‘Nothing.’
‘Did you mention Rafael to Mum?’
‘No. You know what’s she like. She didn’t want me to go to Ireland, so she wasn’t interested in hearing a word about what went on there.’
‘That’s good. Do me a favour—don’t mention Rafael. It’s…er…him and me…well, it’s over,’ she said jerkily.
‘Is it? Was the two-week holiday the kiss of death? I have to admit I’m surprised. By the way, my offer to buy Slieveross has been accepted.’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful news…’
He soon rang off, and she put her phone back in her bag. Until someone passing by stared at her she did not realise that her face was wet with tears, and she worked hard at pulling herself back together. Her thoughts tried to travel straight to the heart of the agony growing at a steady rate inside her. But she was convinced that if she acknowledged that agony it would drive her off the edge of sanity. How could the world be so small? And how could fate be so horribly cruel that what she most valued and needed and loved had become what would ultimately destroy her? Feeling raw emotions starting to pull at her, she shut down that dangerous inner turbulence and made herself think instead in small, simple steps that only stretched a little way ahead.
She did not even need a plan of action. After all, she knew what had to be done, didn’t she? Rafael would be waiting for her at his city apartment. She had to break off their relationship. Immediately. There was no need to tell him what her mother had told her. No need whatsoever. News like that he could definitely do without. It wouldn’t change anything, or make the facts any more palatable. Valente Cavaliere had blighted his son’s life practically from birth. Rafael could live without another score to add to Valente’s considerable tally. She could protect Rafael from knowing the unbearable truth and of having to live with it as she would have to. Wasn’t that the best she could do for Rafael? Wasn’t that the only way left to show her love?
A manservant let her into the penthouse apartment. It was as contemporary as Rafael’s other properties were traditional: an imposing display of soaring ceilings and immense stretches of marble and limestone space. Rafael was talking in French on the phone and did not initially see her. He was propped up against the edge of a glass desk in a relaxed pose. His lean, bronzed profile was etched against the light spilling through the window behind him. He laughed, moving a lean brown hand in an expressive gesture of emphasis. For an instant she thought her heart might crack wide open; for an instant the agony she had suppressed leapt to the fore and threatened to destroy her.
‘Harriet…’ He framed her name softly and stretched out his hand with the unquestioning assurance of a lover who knew his every attention was welcome.
She lost colour, her fine skin tightening over her delicate bone structure. Numbly she compressed her lips, shook her head in urgent negative, and turned away to walk back out of the room in a silent indication that she would wait for him to finish his call.
Rafael watched her departure with a frown. Harriet had yet to utter a single critical word in relation to her mother or her sister. She had told no lies either. As a result, Rafael had wasted no time in reaching his own conclusions about Harriet’s nearest and dearest. In his opinion Eva was shallow and neglectful, and Alice a spoilt and spiteful cheat; neither of them deserved Harriet. Now she had returned from visiting her relatives looking as though she had just staggered clear of a motorway pile-up, and Rafael knew exactly where to bestow the blame. Obviously there would have to be some changes, he reflected grimly. The next time he would be present when Harriet saw her relatives. That way he could ensure that she was treated with all due respect.
Harriet stumbled dizzily into the cloakroom, where she was overcome by nausea. In the aftermath, she leant up against the wall, rested her clammy brow on the cold, unyielding tiles and shivered uncontrollably. She felt like she was living a nightmare she could not wake up from. Please, please let me wake up, she thought wretchedly. For the first time in her life she could find nothing to be positive about, and that sense of black hopelessness was threatening to drown her. Struggling to get a grip on herself again, she freshened up. She examined the hollow blankness in her eyes in the mirror and glanced away. She had to do it and leave the apartment again. One small step at a time. But it was such a huge, terrifying step now she was actually facing it.
‘I have something to say…’
Rafael inclined his proud dark head, the charismatic smile she adored tugging at the corners of his expressive mouth.
Her spine as stiff as a poker, Harriet contrived to look in his direction and yet not focus. ‘I loved Italy. I had a great time. But I’d like us to just go back to being partners in the yard…and nothing more.’
‘OK…’ Rafael murmured, without any expression at all.
‘I’ve been really happy, and I don’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate you.’ Harriet hovered in desperate search of words that might remove the risk of her inflicting the smallest sting to his ego.
His lean, strong face was impassive. ‘Why would I think that?’
‘It’s just that I thought you might, and I couldn’t bear that,’ she muttered frantically, letting her restive hands link in front of her and twist together. ‘It’s important to me that you know that I was really, really happy with you—’
‘Only not right at this moment.’
Harriet blinked, misery choking her thoughts and responses. ‘Sorry?’
‘It would seem obvious that I am not making you really, really happy right now,’ Rafael delineated, with cutting clarity of diction.
Harriet shot him a stricken look. ‘But that’s not your fault. Please don’t think that it is. I hope we can still be friends.’
‘No,’ Rafael asserted, without hesitation.
Her lower lip wobbled and she studied the marble floor until she had a grip on her flailing emotions again. ‘It’s important to me.’
‘Either you’re in my life on my terms or out of it.’
‘Out,’ she mumbled sickly.
‘Are you still planning to go straight back to the airport?’ Rafael drawled.
‘Yes.’ She could hardly squeeze the word out.