The Petrelli Heir (13 page)

‘Edinburgh … actually just outside.’

Her jaw dropped. ‘Edinburgh!’

‘The Dornie.’

‘Dornie!’ Izzy was neither star-struck or a foodie, but everybody knew about the restaurant that had been opened the previous year. You needed to know someone just to get on the waiting list! It was apparently the place to be seen and she was assuming the food wasn’t bad either.

‘I have a jet on standby; we will be home before the witching hour if you wish. Do not look at me like this is everyday stuff for fairy godmothers.’

And billionaire playboys, except she had been forced to rethink many of her assumptions about him over the past few weeks, including the playboy reputation she had believed him to have. Izzy gave a wistful glance at
the dress. ‘Really?’ The prospect of wearing something feminine was incredibly tempting.

‘Would I lie to you?’

Izzy’s smile faded. ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘I don’t think you would.’

When had that happened?

She trusted him, which was no reason to cry, she thought, blinking back the hot tears she felt swimming in her eyes. She looked down and sniffed and when she lifted her head her blue eyes were guarded. It was just as well he hadn’t been there when she had realised she had fallen in love with him.

That had been the day she had discovered her old sketchbook and had seen his face drawn on every page. It had hit her almost immediately that each likeness of him she had sketched had been drawn with love. Her sketchbook was a love story—an unrequited-love story. She had cried over the pages until they were soggy. She’d experienced love at first sight and she hadn’t even known it!

‘What time do we leave?’

There was a slight pause and when he replied she had the impression he had been on the brink of saying something else.

‘Six-thirty …?’

Her mouth opened in a silent O of protest. ‘I’ll never manage that. Lily needs—’

‘I will see to Lily. You go get ready.’

Tipping her head in acknowledgement of this suggestion she turned to leave, then, with her hand on the door handle, turned back. ‘It’s a lovely birthday present, thank you, Roman.’

‘It is not your birthday present.’ He watched her eyes
flicker wider, saw the question in them and smiled. ‘I hope the dress fits.’

It did fit.

It couldn’t have fitted better and, nibbling her full lower lip, Izzy viewed her reflection through narrowed eyes from several angles.

It was perfect. The only thing she would have changed were the freckles on the swell of her bust where the square-cut neckline of the bodice was not as modest as it had appeared. But the rest, she gave a little nod of approval. Below knee length the beaded panels of the drop-waisted skirt swirled outwards when she moved, falling against her legs with a sexy swish.

The question was would Roman be as impressed?

The jury was still out on that one. She walked into the room a little while later complete with a jewelled, flapper-style headband placed in her glossy chestnut hair, her figure elongated by a pair of elegant spiky heels. Roman simply stared at her for what felt like a century, then tilted his head and said, ‘You look good.’

It was hard not to feel deflated by such an underwhelming reaction, but then she had a tendency to expect too much when it came to their relationship.

Izzy felt impatient with herself.
Maybe
, she reflected grimly,
I ought to write ‘He doesn’t love you’ a hundred times, then it might sink in
. Then she might stop laying herself open to this sort of disappointment.

When she had walked into the room Roman’s vision had blurred. It had taken all his control not to grab her and take her right there. Ironic it had taken him some time to persuade her to wear the thing and now all he wanted to do was rip it off!

He had stood there like a statue struggling to control
his rampant arousal, knowing that he couldn’t even move without revealing his condition. His libido-whacked brain hadn’t even been able to come up with something to cover up his lapse—he must have looked like a total idiot.

He wanted to cringe every time he thought about it.

But why?

Expressing his desire for Izzy had never been a problem for him, and definitely not an embarrassment! But this wasn’t just desire, it was … He shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the word hovering there just on the outer limits of his consciousness, telling himself instead that she was just getting under his skin. On the other hand she was the mother of his child and it was only natural that there was a degree of emotional attachment. It didn’t mean …

Bringing this internal debate to an end with a muttered curse, he shook his head and walked across the room, filling a heavy leaded crystal glass with brandy and lifting it to his lips.

It meant nothing, he told himself, draining the glass.

