Chapter Twelve
A THIN DRIZZLE of rain coated the windscreen in a slimy film as the car turned into the wintry English road.
Maximo eased his foot off the accelerator, bringing the powerful vehicle almost to a halt so that it crept along at a snail’s pace.
He stared fixedly ahead, not caring if he was wasting time.
Because he needed time to work out what he was going to do.
To assemble his whirling thoughts into some sort of order before he saw Hollie.
To say what?
He still didn’t know.
He thought about the bald little message he had received from her.
I just don’t think it’s going to work out between us...
He had been taken aback by the dark surge of pain which had flooded through him.
He had wanted to lift the phone and demand to know what had made her write it, but something made him change his mind—though he didn’t stop to think what that might be.
Instead, he sought a solution in action, because that was how he operated.
He had ordered his jet to be made ready and within hours had flown into Exeter airport, planning his movements with the precision of a cat burglar.
Unobserved, he had watched Hollie leave the office and a wave of relief had swamped him as he’d seen her familiar figure walking towards the bus stop.
And although every part of him had ached to drive up and tell her to get in the car, he’d resisted the powerful temptation to do so, because he didn’t want any kind of confrontation or public spectacle.
He didn’t want to run the risk of her refusing to travel with him.
He had seen the chill wind blowing at her hair, but the tresses were no longer unfettered and free as he liked them.
They had been tamed beneath a hat he’d never seen her wear before, and the coat she was huddling into was not one of the items he had bought her, but a well-worn relic from her old wardrobe.
It was as if she had embraced her old life and cut him out completely, he thought, and his heart gave another painful clench as he increased the speed of the car.
Once he had vowed never to let a woman close enough to hurt him. What had happened to that fervent vow from which he had never wavered? The vow he’d made on his knees on that snowy Christmas Eve in Spain, all those years ago.
You could leave now while there’s still time , a cold and pragmatic voice in his head reminded him.
But he ignored it.
His car slid to a halt outside her tiny cottage and he crunched his way up the gravel path. Ignoring the twee little bell which dangled in the porch, he lifted his arm and began to pound on the door and the mighty sound created by his fist echoed through the still night air.
Someone was knocking at her door and Hollie paused in the middle of washing up her teacup. No, it was more like a pounding. The sound which someone who was in a hurry—or a temper—would make. Someone autocratic and powerful who wouldn’t think twice about making enough noise to wake the dead.
Her throat dried. There was only one person she knew who would knock like that.
Was that why her heart started racing as she put her teacup down and headed for the door?
Or was it just that deep down she’d been expecting this visit and now the moment had arrived, she felt a terrible fatalistic sorrow washing over her?
Drawing in a deep breath, she pulled open the door and there stood Maximo.
His hair was windswept and he was dressed in the black clothes which were so familiar, but Hollie had never seen that expression on his face before.
It was tense. Brittle. As if he were holding something dark and unwanted inside him. His eyes narrowed, and then he spoke.
‘Can I come in, please, Hollie?’
Did he really think she would refuse him entry?
That she would want to? Because even though she recognised that the final minutes of their relationship were ticking away, Hollie wasn’t feeling the things she wanted to feel.
Despite the fact that he had used her as a pawn in his ambitious game plan, she wasn’t hating him, or not fancying him.
Her stupid stomach still turned to mush when he brushed past her, forcing her to shut the door on the drizzly evening outside.
For a minute she was tempted to throw herself into his arms in an effort to blot out all those things she’d discovered.
Or even to ask if he’d like some coffee after his long journey, in a futile desire to put off the inevitable.
To act as if she were still going to be his wife and make like they were going to be a happy family.
But she couldn’t do that any more. She couldn’t pretend—not to him—not even to herself.
Especially not to herself.
Uncharacteristically, he seemed almost hesitant as his gaze swept over her. ‘Is the baby okay?’
Of course that would be his number one concern. ‘Everything’s fine,’ she answered briskly. ‘I’m having the scan the day after tomorrow.’
