‘Yes—no.’ His mouth twisted, his fingers curling around the towel. ‘It just seemed like you were worried about him and David and their feelings and not about me.’
‘That’s not true.’ She breathed out shakily. ‘I do care about you. But you don’t want me to.’
His hands stilled and for a moment he stared at her in silence. Then he said flatly, ‘You’re a good person.’
She stared at him uncertainly. ‘Not really. It’s easy to do the right thing for love.’
‘Love?’ He frowned, his gaze suddenly intent.
She felt her face grow warmer. ‘I meant for David. I love my brother.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’d do anything for him. For any of my family. That’s what matters to me.’
Not that Rollo would ever understand that, she thought wearily. Other than a few offhand remarks, he’d barely discussed his childhood, and his careless exploitation of her relationship with David suggested that family meant nothing to him.
But, glancing over at his face, she felt her heart start to pound. She had expected derision or incomprehension, coldness or anger. But instead he looked stricken.
And suddenly she understood.
‘It matters to you too.’
His head jerked up, his eyes widening like an animal’s, poised for fight or flight, and instinctively she lowered her voice.
‘That’s why you want that building, isn’t it?’
Her breath caught in her throat as his gaze fixed past her, at some unseen point in the distance. But she knew where he was looking. She’d seen the picture on his desk.
He nodded slowly but didn’t reply, and for a moment they stood in silence like actors in the wings, waiting for their cue.
Then finally, he nodded again. ‘I used to live there. A long time ago.’
It sounded like the beginning of a fairy tale. But she knew from the strain in his voice that his story would have no happy ending.
‘With your parents?’ she prompted gently.
He nodded. ‘My father wasn’t a practical man, but he had ideas. And passion. That’s how he met my mother. He was working at a country club as a groundsman and he saw her with her parents. And just like that he knew she was the one. So he cut all the roses he could find and when he gave them to her he asked her to marry him.’
He gave Daisy a small, tight smile.
‘He lost his job. But he didn’t care because she said yes.’
She nodded, wondering how a smile could be so sad. ‘That’s so romantic. They must have been very happy.’
His smile tightened. ‘He was.’ He paused, his eyes bleak. ‘My mother not so much. After they got married, they moved to the city. It was hard. My father didn’t earn much, and his “ideas” used up all her trust fund. She hated not having money—hated living from day to day. But then when I was about ten, and my sister Rosamund was four, he got a really good job.’
Daisy stared at him in shock. Sister! She had thought he was an only child. But now that he was finally talking so openly she dared not interrupt.
‘It was good money, and he rented an apartment for us. It wasn’t huge, or fancy. But for the first time my mother was happy. We all were. There was even a playground, with swings and slides, and I used to take Rosamund there all the time. My mom would cook and we’d have dinner as a family and then we’d play cards. It was perfect.’
Her heart contracted at the wonder in his voice. ‘What happened?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. She’d be okay for maybe a month or two, and then she’d start coming home late. Missing meals. Then she’d pack her bags. Threaten to leave.’
Remembering his face when he’d found her with her suitcase, Daisy felt a pang of misery. No wonder he’d reacted so furiously. It must have reminded him of other times—other suitcases.
‘And did she?’ she said in a small voice.
‘No. My father would buy her some gift, or take her out to dinner, and she’d be happy again. He spent so much money trying to make her happy. And then one day they came to the apartment.’
‘Who came?’ She held her breath, waiting for the answer, even though she knew what it would be.
‘The bailiffs.’ His face was harder than stone. ‘It turned out my father had lost his job months earlier, only he hadn’t wanted to tell her. We had to move out. There and then. In front of all the neighbours.’
She swallowed. Her eyes were burning, but not with anger. ‘I’m so sorry, Rollo.’
His shoulders were rigid. ‘The first time was the worst. Like everything else, it got easier with practice.’
His matter-of-fact tone as much as the implication of his words made her stomach clench painfully, and she had to grit her teeth to stop the tears in her eyes from falling.
‘My mother couldn’t bear it. She left the week before my thirteenth birthday.’
This time the effort in his smile was too painful to witness and she glanced away, feeling slightly sick.
‘There was a note. She blamed my father for being fired, wasting their money, losing the apartment. For ruining her life. I’d heard it all before. But seeing it written down was a lot worse.’
He frowned.
‘My dad took it very badly. He felt completely responsible, and he became obsessed with getting the apartment back. He thought if he did, that she’d come home. So he worked and worked. And then one day he collapsed. He was in hospital for a couple of weeks. And then he died.’
His mouth twisted, and without thinking she stepped forward and gripped his hands with hers.
He glanced down at her with a sort of angry bewilderment. ‘He made me promise I’d get the apartment back. You see, he still loved her.’
‘And you will,’ she said firmly. ‘We will.’
His eyes searched her face. ‘After everything I’ve done and said, you still mean that?’
She nodded. ‘I do.’
I do.
Her words danced inside her head and she stared past him dazedly. Behind the skyscrapers the sun was shining like a golden orb. But it was dull and shadowy in comparison to the sudden blazing realisation that burst into her head like a comet.
