by Nina Milne
His eyes registered shock, surprise and a fleeting emotion that looked like hurt, and for an instant she nearly changed her mind. But Stefan did not love her; he would never love her. Right now, she had to protect herself.
‘Why?’ he asked.
Another deep breath. ‘There’s an article about us.’ Her gaze flicked to the laptop. ‘It’s on there, if you want to look.’
Bracing herself, she waited as he flipped the screen up, scanned the article. Then his grey eyes came up to study her.
Hold it together. She wouldn’t, couldn’t allow the humiliation of letting him know what a fool she had been.
‘It made me realise that I do want the real thing one day—a real marriage with love. So what we are doing feels wrong to me. I want to call it a day now, instead of in a few days. No big deal, right?’
Stefan’s expression was unreadable, though she could see the tension in the jut of his jaw, the almost unnatural stillness of his body.
‘No big deal,’ he agreed, his voice without any discernible emotion.
No big deal. A hollow feeling of being bereft scooped her insides. She’d never feel his touch again, never hold him, never wake up in the crook of his arm, never walk hand in hand with him. Never... The word that rhymed with for ever and it meant the opposite. Her heartache deepened and her whole being scrambled to find some semblance of pride.
He must not suspect the truth.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
STEFAN EYED HIS brother over the piles of reports that littered the table between them, tried to focus on the figures before him. Lord knew they were important. The community project had grown and developed over the past few days of discussion. Days when they had found common beliefs and causes, a mutual desire to help those less fortunate, to give something back.
Yet despite the importance of the documents on the table it took all his willpower to focus, to try and block the images of Holly that invaded his brain wherever he was.
It shouldn’t matter—he shouldn’t miss her so damn much. Shouldn’t keep wanting to talk to her, tell her about the project. Shouldn’t miss the warmth of her body next to his in the night. Shouldn’t miss the sound of her laughter, the way she swirled a tendril of her hair, the tantalising Holly-ness of her.
Frederick closed the lid of his computer. ‘I think we should finish up for today.’ A hesitation and then, ‘I know Holly is at Il Boschetto di Sole for a few days—I hope her father is OK?’
‘He’s fine.’ His illness was a cover story to explain Holly’s absence.
‘Sunita’s out for the evening. Would you like to come back to the palace? Have a beer...spend some time with Amil. I know he’d like that.’ Another pause. ‘And so would I.’
Stefan opened his mouth, closed it again. He realised the idea appealed—that the idea of a return to the hotel where Holly’s absence was like an actual physical pain didn’t.
‘That would be good. Thank you.’
Twenty minutes later he entered Frederick and Sunita’s home, watching as Amil hurtled across the floor away from the nanny and into Frederick’s outstretched arms with a cry of, ‘Daddy!’
Stefan stood still, aware of a pang that smote him. A pang of what? Envy? Surely not—this was exactly what he didn’t want.
Frederick thanked the nanny before she left and then grinned at his son. ‘Today Uncle Stefan is here for your bath.’
Amil beamed at him and Stefan’s heart gave a funny little twist. Twisted further as he ended up in the bathroom, sleeves rolled up, sitting by the tub where Amil sat, four rubber ducks bobbing in the water.
‘Sing the song, Uncle Stefan.’
Stefan shook his head. ‘I don’t know it, Amil. I’m sorry.’
‘Yes, you do. Eloise and I sang it to you in your bath,’ Frederick said from the doorway, and started to hum.
The tune ricocheted around his brain...evoked a crystal-clear memory. Himself in the bath, surrounded by bubbles, a rubber duck in each hand, splashing in time as his mother and Frederick sang.
‘“Five little ducks went swimming one day...”’
Soon he and Frederick were singing and Amil was splashing and moving the ducks around the bath. Finally Frederick called a halt, helped Amil out of the bath, wrapped him in a fluffy towel and carried him into the lounge.
‘Help yourself to a drink whilst I put Amil to bed.’
‘Uncle Stefan. Please read my book?’
Frederick hesitated, then glanced at Stefan with a rueful smile. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Not at all.’
And he meant it. So he read his nephew a book featuring a variety of farmyard animals and felt his heart tug again.
Later, when Amil was in bed, Frederick poured two glasses of deep red wine and heated up a casserole. He sat down opposite Stefan in the spacious kitchen as the scent of herbs filled the air. ‘Can we talk?’
‘Sure.’ Though wariness touched him.
‘I know the deal you made with Marcus. Support me and get your lands back. I went along with it because I knew you wouldn’t accept the lands otherwise. But I have always been happy to restore them; they are yours by right. I want you to know that.’
Stefan shook his head. ‘I don’t work like that. Our father took my rights and my lands away—that was his right. I would like them back, but I have no wish to be beholden.’
‘We’re brothers. You wouldn’t be beholden. It wouldn’t give me any power over you. That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it? Giving anyone power over you. Me? Holly?’
Stefan froze. ‘Holly has nothing to do with this.’
‘Yes, she does. You made a deal with her too—a marriage deal. And now I think you care about her. Maybe even love her.’
‘Of course I don’t. I don’t do love.’ Inside him something twisted, turned, unlocked with a creak, opening a floodgate of panic.
