She scanned his face, desperate for him to deny it and fight back. But his full lips simply opened a little wider as though he was looking for words. But for once the lips she could kiss all day and never be satisfied were still.
‘And I fell right into your trap, didn’t I? I cannot believe that I actually showed you my own family photographs.’ She looked up into his face and swallowed down hard. ‘I have told you things about my family that only Helen and my mother know. Oh, Leo, I hope all this is worth it.’
Her lips were trembling so much Sara wondered that she could even form the words through the pain in her throat. Tears were streaming down her face.
‘I thought you were better than that. I thought you were someone who knew their own worth and did not need validation from other people—it seems I was wrong about that too.’
He flung back his head and raised both hands in the air, breaking away from her and stepping back, his face twisted into disbelief and resentment.
‘Do you really think that I am so shallow that I would seek you out and pretend that I didn’t know who you were, just to see what juicy bits of information I could use to impress my aunt? Are you serious? Do you truly believe that I would use you like that?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘That is exactly what I think. You want to walk into your family party and score as many points as you can in the prestige status game and don’t you dare try to deny it because I can see it in your face.’
She grasped onto the back of the nearest chair because her legs were wobbling so badly she thought she might collapse. Suddenly she was finding it hard to breathe. Her heart was begging him to convince her that she could not be more wrong.
‘Sara! That was unfair. The spa is the best commercial option to make the hotel viable. Just as moving a few miles away and starting up again is your best option. Perhaps you are the one who was not willing to take the risk and move out of your comfort zone and your safe little cottage and get on with changing your life!’
His voice was sad and hard and bitter—and her voice sounded worse.
They were arguing, and she felt sick.
‘I did take a risk. Leo. I took a risk on you! I trusted you, and you lied to me and you used me to get the information needed to impress your family. Is this what it comes to, Leo? Because if this is your world, I want nothing to do with it. Or you.’
‘Now what? You plan to walk home? Sara! I’ll take you back to the cottage if that’s what you want. Stop being such an idiot! You can’t afford to let some sentimental attachment to the past or to people come between you and your business decision. Trust me. I know. You have to put that all behind you now and move on.’
‘Trust you?’ She stared at him, her mouth slightly open. ‘Yes, I have been an idiot. I was stupid enough to believe that you actually cared about me and wanted to help, and now I know the truth. And I am right back to where I always am. Unloved and alone, just when I thought someone cared about me enough not to walk away. Well, don’t worry about tomorrow. You truly are a Rizzi—and in the worst possible way. Your grandfather will be very proud of you. Why shouldn’t he? You are just as ruthless as he is.’
But, instead of facing her and answering her accusations, Leo turned and walked away from her, flung the windows open wide and stormed the few steps out onto the balcony; his powerful muscular body that she had held against her, so tenderly warm only a few minutes earlier, now seemed as hard and as cold as the ancient stones.
And in an instant everything she had worked for over the past three years was blown away as dust and trampled underfoot.
All that sacrifice! All those exhausted, sleepless nights she had spent worrying about not having the money in time.
And for what?
Her grandmother was gone—her dream lost for ever. And now she was about to lose the nursery and her heritage.
And where did that leave her?
‘Thank you for your offer of help,’ she whispered, ‘but I need to do this on my own. You are going back to your life. So don’t worry about me,’ she whispered. ‘You have such a bright future with your important family and that’s all that matters, isn’t it? Proving that you are worthy of their approval? Well, good luck with that. I’m sure they will love you for putting business before some foolish sentimental nonsense about people and heritage. Pity. I thought you actually had the courage to stand up for yourself… And for me, but it looks like I was wrong about that—wrong about a lot of things.’
Suddenly she stepped back and reached into her bag for the tiny package she had wrapped so carefully in tissue and ribbon and left it on the table next to their untouched meal.
‘Thank you for your help, Mr Grainger. This is yours now. And I wish I had never kept it.’
Sara soaked in one final dose of the vision of his enchanting body, picked up her bag, turned her back on him and tried to leave. Only her feet refused to move and she felt dizzy and exhausted.
She could stay.
She could surrender to the need and admiration for all of the other wonderful and totally unexpected aspects that made Leo who he was. She could do that—and go right back to the girl she had been only a few days earlier when she went to the hotel to celebrate Helen’s party.
So much had changed in her life since then. She should be grateful to Leo for helping her to change. Leo had made her stronger. And more determined than ever.
Simply the profile of him standing on the balcony in front of her with the sunset framing his head was a picture frozen in time that she knew would stay with her for ever. How ironic that it was her old bedroom in her old home. The old Sara would have jumped at him and apologised for being so silly.
No more.
‘Goodbye, Leo. You got what you came for. I hope your meeting brings you happiness.’
He flinched once but did not turn and beg her forgiveness or ask her to stay. And she was not going to ask him.
She was tired of all the compromises she had made over the years to win the approval of people she cared about.
