by Amy Ayers
Again her thoughts calmed into absolute clarity.
She couldn’t be the reason Marco chose another path. That was a responsibility she didn’t want sitting on her shoulders. As much as it would hurt, as much as it would rend her in two, she had to bow out. She had to walk away.
No more late night seductions or trysts in the stables. She needed to take Max and go and leave Brynn and Marco to do what they were born to do.
“I suppose you’re right, Brynn,” she said, her mind whirling with the unjustness of the situation. “I have no idea what that’s like. But rest assured, I won’t stand in anyone’s way or make any of this more difficult than it already is.”
Brynn nodded. “For what it’s worth, I see the way he looks at you.”
“What?”
“He looks at you the way a man should look at a woman. Like she’s the only person in the room who matters. Like he wants nothing more than to take her by the hand and flee to someplace quiet where they can be completely alone.” Brynn surprised Senna by grabbing her hand.
“He’s never looked at me like that. And he never will.”
Senna stood abruptly. “Thank you, Brynn. I have to go.” The words were awkward but it was all she could spit out before tearing up the staircase, leaving a surprised Brynn in the grand foyer all alone.
She wasn’t paying attention to anything but the plan forming in her mind and she almost crashed into Mila at the top of the stairs. All of her anguish must have been written on her face, because Mila barely got out, “Senna—” before her mouth snapped shut again.
Senna grabbed the girl’s arm with more force than she intended, but she couldn’t even get out an apology. “Mila! Thank God.”
“What’s wrong? Everyone seems to be storming around here today, first Jakob—”
“I’m sorry, but there’s no time. I need your help. Will you follow me to Max’s room?”
“Of course, Senna. But you’re scaring me a little bit.”
“I’m scared, too.” She practically pulled the petite woman with her as she raced down the hallway. “I’ll explain while we pack.”
…
She dressed in jeans and the plainest sweater she could find. She’d be hot when she landed, but Marco’s private plane would be chilly. Mila was currently packing a bag for Max and getting him ready for the flight. The flight Mila had arranged with a simple phone call.
Senna hated putting Mila in a situation that Marco wouldn’t be happy with. But Mila understood her urgency and was anxious to help.
She found an oversized bag in her closet and tossed in her old clothes. The items purchased for her here felt like they belonged to another woman. A regular woman dressed up who looked presentable enough from the outside but with no real business part to play in this legacy. She’d no longer need any of that woman’s belongings. Suddenly, the air behind her displaced with a whoosh, and Marco embraced her. For the briefest moment, everything was right again. Like his embrace could cure all that was awry between them. Senna shook him off and, to her surprise, he let her go.
“I can’t talk to you right now, Marco. I have to go. I’m taking Max, and we’re going home. To Miami.” Still facing the bed, Senna choked out the words.
He spun her around; mere inches separated them. “No. Not happening.”
Senna shook her head. “Do you really think you’re still in control here? After everything that’s happened?”
“Don’t, Senna.” She threw down the T-shirt she’d been refolding over and over again and took a deep breath.
“Don’t what, Marco? Have an opinion? Try to preserve a shred of dignity? You’re getting married. And not to me. I can’t just sit here day after day and watch you pick out china patterns with your new bride.” She could feel a sob wend its way up from her chest, but she choked it down. She needed to stay focused.
His eyes flashed with emotion. “Don’t turn this into something we can’t come back from.”
“This is not my fault, Marco, don’t even try to make me the bad guy here.” She pushed him away. “You’re just like him, you know? You may be better dressed and have a castle and all, but you’re no better.”
“Like who?”
“My father. Another slick-talking man who thought he had the right to do whatever he wanted, regardless of whom it hurt or even destroyed. He seduced my mother, promised her the moon, and then left us to fend for ourselves.”
“I’m sorry about your father. He doesn’t deserve the title.”
“I don’t need your pity.”
“Which is it going to be, Senna? Are you going to be mad at me for bringing you into my family home, acknowledging Max and stepping up as his father? Or are you mad at me for leaving you in the first place? You don’t get to be angry at me for both.”
“Don’t you dare tell me how to feel.” She wheeled around and zipped up the bag. “I was fine. Max and I. We were fine.”
“Really? Working two jobs and barely paying rent? That was fine?”
“We managed.” She spit out the words. “And we’ll manage again.”
“I’m his father.” His commanding timbre softened. “Don’t take him from me.”
Senna knew the pain in his voice was real, and, as conflicted as she was, it still bothered her to know she was causing it. “I’m not doing this to take him from you. I’m not punishing you—”
“Really? Because this feels a hell of a lot like retribution. I can share custody with you. But what about us? Are you so ready to walk away from what you and I have started?”
The reality of what she was going to do hit her like a wrecking ball in the gut. I’m not ready for any of this.
“You are getting married. I’m just protecting myself.” She wrapped her arms around herself as in a halfhearted embrace. “We’ll figure out some sort of custody agreement, I promise. I’ll never keep Max from you. But…I need space. I need time—”
“Is that what it will take to make you happy? Getting on a plane and flying back to Miami?”
