his jaw as his brother looked at him reprovingly.
‘The hell it is.’ Raul all but growled at him, then launched into a torrent of Spanish. ‘What is the matter with you? Can’t you see she loves you?’
‘Love isn’t everything, Raul,’ he threw back at his brother in Spanish, finding it liberating to be letting it all out, letting all the emotions he’d been holding behind his dam of hurt burst over the top. ‘I certainly didn’t get any from my father and I’m damn sure you didn’t either.’
Raul leaned forward in a slow and purposeful way. ‘I got past that and you sure as hell can too—or regret it for the rest of your life.’
Max gritted his teeth and frowned at him, remembering what Raul’s mother had told him at the wedding in Madrid.
‘Don’t run from the truth, Max, face it. Own it. Make it your friend, not your enemy.’
What was that truth? That he didn’t have to be like his father? That he could be exactly who he wanted to be?
Raul stood up, his glass of whisky untouched. ‘You told me the day we met I should sort out my love life and now I am offering you that same advice. Sort it, Max, don’t allow the past to kill your future.’
Max inhaled deeply, not ready to accept what his brother was saying. ‘I will give it some thought.’
‘Not thought, action and damn soon.’ Raul straightened his jacket as if he’d physically done several rounds with his brother. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to be with my wife.’
Max watched as Raul wound his way back through all the high-backed chairs and out of the room, leaving Max to brood. He was worse than his father, walking out on the woman who’d so honestly declared her love for him, the woman who carried his child.
He looked into the bottom of the whisky glass, but no answers lay there. He put it down roughly, sliding it across the table away from him. He was pushing it away as roughly as he’d pushed away the woman he loved.
The woman he loved.
The icy bucket of truth poured all over him. He’d been trying to fight the one thing he’d always thought would make him like his father, believing that by loving someone it only led to pain and heartache for them and rejection for him. But he’d been wrong.
Very wrong.
Love was the one emotion his father had been incapable of feeling, of receiving, and by allowing love into his heart he was proving he was far more of a man than his father had ever been.
Why the hell had it taken him until now to accept that? He’d pushed so many people away. His stepfather. His sister. Worse than that, he’d forced Lisa to walk out on him.
* * *
Lisa took in a deep breath, instilling herself with calm, trying to soothe the heavy thump of her heartbeat. After what Max had said to her, what had made her come here tonight? Was it to see those dark eyes filled with such coldness once more, to feel the weight of his anger, his rejection yet again? Was it one last attempt to suffocate the love she had for him?
The black cab pulled up outside one of London’s most prestigious hotels as in the distance Big Ben chimed half past eleven. Just half an hour and all this would be over. The deal. Her marriage. Her love.
She touched her fingers to the diamonds that lay coldly against her skin, annoyed that Max’s driver had handed her the package and said he had instructions to take her to the party. With cold anger in her veins she’d taken the package, knowing full well what it contained, and had dismissed the driver, who’d reluctantly left.
At first she’d thought she wouldn’t go, that she’d return the diamonds to him by courier, but that plan had slipped from her mind as quickly as it had formed. Only seeing him once more, so cold and heartless that he had insisted on their deal in such a way, would finally kill that foolhardy love she had for him.
She’d take off the jewellery piece by piece, a symbol of her heart, her love, and give it back to him. Then walk away.
‘Are you wanting to go somewhere else?’ The driver asked as she sat in the sanctuary of his cab, reluctant to get out, reluctant to do what she knew she had to.
Did she want to go somewhere else? Yes, anywhere but here. ‘No, thanks.’
She passed the fare through to him and opened the door, the cold air of the evening making her shiver, or was it what she intended to do? Walk away from her marriage, the man she loved?
She picked up the emerald-green silk of her dress, holding it just above her ankles, and stepped down from the cab, feeling unsteady on the gold high-heeled sandals she’d bought as she’d wandered aimlessly around London today, proving if nothing else that she wanted—or needed—to be at the party tonight. To see Max one last time. To put an end to it all.
She pulled off the black coat, which hadn’t gone with the high-class dress at all, and handed it in, suddenly feeling very exposed. The long dangling diamond earrings felt heavy in her ears, the necklace weighed her down even more, but very soon she would be free of them and all the pain they’d brought her.
She held her head high as she ascended the main staircase of the hotel and followed the sound of music until she came to the double doors of the suite where one of the biggest New Year’s Eve parties this season was being held. It was the place to see and be seen. She pushed the doors gently open and stood at the top of a very grand wide staircase and looked down at the most glamorous party she’d ever seen.
It was like being Cinderella arriving late at the ball. She might not have glass slippers, but she did have a dress she’d never be able to afford, not in a million years. And diamonds. As she looked around at couples dancing, groups of people talking and the sheer glitz of the moment her thoughts went back to the fairy-tale films she’d watched endlessly as a child. She might not be about to get her happy ever after, but she was certainly at the ball.
She lifted the hem of her dress slightly again and slowly descended the steps, one hand on the wide balustrade, then all the air sucked out of the room, the voices and the music slowed and became nothing but a steady thump. Or was that her heart?
Max was standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up at her. If this were her fairy tale then he’d be smiling up at her, love shining bright in his eyes. He would rush up the stairs, take her hand and kiss her fingers so gently yet so passionately, then lead her to the dance floor, where they’d whirl around in a mist of love.
But this wasn’t her fairy tale. This was reality.
The reality of Max so very handsome in his black tuxedo, his face dark and thunderous as he looked up at her.
* * *
Max’s breath felt as if it had stopped. No matter how deep he tried to breathe he couldn’t. Like a vision of pure loveliness, Lisa stood halfway down the stairs, the green silk of her dress cascading down her body like a waterfall. Her vibrant red hair was piled up in a mass of unruly curls and the diamond earrings sparkled as they moved gently in the light. The necklace seemed to caress her skin, making his fingers want to touch her there, his lips to kiss her.
She’d come. His mouth dried as relief washed over him, but that was short-lived as he felt her gaze fall on him, felt the heat of
