Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER TWELVE
S HE DIDN’T HAVE to wait for the first flight because Edo sent her back on a private jet only two hours after their horrific argument—that was how determined he was to get her out of his life as quickly as possible. He’d removed himself moments after their fight and reappeared only when all arrangements had been made. That meant two bodyguards went with her. No softening. No apology. No kiss goodbye. He’d just brusquely told her he’d be in touch. Her present had still been on the table as she’d walked out.
She felt sick the entire flight, appalled that she’d lost it so completely. That he had too. It had been a monumental blow-up and she reeled from the destruction—it was impossible to process it properly.
The first thing she did on landing back in London was lose the bodyguards. Threatened to have them charged with stalking if they didn’t back off. Not that it stopped them following her taxi in one of their own. But they couldn’t come into her house. She slammed the front door behind her, so relieved and so devastated. The tears she’d been holding back for hours overwhelmed her. She stepped forward and promptly tripped over the hallway rug.
‘Damn.’ She collapsed in a heap, her ankle throbbing like fire. ‘Damn!’
‘Phoebe?’ Bethan burst out of her room. ‘Are you back? Are you okay?’
No. She couldn’t even get into her own house without screwing up.
Bethan sank to the floor beside her and put her arm around her. ‘What’s wrong? What’s happened ?’
Between sobs, Phoebe confessed everything—she’d not told her friends about the wedding or the baby, wanting to tell them face to face. Now it spilled out in a sorry hiccupping mess of confusion and heartache, and her ankle was agony .
* * *
They spent hours at an emergency clinic. Her bone had never healed properly from the break when she’d been young and this injury was far worse than the one in Italy. While she didn’t need a cast, she was going to have to wear a moon boot for a few weeks to keep her ankle still, and she would have to remain housebound for a little while. No doubt Edo would probably be thrilled about that last bit.
‘Shouldn’t you let him know?’ Bethan eventually asked as they waited for the cab to take them home.
‘There’s no need,’ Phoebe muttered.
Bethan frowned. ‘I think you should—’
‘Please, Bethan, I need space to get over him—it’s too soon and I don’t want him coming here out of obligation. I’m fine.’
‘Okay.’ Bethan’s face softened and she leaned against her. ‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out.’
‘Me too.’
* * *
She spent a couple days on the sofa dealing via phone with the security consultant who wanted to change the locks, install alarms and cameras. She didn’t argue, she didn’t want to make Edo worry from a distance. She would do enough to set his mind at rest on that.
A courier parcel arrived—the laptop, her notebook. No personal message accompanied them. Her marriage hadn’t lasted as long as the first and that hadn’t exactly been long. Knowing neither of her husbands had ever actually loved her didn’t do a lot for her sense of self-worth. Never, ever again. That was the one—only—thing in which she could let herself go to the full extreme. But her ultimatum to Edo—that extreme reaction—that hadn’t been fair.
That’s what she felt sick about. Her ultimatum—her extreme reaction—had been rash and hurtful. She could never ban him from their child’s life. She felt awful for even implying it. No, she would compromise. She would try as hard as she could to ensure her child had a relationship with its father. Something would be better than nothing.
Edo wouldn’t let himself grow close to anyone but she would have to manage that for their baby. Besides, she still believed that Edo wouldn’t be able to help himself—his caring would come out for the child. He couldn’t quite hold it all back—couldn’t not act. She ran a protective hand over her belly. Her baby would be loved. She would ensure it grew up free and confident and yes, safe. She would work that out somehow. But she needed a little time to heal her own heart before trying to build some kind of trade-off with him.
She shouldn’t have told him about her past, then she wouldn’t have heard him say those soothing things that revealed he had a soul. She wouldn’t have learned about his brother and known just how desperately Edo had loved him. She would never have known how big his heart was beneath the defensive exterior he fought to retain. It was why he was so protective—and afraid—for their baby.
She would have been better off not knowing any of that. It was actually cruel, how kind he could be. How thoughtful. He didn’t want it to mean anything. But it did. It couldn’t not. He was capable of total and complete love. He just had to let himself. But he was stuck and determined to remain so.
* * *
It had been the right thing to do. Edo felt guilty about his cruelty, but a little more guilt was nothing compared to the constant burden he would feel if she stayed. If something worse happened. He could never give her everything, so she was better off away from him. As was the baby.
He’d phoned Isabella and gotten her to courier Phoebe’s laptop to her. Then he’d buried himself in work, but struggled to stay submerged. Concentration was elusive. Sleep impossible.
He didn’t return to the estate for four days. When he did, he told Isabella that Phoebe wasn’t coming back at all. The housekeeper hadn’t spoken to him in the three days since. He still couldn’t sleep. Still couldn’t work.
He should’ve got her to pack up Phoebe’s rooms but it didn’t feel right to have anyone else touch her personal things. He went into the office he’d set up for her. She’d rearranged the stationery implements he’d bought for her and she’d printed some photos that she’d stuck beside the large screen. There was one of her with her friends outside her flat in London.
