His Forbidden Passion. Anne Mather
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incredible blue of the sea below them. But now she was forced to drag her eyes away and look at Serena Montoya, who’d come to seat herself in the armchair opposite.
‘Really?’ she said, knowing that ‘How exciting!’ or ‘I can’t wait’ would have been more appropriate. But, in all honesty, she didn’t know how she felt.
Serena had changed her clothes, she noticed. The woollen trouser suit she’d worn to board the British Airways jet in London had disappeared, and now she looked cool and relaxed in cotton trousers and a patterned silk shirt.
Cleo wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d had a shower as well. The small bathroom behind the panelled door was very luxurious. Much different from the service facilities supplied on commercial transport.
But then, this wasn’t a commercial aircraft.
After clearing Customs in Nassau, they’d boarded this small executive jet for the short flight to San Clemente. The jet was apparently owned by the Montoya Corporation, which had been another eye-opener for Cleo, who was still recovering from the shock of travelling first class for the first time in her life.
‘Are you looking forward to meeting your grandfather?’ asked Serena casually, and Cleo was instantly aware that her words had attracted Dominic’s attention.
He was seated across the aisle, papers and a laptop computer spread out on the table in front of him. He’d been working almost non-stop since they’d left London, leaving Cleo and Serena to fend for themselves.
Now he cast his aunt a warning look. ‘Leave it, Rena,’ he said sharply and Cleo saw the older woman’s face take on a sulky look.
‘I was only asking a perfectly reasonable question,’ she protested, moving her shoulders agitatedly.
‘I know exactly what you were doing,’ Dominic retorted flatly. ‘Leave her alone. She’ll have to deal with it soon enough.’
Serena made an impatient sound. ‘You make it sound like a punishment,’ she said, flicking a non-existent thread of cotton from her trousers. ‘He is her grandfather, for heaven’s sake.’
‘Rena!’
Serena snorted. ‘Since when have you appointed yourself her champion?’ she demanded. ‘You’ve hardly said a word to either of us since we left London.’
‘I’ve been working.’ Dominic returned his attention to his papers. He shuffled several of them together and stowed them in the briefcase at his side. Then he looked at his aunt again. ‘Why don’t you call Lily and tell her we’ll be landing in about twenty minutes?’
Twenty minutes!
Cleo’s stomach took a dive.
It was all happening far too quickly for her. Despite the nine-hour journey from London, and this subsequent flight to San Clemente, it felt much too soon to be facing their arrival.
‘Why don’t you ring her?’ she heard Serena say, as Cleo struggled to come to terms with this new development. ‘She’s your mother.’
‘And your sister-in-law,’ murmured Dominic mildly, apparently not at all put-out by his aunt’s obvious frustration. ‘But, OK. If you want me to ring her, I will.’
‘No, I’ll do it.’
With a gesture of irritation, Serena sprang up from her seat and disappeared through another door which Cleo knew led into one of the bedrooms. There were phones in this cabin but evidently it was to be a private conversation.
Or a warning?
The pilot had given Cleo a brief tour of the aircraft when she’d first climbed on board. And, as well as this comfortable cabin where they were sitting, there were both double and single bedrooms on the plane. Together with a couple of bathrooms, one of which Cleo had been glad to take advantage of.
‘Don’t mind Serena,’ remarked Dominic now, continuing to gather his papers together. ‘Believe it or not, she’s a little nervous, too.’
Cleo reserved judgement on that, but evidently it wasn’t a problem he suffered from.
She didn’t make any comment, returning her attention to the view. She had to pinch herself at the thought that this was where she’d been born; this was where she actually came from. Was that the reason Henry and Lucille Novak had never shown any desire to come back?
She shivered, but now the distant shapes of several islands were appearing below them. And, as the plane banked to make its approach to the small airport on San Clemente, she saw the wakes of several boats moving purposefully across the sparkling water.
Her stomach hollowed again as the sea seemed to rush up to meet them, and she tried to concentrate on the sails of a large yacht that seemed to be making a run towards the island, too.
‘That looks like Michael Cordy’s yacht,’ observed Dominic suddenly, and she realised he’d come to stand beside her chair and was leaning rather unnervingly towards the window.
It seemed such a reckless thing to do in such a small plane that was already tilting far too much for Cleo’s liking. Her hands sought the leather arms of the chair, gripping so tightly her knuckles whitened, and, as if becoming aware of her anxiety, Dominic dropped down into the seat Serena had vacated.
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