‘I
THINK
I could get used to this,’ Izzy admitted as they disembarked from the private jet and into the waiting limousine. She repressed the urge to pinch herself. It felt as though she were playing a part in a film, but this was real.

‘I think people might think I’m someone important,’ she confided as he slid into the seat beside her.

‘You are someone important.’

Her heart started thudding. ‘I am?’

‘You’re the mother of our child.’

She hid her disappointment behind a smile of dazzling brilliance. While she was proud of being Lily’s mother, she would have liked to be important for herself, not because she was part of a package deal.

‘You owe me.’

If her film had been a romantic comedy he would have said, ‘because you are the woman I love,’ but this wasn’t a romantic comedy or even a film.

It was her life and by most people’s standards it was pretty amazing, so she told herself to stop whining and enjoy.

‘I owe you?’

‘The first person to mention the subject.’ Baby talk
by mutual agreement had been banned for the evening. ‘And that was you.’

He lifted a concessionary finger and looked amused as he leaned back in his seat. Slipping the button on his dinner jacket, he shrugged and held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘All right, you win.’

‘So go on, give it up.’ She held out her hand. ‘What’s my prize?’

Roman took her hand and placed it behind his neck. Leaning in close, he positioned his mouth over hers, catching her eyes with his as he whispered throatily, ‘This.’

Her eyes closed as he kissed her with small tantalising, nipping kisses that tugged at her lip, touched the corner of her mouth before going deeper. His arms were like steel bands wrapped around her, drawing her closer as he kissed her with a passion that amounted to desperation, kissed her as though he would drain her life force.

When his head lifted they were both breathing hard. They stayed close, his nose pressed to the side of hers, his fingers curled around her chin, stroking down the curve of her cheek.

‘Was that my birthday present?’

‘Pay attention,
cara
. That was your prize. This,’ he added, leaning back in his seat to search the pocket of his jacket, ‘is your present.’

Izzy looked at the small velvet box he held in his hand. ‘I don’t wear jewellery.’

‘I’d noticed. I’ll admit it does make present buying more difficult.’ Though in his opinion her perfect satin-soft skin needed no adornment. He felt the familiar heat flicker in his belly as his eyes slid down the smooth column
of her marble-pale neck and down to the freckle-sprinkled slopes of her breasts.

The flicker became a flame.

‘So it’s not jewellery?’

‘Open it and see,’ he urged, frowning at her apparent reluctance. He had taken a lot of trouble planning this moment, but her reaction was the one thing he wasn’t able to plan or, as it turned out, predict.

She took a deep breath and opened the box, her normally animated voice sounding oddly flat to his ears as she said, ‘It’s beautiful.’

Beautiful hardly did the ring justice. The central diamond was massive and surrounded by dozens of smaller gems arranged like petals around the glittering centrepiece.

Frustrated, he compared her almost childlike enthusiasm for the dress with the stiff formality of her forced smile.

‘You expected something else?’ He placed his thumb under her small round chin and tilted her face up to him. ‘You don’t like diamonds?’

‘Diamonds are … Is this an engagement ring?’

She had to be the only woman in the world who would need to ask. ‘That was the idea. You do not have to sit on your hand. I will not force it on your finger.’

With a self-conscious flush she pulled her left hand free. ‘But you said we wouldn’t talk about—’

‘Marriage,’ he completed when she choked on the word. ‘I agreed to wait and see if the trial was working, to see if we could work together as a unit, as a family.’ Up until this moment he had thought they were a perfect fit, and not just in bed where she continued to delight
and amaze him. ‘I had thought that we were.’ He arched a sardonic brow. ‘You think differently?’

‘No … not really,’ she admitted slowly. ‘But it’s early days.’

Her addendum drew an incredulous look. ‘How long did you have in mind?’ he asked sardonically. ‘Twenty years and then we will review the situation? I am sorry, Isabel, I have been very patient. These weeks have not been … unpleasant?’ he bit out sarcastically.

