‘What about the money?’ he said. ‘Raoul’s money?’
Jen stared at him with barely concealed contempt. ‘Raoul’s money?’ she repeated.
‘The six months will be up soon,’ he reminded her, ‘and then the trust will be released.’
‘Are you going to make me an offer?’ she challenged coldly.
That was exactly what his father had wanted him to do. ‘No, of course not.’
‘Then, why are you still here?’
‘Jen, I—’
‘Please leave.’
‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘Not before I know why Raoul wanted you to have the money. Please. Let me speak,’ he insisted, when Jen tried to interrupt him. ‘I think Raoul wanted you to have that money for a specific reason, and I don’t know what that reason is, except he didn’t entrust his thoughts to me or to my father, which means it was a cause dear to his heart that he only shared with you. If you’re right when you say Raoul wanted to die, I can only imagine the depths of his desperation, and it’s up to me and you to discover what he wanted you to do with his money.’
‘If I knew something outside my promise to Raoul, I’d tell you,’ she said, keeping her word to his brother to the end. ‘And one more thing—I’ll work faster and more efficiently on the exhibition if you and I keep our distance for a while.’
He almost smiled at the thought that he was getting dumped—would have smiled, if the situation hadn’t been so tragic. He couldn’t even argue with Jen. He’d had the same thought. There was so much emotional turmoil swirling around that if they didn’t put some space between them, they would both implode. His body argued with the arrangement, but for her sake he overruled his body this time.
‘I’ll let your PA know when I’m ready to leave,’ she said coolly.
‘Shirley will arrange the jet for you,’ he acknowledged in the same considered tone, hardly believing that he was offering to help Jen leave him.
‘I’ll book a regular flight when I’m ready, thank you,’ she told him without emotion.
Jen was starting off as she meant to continue, with her pride intact, and her integrity unchallenged. He could only admire her for that.
‘I’ll leave a forwarding number, so you can call to find out about the baby—or the lack of one,’ she added quietly.
Her detachment didn’t surprise him. Switching off was the only way he knew to handle the situation. They both had trust issues. Maybe they always would.
‘I’ll say goodbye, then,’ he said.
If he had expected some reaction beyond a curt, ‘Goodbye, Luca,’ he was to be disappointed. Jen couldn’t even bring herself to look at him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Six months later...
THREE WORDS. THREE WORDS emailed to his business account.
Pregnancy progressing well.
Sitting back in his office chair, he swore softly. Jen’s communications were regular, but terse. He supposed he couldn’t blame her, though when each one arrived he couldn’t help but feel shut out of the pregnancy she’d had confirmed within days of arriving back in London. He couldn’t fault her for keeping him in the loop, but she didn’t want anything more from him, she’d said. He’d been working. She’d been working.
Incredibly, with everything she’d taken on, Jen had completed her college course, graduating summa cum laude, thanks to work of the highest quality, Shirley had told him. But Jen had pushed him away. She hadn’t wanted him at the ceremony, Shirley had told him. Echoes of how he’d treated Raoul couldn’t be avoided. Shirley had Jen’s number, in case of an emergency, but Jen never picked up when he called.
She’d left a legacy on the island in the form of a glittering, world-class display of jewels in a new secure unit that had been built especially to house them. He’d rather they’d remained in the hessian sacks and Jen had stayed with him. He couldn’t see any difference between jewels displayed in a vault, or jewels under the bed. They were still hidden away. Like their feelings, he reflected grimly.
According to his sources Jen had released his brother’s money, and had moved it to a private account where it was being well managed. She hadn’t touched a penny. Why? He had no idea. The only certainty was that Jen would never trust him again. He had pushed her once too often on Raoul’s secrets. He had arranged for the best medical attention money could buy, but Jen had said she preferred to use her local doctor. She attended the midwife’s clinic at the surgery on a regular basis, queuing for her turn like everyone else, Shirley told him. He’d asked Shirley to make sure Jen knew that everything she could possibly need was only a phone call away. He was still waiting for that call.
