Those amazing eyes flashed for a moment before he turned his attention to slicing a stick of French bread.
‘You like to live dangerously, querida. We need to talk about your Smartphone. Where is it?’
Becca couldn’t help it, she pouted. ‘It’s upstairs.’
He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The look was enough.
When she returned with the device, he was sitting at the table, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of bread.
Lucas took it from her, slid off the rubber cover, pressed a button at the top of the phone and voila it lit up like a Christmas tree.
‘How was I to know the button was under the cover? How does that make sense?’ she demanded.
He ignored her and his attitude nipped her temper.
‘See these little red alerts? Those are my messages to you. Use the cursor to move to the message, press on the icon and scroll through them.’
Feeling a complete idiot Becca did as he said and sure enough found numerous emails and texts and missed calls.
‘Phone me,’ he said and pulled his own cell from his pocket.
She gave him a black look. ‘You’re sitting right in front of me.’
‘Do it.’
She thumbed over to the phone icon and pressed. He wasn’t completely satisfied until she’d sent and responded to a text.
His dark eyes stayed on hers as he spoke. ‘You have no excuse now not to return my calls and messages. I will speak to you every morning and I expect a response.’
Annoyance with herself and with his autocratic attitude made her voice sharp.
‘Stop treating me like a ten year old.’
‘A ten year old would have no issue with this device,’ he told her in a tone that made her cringe.
‘I don’t understand why companies can’t keep these things simple. I love my Nokia.’
‘It is life. Get used to it. Do you have a car?’
The change of subject had her blink at him.
‘Not in town. The cost of parking’s prohibitive.’
‘But you do drive?’ he asked in a tone that made her hand itch to smack him.
Stung, she glared at him. ‘Of course I drive. Why?’
Lucas gave his signature shrug.
‘I divide my time between here and my home in Spain. When we move there, you will need to drive or I can supply a driver.’
He was getting a bit ahead of himself, Becca decided as a panicky sense of her life spiralling out of control gripped her.
‘What if I don’t want to go to Spain? What about my work?’
His sculpted mouth thinned and the shutters came down over his eyes and she had no idea what he was thinking and she didn’t like it, not one little bit. The last time she’d seen that face was when he’d thought she was a married woman on the prowl. The scene they’d had in the hotel still made her blood run cold.
‘My father is anxious to meet you, querida.’
By the tone of his voice and the look in his eye, Lucas wasn’t looking forward to it she realised. She knew she wasn’t high society material. In spite of her mother’s high profile, Becca preferred life out of the public eye. From what she’d found on Google, Don Norberto was an older version of Lucas. Still attractive in his late sixties, he was a charismatic and powerful presence in the corporate world. He supported plenty of good causes too and might he expect his future daughter-in-law to play Lady Bountiful? She couldn’t do it.
‘I won’t give up my work.’ Anxiety made her voice too high and Lucas raised a brow at her tone.
‘No one has suggested you should. But at the moment you are not in a position to work full time. Have you spoken to Justin?’ Dark eyes, sharp now, studied her carefully.
She shook her head. ‘He might be out of the country.’
‘I get the distinct feeling he is temperamental?’
That was putting it mildly. But she wasn’t going to discuss her complex relationship with Justin with Lucas. There was too much mutual animosity and she didn’t want to get in the middle of it.
‘He’s a highly creative personality.’
And then there was the second anniversary of Rick and Lily’s funeral to deal with. The closer the date came, the darker her world seemed to become. Not that she could tell Lucas that. He’d done more than enough for her. He certainly didn’t need her dumping even more emotional baggage at his door.
‘Are you sure everything is okay?’ That voice was a low purr now and it shivered through Becca’s system as his eyes went dark and intense.
Deciding to stick to a neutral subject, she boosted a smile and gave him big eyes.
‘Of course everything is okay. The food smells amazing. Moira’s a gem.’
Lucas blinked at the change of subject. ‘She is.’
With her tongue firmly in her cheek, Becca grinned. ‘She tells me she used to change your nappies and has smacked your bottom.’
His grin matched hers now.
And his deep voice rumbled the reply, ‘Si, this is true.’
Resting her elbow on the table, Becca rested her chin on her hand.
‘How old is she?’
‘In her late fifties. John is sixty-two. He is ex-army and was papa’s bodyguard.’
A sense of unease tickled the base of Becca’s spine.
She sat up straight. ‘Bodyguard?’
Lucas rose to check the oven timer and turned to her.
‘Si, he looks after me these days.’
‘Why do you need a bodyguard?’
Her tone had him stare at her in surprise. ‘My family is wealthy, querida. It is wise to take precautions.’
She wondered if that was why Lucas insisted John drove her wherever she wanted to go. Becca didn’t like being kept in the dark and she realised that Lucas drip fed her information when and if it suited him.
The last few weeks she’d been cocooned and protected in his little world Becca realised. She hadn’t seen any of her dance friends and Justin had disappeared. She wondered if Lucas had warned him off. Perhaps she’d simply exchanged one control freak for another? Watching him take the food out of the oven and begin to spoon the hot pot into warmed chunky bowls, the stark reality of her situation hit her.