She loved him.
Her chest felt hot and tight. Surely she must be mistaken. But no matter how many ways she tried to deny or dispute it she knew she was right. She loved him. Why else would she care so much about his happiness? His dreams. His future.
Only she couldn’t think about that now—much less share it with Rollo.
Stepping forward, she slid her arms around him, and after a moment he pulled her close, gripping her tightly. She felt his lips brush against her hair.
‘I’m sorry. For what I said and what I didn’t say.’
Tipping her head back, she met his gaze. ‘It doesn’t matter. So what happened afterwards? To your mother?’
She saw the reluctance in his eyes, felt the sudden rigidity in his arms, but after a moment, his muscles loosened.
‘I haven’t seen or spoken to her for seventeen years. She writes to me, but I don’t read the letters. There’s no point. Nothing she can say would change what she did.’
Daisy nodded. His words were an echo of what he’d said to her in the limo. He’d been lying then and she knew he was lying now. Only it didn’t seem like the right time to point that out.
‘But wouldn’t your father have wanted her to know about the apartment?’ she said carefully. ‘For her to know how much he loved her?’
‘She knew,’ he said tersely. ‘My mother left because she was having an affair. She didn’t care about my father. She didn’t care about me. And she didn’t care about the apartment. When she walked out she took what she wanted and left everything else behind. Including me.’
Something shifted in his expression and just for a second she could see the hurt defiance of the boy who’d been abandoned. Helplessly she squeezed his arm. As an actress, she knew how powerful words could be. But what words were there that could undo this kind of damage?
‘Maybe she was going
to come back later, when she was settled somewhere,’ she said haltingly. ‘Nobody would want to take a child away from its home.’
‘That might depend on the child.’ His face was contorted; he sounded drained, defeated.
‘She took my sister, so maybe she only really wanted a daughter.’
Daisy breathed in sharply. Suddenly it all made sense.
Thinking back to their first meeting in his office, she felt her stomach clench. He’d been angry—rightfully so, considering he’d just caught her breaking into his office—and she’d assumed his fury would dissipate. But she’d been wrong. Instead it had stayed constant, dark and churning beneath the surface, swift to rise up. And accompanied by a resistance—a refusal to let slip the mask he wore...that hard, smooth golden mask of absolute control.
And now she understood why.
He didn’t trust anyone. He didn’t believe in love or believe he was worthy of loving. That was why he was scared to commit and care—and why he’d arranged to marry a stranger.
Pain skewered her heart. She stared at him in silence, knowing, feeling, loving him. All of him. Especially his angry teenage self. She loved that Rollo as much as, if not more than, the gilded billionaire.
Desperately she searched for something to say—some words that would take the pain from his eyes and the aching misery from his voice. Words that would explain his mother’s actions and make him feel better about himself.
But sometimes actions spoke louder than words. And, wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him gently.
CHAPTER TEN
SHIFTING BACK IN his seat, Rollo gazed down at his desk, his green eyes narrowing as they focused on the dossier in front of him. Pictured on the smooth, laminated cover was the building of his dreams. It had always been out of his reach, either through lack of finance or lately because of James Dunmore’s persistent and frustrating refusal to sell. But, undeterred by the obstacles in his path, he had pursued it relentlessly. And now, the final hurdle was in sight.
Leaning forward, he ran his hand over his company’s logo and breathed out softly. Tomorrow he would meet with Dunmore at his Hamptons home to discuss the sale. It was nothing short of a miracle.
And it was all down to Daisy.
Without her he would still be struggling with his image as a serial philanderer. But now his legendary lack of commitment had been rebooted—rebranded as merely the symptom of a man desperately seeking that one special woman with whom to share his life.
As far as everyone was concerned—particularly Dunmore—that woman was Daisy.
Only he knew better.
He knew it was a sham.
Or that was what it was supposed to be.
Lately though, the distinction between reality and pretence felt increasingly hazy and obscure.
He frowned. At first he’d assumed it was a consequence of cohabitation. Now though, his assumption that he could enforce any kind of boundary seemed naive, laughable. Not only had Daisy sneaked past every barrier he’d built between himself and the world, but the devastating sexual attraction they shared had effectively eroded the line between their private and public relationship.
A muscle twitched in his jaw. And now he was losing control of more than just his body. He’d never discussed his private life with anyone before, much less his past. Yet yesterday, with Daisy, he’d turned into some kind of talk-show guest. He’d told her everything—every humiliating little detail.
And she’d listened to each and every word as though it mattered. As though he mattered. And the fact that she’d done that blew his mind almost as much as her admission that he no longer needed to blackmail her into staying. Given how he’d treated her, it was more than he deserved.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He’d been so ruthless—callously exploiting her love for David to get his own way. What kind of man would do that? And how would he feel if someone treated Rosamund with such contempt and disregard?
His chest grew tight.
He’d buried the pain of the past for so many years, but now all of a sudden he couldn’t stop thinking about his mother and sister. Picturing Rosamund, her eyes widening with delight as he pushed her on the swing, he gritted his teeth. His anger had made it easy to concentrate on the bad but it was much harder to brush aside happy memories.
