Chapter Nine #2
‘What do you want me to say? I never imagined I would end up with an Ella but, while we’re going down this road, not that there’s a point to it, did you think you would end up with a guy like me? Someone who made you feel as though you were on a roller-coaster ride?’
‘I guess not.’ But Ella thought that roller-coaster rides, however terrifying, could also be exhilarating. And addictive. And all sorts of things when one got used to it and started concluding that life without the roller-coaster ride was unthinkable.
She wished she hadn’t asked the question of him because she wouldn’t want to hear it confirmed in stark terms that someone like her would never have been on his wish list. She didn’t like to be reminded why, exactly, she was sitting on a private jet next to him because, cravenly, she wanted to hold onto the belief that they were destined to be together.
She’d invested in her dreams and her hopes and she stubbornly refused to let go.
Was she being a blind fool? Was her optimism misplaced?
But no. He hadn’t tried to force her hand.
He’d respected her decision to turn down his marriage proposal and had allowed her the space to make up her mind.
He’d been the decent guy who had more than compensated for the cardboard cut-out creep she’d thought he was when she’d discovered the truth about him.
‘I guess we can fine-tune the details,’ she said, voice raised over the sound of the jet engine, ‘In the next few days. Meanwhile, tell me about your house. What can I expect?’ She hid her frown under a smile and banished unwelcome thoughts.
Nothing could have prepared Ella for what confronted her when Rocco’s chauffeur finally pulled through a pair of imposing wrought-iron gates that led into sprawling gardens with manicured lawns, fountains and statues.
The sort of place where a person could be forgiven for getting out their purse because they might have to pay to get inside and look around.
When she lost count of the windows, she decided it was no longer a house, it was a palace—which she should have expected, given everything he’d said, but which she discovered she really hadn’t at all.
Tall arches and a series of marble columns were emblazoned with intricate stone carvings, and everything drew the eye to the magnificent double-door entrance.
The grand windows were fronted with iron balconies, all as intricate as the stone carvings, lacy in their details.
There were rows and rows of them, perfectly proportioned and as precise as an architectural drawing.
She stopped and stared. Her heart was beating fast and her mouth was dry. She was glad for the steadying grasp of Rocco’s hand as he linked his fingers through hers.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said with more hope than expectation. ‘It’s going to be fine.’
‘Have you described me to your parents?’
‘Why would I have done that?’
‘They might be in for a shock.’
‘They’ll handle it.’ Rocco shrugged. ‘They’ve dealt with shocks before.’ But he could feel the nervous shakiness of her hand in his. What could he say? It was a necessary hurdle and they wouldn’t be there for very long.
‘How can you be so cool and collected at a time like this?’
Rocco didn’t say anything. Instead, he pressed the doorbell and heard it reverberate. One of the many servants, who did everything from clean to cook to tend the vast acreage of maintained lawns, would answer the door. Sure enough, his favourite, Jorge, did so and bowed deferentially.
His parents were in the casual sitting room having drinks, he was told, and would expect them both to join them at seven sharp. Only then, message delivered, did Jorge smile broadly at Rocco, ushering him in, and then greeting Ella with even more deference when she was introduced.
When Rocco glanced at Ella, he could see that she was shocked at the lack of ebullient welcome.
‘My parents,’ he murmured, leaning into her, ‘Are slightly different to your father.’
‘Are they excited to have you here for a couple of days at Christmas?’
‘Come on,’ was his non-committal response. ‘I’ll be in my usual suite of rooms. We can freshen up and then join them for pre-dinner drinks.’
If the boutiques with the fawning saleswomen, the chauffeur-driven cars and the private jet told a tale of wealth, then this palace and non-appearing parents told an even starker story of the differences between Rocco and her.
She gazed around her as he ushered her away from the front door. The hall was vast, with high ceilings and a massive chandelier that cast a mellow glow over highly polished marble floors. It should have been breathtaking but it felt like a mausoleum.
Ahead was a sweeping double staircase and, to the side, an over-sized Christmas tree, professionally decorated and there to impress.