Which was why she silently took a grip on her clutch bag, gave him one final sideways glance, then turned her back on him and walked through the door and down the candlelit corridor towards the elevator which would carry her back to her life.
Some of the candles had blown out. Others were flickering in the breeze from the open door to her room.
If Leo Grainger truly needed her in his life then he was going to have to prove it was for the right reasons—or not at all.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SARA yawned widely, jammed the telephone between her chin and her shoulder blade and started loading the collection of blush pink and cream orchids into protective sleeves inside the delivery crates she had dragged out of the rain into her potting shed office at some silly hour of the morning.
The sunny weather had changed during the long night into light showers. She had watched the droplets fall in the dawn light, refreshing the parched soil but not enough to top up her rainwater barrels.
‘Did she say what shade of pink she was looking for?’ Sara asked while struggling with a double-spiked plant. ‘Hot pink or more of a pale pink?’
She stopped working, took control of the telephone and pressed her finger and thumb to the bridge of her nose. The florist was tearing her hair out at the number of times this bride’s mother had changed her mind about the flowers only days before the ceremony. The orchids needed to be loaded into Mitzi and with the florist that morning or there would not be a bouquet or wedding flowers at all.
‘Now calm down,’ Sara said, trying not to panic or give in to the fact that she had only had two hours’ sleep that night and most of that was in snatches of a few minutes at a time. ‘I’m going to bring three shades of pink and plenty of the ivory with the pink centres just in case she goes back to the first idea and wants a single colour bouquet. Be with you in twenty minutes and we can sort it all out on Monday. No problem.’
No problem. Sara returned the phone to the charg
er, closed her eyes and dropped her head onto the surface of the desk, then realised that the pile of papers which usually cushioned the blow was missing.
Drat Leo Grainger for forcing her to clear up and file and sort and organize while they were searching for the garden designs. At this rate she might actually be able to find things and have desk space to work on.
Providing, of course, she had work to do at all. One medium-sized greenhouse was not enough to supply florists and hotels all through the year. Especially with the prospect of a huge spa building blocking out the natural light and ventilation, to say nothing of the view out of her kitchen window.
She sucked in a breath and sat back in her chair and let her head fall back.
Leo. He would probably be having his breakfast in the hotel now. No doubt planning his presentation which would knock the socks off the family who had failed him.
Oh, Leo. He had only been gone a few hours and she already missed him so much it was like a physical pain when she thought about it.
All during the long night she had half expected her doorbell to ring and his familiar face to be there, asking her to give him another chance.
Stupid girl. Just another way of punishing herself.
Her heart contracted at the mental picture she created in her mind of his strong lithe body dressed in nothing more than boxers, strolling around his hotel room like the male lion he was named after. Master of all he surveyed, proud and powerful.
She could walk over to the hotel in five minutes and be right back in his arms again.
She had done it again—she had handed over responsibility for her future to another person—and she had fallen into the same trap and the same habits, just like before. She had given her love and her trust to someone who was capable of destroying her in the simple act of walking away, taking her hopes and her dreams with him as he went.
Her dad, her ex-boyfriend and now Leo Grainger.
What made it even worse was that she had spent the night tossing and turning and thinking through everything Leo had told her about herself. And he had been right about so many things that it infuriated her.
It was her decision to hand power over to other people in the vain hope that it would buy their love and approval. Hers. Nobody else’s.
She had worked so hard to do what they asked her to do and in the end it had not been enough. She had seen the pattern too late to save herself from letting her grandmother down, and she would never forgive her mother for that.
Sara’s eyes fluttered open and she blinked away her tiredness and tears. The newspaper clipping on the wall seemed to mock her. Businesswoman of the Year? What a joke.
She was a joke.
She had turned into a silly girl who was trying to prove a point by staying on in this cottage when she could have stayed in London and found another job. Two other companies had offered her work and she could have moved overseas and made a life for herself in the sunshine. Her mother had even asked her to come and live with her after the funeral so that they could spend some time together. There was certainly enough room in her three bedroom apartment in a smart part of London.
Sara shook her head at the thought of her mother and her sharing the same all white kitchen and the oven which still had the instruction booklet inside because her mother had no plans to use it any time soon. Oh, no—her kitchen appliances were for show and certainly not intended to be soiled by food. Toast crumbs on her granite worktop were punished with fierce glares and the liberal use of kitchen paper.
Just like the artwork her mother collected which she did not like but had been told to invest in. The only genuine things in the whole apartment were the antique floral prints in her bedroom and the framed maps in the hall. The rest was modern abstract prints and…
Sara’s head shot up and she banged the heel of her right hand several times against her forehead.
Of course! The entire hallway of her mother’s apartment was decorated with architectural drawings and maps—and most of them were of Kingsmede Manor.
That was where the missing part of the garden design had to be. No doubt about it. She might have sold it to a specialist dealer but there was a chance that she had kept it. A small chance, but a chance all the same. The name of the designer was something she could show off with pride to her friends.