However thinking about the past was pointless. There was nothing he could do to change it. The only change that mattered right now was the fact that finally Dunmore was willing to talk terms.
Pushing back his chair, he picked up the dossier and walked purposefully across his office. Every step was bringing him closer to keeping his promise. He should be feeling excited...elated.
And yet all he could think about was what would happen afterwards.
When the contracts were signed.
And when Daisy was extraneous to his life.
* * *
Stepping out of the limousine onto the smooth paved driveway in front of Swan Creek, Daisy stopped dead. Rollo’s apartment had been a shocking and awe-inspiring revelation of how the other half lived. The Dunmores’ Hamptons home took that shock and awe and magnified it tenfold. It was so immense, so impressive, so imposing, that for a moment she wondered if she was actually dreaming.
But then Rollo’s hand slid over hers and she knew she was awake.
‘I know it doesn’t look like it,’ he said softly, glancing up to where James Dunmore and his wife, Emily, stood smiling on the steps. ‘But to them it’s home. Like the penthouse is our home.’
The warmth of his hand matched the warmth in his voice—and the warmth in her heart when he’d said ‘our home.’
Since Rollo had confided in her about his past she had found it almost impossible to stop thinking about his mother’s behaviour and its devastating impact on her son.
She had thought he wanted the building for profit, or simply to satisfy some baffling masculine need to conquer a business rival. Instead it was all about keeping a promise to his father.
Her throat swelled. Finally she was beginning to understand what had made him the way he was, and everything looked different now. His reticence was no longer a flaw but a teenage boy’s perfectly understandable response to being abandoned by his mother. And beneath his ruthless exterior there was a man who was capable of loyalty and love. A man she wanted to get to know so much better.
But she still hadn’t told him that her feelings had changed.
So many times over the last few days she’d been on the verge of saying something—words had jostled inside her head, eloquent and clumsy, euphoric and tentative, all jumbling together so that it had been an effort to speak normally at all.
And an impossibility to declare her love.
But maybe that was for the best.
She knew how hard it had been for Rollo to reveal his past. Right now, faced with the chance to make a deal with Dunmore and make good on his promise, what he needed to do was focus on the present.
So, smiling up at him, she gripped his hand more tightly and together they walked up the steps towards their hosts.
Emily Dunmore was as delightful as her husband, and Daisy quickly forgot the grandeur of her surroundings.
‘James tells me that you met Rollo at his office?’
They were having coffee in the sun-soaked garden behind the main house.
‘I did.’ Daisy smiled at the older woman. ‘I was waitressing at one of his parties.’
‘I was working as a hotel receptionist when I met James. He was a guest, and I thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen.’ Emily glanced across at her husband, her eyes gleaming. ‘And the most objectionable!’
Everyone burst out laughing.
‘He kept extending his stay. Every day, another night. Only he wouldn’t look me in the eye when he talked to me. And he was so officious. I was spitting mad.’
Shaking his head, James leaned over and took his wife’s hand. ‘I was only supposed to stay one night, but I couldn’t take m
y eyes off her. I knew she was the one. Only I’d hardly even spoken to a woman outside of my family, and this goddess at the front desk clearly thought I was repulsive. So I thought I’d try and impress her with my natural authority.’
He groaned.
Daisy laughed. ‘What happened?’
‘I made a complete fool of myself for ten days and then I left.’
‘What?’ Daisy frowned. ‘Why didn’t you ask her out?’
James shook his head. ‘I was too scared. I walked out of that hotel and got on a bus and went two thousand miles across the country to San Francisco.’
‘That’s so far away...’ Daisy said slowly.
His face creased. ‘I didn’t have a choice. My dad had got me a job working for a friend in the construction business. It was all set up.’
Emily’s fingers tightened around her husband’s hand. ‘I thought I hated him. But I’d got used to having him around, and every time I looked up I thought he’d be there—only he wasn’t.’ The older woman glanced across at Daisy, sadness clouding her eyes. ‘I must have cried for a week.’
James stared affectionately at his wife. ‘I didn’t cry. I did something far worse. I resigned after five weeks. I got another bus and went all the way back across the country and walked into that hotel and got down on one knee. I couldn’t speak, I was so choked up—’
‘But I knew what he was asking, and I was so happy I burst into tears.’
There were tears in Daisy’s eyes too. But, glancing over at Rollo, she felt her body stiffen. He alone was dry-eyed, and there was a strange expression on his face she couldn’t interpret.
Later, after lunch, the Dunmores retired, claiming tiredness and old age. But Daisy suspected it was their way of giving their young guests some space. Or maybe they still liked spending time alone, she thought wistfully as she and Rollo stretched out on the pristine white sand of the estate’s private beach.
‘It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?’ she said softly.
A light breeze was blowing in across the ocean, and behind them clumps of grass quivered on the dunes beneath the hot afternoon sun.
He shrugged. ‘It’s not as beautiful as you.’
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