His Forbidden Passion (4 page)

Drawing a breath, she tried to concentrate on the car park outside the windows of the vehicle. Several people were leaving as they were, but others were just arriving.

Staff, maybe, she reflected, aware that she didn’t really care. She just wanted to be home, safe inside the locked door of the apartment. She didn’t want to think about Dominic, or her grandfather, or how she felt about the couple she’d always believed were her parents. She just wanted to get into bed and bury her head under the covers.

‘I assume this road will take us to Notting Hill,’ Dominic said after a moment, and she was forced to pay attention to her surroundings.

‘Yes,’ she muttered. ‘But you can drop me in Cheyney Walk, if you like.’

‘I think I can find Minster Court,’ he said coolly and she remembered that he’d been there before. ‘You’d better give me your cellphone number. If you do intend to obey your grandfather’s wishes and come to San Clemente, there are arrangements to be made, right?’

Cleo’s throat dried. Of course. They expected her to go to San Clemente. But how could she do that? She didn’t even know where it was.

She’d been silent for too long, and with a harsh exclamation Dominic said, ‘About what happened at the pub…’

‘Your ruining my coffee, you mean?’ she countered, grateful for the reprieve, but he wasn’t amused by her attempt at distraction.

‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘Forget about the damn coffee. You know what I’m talking about.’

‘Do I?’

‘Yes.’ His strong fingers tightened on the wheel and she couldn’t help wondering how it would feel to have those long fingers gripping her just as tightly. ‘It was a mistake, right? I never should have touched you. And I want you to know, it’ll never happen again.’

‘All right.’

Cleo made her voice sound indifferent and he cast a frustrated glance in her direction.

‘I mean it,’ he persisted. ‘I want you to know, I’m not that kind of man.’

‘But you think I’m that kind of woman, hmm?’ she suggested contemptuously, and he groaned.

‘Of course not—’

‘Well, forget it—Dominic. You’re my brother, remember?’

Dominic wished to hell he were her brother. Her
real
brother, that was. Then he wouldn’t be having this crisis of conscience.

‘I haven’t forgotten.’ His tone was carefully controlled. ‘Now, do you have that number? By my estimation, we should leave within the week. Do you have a passport?’

Cleo caught her breath. ‘I can’t leave within a week,’ she protested. ‘I have a job.’

‘Ask for leave of absence,’ said Dominic impatiently. ‘Tell them it’s a family emergency.’

Cleo gasped. ‘Like they’re going to believe that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Why do you think? They know I just…buried…my parents six months ago.’

Dominic felt a reluctant sense of compassion. ‘Well, I guess you’re going to have to tell them the truth,’ he murmured drily, and she gave him an indignant look.

‘I can’t do that.’ She turned her head to stare out of the window again. ‘My God, how am I supposed to convince Mr Rodgers of something that I hardly believe myself?’

Dominic frowned. ‘How about telling them that you’ve just discovered you’ve got a grandfather living in San Clemente? I assume they know that the Novaks came from the Caribbean?’

Cleo’s lips quivered. ‘You think it’s so easy, don’t you? But this is my life, my career; the way I earn my living. I can’t just screw it up on a whim.’

Dominic bit back the urge to tell her that, unless he was very much mistaken, earning a living was going to be so much less of a challenge in the future. Jacob Montoya was a very wealthy man and he’d already hinted to Dominic that he wanted to try and make amends for his son’s failings.

But when Cleo continued to look doubtful, he had to say something.

‘You could always offer a few weeks’ salary in lieu of leave of absence,’ he murmured quietly, and Cleo’s eyes widened in alarm.

‘I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t
afford
to do that.’ In the light from the street lamps outside, Dominic was almost sure her colour deepened. ‘Besides, what would people think?’

‘Does that matter?’

‘Of course it matters.’ Cleo was indignant. ‘I need this job, Mr Montoya. I don’t want anyone to assume I have independent means because I don’t.’

Dominic sighed. ‘I don’t think money’s going to be a problem for you in the future,’ he said drily. ‘Jacob—Jacob Montoya, that is, your grandfather—is a wealthy man—’

‘And you think I’d take money from him.’ Cleo was appalled. ‘I don’t want his money. I don’t really want to have anything to do with him. It’s only because he’s—’

‘Dying?’ suggested Dominic helpfully, and she gave him a brooding look.

Then, when he said nothing more, she murmured unhappily, ‘I suppose if I told Mr Rodgers—he’s the head teacher—that I needed the time off on compassionate grounds, he might agree.’ She bit her lip. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, it’s worth a try,’ observed Dominic, deciding to re
serve any stronger reaction until later. One way or another, she was going to be on that flight to San Clemente. He hadn’t come this far to back off now.

‘Mmm.’

She still sounded uncertain and Dominic was almost sorry when he saw the turn into Minster Court ahead of them.

There was so much more he should have said, he thought impatiently. Not least that her welcome might not be all that she expected. His own adoptive mother still lived at Magnolia Hill, the Montoyas’ estate on the east side of the island, and she was totally opposed to his grandfather’s decision to bring his son’s daughter back to the island.