His brother smiled. ‘Famous last words, little brother. Sometimes love doesn’t give you a choice.’
‘There is always a choice.’ And right now he chose to cut himself loose before it was too late to uproot love. Love that had already coiled around his heart, inserting insidious tendrils of weakness.
Whoa... Love? He loved Holly...? Loved her?
Frederick leant forward, his blue eyes arresting, his mien serious. ‘This may be none of my business, but you are my brother. We shared a childhood...we shared an upbringing. I cared about your mother and I cared about you. But when Eloise left, when you still got to see her and I didn’t, I was angry and I blamed you. Instead of becoming a better brother I switched off, insulated myself from all emotions and feelings, allowed our father to mess with my head. Like I know he messed with yours. I owe you an apology, Stefan; I didn’t step up when I should have.’
Stefan could feel emotions long-buried begin to surface. The hurt he’d felt at losing Frederick’s affection...the guilt of his belief that he’d deserved to lose it...their father’s relentless pitting of brother against brother. But through it all he hadn’t thought about how Frederick felt, how he was affected.
‘Maybe it’s time to put it behind us.’
He saw an image of Holly’s face, heard an echo of her voice. ‘If you can let go of the past then you can have a future.’
‘Go forward from here.’
‘I’d like that.’ Frederick took a breath. ‘But there’s something else I’d like to say. Our father messed with my head so much I didn’t believe that I could be a good husband or father. Sunita and Amil showed me that I can—maybe Holly can show you the same. Don’t let our father mess with your head from beyond the grave. If you love her, go for it—I promise you it will be worth it.’
Frederick paused and leant over and ruffled Stefan’s hair. The gesture was ridiculously familiar.
‘Lecture over, little bro, but if you need anything then let me know.’
Stefan stood up, unsure of what to say. He loved Holly—and now he had a choice as to what to do about it.
* * *
Holly looked up from her computer as her father knocked on the door, a look of concern on his face. ‘Holly, Jessica has made dinner. It will be ready in half an hour—come eat something.’
‘I’m sorry, Dad. I’m just not hungry. But you two go ahead.’ Holly summoned up a smile. ‘I’m glad it’s working out with Jessica.’
‘That is thanks to Stefan.’ Thomas uttered the name with caution. ‘It was he who spoke with me, persuaded me to talk to Jessica.’
‘He did?’ Holly looked up. She knew she shouldn’t encourage the conversation—she was trying to forget Stefan—yet she wanted to know.
‘Yes, he did. In fact my temporary son-in-law was quite vocal on the subject.’
‘He was?’ Holly tried to feel annoyed. Instead all she could summon was a picture of Stefan—the jut of his jaw, the intensity of his eyes, the gentle touch of his hand, his smile.
‘Yes, and what he said made me think.’
Her father entered the room and sat down on the bed, just as he had when she was younger, studying for exams.
‘I owe you an apology.’
‘No. You don’t.’ Now she really was annoyed. ‘And if Stefan told you that I hope you told him to get knotted.’
‘He said nothing so discourteous and neither did I. What he did tell me about was about your job prospects at Lamberts. Something you hadn’t told me.’
‘Because it’s not important.’
‘Yes, Holly, it is important. You should have told me—but also I should have asked. Instead I assumed that you wanted what I wanted, that your wish was to live here with me, marry, settle down, have Romano heirs, and of course work here on Il Boschetto di Sole. I assumed all that and that was wrong.’
‘No, Papa. It wasn’t wrong. Our family has worked here for generations. I do want to work here—of course I do.’
‘But it doesn’t have to be now, Holly. You need time to spread your wings, see the world, travel. Yes, of course I want you to live here, settle down, but most of all I want you to be happy. I can look after Il Boschetto di Sole and I can also look after myself. That is my responsibility. I want to be here to see your children and I will do my best to do so. I am sure Jessica will help me do that.’
Holly stood up, moved over to her father and hugged him. ‘Thank you.’
‘Now, come and eat with us and tell us about the new job. I want to know all about it.’
Holly grinned at him, and for a moment her heart lightened. But before she could say anything more there was another knock on the door and Jessica popped her head round, looking flustered.
‘We have a visitor.’
‘Who?’
‘Prince Stefan. I’ve put him in the lounge.’
Holly’s heart jumped as her tummy went into freefall.
Her father rose to his feet and smiled. ‘Go to him, Holly.’
‘I can’t. Tell him I’m not here—that I’m sick, have been beamed up by aliens... Anything!’
Her father shook his head. ‘Do you love him?’
She flinched. ‘Of course not. You know that this is a marriage of convenience.’
‘Are you sure?’
Holly tried to hold his gaze, but couldn’t.
‘Love is nothing to be ashamed of,’ her father said gently.
‘I’m not ashamed.’ Holly twisted her hands together, saw the love in her father’s eyes and opted for the truth. ‘But Stefan doesn’t want my love. He doesn’t want anyone’s love. I was a fool to fall for him. All I want to do now is get over it.’
‘Have you told him you love him?’
