Bound by the Millionaire's Ring(18)

He wasn't someone who apologized, and barely had just now, but she was  moved. In that moment, he understood, really understood, what kind of  power he had over her.

Maybe he had always known, because he tensed even now, wanting to turn  away. He had the intelligence to know that the flip side of a power coin  was responsibility. He already carried a lot of obligations. He didn't  want more.

But there she perched, teetering in the place between his conscience and  his sense of duty, whether he wanted to accept her presence or not.  Something unsteady seesawed in his chest, making him look to the  horizon, hoping it was only the yacht listing on the waves.

He heard her draw a breath as though preparing to say something, but  when he looked back at her, he saw hesitation. A change of mind.

"What?" he prompted.

"Nothing." She pushed at the greens on her plate with the tines of her  fork. "I know that my loyalty is both my strength and my weakness,  that's all."

That hadn't been what she had been about to say, he was sure of it, but  now he wondered if that was why she hadn't pushed her mother out of her  life, despite how much anguish Francisca's actions had caused her. Her  mother was still keeping a secret that could devastate her, he recalled,  and wished like hell he didn't know about it. If she ever found out he  knew and hadn't told her, she really would push him into traffic.

"For instance, my loyalty to Trella demands that I ask why you're still  playing human shield for her, even though I know you'll say it's not my  place to ask."

"I do take a zero-tolerance approach to discussing my family." He felt  like an ass as he said it, especially when she nodded, as if he had  behaved as expected, but still slid her attention sideways to hide that  she was stung.

"Even though I'm directly affected in this case." Her voice quavered  with emotion. "I mean, I know you and Henri have reason to be  protective, and I know she was hiding her panic attacks from the press.  That's why she stayed out of the public eye all those years, but she has  that under control now, right? So after all those years of her  struggling to get a handle on things, she's finally ready to steer her  own life. Why don't you want to let her? Why go the route of keeping me  here, doing this? Don't say it's because she'll make mistakes. We all  kiss frogs on the way to growing up."         

     



 

Like him?

She cleared her throat, not meeting his gaze, but her chin took on a  haughty angle. "For what it's worth, I agree with you. I think the  prince is the father and that she should tell him. But it's not my life  and it's not yours, either." "So there" was heavily implied.

She dropped her gaze to the face of her phone, chin set with  belligerence, but he had the distinct feeling she was sitting there  braced for a blast.

His knee-jerk reaction was to not just nip that sort of intrusion in the bud, but yank it out by the roots.

Yet here he sat, using a woman who only wanted to defend his sister. On  the brink of hurting Isidora again, because she dared ask why he was  using her.

The fluttering snap of the flag at the stern filled the silence.

"Whatever," she muttered, shoving aside her plate. "I'll chalk it up to  that childish contrariness you two have been locked in all your lives  and get back to doing my 'job.'"

She started to rise.

"I've been called a lot of things. 'Childish' is not one of them."

"But you're willing to own 'contrary?'"

He curled his lip, not exactly warm to the idea, even though there was  some truth to it. He and Trella were contrary. If he said black she had  to say white. To this day, his little sister would always claim "he  started it," even though she invariably picked their fights.

"I don't have brothers and sisters. I've never understood why you fight  so much. I've always thought you two were lucky to have each other and  should be nicer. Especially-"

She didn't finish, but he knew what she meant. He was lucky to have Trella, considering how close they had come to losing her.

"I don't fully understand it, either," he admitted, not sure if he was  relieved or dismayed when Isidora let her hands and napkin fall back  into her lap as she stayed to listen. "Henri has the patience to deal  with Trella being headstrong and impulsive. Gili is so sensitive, she  cries if they disagree. With me, Trella seems to challenge every single  thing I say. There's six years between us. I don't antagonize her for  the sake of it, but she has never accepted that I might know a few  things."

Isidora's brows went up. She set her elbow on her armrest and propped  her chin on her fist, wearing an expression of polite interest, but she  rolled her lips inward to suppress a smile.

"Why is that funny?"

"I'm just wondering how much you know about being pregnant? By accident. By a prince."

He let out a heavy breath, hating this, but supposed he owed her an explanation.

"I left her to deal with her own problems once before. It didn't work  out well." He moved his gaze to the endless horizon of blue on blue,  holding that blankness inside him so he didn't have to deal with the  roiling emotions beneath the surface.

"Ramon! No, you didn't." Her touch settled on his wrist, her fingertips  cool against his skin, far more profound than her voice. He found  himself holding very still, not wanting to startle her into lifting her  hand and removing that tentative contact.

"Don't ever blame yourself for not catching up to that van before they got away."

"I'm not talking about the kidnapping." They'd all had therapy ad  nauseam after Trella was recovered. He knew in his head he wasn't  responsible for Trella's kidnapping. Gili's math tutor was. Ramon had  been fifteen, a top athlete, and had chased the van until he collapsed  with exhaustion. He still had sick moments when he went over and over  that memory, thinking maybe and if only.

Therapy could only accomplish so much, but for the most part they had  all put that trauma into the past. They had still been coming to terms  with the rest, however, when Trella had been pulled into a fresh hell  and they had all been sucked in with her.

"I mean later," he clarified, using the measured, disembodied voice he  used when he had no choice but to go back to the dark times. "After our  father died."

He had the unnatural urge to turn up his palm and invite her hand to  slip into his grip, but tensed against needing support. He needed to be  strong, because as much as Trella exasperated him, she was also deeply  vulnerable. He had to be a pillar for her. For all his family.  Impervious.

"Grief isn't something you can fix for anyone." He could hear the  confusion in her voice. "All you can do is be there and I know you were.  Weren't you? I know you were racing..."

"I took time off from racing after Papa died. Henri and I were dealing  with...everything. Grief. The board. They refused to hand the keys to  the castle to a pair of new adults still wet behind the ears. Henri was  going through our father's records, doing the sort of tedious work I  can't stand. I was doing what I could to support Mama and the girls.  Trella and Gili were supposed to start back at school, but Trella kept  making excuses. Things were happening online that she didn't tell us  about. Emails. Photographs and sexual harassment. Things that make me  sick as a grown man. You can imagine what they did to a teenage girl  with Trella's history."         

     



 

She absorbed that in a beat of thoughtful silence, then murmured, "I  always wondered why she was so adamant against starting social-media  accounts. Is that what started her panic attacks?" Her hand stayed on  his arm, was soothing despite just resting the light weight of her  fingertips against his skin.

"Gili was getting the same messages, but neither of them wanted to worry  us. She knew something was up with Trella, though. That it was worse  for her. I kept saying she was just being Trella. Moody and obstinate.  She had made so much progress since the kidnapping, I didn't see-I  didn't want to see-that she was falling apart. Going past rock-bottom  and not coming back. Like if I ignored it, I could keep it from  happening."

He wanted to go back and shake that ignorant young man he'd been. If he  had listened to Gili, if he had pushed past Trella's insistence that she  was fine...

"She was supposed to come watch one of my races and changed her mind at  the last minute. We argued and she told me to leave her alone. I took  her at her word. It was the worst possible thing I could do."

He thought he heard Isidora's breath catch in apprehension, but he was  lost in that awful moment of fearing that history had repeated itself.

"Gili was hysterical even before we got home, convinced something was  wrong. We walked in the house and Trella was gone. I called the police,  then checked the security footage. That's how I figured out where to  look. She was curled up in the back of her closet, biting a towel to  keep from screaming, soaked with sweat."