He rubbed his chest as he stared at it. The owner of the flat above hers had finally accepted his outrageously high purchase offer. Ideally, he’d convert the two flats back into the one. Then he’d work on acquiring the houses on either side—one could be the staff residence and he could knock the other over and create a garden. None of which he told her. She couldn’t have made it clearer that she didn’t want anything to do with him now. So he would go through the lawyers.
He steeled himself and went into her bedroom. He’d rarely entered it, even when she’d been here. He’d taken her to his bed—it was bigger. Now he saw she’d pulled a large armchair to the window—he briefly took in the view of the hills and vines but his focus was caught by the brightly coloured throw across the arm rest. It was from the pool house, the one he’d wrapped around her shoulders the day they’d met. A short pile of books was stacked on the floor—a few novels, but a beginner’s guide to pregnancy and child birth was on top. That she hadn’t mentioned it to him hurt. As did knowing she would now go through it alone.
He whirled away and glanced at the bed, at the few things on the bedside table. He couldn’t bring himself to touch any of it. She’d made it cosy . She really was a snowdrop—the first flower to bloom in winter when the snow was still settled. Undefeated and undaunted, she just determinedly blossomed despite an uninviting environment. With the scarcest of encouragement—of attention —she came wonderfully alive.
While all he’d done was try to keep his distance—supposedly focused on keeping her safe, when really he’d been keeping himself safe. Except he’d been unable to resist circling back to her, because she was warm and loving and generous.
She had so much love to give and she’d hardly been given the chance to. But she was going to be fine. She was better at coping than he was—already she lived a more rounded life—she had friends, a home, connection. And he knew she would make a wonderful mother for their child. She would do everything in her power to ensure that.
Edo’s powers were far more limited. He’d imposed boundaries. She’d accepted most. Demanded more, but not everything. Until he’d pushed her out completely. He’d known just how—what wound to press on. He’d denied the truth and let her think there was nothing between them but sex.
It was all you wanted to let me have.
He went back to work in his office. Still couldn’t focus. It was worse than when she’d been there and distracting him all the time. The still-wrapped present sat in the bottom of his bag. After Dante’s abduction, Edo had never opened the presents his grandfather had sent him. He’d never wanted another cent of the man’s money. He hated him with every fibre of his being. Because there was the fear there, that he had a little too much in common with the selfish old jerk.
And now Edo couldn’t bring himself to open Phoebe’s present either. Yet nor could he throw it away. It fuelled his anger. It had been her birthday, not his. She’d had hardly anyone buy her any presents and yet there she was, giving . He didn’t want to accept anything from her. Except he had already taken so much more. And she just kept giving, didn’t she? Even when the odds were against her. She would do anything for the ones she loved.
So would he, right? That meant making this sacrifice. That meant sending her away and letting her be both safe and free. Edo deserved—needed—to be alone. But Phoebe didn’t. She should meet someone else. Probably would. Some smart guy would see her. Would love her. Would give her everything. His blood bubbled and arrogance surged at the thought. No other man could give her what he could give her, and he didn’t mean wealth and riches. But he’d chosen not to.
His grandfather had withheld Dante’s ransom—he’d been afraid of having more taken from him. More money. Edo had withheld his heart from Phoebe. Why—when their time in Tuscany had been the best days of his life? Because of exactly that. She’d gotten too close and he was terrified fate would rip his heart from his chest. He’d been such a coward. He’d let her think that she was something less . Crushed her when he should have offered unconditional support. Let her believe in his indifference. He’d been terrified of letting her down and he totally had.
He’d stopped her from saying whatever she wanted. Dismissed her feelings for him. Minimised her when she was the only thing that really mattered to him. He’d told her that what they had was less. He’d denied his own feelings. And hurt the woman he loved.
He stared sightlessly down at the pool house, unable to stop the memories surging. He’d not admitted how much he wanted her to stay. How much more than sex they were. He’d let anxiety conquer him. Silence him.
He’d not supported Dante either. He’d let silence grow when he should have tried to reach out. He’d not known what to say. He’d done what he thought he had to—got them financial security and independence. And it wasn’t enough. Regret almost sank him now.
He glanced at the bright wrapping paper peeking out from the bottom of his bag. Irrepressible. Optimistic. Hopeful. Phoebe wasn’t a quitter. He couldn’t be either. Not now. She didn’t know how important she was to him and, whatever else happened, she ought to know that. She deserved to know that.
The sonogram photo of their child was still stashed in the side pocket. A different kind of gift. One altogether too precious. He pulled it out, made himself look. Made himself face the feelings he’d been trying to deny for days. He was going to be a father. And he wanted to be a good one.
He drew in a deep, painful breath. He could never get forgiveness from Dante and, while he could ask Phoebe for hers, more important was what he could give her . And that was honesty. Full, complete, honesty. Despite his fears, he needed to offer her his whole heart— unconditionally .