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She just couldn’t play the part tonight.
They carried their food out to the balcony and ate steak and tomato salad, with the herb bread she had made, watching a dark storm rolling in.
Estelle wanted to go home, wanted this over. Though she knew there was no getting out of their deal. But she needed a timeframe more than ever now. She wanted to be far away from him before the pregnancy started showing.
She could never tell him.
Not face to face, anyway.
Estelle could not bear to watch his face twist, to hear the accusations he would hurl, for him to find another reason not to trust.
‘I spoke with my father today.’
She tore her eyes from the storm to Raúl. ‘How is he?’
‘Not good,’ Raúl said. ‘He asks that I go and see him soon.’
‘Surely you can manage to be civil for a couple of days?’ She was through worrying about saying the wrong thing. ‘Yes, your father had an affair, but clearly it meant something. They’re together all this time later…’
‘An affair that led to my mother’s death.’ He stabbed at his steak. ‘Their lies left the guilt with me.’ He pushed his plate away.
The eyes that lifted to hers swirled with grief and confusion and now, when all she wanted was to be away from him, when she must guard her heart properly, when she needed it least, Raúl confided in her.
‘I had an argument with my mother the night she died. She had missed my performance at the Christmas play—as she missed many things. When I came home she was crying and she said sorry. My response? Te odio. I told her I hated her. That night she lifted me from my sleep and put me in a car. The mountains are a different place in a storm,’ Raúl explained. ‘I had no idea what was happening; I thought I had upset her by shouting. I told her I was sorry. I told her to slow down…’
Estelle could not imagine the terror.
‘The car skidded and came off the mountain, went down the cliffside. My father returned from his so-called work trip to be told his wife was dead and his son was in hospital. He chose not to tell anyone the reason he’d been gone.’
‘Did they never suspect he and Angela?’
‘Not for a moment. He just seemed to be devoting more and more time to the hotel in San Sebastian. Angela was from the north and she resumed working for him again. Over the years, clearly when Luka was older, she started to come to Marbella more often with my father. We had a flat for her, which she stayed in during the working week.’
‘He had two sons to support,’ Estelle said. ‘Maybe it was the only way he could see how.’
‘Please!’ Raúl scoffed. ‘He was with Angela every chance he could get, leaving me with my aunt and uncle. Had he wanted one family he could have had it. Perhaps it would have been a struggle, but his family would have been together. He chose this life, and those choices caused my mother’s death.’
‘Instead of you?’
‘I blamed myself for years for her death. I thought the terrible things I said…’
‘You were a child.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I see that now. The night she died was two days after Luka’s birth. I realise now that she was on her way to confront them.’
‘In a storm, with a five-year-old in the back of her car,’ Estelle pointed out.
‘I thought she was trying to kill me.’
‘She was ill, Raúl.’
He nodded. ‘It would have been nice to know that she was,’ Raúl said. ‘It would have been nice to know that it was not my words that had her fleeing into the night.’
‘It sounds as though she was sick for a long time, and I would imagine it was a very tough time for your father…’ Estelle did not want involvement. She wanted to remove herself as much as she could before she told him. Yet she could not sit back and watch his pain. ‘He just wants to know you’re happy, that you’re settled. He just wants peace.’
‘We all want peace.’ He was a moment away from telling her the rest, but instead he stood and headed through the balcony door. ‘I’m going out.’
Estelle sat still.
‘Don’t wait up.’
‘I won’t.’
She didn’t want him going out in this mood, and she followed him into the lounge while knowing he wouldn’t welcome her advice. ‘Raúl, I don’t think—’
‘I don’t pay you to think.’
‘You’re upset.’
‘Now she tells me what I’m feeling!’
‘Now she reminds you that she read that contract before she signed it. If you think you’re going to go out clubbing and carrying on in your usual way I’ll be on the next plane home…’ she watched his shoulders stiffen ‘…with every last cent you agreed to pay me.’
He headed for the door.
‘Hope the music’s loud enough for you, Raúl!’ she called out to him.
‘It could never be loud enough.’
There was a crack from the storm and the balcony doors flew wide open. He turned then, and she glimpsed hell in his eyes. There was more than he was telling her, she knew that, and yet she did not need to know at this moment.
He was striding towards her and she understood for a moment his need for constant distraction, for she was craving distraction now. She was pregnant by the man she loved, who was incapable of loving her. How badly she didn’t want to think about it. How nice it would be for a moment to forget.
His mouth was, perhaps for the last time, welcome. The crush of his lips was so fierce he might have drawn blood. Yet it was still not enough. He wrestled her to the floor and it was still too slow.
Here beneath him there were no problems—just the weight of him on her.
He was pulling at his zipper and pressing up her skirt. She was kissing him as if his lips could save them both. The balcony doors were still wide open. It was raining on the inside, raining on them, yet it did not douse them.
He had taught her so much about her body, but she learned something new now—how fast her arousal could be.
He was coming even before he was inside her; she could feel the hot splash on her sex. Estelle was sobbing as he thrust inside her, holding onto him for dear life. Each thrust of his hips met with her own desperation. It was fast and it was brutal, and yet it was the closest they had ever been.