The fact that the girl was Lily’s late husband’s daughter had come as a terrible shock to her. She’d had no idea that the reason Celeste’s baby had been spirited so hastily to England had been to prevent her from finding out the truth. Celeste’s death had sealed her lips once and for all.

But it was all out in the open now, and Dominic didn’t envy any of them having to deal with the fallout.

‘You can stop here,’ Cleo said suddenly, and Dominic realised they were outside the old Victorian block in which her apartment was situated.

And, when he did so, she pulled a pen and a scrap of paper from her bag and scribbled her mobile-phone number on it.

‘There you are,’ she said. And then, although she didn’t really want to pursue it, she added, ‘Shouldn’t I have some way of getting in touch with you? Just in case I can’t get the time off.’

Dominic’s jaw hardened. But he had to answer her. ‘We’re staying at the Piccadilly Freemont,’ he said flatly. ‘But I’ll be in touch myself in a day or so.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Cleo’s lips twisted. ‘If I speak to your aunt, I won’t say anything to embarrass you.’

‘I doubt you could,’ retorted Dominic shortly, thrusting open the car door.

However, before he could alight, Cleo’s hand on his sleeve
arrested him. ‘Stay here,’ she said, the determined pressure of her fingers penetrating his jacket and feeling ridiculously like a hot brand on his forearm. ‘I don’t need an escort into my own house.’

‘OK.’ He slammed the door shut again and forced a mocking smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘I’ll give you a call tomorrow evening.’

‘If you like.’

Cleo pushed open the door and slid out of the car, looping the strap of her bag over her shoulder before slamming the door behind her.

Then, reluctantly aware of how vulnerable she suddenly seemed, Dominic jerked the car into gear and pulled away.

But he knew the frustration he was feeling was unlikely to be expunged by relating his conversation with Cleo to Serena. When he reached the hotel, he eschewed that responsibility and headed rather aggressively into the bar.

‘N
OT
long now.’

Cleo had been gazing out of the aircraft window, mesmerised by the 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, appar
ently 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.

‘It’s OK,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Rick’s a good pilot.’

‘I’m sure.’ Cleo licked her lips, her words tight and unconvincing. Then, forcing herself to relax, she glanced out of the window again. ‘Is—is that the island? Just there?’

She pointed and Dominic leaned forward again, forearms resting along his spread thighs, his posture unconsciously sensual. Cleo’s eyes were irresistibly drawn to the innocent bulge between his legs, and she had to force herself to look away.

Fortunately, he hadn’t appeared to notice.

‘Yeah, that’s San Clemente,’ he said, with evident pride. ‘It always looks smaller from the air.’

‘Do you think so?’ Cleo had been thinking it looked bigger than she’d expected. ‘Do you get many visitors?’

Dominic lounged back again, propping an ankle across his knee. ‘Tourists, you mean?’ And at her nod, ‘We get a few. We don’t have any high-rise hotels or casinos, stuff like that. But our visitors tend to like the beach life, and we do have some fantastic scuba-diving waters around the island.’

He was watching her again, and Cleo shifted a little nervously. ‘Do you go scuba-diving?’ she asked, and Dominic pulled a wry face.

‘When I have the time,’ he said. ‘But since the old man’s been ill, that isn’t very often.’

‘The old man?’ Cleo frowned.

‘Jacob Montoya. Our grandfather,’ he said flatly. ‘Remember?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Cleo bit her lip.

Dominic’s brows drew together then. ‘I should tell you,’ he said, ‘the Montoya Corporation is involved in a lot of different businesses. Leisure; casinos; oil. And recently we acquired a
telecommunications network, that should keep the company solvent in the years to come.’

Cleo’s jaw had dropped. ‘I had no idea,’ she whispered, and Dominic expelled a weary sigh.

‘I know that,’ he said. ‘But don’t let it worry you. No one expects you to take it all in at once.’

And wasn’t that the truth? she thought unsteadily. She was having a hard time dealing with any of it. Even though the Montoyas had delayed their departure for a week to give her time to make her arrangements, it still hadn’t been enough.

Not that people hadn’t been understanding. Her head teacher, Mr Rodgers, had found her explanation quite fascinating, and he barely knew the half of it. Still, with his help, she had been able to persuade the local education authority that this was an emergency, and they’d given her a couple of weeks’ unpaid leave.

Norah had been helpful, too, offering to go shopping with her, encouraging her to see this journey as the opportunity it really was.

‘You don’t know how I envy you,’ she’d said, refusing Cleo’s offer to pay her share of their expenses while she was away. ‘You make the most of it, girl. You may never get a chance like this again.’

But, in spite of numerous good wishes, Cleo’s actual involvement felt no easier. She was out of her comfort zone, she thought. Not to mention—literally and figuratively—out of her depth.

Suddenly aware that the silence in the cabin had become deafening, Cleo rushed impulsively into speech.

‘Do—do you work for your grandfather?’

‘
Our
grandfather,’ Dominic amended drily. Then, with a lift of his shoulders, ‘I guess I do.’

‘What he means is, he runs the corporation,’ broke in another voice sardonically. ‘Don’t let him fool you, Cleo. Without Dominic, there’d be no Montoya Corporation at all.’

