Chapter 4
Chapter Four
A fter Rome, we went to Venice where we stayed for one night. I repeated the same tours in Venice that I did every month for my guests, and sadly there was no time for any new adventures for me there.
Then we headed to Thorsteinn Castle where I had absolutely zero desire to see Count Thorsteinn this time. I was still trying to process the angry-sex thing I did with him on the last visit.
Once the guests were all sorted, I tiptoed around the castle like a petty thief—spying around corners and scurrying up stairwells, praying I’d go unnoticed. It crushed me that I wouldn’t be able to relax into my favorite bath. So, I filled in my time by giving my gift to Katrin—a crystal jewel box that would look lovely on her antique dresser; helping my group choose costumes for the fancy dress banquet; and, with a few hours to spare, I offered to show Roman around the castle, staying well away from Count Thorsteinn’s section in the keep.
Just like in Rome, as we strolled around the castle and I mentioned one interesting fact after the next, Roman seemed to hang off every word I said.
At the top of one of the turrets, we paused to peer between two merlons that had once protected soldiers from flaming arrows. Our view was spectacular, encompassing the mountain ranges in the distance and the castle walls in the foreground. I rested my elbows on the ancient brick and leaned over to look into the moat below us. Roman joined me, and in the mirrored water four stories down, our reflections appeared.
“It’s kind of surreal to be here. Isn’t it?”
Roman nodded. “Yeah. I’m so lucky to be doing this.”
“Hmmm.” I was too—until it was all over and there was nothing that could replace it. Nothing.
Shrugging off the brutal reality, I pushed back and led Roman along the battlement. At the end, we entered a spiral staircase. The dinner bell suddenly sounded and I cried out. Luckily, I was hanging onto the rail or I would have tumbled right to the bottom of the stairs. When it stopped, I looked up at Roman. “Bloody hell. That scared the shit out of me.”
“Me too.”
“I guess that’s the end of our tour.”
He grinned, all mischievous and sexy. “Where do I leave my tip?”
Well, Mr. Perfect, I can be sexy right back at ya . “You can slot it into my bodice later.” I spun on my heel.
“I may well do that.”
I slapped my own ass. “I expect nothing short of a twenty.”
His deep chuckle bounced off the castle’s stone walls. “You’re a bit cheeky.”
“Bite me.”
“I may well do that too.”
Bursting into laughter, I turned the corner and headed up the stairs toward my room with images of his gorgeous cherry-popsicle lips playfully nipping at my neck. But I didn’t cast it away. I played the image over and over like one of those silly memes on repeat.
Roman was permanently embedded in my brain. Hell, he was in my soul. And there was not a damn thing I could do about it. I’d just have to ride that wave until I left Europe for good. Then I’ll deal with that mess.
And it would be one hell of a mess.
That night, dressed in the red satin gown with the killer lace-up bodice that Katrin had helped me into, I regained my place at the banquet table next to Roman. And I felt like we were the king and queen overlooking our disciples.
During dinner, we laughed a lot. Not silly giggles like Lydia did. I laughed till my belly hurt. The lesbians kept us entertained with their witty jokes and hilarious mimicking skills. Those two could copy any accent and when they impersonated Roman—flicking their hands through their hair and exaggerating his sexy accent—oh Lordy, I thought I was going to pee my pants.
They did my Aussie accent perfectly, pretending to boss all the men around like I occasionally did on tour. I’d have loved to have even an ounce of the charisma that those two had.
I was good with the alcohol—I had enough to bring out my sassy side, but not so much that I risked a repeat of the boob-squish incident.
It was nearing the end of the night when my phone buzzed. I’d positioned it in front of my plate so I could see the screen. I didn’t recognize the number. My heart skidded to a halt .
I stared at the phone. Could this be the call I’ve been dreading?
Is Mother about to take her final breath? Or is she already dead?
Roman placed his hand on my forearm, snapping me back to the present. “Are you going to answer that?”
Numb with fear, I nodded. Clutching the phone, I stood and forced my legs to take me out of the banquet hall. In the ancient stone-lined hallway, with my back against the wall, I swiped the phone to answer. “Hello. This is Daisy.”
“Good morning, Daisy. This is Doctor McLean from the St George Hospital in Sydney.”