Sara glanced at her watch and gasped.
She had five hours to deliver the orchids to the florist, drive to London in her electric minivan, get to her mother’s flat, find the drawings and garden plans she needed, persuade her mother to hand them over, then somehow get the plans to Leo before he could make his final presentation at the hotel over lunch.
Her hand paused over the desk telephone, then pulled back as she swallowed down a moment of fear and excitement.
What was she doing?
Leo did not want the plans. He had already made up his mind. This was his big chance to impress the family who had disowned his mother by showing them what a big tough professional businessman he was.
Turning up out of the blue at the Rizzi family board meeting would only embarrass him—and, knowing her luck, she would probably barge in with all sails flying just when they were congratulating themselves on welcoming Leo back into the family business because of his totally objective methods.
And humiliate and embarrass herself in the process.
Wouldn’t that be a proud and special moment?
But what was the alternative? Sit here and wait for the axe to fall and the sound of bulldozers tearing through the walled garden? Or try and do something to make them change their plans before it was too late?
And then there was Leo.
Both of them had said things yesterday which could not be unsaid, and she was sorry for that, but he had been at fault. Of course he would never break his word to his aunt. But it still hurt to know that he had been working as a spy the whole time and said nothing.
And yet he was sincere when he told her that he loved the garden designs. She had recognised his passion and his interest.
This could be her only chance to give Leo an option to show what he could do. And let the family take him for the talented man that he was and not just some clone of his grandfather.
Um. Who was she to talk? She had her own family issues to sort out.
Straight back, chin up, she took a deep breath and dialled the number for her mother’s apartment. Time to make the call she’d never thought she would.
‘Hi, Mum? Oh—did I wake you?’
Sara glanced at her watch. Just after 7:00 a.m. Ouch.
‘Oh, yes, I’m fine. Sorry about that. I have to be up early for the florists. Anyway, I won’t keep you long.’ She gulped. ‘Are you going to be at home this morning, Mum? I need your help with something and I’m afraid that it is very urgent.’
Leo relaxed his shoulders and looked across the antique coffee table at the smiling face of his aunt and the disinterested glare of his grandfather.
Paolo Leonardo Rizzi was a stern, silent, stocky man with short grey hair and an exquisite business suit who still held the power in the Rizzi family hotel business. Except at that moment he was looking rather uncomfortable and out of place as he wriggled around a little to find a dignified pose on one of the sumptuous but overstuffed sofas that Kingsmede Manor specialised in.
It had been Leo’s aunt’s idea to have a private meeting for just the three of them in her suite so that they would not be scowling at one other from opposite ends of an imposing boardroom table when they met after so many years.
So far, it had not been a total disaster.
His first meeting with this man who he had last seen at his parents’ funeral when he was a boy had not been easy. Their initial handshake had been guarded, almost as though his grandfather thought that it was beneath his dignity as head of the family to give Leo his tacit approval. And of course Paolo Rizzi had noticed that Leo was wearing a fabulous diamond ring, a Rizzi family heirloom, but was far too proud to do anything but glance at it
and then glare at Leo through narrowed eyes.
Well, if that had been a tactic to intimidate Leo—it had failed. Miserably.
A week ago Leo would have been infuriated by that slight, but now he accepted it for what it was. One person’s opinion. He did not need Paolo Rizzi’s approval, but he would like it. And that made all the difference.
His aunt had asked him to present his opinion—and that was what he was going to do. Leo inhaled slowly. This was a tough audience but he was used to that.
They did not need to know that he had worked most of the night pulling together research and background information to create two completely new designs.
Sara had been right.
He had tossed and turned for hours, going over and over in his mind what she had said to him: ‘You are just as ruthless as he is,’ before giving up and starting work on the plans that he wanted to present.
He had become the very person he despised. He had become his grandfather. So focused and driven by the need to succeed that he had lost his family and his ability to connect to real people like Sara. And it had shocked him to the core.
Shocked him so much that he decided to do something to prove that Leo Grainger was his father’s son, not just Paolo Rizzi’s grandson.
And now was the moment of truth. Time to find out if all of that hard work had been worth it and his family would appreciate his ideas.
His family. He could see some resemblance to his mother in his aunt, but his grandfather? Oh, yes, she was there. From the blue-grey eyes and strong handsome face to the broad shoulders and natural poise, this was probably what he was going to look like one day.
He could see where his mother had inherited her good looks from. And maybe the strength to stand alone and make her own path in the world. He could not have been prouder of his mother and the decision she’d taken to go against her imposing father.
And Sara. Sara was right here giving him that edge as well.
Perhaps that was why Leo sat back against the sofa cushions as though this was a friendly family gathering rather than a formal business meeting and was rewarded by a definite lift in his grandfather’s eyebrows for a few seconds, until his aunt laughed at something Leo said and passed him more coffee before she spoke.
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