CHAPTER NINE
THE MINUTE CESAR arrived home, he sought out his wife, finding her in the sitting room talking to her mother on the tablet.
She didn’t roll her eyes when he ruefully showed her the teething ring he’d found in his jacket midmorning, the one he’d obviously pocketed the last time he wore this suit and that she’d been searching for high and low ever since.
In fact, she looked quite distressed, lifting a searching gaze as he entered. Her mother’s voice, so similar in tone to Sorcha’s, but with that heavier accent, was saying, “I didn’t want to tell your sisters until I’d spoken to you and found out if it’s true.”
Cesar was pulled up short by Sorcha’s expression, heart taking an uncomfortable kick. He hated seeing her upset.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Mum says a lawyer from London wants to meet her to discuss her settlement proceedings against the Shelby estate for the house and other income she should have received as a beneficiary in Da’s will. Would that be your lawyer? Is it just a preliminary thing?”
“That was weeks ago. Is he only calling you now, Angela? That’s not acceptable,” Cesar affirmed, moving into the screen so his mother-in-law could see him, hands instinctively going to Sorcha’s shoulders in a comforting caress.
“Hello, Cesar,” Sorcha’s mum said with her dazzled smile. “No, he called ages ago and that was your Mr. Barrow again, on the telephone from London today. He said he would forward you a full report if I wanted him to. The Shelby family has admitted provisions were made for us and we’re in a position to sue for damages above what was owed in the first place. He wants to meet to discuss it and I... Well, when it seems too good to be true, it usually is.”
“In this case, I expect you’re seeing justice at work,” Cesar assured her, pleased on her behalf. “I’ll check with Barrow, but my advice would be to hear what he has to say. I’d bring Sorcha so we could sit in, but I’m leaving first thing in the morning for Dubai. This presentation has been in the works for nearly a year and can’t be put off.”
He had suggested Sorcha invite her mother or sisters to stay while he was gone, not liking to leave her alone. None had been able to get away and she hadn’t wanted to come with him. His schedule was full and the heat and local customs would keep her in the hotel most of the time so she hadn’t seen the point.
“He said he’d come Monday, but I’ll see if he can wait until you can be here,” Angela said, hand to her forehead as though dizzied. “Oh, Sorcha, do you realize if you hadn’t fallen in love with your boss, none of this would be happening?”
Beneath his light hands, her shoulders stiffened and a strangled noise was quickly muffled in her throat.
Sorcha offered a brisk promise to be in touch about their travel arrangements and ended the call, ducking away from his touch. She would have walked out of the room if Cesar hadn’t caught her arm.
A kind of shock held him. She loved him?
Women had said the words to him in the past, but he’d always dismissed them. It wasn’t something he had ever wanted to hear or could say with conviction himself. Frankly, he’d never believed any of those women and told himself not to put much stock in it now.
But there was something very compelling about being granted entry into the tight circle of people Sorcha held closest to her heart.
“Sorcha?” he asked, gripped by anticipatory tension. “Do you?”
She skimmed her gaze down, biceps tense in his light grip. “Do I what?”
He touched her chin with his free hand, insisting she look at him. Her eyes were their darkest blue, the pupils large and deep, her mouth tremulous. Her vulnerability was hard to witness, but he had to know. With a gentle caress against her cheek that he meant as reassurance, he asked quietly, “Do you love me?”
The word felt like a phrase in a foreign language he was trying for the first time.
Her brow pulled in a flinch and her eyes grew shinier. Her mouth opened, then she closed it again, as if she couldn’t decide how to respond.
He dropped his hands, startled by a deep stab of disappointment. “I didn’t think you’d lie to your mother about something like that.”
“I didn’t,” she said quickly, folding her arms. “I mean. Yes, I do, um...” She cleared her throat. “Love you,” she said with a little thrust of her jaw, brow a line of determination as she dragged an air of confidence around her.
He’d seen her don this look a thousand times when the pressure was high and now knew it was her defense mechanism, something she’d learned to wear against those who’d been hard on her after her father’s death.
She shouldn’t feel a need for it with him. Laughter rose in him, the kind fueled by soaring joy. It was alien, yet powerful, like a ferocious storm he ought to fear, yet a primal part of him reveled in it.
“Why haven’t you said?” he asked, bemused.
She finally met his gaze, searching so deep, he went on guard. Angst crept into her expression.
“Do you love me?” she asked.
He mentally took a long step backward. Here was the issue with deep feelings. They turned quiet words into explosives that could go off if they weren’t handled very carefully.