Her birth certificate and papers relevant to her mother were on the top, where they’d fallen. Nothing heartrending there. She passed them to him, willed her hands not to shake as she dragged a buff envelope from the bottom. She held her breath, forced herself to focus.
Concentrate on the two you need. Ignore the rest.
Icy fingers fisted round her heart. She clenched her teeth as she carefully removed two certificates. Tucking them under her hip, she waited until he’d finished entering information, then filed away the papers he’d used.
‘I’ll do the rest.’ She heard the tremor in her tone, stubbornly persisted, needing to retain some privacy. Needing to keep the walls up and solid. ‘It’s my past.’
He studied her with an intensity that made her insides quiver. ‘If you’re sure?’
She wasn’t. She had no choice. ‘Thank you.’
He settled the computer on her lap, ensuring it was stable. ‘I understand.’ He paused. ‘You haven’t eaten a lot this morning, have you? Fancy an early lunch?’
How could he tell? ‘I had toast and fruit—enough after that lovely meal last night.’ Truth was she’d had to force the food down, and she still wasn’t hungry.
His eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly. His interest wasn’t for her alone. She let him win.
‘Chicken salad with crusty bread sounds tempting. Will the dining room be open?’
‘We’ll have Room Service.’ He pulled out his mobile.
She tuned him out as she typed names, locations, dates. She recited, They are words, figures, nothing more in her head. Her newly unadorned finger mocked the information she entered.
‘Done,’ he told her. ‘We’ll eat, then deal with the celebrant. Changing your phone supplier has to be done in person, so we’ll combine that with a visit to the jeweller.’
She met the steely resolve in his eyes. He was locking her into her promise. There’d be no reneging allowed.
His mouth curved into a persuasive smile. ‘It won’t be so bad, Alina. You’ll have time to adjust to life with me until the wedding. Any functions I ask you to attend during our marriage will be quiet occasions, with people I trust.’
‘I made a list this morning.’ That was better. Keep the conversation on standard stuff.
This time his eyebrows actually arched. ‘What sort of list?’
‘Things to do. Everyone who’ll have to be notified that I’m relocating. Most of my official stuff goes to Crow’s Nest.’ She couldn’t stop the catch coming into her voice. ‘Louise used to check the mailbox in Barcelona for me sometimes.’
‘We’ll need to arrange for it to be redirected. Do you have a base there?’
‘No, I rented rooms on a casual basis. When I was away the owner stored my stuff for a small fee.’
‘We’ll fly over later, so you can decide what to bring back.’
She gave a short, hollow laugh. He made it sound like a day trip to another state. ‘Hardly worth a trip. There’s just an old suitcase and two plastic boxes.’
His turn to be confounded. ‘That’s all you have?’
Shoot, she’d spoken impulsively to a very astute man. She pictured the cold steel unit she’d visited once, fought the hard clench in her abdomen. Couldn’t lie. Couldn’t look into those perceptive eyes either.
‘Everything else I own is in storage. I don’t go there.’ Mentally or physically.
‘Too painful.’ He made it a statement.
Guilt tempered with empathy overrode her self-pity. His grief was new, raw, and he had to cope with the aftermath of the accident. He was processing the estate personally. She’d let her solicitor take charge.
‘I’m sorry, Ethan. I haven’t been very sympathetic to your loss. I’ve been too wrapped up in myself.’ She covered his hand with hers. ‘You’ve had so much to deal with and still managed to be patient with me.’
‘That’s easy.’ His voice hummed with tenderness. He flipped his hand to enfold hers. ‘You’re carrying our child.’ His sudden grin took her by surprise. ‘Do you have a things-to-buy list?’
She responded with a light laugh. ‘I’ve jotted down a few things. Why?’
‘Just wondering. All done?’
She frowned, realised he was referring to the marriage application, and felt the lightness of the mood change.
‘Not quite.’ She returned to the keyboard and added the final data. When she looked up his head was averted, as it had been when he’d made the call.
‘I’ve finished, Ethan. Thank you for giving me privacy.’
‘No problem, Alina.’
The car pulled in to the kerb as he stowed the computer in its bag.
* * *
Their lunch was delivered to a family suite. Afterwards Alina watched TV while Ethan went to another room to take a phone call. She viewed without seeing or hearing. Was he ever off duty? Her guilt resurfaced. The time and effort he was devoting to her meant less for his expanding empire.
The telephone’s ring made her jump. Should she answer it? Thankfully Ethan came through and told Reception to send their visitor up.
Too late to change her mind.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, tamped down her qualms. Steeled herself to act like a newly engaged woman. For his sister and brother-in-law. For their baby.
The celebrant was friendly, bright and efficient. She guided them through the procedure, gracefully declined a drink and promised to lodge the paperwork immediately. The wedding was set for Sunday, April the twentieth at five p.m.
Within fifteen minutes of her departure they were on their way to his apartment.
OPULENT WAS THE word that came to mind as Alina stood in her own lavish en suite. This is my home until the end of the year.
She ran her fingertips across the marble surfaces—pure, cool luxury—but felt wary of touching the shiny chrome taps in case she left marks.
Bright stunned eyes stared at her from the pristine mirror. Walls the palest of pale mint-green complemented darker green mottled floor tiles, the crystal-clear shower. Matching it all were the softest, fluffiest towels she’d ever snuggled her face into.
She washed her hands, massaged moisturiser into her skin, breathing in its mild perfume.
She loved the beautifully appointed bedroom too. Also with a green theme, nothing bright or glaring, and as tranquil as a country spring morning—including a painting of a clear stream flowing between banks of willow trees. It was her own calming space, where she might be able to achieve meditation.
Sitting cross-legged on the luxurious cream carpet, she rested her elbows on her knees. Shut her eyes. Black terror. They flew open. She concentrated on the rural scene. Breathe in. Breathe out. Count slowly. Count the flowers in the grass. Count the trees or rocks. Block out everything else. Her inner fears receded—a little.
She stretched, unravelling her legs to lie flat, gazing up at the downlights strategically recessed in the ceiling. By tucking her chin in tight she could see her toes. For how much longer? She rolled over to do twenty push-ups. Did the building have a gym? If she didn’t work she’d need to start exercising more.
She brushed her hair and went to join Ethan