There was a pause, and now the light from his eyes was very hard and very bright. ‘Do you want to tell me why you sent that text?’
Hollie tried to think of the right words but there were no right words. Only wrong ones. Harsh, discordant words which had the power to destroy everything and now she was going to have to say them out loud and make it all real.
‘Do you want to tell me why you asked me to marry you, Maximo?’ she questioned quietly. ‘Only give me the real reason this time!’
His frown deepened. ‘But you know the reason.’
‘Yes, of course I do. Because of the baby. Or so I thought. We were supposed to be completely honest with each other, weren’t we?
We said that truth was going to define our relationship.
Yet all the time...’ She swallowed. ‘All the time there was this great big secret bubbling away in the background, which you failed to mention.’
‘What secret ?’ he echoed. ‘You’ve completely lost me now.’
‘Please don’t treat me like an idiot!’ she snapped.
‘Then why don’t you stop speaking in riddles? I told you. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I’m talking about inheriting your father’s business!’
He shook his head. ‘Nope. Still confused.’
His words sounded genuine but Hollie steeled her heart against them, because men could lie, couldn’t they? In fact, men did lie. Her father had rarely spoken a true word in his life, according to her mother.
‘Cristina rang me up. The blonde in the green dress at the party,’ she continued. ‘She knows your stepsister, Beatriz.’ She heard his sudden sharp intake of breath, which she interpreted as guilt.
‘Beatriz,’ he said slowly. ‘Well, well, well. Now it really does get interesting.’
Hollie sucked in a ragged breath. ‘Cristina told me about the will. About how your father left you controlling shares of his business, but only if you have a child born within wedlock. So why didn’t you tell me that, Maximo?
If you’d told me the truth in the first place then maybe I could have lived with it. It’s the lies I can’t stand.’
But there was no guilt or resignation on his face. No sense of having been found out. In fact, there was nothing on his sculpted features but a look of growing comprehension.
‘This is all news to me, Hollie,’ he said slowly.
‘If there is such a bequest then it has never been on my radar, because I have been estranged from my family for many years and in all that time I haven’t spoken to my stepsisters—not since they decided that cruelty towards an impressionable young boy was a sport they relished.
’ His voice harshened. ‘Do you really think I would conceal something like that from you?’
‘Yes! If you want the truth, yes, I do!’
Maximo flinched as if she had hit him, but through the slow burn of injustice came a powerful rush of feelings. Uncomfortable feelings he had buried for years and if it had been anyone else, he would have slammed his way out of there and taken his outraged pride with him.
But this wasn’t just anyone. This was Hollie.
Hollie who knew more about him than anyone else did.
He remembered when he’d told her about working on the roads as a teenager and she’d asked him if he had lied about his age, as if it was important.
As if it had meant something. Because it did mean something.
She was used to men lying to her. Her father, for one.
Did she think he was cast out of the same mould and that he would deceive her about something as big as this?
And then he wondered how he dared be such a hypocrite.
Why wouldn’t she believe that, when he had done nothing but push her away since she’d arrived in Spain, and maybe even before that?
He had been so damned keen to create barriers between them and to ensure she knew never to dare cross them, that he had succeeded in destroying all the ease and the intimacy which had once existed between them.
And now she was looking at him warily, with sadness and mistrust written all over her lovely face, and although he knew he deserved all of that—and more—suddenly he couldn’t bear the thought that he might have sabotaged, not just his own future, but that of his family. His family with her.
‘I repeat, I knew nothing about this legacy, and even if I did, do you really think I’d want his damned business?
If I had, I might have stayed on in that heartless mansion—enduring the taunts of my stepsisters and the sniggers of the servants who surrounded him.
Do you really think that even if I were poor— even if I were poor —I would accept the charity of someone who had never wanted me during his lifetime? Do you, Hollie?’
The fierceness of his tone must have convinced her, for she gave a brief and reluctant shrug. ‘I guess not.’