“Oh, God.” A Mack truck of emotions drove through my chest. “Is Mom . . . is she—” I couldn’t say the words that were careening through my brain.
“She’s fine.” Doctor McLean was calm, possibly even amused by my quivering words.
I sucked in a shaky breath. “Oh, okay then.” Just swallowing hurt—like jagged rocks were embedded in my throat. “What can I do for you?”
“Actually, it’s what you can do for your mother.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and the image of my mother’s gaunt appearance flashed into my brain. “Does she need money?”
He made a noise like he was utterly exhausted, and I imagined he made these types of calls nearly every day. “That’s not important right now. She needs you.”
I snapped my eyes open. “Did she ask you to ask me that?”
“Yes, she said you didn’t understand the extent of her cancer.”
Once again, Mother had managed to sweet-talk another doctor into this phone call. “I understand perfectly, Doctor McLean. As I have already told Doctor Alberts, I can’t just pop in to say hi because I live and work in Europe. I’m in Austria right now and it’s nearly midnight. I have already told Mother I will be there just after Christmas when my visa expires.”
“Hmmm.” He went silent, and I wondered if he was in the same room as Mother, looking into those eyes that could get many a man to do what she wanted.
Yet I found my resolve crumbling. I inhaled a slow breath, trying to steady my wobbly throat. Pierced by a sadness that was as confusing as it was unwanted, I said, “How bad is she, Doctor?”
He sighed, and it was a heavy sigh, convincing me that she was indeed in the same room as him. “Patricia is in the metastatic stage of her breast cancer. We are giving her the best care.” He paused, and I heard him walking. I assumed it was to leave Mother’s bedside so she couldn’t listen to his side of the conversation. “Daisy, I’m sorry to tell you this over the phone, but your mother doesn’t have very long to live.”
A knot burned in my throat, making it hard to breathe. I squeezed my eyes shut and images of Mother flickered across my mind like a broken 8mm film: Mother drinking straight from a wine bottle as she danced in the sand; Mother lifting her skirt and giggling as she ran through a puddle; Mother smiling; crying; laughing; passed out drunk. Clinging onto that final image, I asked, “How long?”
“Days. Weeks. There is no answer to that, I’m afraid.”
I opened my eyes and Roman was right there, his face crumbling with distress. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around me. And with my hand clinging the phone to my ear, he pulled me to his chest. His heart thumped in my other ear—a regular beat, so out of tempo with my own thundering heart.
A sob crawled through my chest, but I held it back. My chin trembled, but I fought it. “Thank you for calling, Doctor McLean.” A tear trickled down my cheek. I flicked it away, angry that Mother still had that effect on me. She didn’t deserve my compassion. She didn’t deserve my distress. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I need to sort some things out.”
“May I tell your mother that you are coming?”
“I already told her I was.”
“Okay, Daisy, but I would advise you not to wait long.”
I jabbed the red button, hanging up the call, and that wretched sob burst from my throat. And I hated myself for it. Mother meant nothing to me.
“Hey, Dais.” Roman curled his hand over my hair, down my back. “Is your mamma okay?”
Looking up at him was the worst thing I could have done. He too was distraught. Mother did not deserve his compassion either. I nodded, unable to speak.
“She hasn’t . . .” His eyes were filled with fear.
“No. No. She’s . . . she’s fine.” My throat constricted till I could barely breathe, and I fought the emotion—fought it so hard my stomach burned.
“Oh, Dais.”
The way he said my name, loaded with all the sympathy in the world, had tears pooling in my eyes. He tugged me to his chest, and I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the tears down once more. I did not need to cry for the woman who’d treated me like garbage for years.
I was angry with myself. Angry and annoyed and confused. She didn’t deserve me, and she sure as shit didn’t deserve Roman. I sucked in a breath and bit down my emotions.
Pulling back from him, I looked up. The concern in his eyes melted my heart. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for? She’s your mother. Of course, you’re going to cry. ”
I started to shake my head, but he grabbed my hand. “Come to my office.”
Wiping away the annoying tears, I allowed him to lead me along the corridor. “You have an office?”
He stopped at the doorway to the castle library and flicked on the lights. “Yep. My office.”
Half laughing, my spirits lifted as I walked into the room and inhaled the musky scent of century-old books and the well-worn leather of the overstuffed lounges dotted around the room.
