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‘That’s—’
She tried to speak but he cut her off by cupping her cheeks with his strong hands. ‘I want you to know how sorry I am that I didn’t get this situation resolved when it first occurred. I like matters of theft, which is what I believed it to be, to be investigated by my personal legal team. Because I had them working flat-out on the Plushenko buyout, your father’s case was put to one side. I can’t express how deep my regret is for what your father’s been through. I am very much aware that I have contributed to his mental decline. Please let him know that if he chooses not to return as my employee I will give him an excellent reference.’
Emily was at a loss for what to say. Pascha’s words were like music to her ears. In the end, all she could do was rise onto her toes and place a gentle kiss on his lips. ‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me. It should never have come to this in the first place.’
‘You’ve had a lot on your plate.’
‘And don’t make excuses for me.’ She caught the fleeting ghost of a smile on his handsome features before he released his hold on her and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. ‘Come; let’s get you back to the lodge and see if we can get you home. I know how badly you want to return to your family.’
Did she? Did she really? She was certainly anxious to see for herself that her father had made an improvement, but did she really want to go back to that same life, a life where she lived for everyone else rather than herself?
She’d been like that in all her relationships.
With a jolt she realised that Pascha was the first person ever to have really known her, stripped back. When they’d first met she’d been too anxious and angry to put on any kind of face for him.
He’d seen her, the rawness, all the components that made her Emily, and he hadn’t rejected her.
No wonder her few relationships had failed. She’d moulded herself into what she’d thought her boyfriends wanted her to be. And they’d seen through it, become bored with a woman who agreed with everything they said and was always obliging, doing what they wanted.
She’d been right: she hadn’t been enough for any of them. How could she have been when she’d never been enough for herself?
Pascha had only ever seen her as herself and still he’d wanted her.
The question now was whether he would still want her when they were away from this spot of paradise.
* * *
Emily stood at the back of the yacht watching Aliana Island shrink away, blinking back hot tears. This could be the last time she saw it.
In less than a week her world had changed irrevocably.
The island had become little more than a speck on the horizon when Pascha joined her on the deck.
When they’d got back to the lodge, his hair had been mussed, his jaw covered with dark stubble. He’d looked wild and devilishly sexy.
Since their return he’d showered and shaved, styled his hair and dressed into a beautifully ironed open-necked white shirt and dark-grey trousers. Even his black belt looked as if it had been pressed. Add a tie and blazer, and he could step into any boardroom.
His wildness had gone but he still looked devilishly sexy.
‘Am I going to see you again?’ she asked, staring up at him and taking the bull by the horns. One thing she had learned during the past few days was that she needed to control her own destiny. If there were changes to be made then she had to be the one to make them.
She saw rather than heard him draw in a breath, his mouth compressing, his features contorting into something that looked like pain. That same pain shot straight into her heart.
‘Do I take that as a no?’
Pascha watched as a whole swathe of emotions flittered over Emily’s face. The one that struck the strongest chord with him was the fleeting anguish she hadn’t been quick enough to conceal. It hurt him to see it.
He should never have given in to his desire, should have fought it harder. And now he had to hurt a woman who had already been through too much pain. But the alternative would only cause her far more.
‘Emily, I’m sorry; you and I can never be together.’ He needed to spell it out to her. He didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings. She deserved the truth.
That familiar groove appeared.
‘I need you to understand. It isn’t you. It’s me.’
Now her features darkened, her lips thinning, her shoulders hunching together.
‘I know that’s a line a lot of men use, but in this case it’s the truth.’ He reached out to capture a lock of ebony hair. She flinched away from him, stepping back. ‘Emily, we can return to Europe and pick up where we leave off here—enjoy each other’s company and have fantastic sex—but nothing can ever come of it. We have no future. I can’t give you a future.’
