CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER TEN
T WO WEEKS FLEW by in a breathless kaleidoscopic blur of good food, exquisite lovemaking and a deep delve into everything that sparked pleasure.
Specifically, her pleasure.
It was almost as if Jario had made it his mission to discover every contentment point so he could explore and fulfil it. To drown her in pleasure to the exclusion of everything else.
Everything important .
Because blurred but not entirely suppressed was the premonition that things were coming to a head even though, by unspoken agreement, they didn’t speak of her father or his parents.
The moment she’d stepped back on his yacht five hours after her Ubud tour she was directed to the topmost deck where he’d had a lavish breakfast-for-dinner feast of pancakes and waffles waiting for her. He’d insisted she sample each iteration of the yummy pastry, topped it with exquisite milkshake, then caught her in his arms and carted her off to his bed, where he’d tortured her until screaming his name was the only thing she’d been capable of.
They’d sailed into European waters two days ago and had explored Iceland and Denmark by helicopter. Willow had been stunned to discover his mother was Swedish-American and that he’d spent a few Christmases in Stockholm as a child. Those nuggets had been shared with her mostly after lovemaking, in those seemingly stolen minutes when she held her breath and prayed he would fall asleep and find nightmare-free rest.
More and more, her heart swelled with joy when that happened, often staying awake to watch over him.
It was in those cherished moments when she glimpsed the carefree boy he’d once been, the one who still cared enough to revisit his mother’s homeland, albeit from a high distance, and to fight for his father’s memory, that she finally admitted to herself that she’d fallen in love with Jario Tagarro.
She’d been thankful that he’d been asleep when emotive, panicked tears fell. Then she’d allowed herself to whisper it to him as he slept. And as his arm tightened around her in his sleep, she accepted that she had two choices open to her—leave or fight.
Jario raced across the water on his jet ski, another unfamiliar grin cracking his face—and his insides if the warmth easing through him was a testament—as he executed another arc around a frustrated Willow.
He should be ashamed that thoughts of retribution had receded like light mist in sunlight—not quite disappeared but not as urgent.
Just as he should be contrite for ignoring the facility director’s emails for the past two weeks. Hell, he hadn’t bothered to open the last three in his inbox. But he’d checked with security and they’d assured him his mother was safe and healthy.
Whatever the director wanted to discuss could wait... a while.
Willow Chatterton had challenged him to be happy. And he’d never backed down from a challenge.
He watched her slow to a stop, rise to straddle the seat as she dragged irritated hands through her wet hair, and his body stirred wildly.
Dios mio , she was stunning.
Both inside and out, he was discovering. Every time she smiled, he got hit by a wave of vertigo.
The tiny veering off track that had occurred when she’d left his yacht unannounced, triggering panic, had continued to widen a crack he couldn’t quite close. One that impressed ever strenuously how essential the daughter of the man who’d wronged him was becoming.
They’d woken from a snooze half an hour ago—a staggering surprise in and of itself since he couldn’t recall the last time he’d fallen asleep in the afternoon—to find her beautiful eyes on him, a faintly perturbed look lurking within the brown depths. She’d smiled brightly and attempted to compose herself.
But it’d ruffled his own emotions enough to make him drag her out onto the water. To jump into another activity to overrule the rising clamour.
It’d worked. Up to a point. Now, raking his gaze over her supple body, lingering in all the places that delighted and aroused him, he knew he was shutting off the subject they were both ignoring.
‘Fine, I give up. You win.’
Words he was used to hearing. Only this time, victory felt hollow. And the ticking time bomb at the back of his head was growing louder.
He powered his ski closer until it bumped hers, then leaning over, he cupped her nape and brought her irresistible mouth to his. A long, belly-flipping kiss later, he watched more sombre shadows chase across her face.
She pre-empted his question with one of her own. ‘What was that for?’
‘Spoils of war?’
The spirited response he expected didn’t arrive, a resigned look skittering over her face. ‘Is everything a battle?’ Before he could answer, she waved him away. ‘Actually, don’t answer that. I’m heading back in.’
She left him with the roaring in his head and a bigger hollow in his stomach.
Both of which remained immovable when he tracked her to his bathroom. She’d finished peeling the wet bikini off her body, a fact his own body fully approved of then mourned when she covered up with a robe while ignoring him.
‘What’s going on? Are you ill?’
An edgy bark of laughter spilled free, snagging at something inside him. ‘Is that the only time I’m allowed to get away with disagreeing with you?’
‘Ah, so we’re in disagreement about something?’
Tiny embers of her usual fire stoked her glare, but her face remained carefully composed. ‘No, we’re not. At least nothing beyond the obvious.’