Jen sent on any medical reports she received, but addressed them to Shirley, who passed them on to him. He could sense Jen’s happiness in the impending birth, but he felt cruelly, yet justifiably excluded. The most significant of those reports had included a note from Jen, asking Shirley if she thought he’d want to know the sex of his child.
What?
He wanted more than that. He wanted everything.
Shutting down his computer, he shoved his chair back impatiently and stood. Digging his hands into his pockets, he went to lean his forehead against the cold glass that was the only thing separating him from rolling black thunderclouds on the other side of the window of his top-floor office in Rome.
Decision made, he pulled out his phone.
Six hours to fuel the jet and file a flight plan? ‘Two,’ he barked. Weather conditions might be bad, but he needed to be in London now, not some time tomorrow.
The flight was everything he deserved. By the time he landed, the weather conditions had been dubbed the storm of the century. His was the last plane in before the airport closed its runways. He passed through security smoothly and his limousine was waiting at the kerb. He glanced at his wristwatch. Shirley had told him that Jen was determined to work right up to the birth, and that tonight she was working in the office at the casino, which meant she spent less time on her feet.
She shouldn’t be working at all, he raged inwardly. And at the casino, where fights had been known to break out? She was seven months pregnant, for goodness’ sake!
‘As fast as you can,’ he told the driver, remaining on the edge of his seat.
How would Jen respond to him after all this time? She might not even agree to see him. He ground his jaw with impatience as his driver threaded the big car skilfully through the tightly packed evening traffic. A lot could happen in six months. His father had died, leaving him properties across the world. He’d sold some of them, using the proceeds for his charities. He’d kept the island and the old house, and not for sentimental reasons, but because he could see a purpose for them. It was hardly a small step from that, to imagining Jen back on the island, taking a full part in his plans—if he could ever persuade her to come back with him.
Most of the arguments she could put up against that idea were gone. With his father’s death everything had changed. There would never be razor wire, or security guards with guns patrolling the island again. Instead, there were flowers and lawns and tennis courts, two swimming pools, a baseball court, stables, and volleyball on the beach. Jen’s exhibition was open to the public so people could view them free of charge. The Emperor’s Diamond with its infamous history took pride of place.
He wanted her to see what a success her exhibition had become, and had sent a handwritten note, inviting her to return to do just that, but she had declined his invitation, saying she was too busy with the Queen’s Diamonds. The entire world knew about this very special exhibition for the Queen of England, and he could see that it was quite a step up for Jen, from sifting through his father’s hessian sacks. She was now part of a team of experts from Smithers & Worseley tasked with displaying the Queen’s Diamonds at the royal palace in London.
Undaunted by her refusal, he had sent a second note to let her know that the island had recently been deemed a heritage site, and that he’d named the summer camp for troubled youn
gsters after his brother. There was just one thing missing, and that was Jen. He didn’t put that in his message. He had confined himself to the bare facts, as she did.
* * *
Another note from Luca. She couldn’t wait to print it out. This was ridiculous, Jen thought as she waited for the club’s printer to spew out Luca’s text message so she could keep it with all the rest. She knew she was being ridiculous. What was the point of keeping them? What was she going to do with six months’ worth of terse messages printed out on pristine sheets of A4?
‘Do you want a ribbon for that?’
Jen glanced up as Jay-Dee walked into the office. ‘Silly.’
‘Not so,’ Jen’s good friend argued, leaning forward to brush Jen’s cheek with a fond kiss. ‘All the best love letters should be tied up with pink ribbon.’
‘Even when the message reads: Island now officially a Heritage Site. Raoul Tebaldi’s Summer Camp in full swing—or it will be when I unblock the drainage.?’
‘Eeeugh!’ Jay-Dee exclaimed, recoiling in theatrical horror. ‘You’re right. Maybe leave that out?’
‘You should read the rest,’ Jen joked.
‘You’ve kept them all?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Come here, baby...’
Sometimes, there was nothing better than being enveloped in a Jay-Dee hug.
* * *