Her reluctance felt like a betrayal. Their relationship had always been about Lily, about being with her, but he did not just look forward to seeing his daughter at the end of a day. He looked forward to seeing Isabel and spending time with her too. The sex between them was sensational and he had assumed they were on the same page here. But her lukewarm reaction had felt like a slap in the face … Actually the blow landed somewhat lower. It wasn’t as though he had expected her to clap her hands and jump up and down with enthusiasm—well, actually, yes, he had.

Her lashes swept downwards. ‘No, you know they haven’t been unpleasant. Of course they haven’t.’

He gave a shrug and waited.

‘Can’t we just leave things as they are?’ The expression on his taut face made her stop and swallow before continuing in a fake cheery voice. ‘I mean, like they say, if it’s not broke don’t fix it,’ she quoted.

‘I do not give a damn what
they say
,’ he ground out. ‘It may come as something of a surprise to you, but there are some women who would not consider it such a terrible thing to be married to me.’

‘Well, marry them, then—all of them, for all I care!’ she flung back.

‘They are not the mother of my child.’

No, and that encapsulated the problem. The only reason he wanted to marry her was for Lily. Was it so wrong of her to want more?

Wrong maybe, unrealistic definitely.
You’re not going to get more, Izzy
, said the voice of practicality in her head.
You take what’s on offer or walk away from the table
.

The stark choice made her shiver. Over the past few weeks she had experienced the sort of life she had never even known existed. It wasn’t just the incredible sex—though the thought of never losing herself in the sheer joy and bliss of belonging to him made her grow cold. No, it was so many other things too. Just hearing his voice, watching his face as he watched Lily, his dry sense of humour.

It was all about love.

She took a deep breath and thought it was worth a try.

‘You’re not going to pretend you’re in love with me?’

She lowered her lashes in a defensive sweep; his silence spoke volumes and Izzy was lanced with an intense pain.

‘I love Lily.’

She nodded. ‘I know.’ Watching Roman fall under the spell of his little daughter had been like watching a tender love story unfold, one that on occasions had brought emotional tears to her eyes. She squared her slender shoulders and lifted her head.

‘Are you asking me to say I love you, Izzy? Is that what you’re asking? Because I’ve already told you that—’

Pride made her keep her eyes trained on his face
and not reveal by as much as a flicker how much his comment had mortified her. ‘You don’t do love. Yes, I know.’ Izzy even managed a credible laugh as she hid the pain in her heart behind a practical façade.

‘Relax, Roman, people say things in the heat of the …’ Her eyes dropped as memories of the occasions when she had been unable to totally keep her feelings inside caused her rigid composure to slip.

‘In bed,’ he supplied bluntly.

‘Let’s leave bed out of one discussion.’

‘It’s the one place we have no discord.’

‘You can’t live in bed!’ Struggling for composure, she lowered her voice to a dull monotone, adding woodenly, ‘I know that you don’t believe you’ll ever—but what if you do fall in love with someone else, Roman? What happens then?’ She thought that she could just about cope with the pain of loving him and knowing her love would never be returned, simply because she knew the pain of not being with him would be so much worse. But could she really bear to witness him falling in love with another woman and all the time wishing and wanting it to be her?

‘It will not happen.’

His quiet certainty made her want to scream. ‘All right then, if I fall in love.’ She pulled back in her seat, shocked by the expression of black fury that surfaced in his eyes.

‘I will make sure you don’t.’

She did not read too much into that statement; she had challenged his male ego, that was all. She was his property.

‘I know you think you can do anything.’ And most of the time he was right. ‘But you can’t stop falling in
love with someone.’
Ask the expert
, she thought dully. ‘It just happens.’

‘
Happens?
Things do not happen unless we allow them to and you will be too busy juggling the demands of our children with your work and—’ He broke off mid-sentence, frowning fiercely and muttering something in his native tongue under his breath.

‘Wait a moment.’ The screen separating them from the driver swished silently down. ‘Why are we stopped?’ Roman rapped, realising that they were no longer moving, though he had no idea of how long they had been stationary.

The driver replied with a slightly embarrassed, ‘We’re here, sir.’

‘We’re not ready yet. Just keep on driving.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Was he going to carry on driving round and round until she said yes?

‘What is so funny?’

‘You … me … us, I suppose. You said children?’

