father inclined his head towards her. ‘Please come in, Ms Fletcher.’
Embarrassment flooded Ethan at the stilted remark. He stiffened, quite prepared to walk away. Alina forestalled him, moving forward, hand extended. Leaving his father no choice but to accept her greeting.
‘Thank you, Mr James. It’s very kind of you and your wife to invite me.’ Deliciously tongue in cheek.
The air whooshed from his lungs. He stared in admiration at this poised woman whom he’d sensed had been ready to bolt a few minutes ago. She’d been surprising him from the moment they met. Anticipation of the months ahead zipped along his veins.
They entered together, Alina’s hand in his once more. Was she comparing the cold, immaculate decor to the welcoming, comfy atmosphere of Louise’s courtyard home in Barcelona? He did—every time he came here.
A sharp intake of breath at his side made him aware he was crushing her fingers. He loosened his grip, gave her an apologetic glance—and was completely thrown when she winked her left eye at him. A simple act that triggered a fuzzy memory of something shared. Of concealed laughter.
Alina noticed his startled expression, but had no time to jog his memory. Sophia James was waiting for them. She lifted her chin, quite prepared to confront the woman who would one day take great pleasure in telling her son, I told you so.
He knew it, accepted it, and would handle it with his natural diplomacy. At least he’d have the consolation of his son or daughter.
Why the sudden depression? She’d asked for her freedom—had to have it. Had to keep moving. No ties. No commitments. Keep the memories blocked out. She feared there was now going to be so much more she’d have to not remember.
Sophia was standing regally, ready to be greeted. She reminded Alina of the titled women of history—so proud, so extremely conscious of their presumed status in life. With another quick squeeze of her hand Ethan led her forward, not letting go as he greeted his mother with a light kiss on her proffered cheek.
‘Mother, you’ve already met Alina—though I understand it was a brief encounter.’
Alina hoped she was the only one who heard the nuances in his introduction. Felt a flush of warmth at his championship.
‘Yes, it was quite a surprise. Welcome, Alina.’ Sophia gave her an obligatory social air-kiss on both cheeks. ‘Shall we all sit for drinks?’ She raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at Alina. ‘Do you have a favourite cocktail, my dear?
‘Iced water, thank you. I don’t drink.’
Spoken so woodenly she didn’t recognise her voice. She cringed inside at the pointed look exchanged between the older couple. This wasn’t a family dinner; it was a formal... She didn’t know what it was.
She did know she had the support of the man whose firm hand now guided her to the deep-cushioned sofa. For as long as she stayed in Australia—maybe even longer. His innate integrity ensured that he’d never betray or disown her. Life would have been so much better if only this staid, society-obsessed couple had appreciated the genuine affable qualities of their children.
Ethan kept his arm around her, even after a pointed scowl from his father when he gave them their drinks. He now fully comprehended the primitive male urge to protect a mate. It reinforced his determination to have everyone believe that he had married for love.
‘How is the Gold Coast hotel coming along, Ethan? Is the projected opening still viable?’
‘Yes, Father, but I’d rather not talk business. This is family time. Mother, I hear the charity night at the opera house you helped organise was a great success?’
‘Thank you, Ethan. I’d hoped to see you there.’
‘Not my scene. To support your cause I did buy three double tickets, as a bonus for ardent followers at work.’
‘Opera’s an acquired taste. You never gave it a chance,’ his father stated.
‘Simone attended with her parents,’ his mother chimed in. ‘She was very gracious with her condolences, and apologised for missing Louise’s funeral due to a modelling assignment in New York.’
Her voice slowed as Ethan’s head jerked up. His brow furrowed as a powerful surge of emotion ripped through him. Louise. The wink.
He flicked a quick glance at Alina, whose gaze was focused on his mother.
His sister’s favourite ploy as a child—and sometimes in adulthood—had been winking, always with the left eye, to defuse a tense situation. It was one that had so often had them squirming in their seats, trying not to laugh. Alina had deliberately given him a reminder of happy times.
‘Simone is the daughter of friends, Alina. She and Ethan have been close for years. Now, tell us about yourself. Do you have a profession?’ Sophia’s words were syrup-sweet, politely phrased with a definite hint of disdain.
Alina met her condescending brown eyes full-on, thought of how Louise had suffered because of this woman’s attitude, and remembered her happiness when the procedure had worked. In less than a heartbeat all her apprehension evaporated.
‘No. I’ve never needed one. I speak three languages fluently; get by in a few others. Travelling through Europe has taught me more than I’d have learnt at any university. Hands-on life is a great teacher.’
‘Oh, so how do you make a living?’ Slightly more acidic.
‘By accepting honest casual work in a variety of places and industries.’
She felt disapproval radiate through the room. Should she continue? She hated deceit, even when it was warranted or unavoidable. This wasn’t.
‘Barcelona was my base. That’s where I became friends with Leon and Louise.’
‘So that’s where you two met? Ethan...’ Sophia stopped talking, flashed a wary look at her son.
‘Please continue, Mother.’ Ethan’s arm tightened around her shoulders. His flat, calm tone should have served as a warning. His mother missed it.
‘I realise dealing with everything was paramount, but you never mentioned meeting anyone there. It hasn’t even been two months since the accident, and she’s...’
Another hesitation. Alina guessed it was very unusual for this very outspoken woman.
‘She’s what?’ Harsher. A definite signal to back off.
‘Oh, come on, Ethan. What do you expect?’ Martin James obviously couldn’t contain himself. ‘You chose not to tell us about her, when you met or how. She’s obviously led a nomadic life, with no ties or responsibilities. Now she’s moved in with you. I assume she’s not working?’
Alina’s heart pounded; her stomach heaved. She heard the words, understood the implications but not the undertones. They seemed to be talking of someone or something else, using her as the target. She’d been prepared for personal questions or subtle jibes—not this blatant hostility.
No one had ever treated her this way—as if she weren’t good enough to be in their company. Swinging
