passed, but her chest still ached from it. The way he looked at her before

ad... or the thought that she might have pushed away t

gave freely. Not after everythi

to a S

l sat like rus

ce felt louder t

he bell above the b

oked up-a

dr

he hadn't slept. He wore a plain grey hoodie,

tired. But

mething in

ngle

word. It was The Count of Monte Cristo-a st

ng?" Nattie asked, voic

a small, sad

as a lo

uldn't have snapped. I

d. "You have every

. "You're not even goi

elf. Especially to my father. I'm ti

know-I didn't come here to hide. I came here to figure out who I a

est ti

ve to say thi

ave to sound

"I just... I don't know how to let someone lik

let's start with the t

id your father really c

eyes flick

ap, even though

teenager-but I remember the meetings, the silence at the dinner table. My father n

throat

t know back then. But I know now. An

it undid somet

ting emotion. "It nea

lieve

silence for

ou, Rodrigo. I do. But there's so much I don

here." He gave a hopeful loo

hesi

she n

et, cosy, with lanterns swaying in the breeze a

table, coffee cups

started

thought he deserved. About how Salvador dismissed Bernado like a stranger, even aft

it was your broth

he disappeared from Beverly Hills and turned up in Barcelona, buying out the very apartme

ink he's ta

think.

m carefully. "Why

he deserved. The title. The company. The name. And even now,

caught. "In

anything, but his s

he weight of it

d your brother care who you're tal

top thinking about. And he knows t

thudded in

standing. This was somethin

caught in your famil

ard. "Then let me p

his eyes

telling you everything.

er home, Nattie sat on her po

s torn in tw

still feared t

eginning to believe

nted her wasn't wh

what he

efore Rodrigo came into the

lope. No ret

was a

Beautiful. Blonde.

f the photo w

about V

hadn'

t

if she

ure she'd li