He blanched at that. Because he hadn’t been.
‘Maybeyoujust need a moment.’ Violet moved towards him. ‘This is a lot to take in.’
He did not want a moment. He did not want to think beyond the neatly delineated constraints of contracts and papers. ‘Not all of us need for ever and a day to grasp something so fundamental,’ he snapped.
Hurt flashed in her eyes and she stopped a few feet from him.
Good. That felt good. He could breathe a little better. Violet shouldn’t want... She shouldn’t be near him. Suddenly he was filled with a driving need to push back from her, to pushheraway.
Violet had wanted time to process the pregnancy and how they would handle it. He hadn’t needed time. He needed solutions to problems and then he’d move on, knowing everything was okay. Just as he did in his business every damned day. He liked things to be clear-cut. He needed this—everything with her—to be clear-cut too. He needed it all fixed and certain. Andcontained.
‘Well, it’s amazing you’ve finally found her.’ Placating softness... She’d ignored his cruel outburst.
And made him feel worse. Suddenly he was angry. How was he ever going to be a good enough father, a good enough husband? Because he’dneverbeen a good enough brother.
‘But I didn’t find her,’ he snapped. ‘I failed her. All these years and I couldn’t even be sure of what I’dseen. And she’s been surviving who knows what this whole time. Away from her birth right. Alone.’
‘You were alone too,’ Violet said quietly. ‘You were both alone. And it wasn’t either of your faults.’
Roman flinched. Violet was wrong. So wrong. He’d told her he was to blame. She’d not listened. And he would always regret what he’d done.
He didn’t want herunderstanding. He certainly did not want her forgiving him in this moment. He deserved neither. And he certainly didn’t want her indulging his emotionalweakness. He had to claw back his emotional control, focus on what and how he could actually help. Not just Eloise, but Violet too, and the baby. And the only thing he could truly offer all of them with any degree of certainty was financial security. Physical safety was barely a maybe. So he needed to push this back where he should have put it in the beginning.
‘All that matters now is that I ensure she understands what I have set aside for her.’ He looked at Violet steadily. ‘Same with you.’
Violet leaned back against the kitchen counter for support. Roman was shutting down before her eyes. The man from last night had gone—the hurt, lonely human who’d come seeking solace in her company—and the remote isolationist was back, more prickly than ever.
Last night she’d been so sleepless—adrenalin, excitement and worry surging as she’d realised the extent of her feelings for him. The hunger she’d wanted to fill had really been a distraction activity. As had the idea to step outside into the starry night and take a Christmas selfie to share with her family. She’d not wanted to wake him. He’d been sleeping so soundly. But he’d woken and found her gone. He’d frozen. And the extent of that fear had shocked and scared him even more. While he’d warmed up physically, there was a coldness within him today that was new.
Frankly, now that chill was spreading to her as she saw the deadened look in his eyes and the emotion she’d just watched him suppress. It was scary, the degree to which he could control it. He broke her heart. She knew that over the years he’d grown defences to protect that hurt heart of his. He’d been so hurt, he didn’t want to lose anyone again—which meant he wouldn’t put himself at the risk of that happening.
‘We should have something to eat before we go,’ she suggested distractedly. ‘Shall I...?’ She hesitated as she saw his flinch. Then she realised. ‘You don’t want me to come with you.’ She swallowed, mortified. But this wasn’t about her. ‘Of course you don’t. This is very private.’
She wasn’t part of this for him. He wanted to face this alone.
‘There’s nothing there for you to do,’ he said gruffly.
Except be there alongside him. To wait while he went. To quietly offer support when he returned. It wasn’t that she wanted to intrude at all, but she’d like to be there for him later. But he didn’t want that. Not from her. And that hurt. Because last night he had. Last night he’d asked her not to leave him. Last night she’d started tohope. And to dream.
She knew how scary it was to be alone through difficult things. How hard it was when you didn’t have someone you could talk to openly about how you were feeling. Someone with whom you could admit your fears and then forget them for a few moments while you had a little laugh. She’d yearned to have that deeply human connection with one special person—the ups, the downs and all the in-betweens, all of which could happen within one hour when life was throwing its fullest at you. Which it currently was, at them both.
And for a little moment there she’d thought she’d found that with him. She’d been able to be honest with him in a way she’d never been able to be honest with anyone else. And then she’d even begun to believe that he might feel able to do the same with her. But it had lasted mere seconds. Now, in the light of day, he was pushing her away. Hard.
‘I need you to promise me you won’t leave while I’m gone,’ he said shortly.
Shocked, she stared at him, her hurt swiftly deepening. ‘Of course I won’t.’ She would never, ever do that.
‘You promise?’
Did he really have to double-check and demand an oath? That hurt burgeoned and built into something more. Anger spread along her veins. He still didn’t trust her. Not at heart. Not when it really mattered. He didn’t feel as if he could count on her. And he didn’t want to. That broke another chunk off her heart. Would he ever learn to trust her? Because without trust, without honesty and belief in one another, there couldn’t be love.
‘You want me to sign a contract? Or do you want to leave me with an armed bodyguard?’ she asked testily. ‘You think I’d walk out when you’re in the middle of a massive personal crisis? What kind of person do you think I am?’
He threw her a furious look. And she knew then this was what he’d wanted—to vent and rage.
‘I get that you don’t want to talk about it,’ she said, struggling to keep control of her own emotions. ‘I’m not going to make you. But that you think I’d walk out at a moment when you’re so vulnerable? You really think that little of me?’
‘I expect the worst.’