She’d absolutely no idea who Lucas Del Garda really was. And after his big words, he certainly wasn’t in a hurry to put a ring on her finger, was he? Her conscience told her she was not being at all fair to him but she shrugged it off.
Nibbling on her food, a myriad of thoughts crossed her mind. She needed to take control of her own life. The next appointment with the doctor was in four days. Hopefully her blood pressure will have stabilised. She’d done everything asked of her and the headaches had eased. Once she was well enough to travel, she’d go to France and take a long break from Lucas, from work and from Justin.
The last phone call she’d had from her mother filled her with unease. Amelie was worried and missing her daughter.
‘You are very quiet. What are you thinking?’
It never ceased to amaze her how tuned in Lucas was to her moods.
He’d spot a lie instantly, so she went with the truth. ‘I’m missing my mother.’
Again the little shrug before he gave his full attention to his food. ‘It is natural, querida.’
When they’d finished, he insisted she go into the TV room and relax, he had work to do.
As she channel surfed in front of a massive flat screen fixed to the wall, Becca decided the time had come to take back her life. The evils of her situation now too clear in her mind.
Who could blame her for being in shock about her pregnancy? But she’d let Lucas take over and she’d been happy to let him. The same thing had happened with Justin after Rick’s death. It appeared to be a recurring theme in her life these days and it needed to stop.
After all she was an adult for God’s sake.
She’d neglected what mattered for too long. Tomorrow she’d tidy the grave and make it ready for the second anniversary. It was
time to honour the years she’d had with Rick.
It was time to honour the dead.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The plane landed.
Two days after having dinner with Becca, Lucas checked the arrival screen at Heathrow. The Paris flight was on time. In the last forty-eight hours Becca had changed, become distant and no matter what he did he couldn’t reach her. Declining to use his driver, twice she’d taken a taxi and disappeared for hours and she refused point blank to answer her phone or reply to emails.
He’d never met anyone so fucking stubborn in his entire life.
She’d taken to sleeping separately from him saying she was feeling tired and out of sorts. And when he’d tried to talk her back to his bed, she’d resisted and almost broke him by what she’d worn to sleep in the spare room - Rick’s shirt.
It was clear she was hurting.
Lucas thought he knew why and had decided to do something about it.
The conversation with Amelie Babineaux early this morning did nothing to allay his concerns about Becca. Either her mother was a liar or her daughter had told her nothing about her circumstances. Considering how much Becca loved and missed her mother, none of it made sense.
When the woman appeared he could only stare. Amelie might be in her late-fifties but she still turned heads. Slim and an inch shorter than her daughter, her naturally blonde hair was streaked with silver and cut in a long bob under her chin enhancing the vivid blue of her eyes.
Those eyes impaled his as she moved with a quick, lithe grace towards him. Her reputation for not suffering fools along with a formidable temper was well-known. His attitude on the telephone to her hadn’t been friendly and he suspected he was about to receive the sharp end of her tongue.
She came to an abrupt stop in front of him and jerked up her chin. Yes, definitely annoyed.
Moving in a pre-emptive strike to take her hand, he pressed a chaste kiss to her fingertips.
‘You are almost as beautiful as Rebecca.’
Lucas didn’t miss the flash of approval and was pleased. He’d wondered if the mother was jealous of the daughter, he’d seen it often enough on the continent. Those blue eyes went thoughtful as she studied him from head to toe before withdrawing her hand from his.
‘And you have the look of your father, Lucas,’ she said, her French accent shimmering through English.
‘I had no idea you were acquainted with him.’
She’d turned to hand John her snazzy suitcase on wheels.
Now she slid Lucas a look that for some reason made him feel terribly uncomfortable.
They were settled in the car before she responded, ‘Unlike you, Juan is a gentleman.’ Her eyes met his and he read an absolute fury. ‘Perhaps you can explain why you spoke to me in such way?’
He didn’t flinch under the power of an incredible will.
‘I can do better than that, Madame Babineaux. I will show you.’
Her smooth brow creased now, but Amelie gave him a single nod. ‘Very well.’
They sat in icy silence for many minutes until the car eventually purred to a halt outside Becca’s apartment.
Lucas didn’t do guilt or have a conscience when it came to the greater good. He’d been perfectly happy to invade Becca’s bag and take her keys.
John held the car door open as Amelie exited like a Queen, her blue eyes concerned as she studied the elegant facade of the Victorian building. The wind still retained a bite even though it was early March and he watched her shiver in apprehension.
Without speaking Lucas led the way up the stairs.
He turned to her before he opened the door and switched on the light.
Gesturing for her to go first, he didn’t bother to hide the hard edge to his voice.
‘Perhaps you can explain to me why a loving mother would permit her daughter to live like this?’
Slowly Amelie Babineaux entered her daughter’s apartment.
She cleared her throat before continuing into the living space. Her gaze encompassing the room empty but for the glass table, four chairs and an oak bookcase before she poked her head into the kitchen space. She walked quickly back down the hall and threw open the door to the small bedroom and then the bathroom before joining Lucas.
Staring unseeing out of the grimy window, Lucas felt his temper jerk at the leash.