He was at her ear and breathing hard when he lifted his face. She opened her eyes to a different man.
‘Come with me to see them?’
He was asking, not telling.
‘Yes.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Yes.’
It felt terribly close to love.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#ue4fb7f4b-f225-5bd8-ad39-f5f44306e235)
THEY FLEW EARLY the next morning, over the lush hills of Spain to the north, and even as his jet made light work of the miles there was a mounting tension. Had they run out of time?
Far from anger from Raúl, there was relief when Angela came out of the door to greet them, a wary smile on her face.
‘Come in,’ she said. ‘Welcome.’
She gave Estelle a kiss on the cheek, and gave one too to Raúl. ‘We can do this,’ she said to him, even as he pulled back. ‘For your father. For one day…’
Raúl nodded and they headed through to the lounge.
If Estelle was shocked at the change in his father, it must be hell for Raúl.
‘Hey,’ he greeted his son. ‘You took your time.’
‘I’m here now,’ Raúl said. ‘Congratulations on your wedding.’ He handed Antonio a bottle of champagne as he kissed him on the cheek. ‘I thought we could have a toast to you both later.’
‘I finally make an honest woman of her,’ Antonio said.
Estelle watched as Raúl bit back a smart response. There really was no time for barbs.
‘Your brother is flying in from Bilbao tonight. Will you stay for dinner?’ Antonio’s eyes held a challenge.
‘I’m not sure that we can stay…’
‘A meeting between the two of you is inevitable,’ Antonio said. ‘Unless you boycott my funeral. I am to be buried here,’ he added.
She watched Raúl’s jaw tighten as he told his son that this was the home he loved. Yet he had denied his first son the chance of having a real home.
‘I will make a drink,’ Angela said to Estelle. ‘Perhaps you could help me?’
Estelle went into the kitchen with her. It was large and homely, and even though she was hoping to keep things calm for Raúl, Estelle was angry on his behalf.
‘We will leave them to it,’ Angela said as Estelle sat at the table. ‘You look tired.’
‘Raúl doesn’t live a very quiet life.’
‘I know.’ Angela smiled and handed her a cup of hot chocolate and a plate of croissants.
Estelle took a sip of her chocolate, but it was far too sickly and she put the cup back down.
‘I can make you honey tea,’ Angela offered. ‘That is what I had when…’ Her voice trailed off as she saw the panic in Estelle’s eyes and realised she must not want anyone to know yet. To Angela it was obvious—she hadn’t seen Estelle since her wedding day, and despite the suntan her face was pale, and there were subtle changes that only a woman might notice. ‘Perhaps your stomach is upset from flying.’
‘I’m fine,’ Estelle said, deliberately taking another sip.
‘I am worried that when Antonio dies I will see no more of Raúl…’
Estelle bit her lip. Frankly she wouldn’t blame him. Because being here, seeing first-hand evidence of years of lies and deceit, she understood a little better the darkness of his pain.
‘He is like a son to me.’
Estelle simply couldn’t stay quiet. ‘From a distance?’ She repeated Angela’s own words from the wedding day and then looked around. There were pictures of Luka, who looked like a younger Raúl.
‘Raúl is here too.’ Angela pointed to a photo.
‘He wasn’t, though.’ Estelle could not stand the pretence. ‘You had a home here—whereas Raúl was being shuffled between his aunt and uncle, occasionally seeing his dad.’
‘It was more complicated than that.’
‘Not really.’ Estelle simply could not see it. ‘You say you think of him as a son, and yet…’
‘We did everything the doctor said,’ Angela wrung her hands. ‘I need to tell you this—because if Raúl refuses to speak with me ever again, then this much I would like you to know. The first two years of Luka’s life Antonio hardly saw him. He did everything to help Raúl get well, and that included keeping Luka a secret. The doctor said Raul needed his home, needed familiarity. How could we rip him away from his family and his house? How could we move him to a new town when the doctor insisted on keeping things as close to normal as possible?’
Estelle gave a small shrug. ‘It would have been hard on him, but surely no harder than losing his mother. He thought it was because of something he had said to her.’
‘How could we have known that?’
‘You could have spoken to him. You could have asked him about what happened. Instead you were up here, with his dad.’
There was a long stretch of silence, finally broken by Angela. ‘Raúl hasn’t told you, has he?’
‘He’s told me everything.’
‘Did Raúl tell you that he was silent for a year?’ She watched as Estelle’s already pale face drained of colour. ‘We did not know what happened that day, for Raúl could not tell us. The trauma of being trapped with his dead mother…’
‘How long were they trapped for?’
‘For the night,’ Angela said. ‘They went over a cliff. It would seem Gabriella died on impact. When the médicos got there he was still begging her to wake up. He kept telling her he was sorry. Once they released him he said nothing for more than a year. How could we take him from his home, from his bed? How could we tell him there was a brother?’
‘Excuse me—’
Estelle retched and cried into the toilet, and then tried to hold it together. Raúl did not need her drama today. So she rinsed her mouth and combed her hair, then headed back just as Raúl was coming out from the lounge.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Of course.’
‘My father is going to have a rest. As you heard, my brother is coming for dinner tonight. I have agreed that we will stay.’
Estelle nodded.