‘No! And I’m not going to. There is no point in humiliating myself and making him feel bad. This is not his fault.’ Unlike Graham, Stefan had not strung her along or pretended love—he’d been up-front. ‘I don’t want to be like you and my mother.’
Thomas closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, reached out and touched her arm. ‘Holly. Please do not let me and your mother’s actions destroy your relationship or taint your attitude to love. Our mistakes, our issues, do not need to be yours. Stefan is not me, and you are not your mother. Give your love a chance.’
Holly looked at him and her own words to Stefan came back to her. If you can let go of the past then you can have a future. And his words, about the past being there to be learned from.
What if they were both right?
What if her father was right?
Maybe she should let go of her past and tell Stefan of her love. And if he rejected that love then she would learn from her parents and she would walk away, knowing she had done all she could to give love a chance.
‘Thank you, Papa.’ She dropped a kiss on his head and then, pulling up every reserve of courage, she headed for the lounge.
As she entered her heart pounded so hard it was a wonder her ribcage could cope. Her lungs certainly couldn’t. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw him, standing by the mantelpiece, studying the array of photographs there, his whole body tense.
His fingers drummed his thigh as he turned to face her. ‘Holly. We need to talk.’
What to say? What to say? And where to say it?
Not here. Somehow she wanted to be outside, under the sky, amongst the trees in the vast beauty of Il Boschetto di Sole.
‘Shall we go outside?’
He nodded, and together they made their way to the front door and stepped out into the early evening, where the last rays of sunshine were giving way to the dusk. His proximity made her head whirl, and his familiar scent made her want to bury herself in his arms and burrow in.
Rather than that, she sought some form of conversation. ‘So...um...how is it going with Frederick?’
‘Good. We’ve come up with some pretty solid ideas that we’re both excited about.’
‘Good.’
Conversation dwindled after that as they walked through the garden of the villa and headed by tacit consent to the lemon groves, where the intense fragrance offered her the comfort of familiarity as they wended through the trees towards a bench. A breeze holding the first chill of the year blew and she gave a small shiver.
‘Here.’ He shrugged off the green and blue checked shirt that he wore over a deep blue T-shirt. Seeing his bare arms made her shiver with the sudden bittersweet ache of desire and the memory of being held. Perhaps she should refuse the shirt, but she couldn’t. She wanted to feel the material that had touched his skin against hers.
‘Thank you.’
They sat on the bench and she turned to him, knowing she needed to do it—take the plunge.
‘I’m glad you’re here. I need to talk to you. We left some things unsaid.’
The ghost of a smile touched his lips. ‘Yes, we did. That’s why I’m here too. To say...’
Goodbye? Had he discovered some legal loophole that would allow their marriage to be annulled?
‘Could I go first? Please.’ Before she bottled it.
For a moment she thought, almost hoped, he’d refuse, but then he nodded. ‘Go ahead.’
After a deep breath she launched in. ‘I wasn’t fully truthful with you and I should have been. But before I say what I need to say I need you to know that this is not your fault.’
Come on, Holly.
‘I love you.’
There—she’d said it. Admittedly whilst staring down at the slats of the wooden bench, but she’d said it.
She hurried on. ‘I just wanted you to know. I don’t want anything back...don’t expect anything back. And please don’t feel bad—I don’t regret loving you.’
‘Holly.’ His voice sounded strangled. ‘Look at me.’
She looked up, braced herself for pity, anger, sorr
ow, but instead saw a shell-shocked look of stunned disbelief succeeded by a dawning of joy, a light so bright, so happy, that her own heart gave a small cautious leap.
‘I came here to tell you I love you.’
Happiness sparked, but she doused the joy, needed to know he meant it, that it was real and not an illusion.
‘Don’t say it because you feel sorry for me.’
‘I would never do that. I do not feel sorry for you. I love you.’
‘But just days ago you told me you didn’t want love...didn’t do love.’
‘It turns out I knew absolutely nothing about love. I love you whether I want to or not, and it turns out I do want to.’ He sounded almost bewildered. ‘I love you and I want to shout it from the rooftops. I love the way you smile, I love the way you twirl your hair round your finger, I love your warmth, your generosity, your loyalty and how much you care. Loving you makes me a better person—a stronger person, not a weaker one. Maybe it does give you power over me, but I trust you not to abuse that power. I’ve been falling for you since the moment I laid eyes on you; and now you have made me the happiest man on this earth.’
Now he paused.
‘As long as you’re sure too. You’re not mistaking love for duty? It’s not for your father, or for Il Boschetto di Sole, or...?’
‘No! This love is for real! I love you—I love how you bring out the best in me, make me strive and question and leave my comfort zone. You make me smile, you make me laugh, you make me feel safe, you encourage me and you make me so happy I can feel the happiness tingle through my whole body.’
He rose to his feet and pulled her up with him. He spanned her waist with his hands and twirled her round, and then he sank to one knee and took her hand in his.
‘In this beautiful place—our beautiful place—will you, Holly Romano, stay married to me, Stefan Petrelli, for ever? To have and to hold, till death us do part?’
She beamed. ‘Yes, I will.’
And as he stood and kissed her, she knew that they would fulfil each and every vow they had made with love and happiness. For ever.