‘Willow.’ His warning tone heightened the charge between them and as much as he wanted to dial it back, a visceral urgency took hold of him. Enough to make him close the gap between them. And jolt to a halt as she stepped back. Away from him . Watch her hands shake as she secured the belt to the robe, then grimaced before consciously loosening it.
‘What’s wrong?’
For jarring seconds, she kept her mouth firmly pursed. Then she repeated that batting away thing she’d done on the water. ‘It’s probably nothing—’
‘It’s definitely something.’ The hollow in his belly filled with cold unease. ‘Tell me,’ he insisted after another pulse of silence.
‘It’s...my period...it’s late.’
She lost a layer of colour as the words tumbled free, a wave of dismay washing over her face.
He was abstractedly stunned that despite the shock barrelling through him, it was her reaction that stayed with him. That roared at him that she was perhaps horrified by the thought of being pregnant.
And then that shock grew because Jario discovered that he absolutely despised that reaction. That he wanted to shelve his own confounding emotions and drill down on hers .
Which was absurd because...he needed to explore his own feelings on the matter. Not dwell on whether she hated the thought of carrying his child...
He spiked his fingers through his hair, pulling a handful taut in vain hope that the sting would centre his thoughts enough to formulate words.
Enough to work out why the thundering of his heart wasn’t born of self-blame for not being careful enough with protection, but with what kind of father he’d be. Whether he had what it’d take to do right by his child.
If there was one.
The silent observation slammed even more confounding feelings into him. Because again, he wasn’t filled with the aversion he’d expected.
‘Are you going to say something?’ she murmured, her eyes dancing over his face before meeting his eyes. The way he’d wanted her to a minute ago. The way that felt far too incisive now, because surely he wasn’t skilled enough to conceal the shock waves pummelling him.
‘What did you mean by it’s probably nothing ?’ He barely recognised the charred roughness of his voice. All he cared about was her answer to this suddenly important question.
‘Sometimes, I’m late by a day or two. But—’
‘How late are you now?’ The words were fired bullets. Urgent and unstoppable. Much like his runaway heartbeat.
‘Three days. But like I said, it might be nothing.’
He reached for relief and found it absent. ‘Except you’re worried enough to mention it.’
Her flush made her paleness stand out even more. And wasn’t it the wildest thing that he found her even more alluring in that moment?
‘Because in the past I hadn’t been sleeping with anyone,’ she rasped.
He wanted to cockily remind her that their activities in bed involved much more than mundane sleep. But it wasn’t true. He’d found his most restful nights in years with her.
An addictive peace. Warmth. A sense of homecoming after restlessly wandering the seas. The truth of it hammered harder at him.
He opened his mouth to say something...anything...to rationalise his way through the myriad weighty sensations pouring through him.
The distinctive sound of helicopter rotors was a minor distraction that soon turned into a major one as the sound grew.
No one would dare land on or approach his vessel without express permission.
No one except...
Dulce cielo.
The implication of his possible visitor’s presence sent cold tremors through him. He wanted to curse the demons for this untimely interruption, but he knew he only had himself to blame as he forced himself to turn away from her, to ignore the flash of relief, then anguish across her face when he immediately turned back. Cupping her jaw, he locked gazes with her, ensuring she didn’t miss the unequivocal response. ‘If you’re carrying my child, then I will claim it as is my right.’
Her eyes flared wide. ‘What? You can’t just—’
‘We’ll pick this up later. But you wanted my response. Now you have it. I respect your rights, but I also keep what’s mine.’ The pulse of deep possession that throbbed through him cemented his feelings about this bombshell. He would rise to this challenge, too, as with everything else in his life. And he would succeed.
Without her? Are you sure you don’t need her?
The power of that inner voice terrified him into turning for the door.
‘Where are you going? Who are you expecting?’
Quiet alarm stiffened his spine. ‘Expecting? No one. Someone I can’t turn away? Most likely.’
With every leaden step that took him to the second helipad reserved for guests, he swung between dread and elation.
But even as he watched his mother step down from the chopper and turn towards him, a blinding smile creasing her face and a large part of him thankful that she looked the best he’d seen her in years, he knew his past, present and possible future were on an unstoppable collision course.
Willow couldn’t fight the compulsion to follow Jario minutes after he left the suite, even though she wished she could. Every moment since boarding his yacht in Los Cabos felt like a series of compulsive reactions drawing her deeper into a vortex of inescapable emotion.
Even discovering she’d missed her period felt almost...inevitable. Another domino falling as hard as she’d fallen for Jario, regardless of the mountain of turbulence awaiting her if it turned out to be true.
She’d barely stopped to throw on her shorts and tank top before she raced barefoot after him, dragging her fingers through her damp hair to control the dishevelled mass.
