The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит
Читать онлайн книгу.
to slap him, punish him, Rebecca felt increasingly guilty that she had refused. Soula must be very unwell for him to go to such extremes. But how could she help? She had to put T.J.—and herself—first.
He’s seen T.J., a little evil voice whispered. He hasn’t put it together.
Dared she risk it? Rebecca chewed her bottom lip, thinking furiously. “It’s not only a case of T.J. What will happen to my business while I’m away?”
Sensing her weakening, his blue eyes sharpened. “Surely your business can survive your absence for a couple of weeks? Later on, a lot of the wedding arrangements could be made from here. The move to Auckland won’t be permanent.”
“I don’t know….” For a thread of time she wavered, and then all her misgivings crashed back. What would happen if the truth came out?
“Look, I’ll double the amount of that cheque I offered this morn—” The jangle of Damon’s cell phone caused him to break off.
The interruption made her hiss with relief. What was she thinking? She was mad even to consider it. Nothing, not even obscene amounts of money, would make her go back.
Almost. He’d almost had her!
Damon snarled a string of curses in Greek as he checked the caller ID. At the familiar number, a cold frisson ran down his spine and he stopped cursing abruptly. He rose, tension coiling in his gut, and stalked away from Rebecca, toward the blankness of the dark window.
“Mama? What is it?”
“Damon, I’ve been having pains in my chest. Savvas and Demetra are taking me to the hospital.”
“Has Savvas called the doctor?”
“He’s meeting us at the hospital. He says I’m going to have to stay there for a couple of days. My son, what am I to do?”
“Rest,” Damon responded succinctly and stared out the window into the darkening night. Through the gloom he could barely make out the shape of the large tree rustling in the front garden.
“But what about the wedding? What about—”
“Don’t give it another thought. I’ve got it all under control.” Over his shoulder he shot the stubborn, maddening woman on the other side of the room a smouldering glance.
“Rebecca’s going to do it? Oh, that’s wonderful! I can’t tell you how much peace of mind that brings me! Bring her to the hospital—I need to tell her what I’ve done, who I’ve spoken to, the venues I’ve considered.”
He couldn’t admit to his mother that he had failed. She had to believe he’d succeeded. For the sake of her heart. He’d handle what he’d tell her when he arrived back in Auckland, without Rebecca, later. Damon wondered for the thousandth time why his mother was so fixated on Rebecca. The women who had bought Dream Occasions from Rebecca would have leaped at the chance to arrange an Asteriades wedding.
It burned him that out of all the women in the world, his mother had to choose the one who had killed his marriage. Yet his mother refused to accept that Rebecca was to blame—had always insisted that Fliss must have left of her own accord. Damon didn’t—couldn’t—accept that. But how could he refute it? He’d never told anyone, least of all his mother, about what had happened on the eve of his wedding….
All he could do now was murmur, “I will bring her. Hush now. I want you to relax. Do not worry about anything, I will take care of everything.”
Rebecca found herself holding her breath as she listened to the one-sided conversation. With every sentence Damon’s cheekbones stood out more starkly under tightly stretched skin, his tan draining to an unflattering putty shade.
Something twisted deep inside her as those rough fingers raked back the dark spikes of hair that had fallen forward over his eyes. And when he stared so helplessly into the night, his shoulders hunched, she had to force herself to be still, not to rush to his side, not to rest her hand on his arm, touch him…anything to banish the stark shock and bewilderment as he uttered frantic words of comfort.
“Mama? Mama…” He now called with desperation. “Can you hear me?” A shaking hand jabbed through his hair. “No, no, don’t answer. Just get to the hospital. I will meet you there.”
He ended the call and turned to Rebecca, his eyes dark sunken pits in his bleak face.
“I have to go back to Auckland. My mother—” He wheeled away, placing a fisted hand against his temple.
Rebecca felt terrible. He hadn’t lied. All the time he’d wasted trying to convince her, time he should have spent in Auckland, near his mother.
What if Soula died? What if Damon didn’t make it in time, never saw his mother again?
She would never forgive herself! And if Soula died, who would take the hurt from Damon’s eyes? Damon always looked after his family—who would be there for him?
Full of remorse, she hurried toward him and touched his sleeve. He started. “Damon, I’ll come with you. I’ll take care of…of…Savvas’s wedding.”
At the back of her mind lurked the awful thought that if Soula died, there would be no wedding, at least not until the mourning period was over. Please, Rebecca prayed, please let Soula live to celebrate a wedding.
The Asteriades mansion hadn’t changed one iota, Rebecca saw as Damon swept into the formal curved driveway four hours later. The beam from the headlights illuminated neatly trimmed box hedges and large pots planted with bay trees that flanked the front door.
Back in Tohunga, a frantic rush had ensued before they’d left. In a matter of minutes Rebecca had made several necessarily brief phone calls. Miranda—with the help of her sister—would take care of Chocolatique until Rebecca returned. A call to her doctor assured her that T.J. was fit to travel, so all that was left was for Rebecca to arrange for the local handyman to mow her lawn and to pack.
During the journey Damon had made countless calls to Savvas and the doctors to check on his mother’s progress. And although Savvas had repeatedly assured him that Soula was in good hands, that the heart attack had been arrested, under Damon’s tightly leashed control Rebecca sensed his terror. That he might lose Soula, as he had already lost his father.
Oh, God, how well she understood his fear of loss. For once in his life Damon faced something he couldn’t control. And she had no defence against his anguish. She could no more turn her back on him than she could cut off her arm.
Now, facing the imposing Georgian-style facade that loomed against the night sky, Rebecca shivered. It wasn’t only Auckland’s cooler night air that caused the ripples of gooseflesh. This house held memories she desperately wanted to forget. For a short time Fliss had lived here with Damon. Even the elderly man who removed her suitcases from the trunk was familiar. Johnny, Damon’s live-in butler.
“This way.”
Rebecca turned at Damon’s voice. T.J. was slung across his shoulder, fast asleep. She rushed over. “I’ll take him. You go to the hospital.”
But Damon carried on up the wide stairs lit by brass lamps to the front door. “Never fear, mama bear, I won’t drop your baby. I’ll show you your rooms, then I will go to the hospital. Savvas says Mama is sleeping peacefully.”
Inside, Rebecca saw that the passage of time had wrought changes. She halted and stared with confusion at the three corridors that led from the spacious double-height lobby with its pale, glossy marble floor. Ahead, she recognised the stairs that led to Soula’s rooms, but the red carpet had been pulled out and replaced with pale wool carpeting in an elegant oyster shade.
“I converted the wing Savvas and I shared on the ground floor into a suite of rooms for my mother after her heart attack. It made things easier—she didn’t have to worry about the stairs.”
That strong streak of protectiveness, Rebecca recognised. Damon