‘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 reserve 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.
‘NOT 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, apparently not at all put-out by his aunt’s obvious frustration. ‘But, OK. If you want me to ring her, I will.’
‘No,