Now, in the salon closest to the visitors’ helipad, she watched the someone he couldn’t turn away enfold him in an embrace, the woman who bore a striking resemblance to the man she loved. Fierce premonition that the end she’d dreaded was in sight took hold of her.
When a mocking voice joined in the chorus of chaos, suggesting she only had herself to blame, one hand dropped to her belly, while the other tried to smother the hoarse sound that escaped her throat.
It was no use.
Jario and his mother turned towards her, his face a rigid mask that slashed at her heart, his mother’s morphing into wary confusion at her son’s expression.
The death knell arrived when the crew member who’d just served his mother’s champagne approached Willow with a tray. ‘What would you like to drink, Miss Chatterton?’
The sequence of clenching her fists in resignation, hearing Jario’s muffled curse and seeing his mother’s face whiten in horror would be etched in Willow’s memory forever.
‘Chatterton?’ Jario heard his mother’s ravaged echo before she swung towards him, her face crumbling as the champagne glass fell and shattered on the deck. ‘ Mee-jo , what have you done?’
He winced, the crack in his chest widening at hearing the butchered endearment. Once upon a time it’d been a great source of teasing around the kitchen island, his father laughing as he painstakingly enunciated the word Ana Tagarro could never get right.
Now it was a reminder that his father had never been given the chance to finish teaching his beloved wife his native tongue. Because of...
His head swung to where Willow stood frozen a dozen feet away, her haunted eyes filled with pain, remorse and deep sympathy. Emotions his mother was clearly oblivious to when she stalked to where Willow stood.
‘From my son’s expression I can see this isn’t some cruel coincidence. You’re that vile man’s daughter, aren’t you? Are you the reason he hasn’t been answering my emails?’ Without giving Willow a chance to respond, she carried on. ‘I don’t know what you are to my son or why you’re here but I suggest you absent yourself. Immediately.’
Anguish twisted Willow’s face, but that fighting spirit rallied admirably. ‘Mrs Tagarro, let me explain—’
‘Mama, you will treat my guest with respect,’ he interjected firmly.
The possible mother of his child. Dios mio.
Eyes the same colour as his flew to him. ‘Your guest? No!’ His mother’s shrill tone rang across the deck. The woman who’d complained for all of a minute before forgiving him for making her stage a surprise arrival instead of the planned one she’d asked the facility director to arrange, had disappeared. In her place was the mother who’d spent several months at the mercy of debilitating grief and anger until she couldn’t function as a parent, forcing the authorities to place her son in foster care, a course he accepted now that neither of them had entirely recovered from, even though Jario had forgiven her for it a long time ago.
His chest squeezed at seeing her trembling with adverse emotion.
Because he’d taken his eye off the ball. Plunged himself neck-deep in shameful lust and desire, and...possible fatherhood?
He pushed away the peculiar leaping in his chest as his mother continued.
‘Did you not hear me? Leave!’
She raised her hand, galvanising him into movement.
‘ Dios mio , control yourself!’ Jario wrapped his arms around her and drew her back before she could do the unthinkable and strike his...his...
He shook his head to clear the label threatening to burrow deep into his psyche. ‘I love you, Mama, but I will not condone violence.’ Especially against the potential mother of his child. ‘Is that understood?’
A sob ripped from his mother before she collapsed against him. ‘Then tell me what she’s doing here. Why, Jario?’
He gritted his jaw at the plaintive demand. ‘We’ll discuss it later. It’s nothing for you to worry about.’
He didn’t need to look to feel Willow’s haunted eyes fixed on him. To feel her castigating disappointment, deadlier slivers of shame slicing him.
‘Come, Mama. I’ll show you to your room.’ He led his distraught mother off the deck, the vise lassoed around his chest growing tight.
Tighter .
Until he couldn’t quite catch his breath.
A mere half hour ago, she’d imagined the toughest thing she would be doing was confessing her late period to Jario. Then mitigating the leap of joy when he’d said he’d claimed their child in case that claiming might not include her. The need for clarity had been partly why she’d raced after him.
She knew differently now.
Her very bones were weighted with lead as she shoved her meagre belongings into her small case. She wished her body would move faster but it seemed to be working on its own timetable, probably locked in shock at Jario’s searing rejection.
It’s nothing for you to worry about...
A definitive, damning evidence on her position in his life if ever there was one.
She stiffened at his approaching footsteps, her skin tingling wildly beneath his penetrative stare.
‘What are you doing?’ he demanded edgily.
Before his mother’s arrival she would’ve put a different slant on that tone, fooled herself into believing he dreaded what her packing meant. She knew better.
‘What does it look like? I’m leaving. That’s what you want, isn’t it?’
