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There were more tears, she could feel them sliding down her cheeks, her heart tearing itself to pieces as the future she’d only just started to imagine for them both slowly shattered into a million diamond-bright shards.
She wanted to be angry, to rage at him, tell him he was a fool and wrong. That she didn’t care if he didn’t love her. That being with him was all she wanted and he didn’t need to give her anything.
But it was clear he wasn’t going to listen. He preferred the ice he’d buried himself under and who was she to argue? Who was she to push?
She had no right to him or his feelings, and the only thing she had to give him was her love. And that wasn’t enough.
‘But what about the baby?’ Her hand rested on her stomach, grief tearing at her. ‘Your son or daughter will need their father.’
The silver of his eyes had died completely, they were the colour of ash now. ‘It would be better if my child never knew me. I am not an example they should be following. But don’t worry, I won’t leave you with nothing. You will be taken care of.’
‘Rafael, no,’ she said hoarsely. ‘You can’t.’
‘I can.’ A muscle leaped in his jaw. ‘It is my final word.’ He took a step back, away from her. ‘You may stay here for as long as you wish. I’ll deal with the outside world. You can leave that side of things to me.’
Lia nodded, barely hearing him. She felt cold all of a sudden, as if winter had come into the room, scattering snow and ice everywhere, the bitter chill making its way inside her and freezing the ragged pieces of her heart. She didn’t know what to say. Not that she could have said anything anyway. It was clear his mind was made up and she couldn’t change it.
He was the product of a terrible act, the way he saw himself set in stone right from a young age. And she couldn’t blame his mother for that. She’d had a terrible experience and Lia could understand her grief and her fear. That she’d put it on her son was awful, but knowing that wouldn’t change what had happened. Wouldn’t change the past.
And it wouldn’t help Rafael.
He wasn’t poison. He was the antidote. He’d given her freedom within the cage she’d been trapped in and some of the purest moments of happiness she’d ever known.
She would do the same for him if only she knew how.
‘You should eat,’ he said at last. ‘You’ll be hungry.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not. I think I need to go and lie down.’
Then she fled from the room before he could stop her.
It was late, midnight possibly, but Rafael didn’t bother looking at the clock. He’d long since ceased to care. He sat in his office, staring at the bottle of good whisky on top of his desk, every part of him wanting to drink the entire thing, while his control told him no.
It felt important to resist. Hehadto. Because if he didn’t, if he gave in, what was to stop him from going upstairs and dragging Lia from her bed and into his, and keeping her there all night?
Keeping her there for ever.
But he couldn’t. Her tears had nearly killed him, the lost look in her eyes when he’d told her that he would never love her making him feel as if his heart was tearing itself apart in his chest. Yet it didn’t matter how much pain he felt, he couldn’t give in to that need.
He couldn’t give in to the feeling inside him, the intensity, the ferocity. That feeling damaged people. That feeling hurt people. And it would hurt her if he wasn’t careful.
‘People do terrible things in the name of love,’ his mother had said, when he was thirteen and in the grip of his first crush. ‘You especially will have to be careful.’ And then she’d told him the story of his conception. The reason why he was so very flawed, why she couldn’t ever love him the way he always wished she could.
He’d been appalled. Shocked. Disgusted. And he’d sworn he’d never do what his father did. He would never give in to his own feelings, take what wasn’t his.
And love especially he would avoid like the plague.
Nothing had changed since that day, no matter how Lia insisted. It hurt her, yes, but keeping her, knowing he could never give her the one thing she deserved above all else, would only hurt her more.
This was the right decision. The only decision.
His phone rang and he’d hit the answer button before he’d fully thought through the wisdom of it.
‘So, Zeus told me what was happening,’ Vincenzo said without any preamble. ‘And I wanted to call you to tell you what a terrible idea—’
‘I’m returning her to the palace,’ Rafael snapped. ‘As soon as the weather clears.’
Vincenzo was silent for a long moment, shock echoing down the phone line. ‘You’re returning her? But isn’t she pregnant?’
