The Russian's Ultimatum(20)

'It's on its side and filling with water as we speak. The chances of   getting a crew here within the next few days to attempt a rescue are   remote at best.'

'So what happens now?'

He dragged a hand down his face. 'I don't know.'

He moved away from her, crossing over to Luis, who was speaking on his   mobile phone. When he got a minute, he would get his charged. For the   moment the yacht was taking all his attention. Once he'd got this sorted   he would go back, check the dozens of messages that would undoubtedly   have piled up and call Zlatan, his lawyer. One thing at a time. Right   now it was the loss of his only means of getting off the island that was   his priority.

'Any news?' he asked Luis when he disconnected the call he was on.

'The soonest we can get a boat to you is likely to be two days. The   other islands took a real battering-the few boats that aren't destroyed   are needed to get the injured to the mainland hospital.'

One consolation Pascha could take was that none of his staff here on   Aliana had been injured. They'd all escaped with a solitary scratch   between them.

He nodded curtly. 'Keep trying,' he said, doing his best to keep his   tone moderate. He could easily pull some strings and get any number of   boats to come for him from the mainland. If he were to do that, he could   be off the island within a couple of hours. But the real issue was the   coral reef. The local islanders knew it well, knew which sections were   safe to sail through and which would rip the hull to shreds.  Outsiders,  the yachtsmen that could come to his rescue, did not. To  call them would  be to place lives at risk.                       
       
           



       

For the first time he cursed his refusal to build a landing strip or   heliport on the island. He hadn't wanted to destroy the qualities that   made Aliana Island so special. It just went to prove that sentimentality   got you nowhere.

'Is there anything I can do to help?' Emily asked quietly, appearing at his side.

'Speak to Valeria. At the moment, it's all hands on deck.' He shook his   head at the inappropriateness of his comment. The deck of his yacht was   submerging by the minute.

It suddenly occurred to him that Emily would want to hear news of her father.

'Let's go to my hut and check my phone for messages.'

However much he would like to blame her-blame anyone-none of this mess was Emily's fault.

There was nothing else he could do here at the jetty. The clean-up was   under way. The storm had knocked the power out but the generators were   working and would keep them going for at least a fortnight.

They made the short walk to his hut in silence.

He unlocked the door and held it open for her. Her petite figure brushed against his as she passed.

His jaw clenched.

With everything that was going on, the adrenaline pumping through   him-the urge to bury himself in her softness, even if just for a short   while-was strong.

Instead he sucked in a breath, plugged his charger in and turned his   phone on. It lit up immediately, two dozen beeps ringing out in rapid   succession.

He listened to his voicemail messages first. Six missed calls: two from   his lawyer, one from his PA and three from James. He listened to the   latter first.

'Well?' Emily asked, her arms folded so tightly across her chest a   sliver of paper would have struggled to get through. Worry was etched   all over her face.

'Three messages from James. One asking how to work the dishwasher, one   asking if it's okay to cook a pizza in a microwave and one asking where   the iron is.'

She relaxed her stance slightly. 'At least we know they're alive.'

'If your brother hasn't killed them both with food poisoning.'

'My dad's not eating anything so he'll be safe.'

He saw straight through her vain attempt at humour. 'He's not eating?'

'All he does is sleep.' She shrugged helplessly. 'Sleep is good.   Eventually he comes out of the darkness. Well, normally he does.'

'And James is capable of caring for him?' Now he knew the man microwaved pizza, real doubts had set in.

'Yep. All he has to do is make sure Dad takes his pills and keep an eye on him throughout the night.'

He could see how badly she was struggling to keep herself together and   he admired her efforts. There was so much he admired about her. 'I'm   surprised James didn't ask you to pop home and iron for him.'

'He can ask all he likes-I'm happy to cook for my brother but when it   comes to ironing he can jolly well do it himself.' She grinned, a forced   smile that tugged at his heart. 'I swear, if I ever have a boy I'm   going to train him to do every domestic chore going before I let him   loose on the world.'

Of course Emily wanted children. A woman as devoted to her family as she was wouldn't think twice about it. It was in her DNA.

A lancing pain settled in his guts. Once, a long time ago, he'd dreamed of having children. A family linked by his blood.

'So you don't completely baby him, then?' he said, forcing his own grin.

The groove in her brow deepened. 'I never baby him. He's just hopelessly undomesticated.'

'I understand that it's normal in a lot of families for the baby to keep   the baby role even into adulthood.' That didn't apply to him,   though-Marat had gone to great lengths to ensure Pascha never felt like a   brother to him, younger or otherwise. Pascha had grown up feeling like   an only child with a stranger living in the room next to him. A  stranger  he had wished with all his heart would accept him.

'James isn't the baby of the family,' she said, sounding offended. 'I am. He's three years older than me.'

'Really?' He stared at her, looking for a sign that she was teasing him.   All he saw was indignation. 'Then why have you taken responsibility  for  your father?'

'James and I share the responsibility.'

'If that's the case, why didn't he move back home to be with your father too? Why was it only you?'

A look he struggled to discern flitted over her face. The closest he could come to describing it was confusion. 'I offered.'

'And James was happy with that? He didn't offer in turn?'                       
       
           



       

'What is this? Are you trying to turn me against my brother?' Her brown   eyes were wide, the rest of her features tight, and she took a step   back.

'Not at all. I'm just trying to understand why you're the one doing   everything-risking everything: your job, your home-while your brother   gets to live his life as normal apart from occasionally acting as a   babysitter.'

She looked as if she'd been punched. 'You haven't the faintest idea what   you're talking about or what we've been through, so keep your opinions   to yourself.'

She left his hut without a goodbye.

Pascha could have kicked himself. He hadn't wanted to upset her, but nonetheless he was glad he'd said what he had.

He would bet every last cent he had that James's job wasn't at risk. The   man ran his own business, could take all the leave he needed with no   one to answer to.

Emily had been the one to take all the time off, enough to have been   given a final warning for it. Emily had been the one to leave her flat   and move back into her childhood home.

James might be the elder sibling but it was the younger of the two who had taken the role of leader.

It was the younger of the two who'd effectively given up her life for their father.





 CHAPTER TEN

EMILY SAT AT the table of her hut-which had mercifully escaped the storm   with no internal damage-carefully sewing sequins onto the hem of the   dress she'd spent the afternoon making, a different dress from the one   she'd marked out a couple of days before. So what if she had no   mannequin or model? That she was doing something practical was enough.

She remembered the first dress she'd made. She'd been seven. Naturally,   her mother had done the majority of the work, but once the work was  done  she had let Emily raid her button box. Emily had spent hours  sewing all  the pretty, sparkly ones all over the dress, being very  careful not to  stab her seven-year-old fingers too often.

She'd loved wearing that dress, had got every ounce of wear from it,   leaving a trail of fallen-off buttons wherever she went. More than   anything, she'd loved the closeness she'd felt with her mum at that   time, a special time only for them.

After her heated exchange with Pascha in his hut, Emily had buried   herself in the clean-up, working until long after the sun had gone down,   doing everything she was physically capable of. It had been   therapeutic. It had left her no time to think.

Today was different.

Today, when she'd shown up at the main lodge at the crack of dawn,   Valeria had given her a hug and told her there was nothing else for her   to do. All that was left was hard manual work.