‘Is it? That’s curiously astute of you, considering I don’t know what I’m feeling myself.’
Harsh laughter seared her throat. ‘Well, that’s just the problem, isn’t it? You’re happy to drift from wherever the wind takes you while pretending you’re in control of your destination.’
He inhaled sharply. ‘Excuse me?’
‘You’re not excused. Face your fears or throw down your sword, Jario. You can’t have it both ways. You’re still trapped in that cave but the only one keeping you there this time is you!’
Angry colour tinted his cheekbones as his eyes narrowed. ‘I know you delight in pushing my buttons but even you can see you’re seriously overstepping.’
True. But this was much more important. ‘Am I? Why did you ignore your mother’s emails? Because I was nothing for you to worry about ?’
His nostrils flared and silence bubbled between them before he responded. ‘Whether I do or not doesn’t matter.’
The lacerations on her heart grew wider. Deeper. ‘That’s crap and we both know that.’
‘Willow—’
‘Here we go. You’re about to issue some form of threat? A warning to watch my tongue? At the risk of sounding like a broken record, we’ve been there, done that. We both knew this was going to end one way or another.’
He sneered. ‘With you running back to your father?’
Her heart twisted harder. ‘Actually, no. If you want to know, being here with you has given me the clarity I need. I’m done with lies and indifference and accepting half-hearted crumbs of imitation love. I want the whole feast or nothing at all.’
His silence weighed heavy and as it lengthened, her despair grew. And grew.
Her fingers clenched around the flip-flops she’d just picked up. ‘There’s no need to watch me pack. I’ll be out of your hair in ten minutes.’
He exhaled heavily.
Cursing against the infernal compulsion, she glanced his way. He looked fierce, predictably, but also...shaken. Determined but bewildered.
This is really happening.
She’d fallen in love with this man somewhere between dropping to her knees to scrub his pristine deck and listening to his mournful voice as he narrated what had happened to break up his happy family.
Her heart had urged her to find him over and over on the nights when his demons had tormented him, to offer solace because it already knew it belonged to him.
That heart shrivelled now when unshakeable resolution settled onto his face. Unbending like the mountains soaring into the sky behind them. She knew as well as she knew her name that his resolve rested at the opposite end of what her heart yearned for.
Her heart may have chosen him, but Jario Tagarro was about to choose a path that didn’t include her.
‘Travel will be arranged for you. This thing was always on an extended pause.’
Her heart shrivelled even more and dropped to her toes. ‘This thing ? Tell me something. How do you feel about that?’
A tic throbbed at his temple. ‘Excuse me?’
‘You’ve been doing what you think your father wants. What you believe will make your mother happy. But what do you want, Jario? These last two weeks... I thought...’ She shook her head. ‘Why does one have to suffer for the other to be fulfilled?’
His expression wavered, rippling like a disturbed pond. Then it settled back to chilling stillness. ‘Do you know what you’re asking?’
The strings around her heart pulled with vicious yanks, until she feared they would be ripped to unsalvageable shreds. ‘You want me. But more than that, you need me.’ Her boldest declaration yet. The roaring echo in her ears said so.
The shocked flare of his eyes evidenced it further. But the power of his immutable will crushed it, as she’d feared he would. ‘You put too high a premium on yourself, pequena . You’re hard to resist, I accept, but you’re not entirely irresistible.’ His lips twisted as his eyes turned flinty. ‘Luckily, I’m used to doing hard things. Sometimes even the impossible.’
‘Commendable. But why do that if it’s unnecessary? Why deprive yourself of something that is...right here for you to take?’ Her voice shook as she stepped closer, offering herself with her heart on a platter.
A platter he stared down the blade of his nose at. And for the tiniest moment, he wavered. His Adam’s apple bobbed in a thick swallow.
Then his gaze flicked over her shoulder. There was nothing but the vast stretch of ocean behind her so she knew he was looking anywhere but at her. Avoiding her.
So she moved into his eyeline. ‘Look me in the eye when you respond, Jario.’
He may have flinched. Or it may have been her longing imagination that this affected him as much as it did her. Because when he deigned to reconnect his gaze, there was nothing but implacable resolution. ‘Whatever you thought you’d get at the end of this, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you. My mother’s visit may have been unscheduled but it’s also timely—’
‘Why, because you can safely hide behind her pain instead of moving forward?’
His face shuttered with a finality that struck true terror into her heart.
He doesn’t need you. He never did.
The searing realisation served an immediate purpose. It cauterised her bleeding heart, enough for her to lift her head and look him in the eye without crumbling. ‘I guess we’re done here.’
His gaze dropped to her belly, a flash of hunger and resolution etching into his face. ‘For now, at least. But if you are pregnant, we’ll see each other again.’