“Not one single piece of any of this makes me happy!”
“Then—”
“Stop. Just stop.” She lifted her head to face him one last time. “This is what has to happen right now. I can’t be here. I need to be somewhere where Max and I can live a normal life.”
“You really think your life will be normal? That Max’s life will be normal?” His hands wrapped around her upper arms. His empty laugh rattled her. “Princesa, now that everyone knows who Max is and what you both mean to me, I’m afraid ‘normal’ just isn’t possible.”
“Marco—”
“Brynn was chosen for me. Assigned to me like an asset. But you? Senna, I choose you. I choose us, our family.”
They were both silent. Senna watched the vein in his neck throb.
The words tumbled out before she could stop them. Her hands flew to his chest, and the solid heat under her touch soothed her. “Then come with me,” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. “Tell your father you can’t marry Brynn and come with me and Max and we can be together.”
His eyes flashed, and she could see his conflicted emotions wage a fierce battle on his face.
He enveloped her in his arms, crushing her close, and for a brief moment everything was still and calm. In his embrace she could almost believe everything was going to right itself and she and Marco and Max would be a real family.
He stroked her hair and Senna couldn’t help but lean in to his touch. “I can’t do that, Senna. It’s my legacy. It’s what I was born to do.”
She tried to push out of his embrace, but Marco held her firmly. “Then I’m leaving. And I’m taking Max with me.”
“No!” He clutched her tighter as if he could physically prevent her from moving. As if Senna would let that happen. His grip loosened and finally he said, “We can figure something out. Please tell me we can have a future.”
For a moment, Senna’s steely resolve melted into a molten puddle entirely forgotten. His words we
re everything she’d wanted from him. But even standing there with him, his embrace threatening to never let her go, there was a hollowness she couldn’t ignore.
“Let me go, Marco.”
“Never—”
She pushed from his embrace.
“Mila has arranged a flight for me and Max. We’ll take security with us if you want.”
Marco’s face was etched with pain, but Senna couldn’t let that stop her from leaving.
A high-pitched squeal pierced the silence that had descended in the room. Madame Marchande walked slowly into the room with a squirmy armful of Max clutched tightly.
“Sorry to interrupt.” she apologized. “But he’s getting antsy, and I thought maybe Señor Medina would want to see him before you, well, before you left.” Senna could hear the sadness in her voice. Madame Marchande had quickly bonded with her young charge, and Senna knew that their leaving brought her a measure of anguish.
“Max.” Senna watched as Marco stood, arms wide open. Max practically hurled himself out of his nanny’s arms and into his father’s embrace. Marco kissed him on the forehead, “It’s Papi. I’m here now.” Max threw his arms around Marco’s neck and held on.
The protective wall that Senna had built around her heart began to crumble—pebble by pebble, stone by stone. God help me, I love this man. How can I leave? But the decision was made. Both hers and Marco’s.
“The driver is waiting to take us to the airport. We need to go now.”
“I’ll see you soon, Max. I promise you that.” He rubbed his back and hugged Max close.
Senna finished zipping her bag and reached for the small bag of Max’s things that Mila had packed.
She held out her arms for Max, and he went willingly into her embrace. Madame Marchande picked up the larger bag and headed out of the room and into the hallway.
She clutched Max to her and turned to follow. Marco stood as still as a statue. She paused when she reached the door, running her thumb across the intricate vines carved into the ancient wood.
“Good-bye, Marco.” Her tears hit the artisanal rugs in the hallway even before her feet did.
Chapter Thirteen
“He’s having a rough day.”
Marco was equal parts sympathetic and frustrated. “Well, Rosalyn, the past few days haven’t exactly been a walk in the park for me, either.”
Every moment since Senna had taken Max and left him had been an exercise in simply surviving until the next one. Taking a breath. Breathing it out. Constantly battling the urge to get on a plane himself and follow them back across the ocean.
Their situation wasn’t cut-and-dried to begin with. Nothing had been easy for them. Except the fact that Marco knew in his soul they belonged together. That was the only fact that mattered, and ever since their departure he’d been focused on finding a solution, something to fulfill everyone’s needs. Not just his and Senna’s needs but the needs of his father, his siblings. Even Brynn.
After a few days spent at the bottom of an expensive bottle of scotch, he realized with crystal clarity that he alone held the power to make his future—his future with Senna and Max—what it was destined to be.
The answer had been staring at him the whole time. As much as it went against who he was brought up to be, as different a path as it was, it was the right solution. For everyone.
It began with talking to his father.
“I won’t stay long,” he said as he pushed his way through the front room and toward his father’s bedroom.
He knocked sharply on the door while turning the knob to one of the double doors at the same time. “Father, it’s me. Marco. I’m coming in.”
He stopped in his tracks as his took in his father’s slumped form. Massimo seemed to be napping, his body hunched over, probably blissfully unaware of the late afternoon light filtering through the paned windows and sheer curtains as it attempted to illuminate the massive room.
