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‘Then we’ll chalk up the night as a success. Put on your seat belt, Arabella.’
Woodenly she complied, then lapsed into silence. After all, what else was there to be said?
* * *
Draco left her at her door with instructions to be ready for his chauffeur on Saturday. The announcement that they would be travelling via his private jet to Tuscany was carelessly thrown over his shoulder as he returned to his car. He seemed in a hurry to get away, so Rebel nodded through it all, then hurried inside.
Keeping a tight leash on the ball of emotions that had lodged in her chest, she climbed the stairs to her flat. Her feet froze on the last step as she saw the figure standing in her doorway.
Time and age had taken their toll on the man whose profile was visible in the hallway light, but Rebel would’ve recognised him anywhere. ‘Dad?’
He jerked upright from his slumped position. The eyes her mother had insisted were the exact shade of her own widened a touch before dimming with wariness.
‘Arabella.’
Her avid gaze sprinted over him, took in the pertinent details of weight loss pronounced by his baggy clothes, his thinning hair and unshaven face, before meeting his shadowed eyes.
‘What...what are you doing here?’ Considering she’d been frantically calling him every day for the past two weeks, the question was absurd, but the shock of seeing him again after so many years battered her thought processes.
‘I came because of this.’ He held up a copy of the latest edition of the evening newspaper. The picture on her phone was blown up on the broadsheet. Rebel’s gaze darted away from the picture of her face as Draco bent over her hand, and took a step closer, her insides clenching with hurt as she stared at her father.
‘I call you every day for weeks and you don’t answer, but you turn up because of a picture in the paper?’
‘It’s not just any picture, though, is it?’ he replied, that trace of condemnation she’d prayed never to hear again underlining his words. ‘You need to end whatever this is, Arabella. Now.’
Shakily, she approached him and indicated the door. When he moved away, she inserted the key, opened it and thrust it wide.
She went inside, then didn’t breathe until she heard his footsteps behind her.
Looking over her shoulder, she asked, ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘Arabella—’
‘I’m going to boil the kettle. You’re already here. You might as well stay for tea.’
She hurried to the kitchen, kicked off her shoes and turned on the kettle. Her father walked in a few seconds later. After giving the room a once-over, he dropped the newspaper on the counter, pulled out a stool at the breakfast bar and sat down.
Struggling to contain her anxiety, Rebel got busy fetching mugs. Once the kettle boiled, she made the tea and slid a cup to him. ‘Can I get you anything with it? Biscuits? A sandwich?’
He cradled his cup but made no move to drink it. ‘You can tell me what this is about.’ He indicated the paper.
‘Can we forget about that for a minute, please?’ Before he could respond, she rushed on. ‘Where have you been? How have you been?’
‘Away. Fine.’ He continued to avoid her gaze, and with each second that ticked by Rebel’s heart broke all over again.
‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t know how many more times I can say it.’
His breath shuddered on a deep exhale. ‘The apology doesn’t matter, Arabella. It never did. You’re my child. Forgiving you was never a problem.’ He pointed to the picture. ‘But this is a problem. We spoke a few days ago, then overnight you go and do this?’
Her fingers clenched around her mug. ‘You make it sound as if we have long talks on a regular basis. You may have known where I was and what I was doing, but I had no idea where you were. Until two weeks ago, I hadn’t heard from you in years! And when I did try to talk to you after that, you barely said a handful of words to me. So, no, it hasn’t been overnight for me, Dad, but years. Years during which you’ve watched over me, apparently. How else would you have known I’d been dropped by my sponsors?’
His fingers clenched around the mug. ‘I had to.’
Pain clawed deeper. ‘Because it was your duty? That’s what you said in your letter, wasn’t it? Was it your duty to deposit stolen money in my account?’
His head jerked up. ‘You know?’
‘Of course I know. According to Draco you didn’t do a great job of hiding your tracks.’
He pushed away the tea and stood. ‘Is he threatening you? Is that what this engagement is about?’ He lurched towards the door. ‘I’ll turn myself in.’
