There was only one thing missing from her Christmas preparations, Leila reflected as she sat on the rug, hugging her knees in front of the fire, and that was this man... Picking up the newspaper, she stared at the ridiculously handsome face before reading the banner headline. Bite-sized pieces of the text jumped out at her: Don Rafael Leon... Famous Spanish billionaire... Strikes gold again... Battles a sandstorm in Kareshi... Risking his life—
Her heart stopped. Clenching the newspaper, she wished Raffa would stop risking his life. Why did he have to do that? Why couldn’t he slow down for once?
Why couldn’t he be here?
Why hadn’t she heard from him? Rubbing her face on her hands, she thought back to how determined she’d been to handle this birth alone, and how reluctantly Raffa had granted her wish. Now she understood why he was so concerned and why he had his people watching out for her—her own doctor had told her about the regular calls from Raffa’s doctor, taking the opportunity to reassure Leila that professional confidence between doctor and patient extended to everyone, even other doctors. Her doctor had even taken calls from Raffa, though he never left a number, but why would he, when Leila had told him in that letter not to get in touch?
That wretched letter! Why had she left it for him in the first place? To be fair? To be fair to Raffa? Sanctimonious twaddle! What was that about? What had she been thinking? Hormones had been thinking for her, obviously. Why couldn’t he be here? Where was he? Was he even safe? Why did two of the best men in her life have to disappear? Was she jinxed?
She wanted to tell him she understood everything now. She wanted to hold him and be strong for him. Pressing her head into her knees, she fought back tears, knowing she had to be strong for their babies. Lifting her chin, she straightened out the newspaper and read on: Raffa Leon, bringing back more fabulous gems to be set with the now famous Skavanga Diamonds.
Raffa and his colleagues in the consortium had made Skavanga a household name. When she’d been on the island with him and had asked the secret of his success, he’d said good product and publicity, along with a unique selling point, adding that, yes, there were fabulous gems on show in his underground vaults, but his most valuable stock was kept in an underground cave guarded by gryphons and dragons...
The tears were back when she remembered how they’d laughed. They’d been in bed at the time—
No. Bed. Thoughts.
Not now. Not ever. Finished. Done with. Bed thoughts—specifically sex thoughts of any kind, especially those involving intimate moments between them—were absolutely forbidden. Raffa’s humour and his tender asides—those were forbidden too. She had to stop thinking about him, or she’d never ease this ache inside her.
So, what was he doing for Christmas?
Leila stared round her cosy home. Would he be somewhere nice like this, or in some sterile hotel? With the glow of the fire, and the red ribbons and candles she had brought down from the box in the eaves, it looked so warm and welcoming. There was just one thing missing...
Oh, if this wasn’t the biggest pity party of all time. She’d be dressing up in a red robe, sticking cotton wool to her cheeks and giving herself gifts out of a trash sack in a minute. She was well organised, with plenty of food. She was safe and warm. What more did she want?
Don’t even think the name.
That lasted all of five seconds.
She’d posted Raffa’s card early, along with a special card for his abuelita. She had kept Raffa’s card carefully neutral. ‘Wishing you a wonderful Christmas and the very best New Year ever. Leila x’