“Come on. Over here.” He led me to the sofa nestled next to a mahogany coffee table adorned with a stunning lamp depicting white lilies and a couple of black swans in an embrace. “Sit.”
Doing as he instructed, I slipped into cool leather and hugged a cushion to my chest. Roman sat beside me, our thighs touching. Our hands wove together like this was something we did every day.
God, I loved him.
My heart stopped. It was so foolish to admit that. But I felt it so strongly. Stronger than anything I’d felt in my whole life. I felt it so deeply it burned to the depth of my soul. I wanted to ooze into the sofa and disappear forever.
He squeezed my hand. “Tell me what happened.”
There was no point trying to squirm out of this one. He was as skillful as Zali when it came to getting information out of me. I huffed a sigh. “That was Mother’s doctor on the phone. It’s really bad.” I relayed the doctor’s prognosis, nearly word for word. “She may not live for much longer.”
“You have to go to her.” He wiped my cheek with his fingers. It was a featherlight touch, but it had the ache around my heart strangling me.
I blinked up at him. Barely able to form words, I said, “But?— ”
“Once she’s gone . . .” He shook his head. “You’ll regret it if you don’t see her.”
I eased back. “No, I won’t.”
“I think you will.”
“Roman.” I pleaded with my eyes, wanting him to understand yet at the same time, knowing that was impossible. We were so different. Our childhoods were worlds apart. “You have no idea of the things she’s done to me.”
With eyes loaded with curiosity he blinked at me. “So, tell me.”
My shoulders sagged and my soul wept. I wanted to. I wanted him to know everything about me, yet I also wanted to run away and never think of him again. Finally, I said, “We’d be here till Christmas.”
He tilted his head and glanced down at me with that sisterly love look that melted my heart in ways that it shouldn’t.
It was the slap I needed to lure me out of my fog. I released my hand from his grip and shoved a curl from my eyes. “We should go to bed.”
His eyes widened.
“Me, alone, by myself. Not with you. Definitely not us together.” Oh, faaark. I was a rambling idiot. “On that note.” I pushed to standing. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ever the gentleman, Roman escorted me to my room. He unhooked the bodice of my dress for me, and it wasn’t even close to being erotic. Which was good. And bad. But mostly good.
With my arm over my chest, clutching the satin over my nakedness, I smiled up at him. “Thank you.”
“Any time. I hope you know that, Daisy.” He offered a lopsided smile, and my heart soared.
I am so much in love with him it hurts. One hundred percent, head-over-heels in love. “Why are you so nice to me?”
He cupped my cheek, and I leaned into the warmth of his hand. “I told you—because I really like you.”
My heart thumped in my chest as I looked into Roman’s gorgeous honey eyes. “I really like you too.” But it was much more. So much more that my heart hurt.
When he smiled at me, I had a crazy feeling he knew how I felt. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All I wanted him to do was kiss me. No, I wanted it all. I wanted us to spend the night. I wanted us to be together. Forever.
But most of all, I wanted an absolute sign that he felt the same way. I waited, my heart pounding in my ears. When he withdrew his hand from my cheek and cleared his throat, I wanted to crawl into a ball and cry my eyes out.
We said goodnight, and his shoes echoing off the stone-lined walls as he walked away was the loneliest sound ever. Yet again, I was all alone.
I took a long shower, and as the hot needles of water stabbed at my flesh, my stupid mind wandered to my mother.
Will I get to see her while she is still alive?
Or is she destined to die alone?
It was the one thing Mother had hated the most . . . being alone. Maybe this was karma dealing out a cruel hand, making her suffer.
Mother always wanted company. Any company would do. Especially if it was in the form of a man . . . a man willing to show her affection. She hadn’t wanted my company though. Nor that of the man who’d pretended to be my father, Rob.
An unprecedented thought blazed an untrodden path through my brain. Why did Rob hang around? If he wasn’t my father, and had known that all along, why had he stayed? They’d fought a lot, often hating the sight of each other. And they’d never showed any affection. Sometimes Rob had gone away for days on end. But up until my fourteenth birthday, he’d always come back.
Why?
As I was toweling off after the shower, the answer hit me like a wrecking ball.
Mother had something over him.
And whatever it was, it had to be something huge.