It was as coldly beautiful as the rest of what she saw.
The perfect tree, branches dense and full, stretched up, up, up towards the ornate ceiling and decorated in a thousand delicate, hand-blown glass baubles in shades of red, gold and ivory.
The thousands of golden lights twined around the tree reflected off the polished floors and crystal chandeliers above.
‘I can’t believe you grew up here,’ she whispered.
‘In between boarding school and trips abroad.’
‘I’m beginning to understand what you meant when you said your parents liked formal attire. Jeans would look out of place here.’
Ella wanted him to talk, wanted to hear his voice, because it might have distracted her from the nerves gripping her now like a vice.
She half-listened as he described the dining room, the ballroom used for highly formal occasions, the original stained glass on the first floor and the gold-leafed ceilings that dated back over a hundred years.
There was a library stocked with first-edition classics and a private study that overlooked the manicured lawns at the back.
As a boy, he had used it to work in it, he told her.
‘There were peacocks back then,’ he said with a certain amount of wistfulness. ‘Sadly, no more. Still, the black swans on the private lake remain.’
As they walked up the impressive staircase, her eyes strayed to classic Spanish paintings and tapestries.
They emerged onto the broad corridor of the first floor, and she gasped at the stretch of wall comprised entirely of a hand-painted mural depicting some era in Spanish history: horses, men in armour and stylised trees and castles.
She suspected a legion of servants tended to the mansion and its grounds, yet a ghostly silence hung over the exquisite palace. Aside from the terrifyingly huge Christmas tree in the hall, anyone would think that the festive season had bypassed the palace completely.
Rocco’s suite was as big as her dad’s entire house.
‘I’ll leave you to get ready,’ he said. He glanced at his watch, then back at her.
She looked lost. ‘One of the housekeepers will knock in an hour and take you down to join my parents. I’ll be there.
Is that all right with you? I expect I should have a little down time with them before you join us. ’
Ella smiled and walked towards him. He was so tall, so commanding, and had seemed so curiously distant towards his parents, but wanting to see them without her made sense, at least for a bit. She could more easily relate to this person.
‘Of course you want to see your parents without me! You don’t have to feel awkward about that.’
‘I wouldn’t say I felt awkward.’
‘An hour will be more than enough. As long as I don’t have to find my way through this place.
’ She smiled a watery smile. ‘Then I’ll be fine to join you later.
If I have to locate whatever drawing room you’re in, then there isn’t a satnav on earth that’s going to work.
I’ll be wandering the corridors for the rest of my life. ’
‘That would be the last thing I’d want.’
Ella’s breath hitched in her throat as his dark eyes roamed over her with warm appreciation, reminding her of just how much she loved this guy. She thought of a lifetime of nights together and that gave her just the right amount of backbone she needed.
‘Okay,’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘I’ll see you downstairs.’
It was going to be fine. Everything was in place and she was happy that it was.
Her doubts had been banished, replaced with trust. Of course she would occasionally have doubts.
This wasn’t the future she had had in mind for herself, but Rocco had stepped up to the plate, proved himself worthy of her love, and she was determined to hang onto that.
The suite in which she now stood was lavish.
She stepped into a small hall, adorned with an imposing tapestry on the wall, and from it she could see several doors opening out from a spacious living area to various rooms. The most eye-catching, however, was the bedroom, to which she quickly walked.
She would like to have taken time to appreciate the splendour of the massive fireplace, the velvet drapes and the canopied bed with its sultry, deep-purple spread.
A quick jump onto it wouldn’t have gone amiss but, conscious of the time, she instead headed straight to the bathroom.
It was all marble. What else? There was a hot tub, deep bath, rainfall shower and, most impressive of all, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the landscaped gardens at the back.
Ella showered quickly. It took time to figure out the controls but she felt refreshed afterwards, although suddenly exhausted.
She dressed in one of the over-priced new outfits she had bought, a navy-blue cashmere dress that clung and showed off the beginnings of her bump in a way none of her baggy outfits did. She stared at her reflection in the long, freestanding mirror and was overwhelmed by a feeling of unreality.