‘Well, we managed it once and we weren’t even trying. I see no reason why we shouldn’t try again.’ The sardonic humour in his voice was edged out by a harder tone as he admitted, ‘I do not like to think of Lily as a lonely only child. So, yes, not immediately but—’

‘Were you lonely?’

‘Isabel, do not change the subject. Will you marry me?’

‘You’re the one who changes the subject every time I ask you anything about yourself.’

‘I have told you more about myself than any other person on the planet.’ He took her calf and pulled her foot into his lap. ‘Very pretty,’ he admitted, turning her
foot to admire the thin-strapped high heels she wore. His fingers slid upwards over the curve of her calf. He felt the shiver that rippled through her body and smiled. ‘You have a tendency to think too much about the past.’

‘Better than ignoring it.’ She broke off, closing her eyes and gasping as his fingers slid higher under the skirt of her dress. The rush of moist heat to the juncture of her thighs was instantaneous.

‘Please, Roman, we’re not alone …’ she appealed, flashing a warning look towards the driver.

He flashed a predatory grin and withdrew his hand with a show of reluctance, but kept her foot in his lap. ‘You like rules and conformity. I’d have said that marriage and you are a match made in heaven.’

‘Are you saying I’m boring?’ Helpless to evade his unblinking black stare, she dodged the question. ‘I never saw myself married.’

‘I never thought of myself as a father. Marriage will be a legal contract, nothing more. It will formalise what we have.’

‘What do we have?’
Say love
, she willed him.
Say love
.

‘We have Lily and the desire to make a home for her. We would not be going into this with any unrealistic expectations—that has to put us ahead of the game.’

For unrealistic expectations, she read love. The logic behind the confident pronouncement passed her by, but she was fully occupied in trying to fight the sudden desire to burst into tears.

‘We will make it work for us because it’s the best thing for Lily. You know it and I know it. Yes or no, Isabel?’ He looked at her steadily, his normally expressive voice flat almost. The rigidity of his expression
and the faint hint of colour along the sharp edge of his chiselled cheekbones were the only outward indication of the tension within.

Izzy sucked in a deep breath. Roman was not the shallow womaniser she had initially taken him for and he was a good father. He loved Lily—wasn’t that enough? Ignoring the voice in her head that told her she was settling.

Yes, she was settling. She would never have a place in Roman’s heart, but she could have a place in his life. They would be together, a family; it would be enough, she told herself. It would have to be, warned the voice in her head.

‘Yes, I will marry you.’

For a moment his expression was unguarded. Then a moment later the blaze of male triumph was concealed by the dark mesh of his lashes.

Izzy felt a stirring of unease. He had got what he wanted, but for how long? What chance did such a onesided marriage have? Pushing away the voice of doubt, she took the ring from its velvet bed and slid it onto her finger. ‘It’s very beautiful,’ she said, holding out her hand for him to examine. She would have to have enough love for both of them.

‘It’s too big.’ He had wanted it to be perfect.

‘Not really …’ The ring slipped around her finger and she shrugged. ‘Well, maybe a little,’ she conceded.

‘We can get it adjusted. What are you doing?’ he asked as she slipped it off.

The sharpness in his voice brought her head up. ‘I can’t wear it, Roman. I’ll lose it.’

‘You won’t lose it.’ He took her hand and pushed the ring back down her finger. ‘It looks good on you,’ he
said, retaining the grip on her hand. Her fingers curled of their own volition around his.

Izzy felt her cheeks heat and her breathing quicken as their glances tangled and locked. The sexual tension that materialised from nowhere was so dense it had a texture and a taste of its own. Her eyelids felt heavy and her body, conditioned to respond to him, ached.

She swallowed and whispered an agonised. ‘Oh, God!’

His dark, hawkish gaze riveted on Izzy’s face and Roman expelled a long hissing sigh. ‘Just hold that thought for later. In the meantime …’ He gave a regretful sigh and, releasing her hand, leaned back in the seat.

‘In the meantime?’ she prompted.

‘Are you hungry?’ He saw her expression and gave a rumble of laughter. ‘In a three-star Michelin sort of hungry?’