* * *
He found the note right away. Leila had left it on his pillow. He ground his jaw and seriously considered tearing it up. What could it tell him that he didn’t already know? Leaning back against the wall, he opened the envelope. There was one sheet of paper inside. The short note might as well have begun ‘Dear John’.
It was a polite, emotion-free deed of separation. It was a reasonable and considered application to remain friends. It was an offer of complete access to his child at any time of his choosing—providing that access took place in Skavanga. Leila didn’t want anything from him—no child support, no help with housing, no money, nothing. Though she promised to keep him in the loop—so kind of her. Thanks to him and his excellent introduction to the diamond industry, she intended to pursue her studies and take a Masters degree in Gemology—in Skavanga, of course. It was at that point he ripped the note to shreds and tossed it in the bin. Leila had rocked his world with her abrupt departure. If it hadn’t been for the baby—
He would never see her again?
But there was a baby, and that baby had to be born and he had to know Leila would come through that birth safely. It wasn’t enough for him to write the cheques and pull the strings. He had to know. This was as much a part of his nature as stubbornness was part of Leila’s character. He had to see for himself that she survived the birth, for as much as he resented the way Leila had cut herself free he would happily die rather than harm her in any way.
* * *
The dowager had fallen asleep, leaving Leila to mull over her incredible revelation. Knowing Raffa’s mother had died in childbirth explained so much about him. Now she knew why he wanted to control the birth of their child. It wasn’t to exert his authority over her, as she had supposed, but simply to keep her safe.
And what had she done?
She had cut all ties with him, leaving no loose ends. There was no way back. She had always believed a clean break was for the best, having been used to radical change in her life from a very young age. But had she tried to get to know him—really tried? She felt like curling into a cringing ball at the thought of how selfish she’d been.
‘Have you, dear?’
Leila blinked, realising she must have spoken out loud. ‘I’m afraid I’ve only been thinking about myself.’
‘I’ve been saying the same thing to Rafael for years,’ his grandmother remarked. ‘If you ask me, it’s time both of you took your blinkers off.’
* * *
It seemed so long since she had left the island, and her personal world had been spinning in the wrong direction ever since. Wrong, because it never brought her any closer to Raffa. As far as her work was concerned, it couldn’t have been better. Preparing the site for the exhibition was going well, but there hadn’t been a word from Raffa, who had thrown all his considerable resources behind Leila to make sure she had all the help she could possibly need for her work from his team. And why should there be any word from Raffa, when she had made it quite clear in her letter to him that it was over between them for good?
But now she’d had her scan she had to talk to him as a matter of urgency. She’d had some really big news. She’d tried all the various numbers she had been given for him, including his PA, who was cagey about Raffa’s whereabouts, and even his grandmother. Sharif and Roman might have been able to tell her, but she didn’t want to get into the inevitable conversation with them, and so she called Britt.
‘Who knows?’ Britt said, yawning as if she had just woken up. ‘We haven’t heard from him.’