He’d thought of everything. ‘Thank you. I’ll be fine.’ She lifted her chin and even raised a smile. ‘You’ll have my first report the day after tomorrow, if that suits you?’
‘I’d expect nothing less of you.’ Roman smiled too, but it was a difficult smile that seemed to hold regret at their parting rather than anything else.
Was that it?
Yes, that was it, Eva realised as Roman punched in some number on his phone and made the arrangements necessary for her solo departure.
* * *
Why was she moping around when there was so much to do? She had landed the job of her dreams, Eva reminded herself firmly as she unpacked her case back home in her bedroom in Skavanga. It would keep her so busy she wouldn’t have a moment to miss Roman.
Was she kidding?
She had ruined everything again. Flopping down on the bed, she stared at the ceiling. Planning would distract her from what she’d lost, she reasoned. What she’d never had, Eva conceded ruefully. Roman was not on offer. Never had been, except in her head. And even accepting that didn’t help one bit with the ache in her heart.
So leap up. Think about work. Make plans to get stuck into the job—and take things steady this time.
Before she did that there was another very important thing she had to do. She had tried to ring Britt from the airport the moment Roman’s jet had landed, but had been told that her sister was in a meeting at the mine. She placed another call now, only to be told the same thing. Recognising Eva’s voice, Britt’s secretary immediately offered to put her through.
‘No, please don’t disturb my sister. I’ll just dump my bag, then I’ll come over there and wait for her.’
‘You’ll wait for her? Are you sure, Ms Skavanga?’
‘Absolutely certain.’ God, she must have been such a bitch. She could hardly bear to think about how she must have run people ragged.
On the way to the office she picked out the biggest bunch of flowers she could find on the high street for Britt’s secretary, and another one for Britt. She was going to make up for her past behaviour with everything she’d got.
Members of staff could hardly hide their surprise at the sight of Eva Skavanga sitting meekly waiting in Reception, and many came to whisper and stare. No doubt she’d be the subject of gossip for some time to come. It was her own fault, and she’d suffer it gladly, because it wasn’t important compared to what she had come here to do.
‘Eva?’ Britt rushed across the lobby from her office with her arms open wide. She looked as amazing as ever. Businesslike and beautiful. And glowing.
‘Marriage suits you,’ Eva commented warmly when Britt finally released her.
‘Sharif suits me,’ Britt admitted softly as she brushed a strand of Eva’s wild red hair away from her face. It was a little wilder than usual after the long plane flight as Eva had been so busy fretting about what lay ahead of her—as well as what lay in the recent past—that she had taken advantage of none of the plush private jet’s opulent facilities.
‘And how about you and Roman?’ Britt asked carefully, sensing all was not right.
‘There is no me and Roman. And that’s not what I’ve come to talk about,’ Eva said over her sister’s protest. ‘I’ve come to apologise.’
‘To apologise.’ Britt pulled a face. ‘For what?’
‘Now you’ve made me feel worse than ever.’
‘And why’s that?’ Britt queried, putting her arm around Eva’s shoulder to lead her into a quiet office where she could shut the door so they could be alone.
‘Because my bad behaviour—my ranting and general carry-on—is so commonplace to you, you probably don’t even remember that we fell out just before I left Skavanga for Roman’s island. But we did fall out—or at least, I did—and I have regretted it ever since, just as I regret every time I yelled at you for no good reason when you and Leila are the best sisters in the world, and I’ve not only taken you for granted, but I’ve abused your good nature—’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, stop,’ Britt exclaimed, dragging her close. ‘I’ve never heard anything so soppy in my life. I love you and Leila loves you, and nothing you could ever say or do can change that. But there is just one thing,’ Britt added, turning thoughtful.
‘Tell me.’
‘You can protest all you like that there is no you and Roman, but something prompted this confession. So whatever version of events you’re trying to sell me, I’m not buying it.’