Dominic got abruptly to his feet. Returning to where he’d
left his laptop, he began stuffing the rest of his belongings into his bag.

‘Did you speak to Mom?’ he asked, the coolness of his tone an indication that he wasn’t pleased with her, and Serena pulled a face at Cleo before answering him.

‘Uh—yes,’ she said, as if there was any doubt about the matter. ‘She says the old man can’t wait for Cleo to arrive.’

Dominic shook his head. Serena was bound and determined to make this as difficult for the girl as it was possible to be.

‘Lily also said she thinks she should make some other arrangement if this is going to be a long-term commitment.’ She gave Dominic a sly look. ‘She’s even talking of moving in with you.’ She paused. ‘Now, wouldn’t that be a happy development?’

Dominic scowled, and, although Cleo didn’t even know the woman yet, it seemed painfully obvious that Dominic’s mother had already taken a dislike to her.

‘Um—perhaps I could stay at a hotel,’ she ventured, just as the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, advising them to buckle up as they’d be landing shortly.

Dominic gave her an impatient look as he seated himself in his own chair and fastened his seat belt. ‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘You’ll be staying at Magnolia Hill.’ His lips twisted. ‘Believe me, your grandfather won’t have it any other way.’

Lily Montoya was standing on the veranda when Dominic, Serena and Cleo arrived at the house.

Cleo guessed she’d been waiting for them, evidently as curious to see her late husband’s illegitimate daughter as she was to greet her son.

Cleo was conscious of the older woman’s eyes assessing her as she stepped out of the back of the open-topped Rolls-Royce that had been sent to meet them. But then Lily flung herself into Dominic’s arms, hugging him and chiding him and accusing him of being away for far too long.

Dominic treated his mother’s exuberance with as much
patience as affection, his eyes meeting Cleo’s over the woman’s shoulder filled with a rueful resignation.

Nevertheless, it was obvious his mother had missed him terribly. And, despite his efforts to introduce her to Cleo, she persisted in distracting him with news about some woman he had apparently been seeing.

What did she think? Cleo wondered. That her son might be as unreliable towards his responsibilities as her husband had been? Or that Cleo was some kind of femme fatale, sent to take revenge on her mother’s behalf?

Shaking her head, she looked about her, unwillingly aware that Magnolia Hill was even more beautiful than she had imagined. A huge antebellum-style mansion, its whitewashed facade was faced by a row of Doric columns that blended with the ornate pediment at the roofline.

Tall windows, some with iron-railed balconies on the upper floor, framed a porticoed doorway. Shallow steps stretched along the front of the building, leading up to a marble-paved veranda.

And, within the shadows of the veranda, a handful of cushioned iron chairs and a pair of bistro tables offered a relaxing place to escape the late-afternoon sun.

It was all quite overwhelming. The breathtaking views she’d seen on the short journey from the small airport had hardly prepared her for so much beauty and elegance. Magnolia Hill was quite simply the most beautiful house she’d ever seen.

The house’s name was appropriate, too, she decided. It stood on a rise overlooking the land that surrounded it. A cluster of outbuildings, including cabins and barns and an enormous garage were set back among trees, while across palm-strewn dunes she could see the pink-white sands of an exquisite coral beach.

But the shadows were drifting over the island as the sun sank lower in the west and Cleo hoped it wasn’t an omen. Despite
her admiration for her surroundings, she hadn’t forgotten how she came to be here.

She steeled herself with the thought that, in a matter of days, it would all be over and she’d be going home…

‘Put the boy down, Lily.’

The gruff command enabled Dominic to free himself from his mother’s clinging embrace and stride up the shallow steps to greet the elderly man who had appeared in the porticoed doorway of the house.

‘Hey, Grandpa,’ he said, shaking the man’s hand and allowing him to place a frail, but possessive, arm about his shoulders. ‘How are you?’

‘Better now that you’re here,’ Jacob Montoya assured him roughly, affection thick in his voice. He looked beyond his grandson to where the three women stood together. His eyes flicked swiftly over his daughter and daughter-in-law before settling finally on Cleo. ‘You brought her, then?’

‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’ Dominic’s tone was wry. ‘I know an order when I hear one.’

‘It wasn’t an order,’ his grandfather protested fiercely. But then he let go of the younger man to move along the veranda. ‘Cleopatra?’ he said, his voice quavering a little. ‘You’re the image of your mother, do you know that?’

‘It’s Cleo,’ she murmured uncomfortably, aware that he’d said nothing to his daughter yet. ‘How—how do you do?’

Jacob shook his head. He still had a shock of grey hair and despite the fact that there was no blood connection, he looked not unlike his grandson. They possessed the same air of power and determination.

They were both big men, too. In his youth, Jacob must have been as tall as Dominic. But now age, and his illness, had rounded his shoulders and attenuated the muscled strength that his grandson had in spades.

Still, his eyes glittered with a sharp intelligence that no physical weakness could impair. And, although his stature was
a little uncertain, the hand he held out to Cleo was as steady as a rock.

‘Come here…Cleo,’ he said, ignoring Serena when she hurried up the steps to take his arm.