up to its reputation.’

  The meal was, if anything, too much of a success and a bubbling Izzy spent the entire journey back babbling about the famous faces she’d spotted there.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were friendly with Rob Fullwood? He’s not as tall as he looks in films, but very good-looking. I think it’s the eyes. Thank you, Gennaro,’ she added, smiling at the burly Italian as he held the door wide for her to exit the four-wheel drive. She waited for Roman to walk around the car to meet her.

  Roman gritted his teeth and glanced at his watch. He hoped this star-struck Izzy would vanish as quickly as she had appeared. One of the things he liked about Izzy was that, unlike many women, she did not feel the need to fill every silence with words.

  ‘I am not friendly with him. We have met, that is all.’

  ‘You have more than met his girlfriend.’

  The words she had b
een trying so hard not to say just slipped out, and there they were, impossible to take back.

  Izzy veiled her gaze and began to walk quickly towards the front door. ‘I hope Lily has been good for Chloe.’

  Halfway up the steps Roman caught her up. He caught her arm and pulled her back to face him.

  Izzy stared at her hand, twisting the ring around her finger as she gave a theatrical shiver. ‘Goodness, it’s quite cold, isn’t it?’

  ‘No. Is that why you’ve been so weird?’

  Her head came up. ‘Is what why …? I have not been weird.’

  He arched a sardonic brow. ‘Yes, I have slept with Connie Brady.’

  She felt the stab of jealousy like a sword thrust. ‘That’s really none of my business.’

  ‘You don’t have to be jealous. We only lasted a week.’

  ‘I only lasted a night,’ she countered spikily.

  ‘The two situations are not comparable.’

  An image of the tall Nordic blonde model with the endless legs, hair extensions and false eyelashes came into her head. Most men had been intrigued by her, particularly her gravity-defying breasts. ‘True, I have a baby and she has massive boobs!’

  She was not aware that she was clutching her own boobs when his amused glance lingered there. She dropped her hands hastily and reminded herself of the old adage of quality being superior to quantity.

  ‘You are jealous!’

  Izzy narrowed her eyes and delivered a haughty look. ‘I don’t much like the idea of walking into a room filled with your ex-lovers and having them laugh about me behind my back. Don’t …’ she snapped as he laid his hands on her shoulders.

  He ignored her.

  ‘I think the chances of you being in a room filled with my exes is unlikely, but, that aside, they will not be laughing at you when you are my wife. They will be envying you.’

  A bubble of laughter emerged from her aching throat. ‘Do you know how arrogant that sounds?’

  ‘Yes, but it made you laugh so who cares?’ He hooked a thumb under her chin and turned her face up to him. ‘While the women will be envying you the men will be envying me. You put all those women in the shade tonight.’ His glance slid down the slender length of her shapely body. ‘I have wanted to kiss you all night and all you have done is witter on like a star-struck teenager. Madre di Dio!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I have just realised that one day Lily will be a teenager.’

  His horrified expression drew another laugh from Izzy.

  ‘But seriously, Isabel, you do not have to be jealous. I have had lovers in the past, but once we are married I will respect my vows.’

  Izzy nodded and expelled a sigh, allowing the jealous poison to drain away with the trapped air … A tiny portion lingered stubbornly.

  She was ready to believe that the casual lovers he had had over the years meant nothing, but Roman had been engaged once before to Lauren. Lauren, the beautiful blonde who had dumped him. Theirs had not been a casual relationship; he had been going to marry her, not for practical reasons, but for love.

  She touched the ring on her finger and looked up at him and felt something twist hard in her chest. He was so beautiful. She had ruined the entire evening by being eaten up with jealousy, but there was still some evening to enjoy.

  ‘That kiss you were talking about …?’

  She shivered as he framed her face between his big hands. The kiss was deep with a passion that sent a shiver of pleasure through her body and without a word he picked her up.

  In the bedroom they stood facing each other and in the moonlight they undressed slowly, punctuating the slow striptease with murmurs and moans of pleasure and deep, languid, drowning kisses that made Izzy’s lips tingle and her insides melt.

  She closed her eyes as he removed the last item of her clothing, her panties, pressing a kiss to the curls at the juncture of her thighs as she stepped out of them.

  Kneeling, he curved his hands around the taut curve of her rounded bottom, kissing his way up her belly. He stood up, slowly running his hands up her body to cup and caress the creamy swells of her aching breasts.

  As he kissed her breasts, running his tongue across the engorged rosy peaks, Izzy’s fingers closed over the hot, silky shaft of his erection, drawing a raw groan from his throat.

  They both stumbled to the bed, falling on it in a tangle of limbs.

  His hands shook as he parted her legs, but Izzy was shaking too hard herself to notice. The mixture of raw passion and tenderness in his face brought tears to her eyes in response to emotions she had no words to express.