Rosalyn was right behind him. “Mr. Medina, Marco is here.” The nurse scurried to his father’s side, adjusting him in his chair and smoothing out the blanket over his lap.
He looked so fragile, so small. More than ever, the inevitable reality struck him. His father wasn’t long for this world. How many more days or months could he survive in this weakened state? Massimo’s body was going to give out.
Marco pulled up one of the armchairs so he was on Massimo’s level. Massimo opened his eyes, and Marco watched as they focused and recognition bloomed. He straightened almost imperceptibly, and Rosalyn took the opportunity to adjust the pillows around his chair.
“I’ll leave you two alone. But I’ll be right in the next room if you need me.” She directed her comments to Massimo but gave a pointed glance at Marco before she left, which told Marco she wasn’t going to let her patient be disturbed for long.
Could he do this?
He’d spent his entire adult life chained to the legacy that came with being the Medina heir. It was a role he took on because it was his duty, his responsibility. Because that was the way it had always been done.
But it had turned him into a man he didn’t like. A man who resented his obligations, who wasn’t doing anyone any favors by throwing himself into a role he hated playing. It was time to refuse to let the past dictate his future. He couldn’t change the fact that he was the oldest son and as such held a birthright that went back for centuries. But he could do what was best for Senna. What was best for his own son. And it started now.
“Papi, I’ve spoken with the board at length, and we are making some changes. I’ve come to a decision that we hope you will support.” Massimo nodded slightly but stayed silent.
“Jakob has been using this family for too long. I can’t in good conscience run our company if it comes saddled with a marriage neither Brynn nor I want. I know how you feel about my role as CEO. That it comes with being the firstborn. But we both know I’m not best for the role.”
Marco watched as his father’s eyes grew wide. His lips worked slowly. “You are the heir.”
Watching his father grasp for words was torture, but he spoke as firmly as his health allowed.
“I know. But I’m choosing a different path.”
Marco could see the confusion in his already cloudy eyes. It almost derailed him, that searching, dazed expression. His father wasn’t going to understand his decision. And while that was painful, Marco was resolute. His path was clear, now more than ever.
“Marcellus is willing to take over duties as CEO because, effective immediately, I’m stepping down.”
“No!” The strength his father imbued in the single word startled him.
“Papi, listen. Do you trust me? Do you trust the fact that you raised me to be a strong man, a man of honor? A man of principle?”
He nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Then you know I didn’t come to this decision lightly.” Marco could hear the hoarse emotion in his words.
“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t take care of my responsibilities? If I didn’t do everything in my power to give my son the best life, the most normal life, possible?”
His father leaned forward slightly as if he was listening with rapt attention, fearful of missing a single word.
“Papi, Senna and I…we’re bonded. And not just by Max. She’s the woman I’m meant to have a future with, and I can’t lose her. Not even to fulfill this role the family expects of me.”
“Marcellus is well prepared. He’s the one with the mind of a businessman, and he will steer this company back on track whether we merge with Jakob’s company or not. He won’t marry Brynn. But he will make sure our interests are protected.”
Marco took a breath and looked down at his father’s hand, the one he held in his own. It made him think of Max and what he would want for him in the same situation.
I would want him to be happy.
Massimo’s silence unnerved him. When he looked back up he saw tears in his eyes, and his heart wrenched painfully.
“Please say something.”
“I…understand.” A single tear rolled down his cheek, but his lips managed a weak smile.
Marco squeezed his hand tighter. “You do?”
“Go, my son,” he paused. “Find your family.”
…
“You rang, brother?” Marcellus walked into Marco’s office above the stables and quickly made himself at home on the buttery leather couch. Marco had fond memories of that couch, but he pushed them to the back of his mind where he sent all the other recollections of his time with Senna. Marco knew if he didn’t banish them they would bubble up at inopportune times and slowly chip away at his sanity.
Letting Senna and Max get on a plane two weeks ago without him had gutted him. But in the end he couldn’t blame her. He’d treated her terribly, and he had no one to blame but himself for his fragmented relationships with Senna and Max. He loved Senna for making Max available to him by phone and video chats. They were safe in Miami, staying in the corporate apartment with Abby, so at least he could take comfort in that.
He’d set up a special bank account for Senna to use for expenses, but Marco wasn’t surprised when only modest purchases for doctor’s visits and groceries showed up. He was grateful that Senna accepted his help with little resistance.
He hoped she was happy. She deserved to be happy.
Shortly after he’d received his father’s blessing he had a long discussion with Brynn. She was relieved but fearful of what her father would say. Jakob was fervent in his desire to have Brynn be a Medina bride, and he hadn’t been happy when Brynn told him they were breaking the betrothal. Marco was concerned he would take out his disappointment on Brynn, and he offered to help in any way he could. But she assured him she could handle the matter, and she was even looking forward to new opportunities. They parted amicably, and he made it clear he was there if she needed anything. He felt like he owed her that much.