The sound of a stifled sob had him turn round.
Amelie stood, tears pouring unhindered down ashen cheeks.
On shaky legs, Amelie moved to the kitchen and filled the white plastic kettle.
She tore off kitchen roll to wipe her eyes trying to pull herself together. But what she found in the cupboards nearly broke her again. She knew what this was since she’d lived through it herself. This was depression. This was simply going through the motions rather than living. Why had she listened to Becca? Why had she listened to Justin who’d told her he’d look after Becca and that losing herself in work was just what her daughter needed? But she wouldn’t blame Justin, that was cowardly. No, Lucas was quite right; she had let her daughter down.
Like an automaton Amelie poured hot water into instant coffee and broke the habit of a lifetime by adding plenty of sugar to her coffee and to Lucas’s. The man looked as if he needed it. By his anger and the way he’d spoken to her this morning it was obvious Lucas was a man desperately, deeply, in love. And hoped he had the gift of patience, because he was going to need it.
She placed the white porcelain mugs on the glass table thick with dust. The old Becca had found joy in running a home. Her Victorian villa had sparkled with life, fresh flowers, polished surfaces and gleaming glass. The air perfumed with scented candles and the sound of music playing in the background. This was not her Becca. This place was a silent space empty of heart and soul.
‘She’s started sleeping in his shirts.’
The agony in Lucas’s voice made Amelie’s heart clench.
‘I did the same thing for many years after her father died. It comforted me.’ She lifted the cup and took a sip, more for something to do with her hands rather than anything else. ‘I had no idea she was living like this, Lucas. Justin assured me she was doing well and to leave her be. But that is no excuse. You are perfectly correct, I have let her down.’
‘He’s not returning her calls.’
Knowing perfectly well Lucas referred to that slimy snake of a man, Justin Cope, she gave a Gallic shrug of her shoulders. ‘He is a prima donna and I have heard his erratic behaviour is becoming worse instead of better.’
Anxiety was clear in Lucas’s dark eyes as they met hers.
‘Why does he have so much power over her?’
Since she’d often wondered exactly the same thing and had had plenty of time to consider the issue, she told him the simple truth.
‘They’ve been friends for many years. Being my daughter didn’t help since she was judged and found wanting. At least that is how she felt. It wasn’t true of course. She’s a creative genius. And she’s his ticket to success. When Becca was on top of her game their relationship was more evenly balanced. Believe it or not my daughter has a temper and she can give as good as she gets. However, things have changed. He’s taken control and she’s been happy to let him.’
Dark eyes blazed into hers. ‘And you let it happen?’
Amelie refused to admit that she’d tried and spectacularly failed to persuade her daughter that her dance partner was a lower form of life. Or that she’d alienated her daughter by being as stubborn as she was. Or that she’d lived to regret her behaviour.
‘Lucas, she’s twenty-eight years old, an adult who lives her own life and has made it clear that I’ve to, and I quote, butt out. What would you have me do?’
‘Do you know she works up to twelve hours a day?’
‘Oui, that is not unusual in a creative environment when the muse is flowing.’ She indicated the bleak surroundings. ‘She’s thrown herself into work to forget.’
‘She has missed you.’
&n
bsp; ‘I’ve missed her too. The positive thing to come out of all this is that she must cut back and rest. The best thing we can do for her is to keep her away from Justin until she’s able to think clearly.’
‘How did he handle Rick?’ Lucas wanted to know.
‘Rick’s priority was the next big IT project. He wasn’t a part of and didn’t understand our world. Justin never found him a threat.’ Her eyes met his and her chin lifted. ‘Can we please get out of here?’
As they descended the stairs, Amelie turned to Lucas.
‘You love her?’
She didn’t miss the bleak look in his eyes before he hooded his lids.
‘If I do, the person who should hear it first is Becca.’
For the first time she smiled. ‘You are very like your father, Lucas. And that is a compliment by the way.’
John opened the car door and she slid into the back seat.
‘Mama!’
In the entrance hall of Lucas’s townhouse, Becca flew down the last few steps into the open arms of her emotional parent. They embraced chattering in mercurial French that even had Lucas struggling to keep up. Any lingering doubts that these women didn’t love each other deeply were put to rest in his mind.
Lucas strolled through the house to the kitchen and found the usually unflappable Moira a nervous wreck having been primed by her husband that a superstar was on the way to their home.
‘I can’t believe Amelie Babineaux is in my house, in the flesh, in person.’
‘Ah, I forgot you are a ballet fan.’
She spun on him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me who Becca’s mother was? What’s she like?’
He opened his mouth, caught her eye and shut it. ‘A lovely lady.’
She nodded, chewing on her bottom lip as her brain raced. ‘I’m doing fish tonight and I’ll add a cheese course. The French like their cheeses.’
‘There will be four of us for dinner.’ He’d forgotten to mention it and expected a scold, but Moira simply bobbed her head.
‘No problem.’
He wandered back through the house wondering what had happened to his usually composed staff since Becca had come into their lives. Hearing music coming from the room Becca had turned into a practice studio; he changed direction and headed for it.
A Stormy Spring Page 16
