Page 37 of Shock Marriage for the Powerful Spaniard
She didn’t like to think about time slipping past. The fact that he wasn’t standing here right now, in front of the imposing front door to her father’s exquisite Belgravia house, was a reminder of how much she had come to depend on the support he gave her without even realising that she was doing so.
Not just support when it came to interacting with her father but support with the accountancy course she had been determined to pursue, support with the landscaping of the garden to the cottage they visited on the weekends, dismissing what he didn’t like with a casual wave of his hand, and reminding her of how little interest he had in anything outdoors and green, yet glancing at the pictures she showed him and expressing opinions with his typical self-assurance. There were times when he slung his arm over her shoulders and leant into her to say something, and she could almost forget that what they had wasn’t actuallyreal.
She rang the doorbell and, as soon as her father greeted her, she knew that he was well aware that his godson wasn’t going to be there.
‘Nice to have you to myself!’ David beamed, ignoring her tight, apprehensive expression and spinning round to lead the way into the sitting room, where tea was always taken. A part of her unexpectedly softened because his tenacity when it came to building a bond with her was slowly cutting through her defences.
Over the weeks, he had gained weight and was fond of dismissing the dietary guidelines strictly laid down by the nurse ‘companion’he had hired to cook for him and oversee all his physical requirements, including distributing his tablets, which he had no trouble forgetting to take.
He was talking about nothing in particular, asking her about what she had been up to, and she found herself chatting back.
‘For a fake marriage,’ he mused, depositing himself on one of the deep chairs, ‘You seem to have some pretty real headaches. Rafael’s selfish, my dear. It’s a learned skill.’
Sofia scowled and wondered how she’d managed to blather on so much about him that David had actually picked up on it. She opened her mouth to protest and found herself asking with a nonchalant toss of her head, ‘What do you mean that it’s a learned skill? How can someone learn to be selfish? Not that I’m concerned one way or the other.’
Their eyes met, and she blushed.
‘He had to learn how to be a man when he was just a boy,’ David mused thoughtfully. ‘By which I mean that he had to learn how to suffer disappointment and rise above it.’
‘Because his parents weren’t around?’ What was wrong with a little curiosity?
‘Because they were very fond of making promises about visiting and then failing to deliver on the day because something better had come up. By the time Rafael was ten, he’d learned that waiting by the window of his dorm was pretty much a waste of time. So you see, my dear, independence was thrust upon him and selfishness became a way of life, because if you didn’t think about anyone else you couldn’t be hurt.’
Sofia’s eyes pricked. This was the first real conversation she had had with her father, because Rafael wasn’t around, and a warmth spread through her that fought through her stubborn pride. She blinked, cleared her throat and changed the subject but her head was full of images of a disappointed child wondering why his parents hadn’t shown up for the Nativity play or Sports Day or whatever else kids at posh boarding schools did with their free time.
‘The old bag has gone the extra mile and made some tasty little treats for us.’ He was waving his hand at the highly polished sideboard which was laden with exquisite titbits—delicate sandwiches, blinis and an assortment of miniature cakes.
‘I saymade. She unbent enough to make the sandwiches, and those funny little things there, but told me that if I wanted more I’d have to hire someone else. The cheek! Good job I’m just the sort of understanding employer she can’t tear herself away from!’ He chuckled, peering at the array and filling his plate while Sofia shot to her feet and gently removed the plate.
‘You can’t eat most of this stuff,’ she chided.
‘The old witch isn’t around to supervise. Gave her a few hours off. Didn’t want her hovering and glowering.’
‘Gladys is one of the nicest people I have ever met.’
‘Hmph. Got the kind of thing I thought you’d enjoy, my dear. Your mother always had a soft spot for pastries. Used to enjoy watching her eat them. Delicate as a cat, licking her fingers one by one.’
Sofia stilled because this was one of those rare occasions when her mother had been mentioned.
Blushing furiously, she helped herself to what was on offer, very much aware of her father using a walker to return to his favourite chair, chatting about this and that, telling her about all the amazing changes Rafael had already initiated in the company.
It left her with a burning desire to bring the conversation back round to her mother but not quite knowing how she could achieve that.
So much the coward, she thought...too scared to let go of past resentments yet too scared to confront them.
‘You were talking about my mother.’ She interrupted him mid-sentence, before immediately frowning down at her half-empty china plate. She had poured them both cups of tea and hastily she gulped a hot mouthful, then darted a look at David to find him staring thoughtfully back at her.
‘Not if it upsets you, my dear,’ he said gently. ‘And I know it does. You don’t enjoy raking over the past any more than I do and I apologise if I inadvertently said anything to upset you.’
‘You haven’t.’ She was beetroot-red, but now that she had embarked on this she couldn’t jump ship. ‘I... Iwantto talk about it. It’s been festering inside me and I want to know why you dumped my mum. You and Rafael think that I can just shove the past away into a box and pretend it never happened, but she was never the same after you walked out on her. She was...shebecame...a mess as time went by.’ She looked away but it was taking everything she had inside her not to start crying.
She cringed as he heaved himself out of the deep chair using his walker, and made the few steps towards her, sinking onto the blue velvet sofa and patting the side for her to join him.
‘My dear, I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he said, bewildered. ‘I never dumped your mother. It was the other way around!’
‘That’s not true,’ she whispered.
‘You have to listen to me, Sofia. I was called away on urgent family business all those years ago. A life-and-death situation that left me no time to contact your mother, so I left word with a friend and colleague, the only one who knew the details of our relationship in its entirety. I told him to explain to your mother what had happened. I left a letter, all sorts of forwarding details. Told him to tell her that I would be back, that she must wait. I had the ring, my dear. I had dreams.’
