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Tonight there was none of that. Her back was firmly placed towards him, cocooned in the blanket. The only thing she hugged was a pillow.
Relief should be coursing through his veins.
So how come the only emotion distinguishable through the rivers raging through him was disappointment?
Ending their marriage was the right decision. Of that he had no doubt. Rosa needed so much more than he could ever give.
As much as it twisted his guts and made his skin feel as if a nest of wasps were freely stinging him, he prayed with every fibre of his being that she would find it.
* * *
Rosa trained the powerful binoculars on Butterfly Island. Without them it was but a speck in the distance. With them she could see the mountainous backdrop and its verdant greenery darkening as the sun made its descent. It wouldn’t be long now.
For once she had risen before Nico. She had deliberately left him sleeping. She’d had no wish for a post-mortem on her behaviour in the early hours of the morning. She still didn’t know where that wantonness had come from, but she did not regret it.
Nico had hurt her. Really hurt her. It was as if he had reached a hand into her heart and ripped it out without anaesthetic. Making love on her terms had done little to mitigate the hurt, but it had allowed her to regain some control. Turning her back on him had felt like a fitting finale.
The more she played events in her head—over and over, as if on a loop—the higher her temperature rose. Whilst she felt desperately sorry for the pain he had gone through, and the experiences that had shaped him into the man he was today, she struggled to forgive him.
Her initial instincts had proven correct. Nico had played with her as if she were an unwanted toy another child had tried to steal. Before she had told him about Stephen and asked for a divorce his interest in her sexually had been zero. He’d liked their marriage because it suited him. He’d decided to have sex with her because it suited him.
Not once had he asked himself if it suited her too.
No, Mr Arrogant had not bothered to look beyond the surface. He had assumed she would be happy to continue in a loveless, emotionless marriage as long as he took care of her physical needs. As soon as he’d discovered she was more complicated than he had credited, he’d done a U-turn so swift her neck had almost cricked again.
He wasn’t even prepared to try forging a proper relationship, and he had twisted this cowardice to make it sound s if he was doing her a favour.
Last night she had made love to him because it had suited her. For once she had put her own needs first. And now her hurt was gone. Other than what she considered to be justifiable anger she felt nothing. All that resided inside her was a black void.
Her anger abated slightly into concern a short while later, when Nico came into the saloon from their cabin, where he had been changing before they docked, his phone clutched in his hand. One look at his ashen face was enough for her to know something was wrong.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, half rising from the table she was sitting at.
He slumped into the chair opposite her and dragged a hand down his face. ‘My father’s had a stroke. They don’t think he’s going to make it.’
* * *
Thank God for Rosa.
As Nico was driven from Moscow airport to the private hospital holding his father, the image of his wife’s calm efficiency soothed him.
He had never before understood the saying A burden shared is a burden halved. Now he did. Rosa had immediately comprehended the urgency of the situation and, breaking him out of his stupor, had set up a plan of action. He’d had no hesitation in granting her Power of Attorney. The contracts with Robert King would go ahead with Rosa’s signature on the documents.
Knowing his business could not be in better hands had freed him to concentrate on the minutiae of his travel arrangements. The doctor had told him in no uncertain terms they were talking days. At the most. It had been imperative to become airborne as soon as possible.
Now, as the car pulled up alongside the hospital entrance, he knew his debt to Rosa could never be repaid. His father was hanging on. Because of Rosa Nico would be given the opportunity to say goodbye to the man who had given him life and raised him.
An austere nurse was waiting for him at the main door. Her calm efficiency reminded him of Rosa. He followed her down wide corridors to a wing that was as silent as it was stark. He had spent the day-long journey mentally preparing himself for what he was about to see, but when the nurse opened the door to his father’s private room he realised all the time in the world could not have prepared him.
His father, a person he always envisaged in his mind’s eye as a giant of a man, had shrivelled. His skin—what could be seen of it behind all the tubes and the oxygen mask connected to him—had become translucent and had a powdery hue to it. When he pressed his fingers gently to the cool forehead he half expected a residue to adhere to the tips.