  A keening cry was wrenched from her dry throat as he slid fully into her, burying himself. The primal connection was stronger than she had ever felt it before as they moved together, straining towards the final explosion of mind-numbing pleasure.

  When Roman finally rolled off her, she was relaxed in every cell of her body and she curled up against him and fell asleep.

  Surely he could not make love like that without loving her a little, was her last wistful thought.

  The next day Roman left early to attend a charity auction he had committed to months earlier.

  ‘I would get out of it if I could,’ he said, sitting on the bed to kiss her goodbye. A few minutes later he was back.

  Izzy looked up at him drowsily. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Come with me.’

  She blinked, startled. ‘You mean to the charity auction?’

  He nodded. ‘Why not? I can wait.’

  Fully awake now, Izzy gave a twisted smile. ‘I’d love to, but I’ve already arranged to go shopping to the paint wholesaler’s and Chloe is coming with me. She’s a great sounding board and we’re dropping Lily off for a play date with—’

  ‘Fine. It was just a thought.’

  She thought she saw something in his face that suggested her response had not pleased him, but when she had rubbed her bleary eyes it was not there … Maybe she had imagined it.

  ‘Enjoy your day and I hope Lily enjoys her play date.’

  Lily didn’t, as it turned out, as she was a bit out of sorts when she woke that morning. Izzy cancelled her play date and her trip to the wholesaler’s.

  By lunchtime Lily’s out of sorts had become something a lot more worrying. Lily was crying inconsolably, thrashing around in her cot red-faced. Izzy took her temperature and the reading on the strip was so high that she took it again.

  The reading was a degree higher.

  Should she bundle Lily in the car and drive to the local emergency department or should she ring for an ambulance? Having been in the habit of making decisions for herself for most of her life, it struck her forcibly how much her mindset had changed when she found herself wishing that Roman were here to share the responsibility with.

  After a few minutes she no longer cared if she came across as an overanxious mother and dialled the emergency number.

  Rocking Lily in her arms, as the baby had gone scarily quiet, she tried to ring Roman, but kept getting put straight through to his messaging service. She decided not to leave an alarming message for him when there was a chance this was a false alarm and took the decision to wait until she could speak directly to him.

  There were several times during the ambulance journey that she regretted this decision and would have given anything to know that Roman was on his way or even waiting for her at the hospital.

  The doctors in the accident department were attentive and quietly efficient, which was comforting; what they had to say was not.

  ‘It looks very much like Lily has appendicitis. We need to operate.’

  ‘But she’s a baby … No, that can’t be right.’ Fear tightened like an icy stone in her chest, panic clawing its way into her brain. She struggled to keep it at bay.

  She had to stay in control; Lily needed her. She made herself take a deep breath and tried to lower her tension-hunched shoulders … I want Roman … no, I can do this myself.

  ‘I realise this i
s alarming, but we will look after Lily for you and—’

  ‘Of course, I’m sorry … When will you …?’

  ‘Immediately.’

  Lily’s dark lashes fluttered against her cheeks and her eyes were filled with fear as she stared at the medic. ‘That’s not good, is it?’

  ‘If you could sign the consent for us?’

  Izzy sniffed and wiped a shaky hand across her face. ‘Of course, she’s just so little and … of course.’

  Her hand continued to shake so hard she doubted her signature was legible. Everything happened very quickly and Izzy still wasn’t sure whether to read good or bad things into this, but one minute she was sitting next to Lily’s cot and the next she was walking along a seemingly endless corridor beside a cheery porter who wheeled Lily’s cot to the entrance of the operating theatre.

  Everyone was very kind but when she had to say goodbye to Lily she couldn’t hold back the tears, as much as she tried. Back on the ward they promised that they would let her know the moment Lily was out of surgery and offered her a cup of tea.

  Unable to stomach the idea of swallowing anything, she refused. Pacing the small cubicle, she dialled Roman. On the fourth time the phone was picked up.

  She felt weak with relief until a voice she did not recognise said, ‘This is Roman Petrelli’s phone.’

  A female voice.

  ‘Who is this?’

  There was a pause the other end, then a small laugh.

  ‘Who is this? I want to speak to Roman.’

  ‘Don’t we all, darling?’ the female voiced drawled.

  Before she could respond Izzy heard a very familiar voice in the background. She didn’t catch all of what Roman said; actually just one word—Lauren.

  It was enough.

  ‘Am I speaking to Lauren St James?’

  ‘Yes, Roman is here now—’

  ‘It doesn’t matter—you can give him a message.’

  ‘Sure, but—’

  ‘Tell him his daughter is in surgery and that he can go to hell and stay there and I never want to hear, speak to or see him again!’

  Having delivered her message, she sat on the plastic chair wanting to cry, but there were no tears. She felt cold and empty inside.