The Holiday Escapes Collection. Sandra Marton

face as if he were blind, and she was a whisper away from telling him, from confessing the truth. Just so they could tell his father—just so there might be one less regret.

      ‘Raúl…’

      He looked into her eyes and she thought she could tell him anything when he looked at her like that. But for the moment she held back. Because a child was something far bigger than this relationship they were almost exploring. She remembered her vow to do this well away from their contract.

      ‘Let’s get back.’

      They walked down the hill hand in hand, talking about nothing in particular—about France, so close, and the drive they could maybe take tomorrow, or the next day. They were just a couple walking, heading back home to their family—and then she felt his hand tighten on hers.

      ‘It’s the médico.’

      They ran the remaining distance, though he paused for just a moment to collect himself before they pushed open the front door. Because even from there they could hear the sound of Angela sobbing.

      ‘Your father…’ Angela stumbled down the hall and Raúl held her as she wept into his arms. ‘He has passed away.’

       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      ESTELLE COULDN'T BELIEVE how quickly things happened.

      Luka arrived soon after, and spent time with his father. But it was clear he did not appreciate having Raúl and Estelle in his home.

      ‘Stay,’ Angela said.

      ‘We’ll go to a hotel.’

      ‘Please, Raúl…’

      Estelle’s heart went out to her, but it was clear that Luka did not want them there and so they spent the night in a small hotel. Raúl was pensive and silent.

      The next morning they stood in the small church to say farewell. The two brothers stood side by side, but they were not united in their grief.

      ‘I used to think Luka was the chosen one,’ Raúl said as they flew late that afternoon back to Marbella for the will to be read, as per his father’s wishes. ‘When I found out—when my father said he wanted to die there—I felt his other family were the real ones.’ His eyes met hers. ‘Luka sees things differently. He was a secret—his father’s shame. I got to work alongside him. I was the reason he did not see much of his father when he was small. His hatred runs deep.’

      ‘Does yours?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ Raúl admitted. ‘I don’t know how I feel. I just want to get the reading of the will over with.’

      It wasn’t a pleasant gathering. Paola and Carlos were there, and the look they gave Angela as she walked in was pure filth.

      ‘She doesn’t need this—’ Estelle started, but Raúl shot her a look.

      ‘It was never going to be nice,’ he said.

      Estelle bit her lip, and tried to remember her opinion on his family was not what she was here for. But she kept remembering the night they had made love, their walk on the hill the next morning, and tried to hold on to a love that had almost been there—she was sure of it.

      She sat silent beside him as the will was read, heard the low murmurs as the lawyer spoke with Angela. From her limited Spanish, Estelle could make out that she was keeping the home in San Sebastian and there were also some investments that had been made in her name.

      And then he addressed Luka.

      Estelle heard a shocked gasp from Paola and Carlos and then a furious protest started. But Raúl sat still and silent and said nothing.

      ‘What’s happening?’

      He didn’t answer her.

      As the room finally settled the lawyer addressed Raúl. He gave a curt nod, then stood.

      ‘Come on.’

      He took her by the arm and they walked out.

      Angela followed, calling to him. ‘Raúl…’

      ‘Don’t.’ He shrugged her off. ‘You got what you wanted.’

      Estelle had to run to keep up with his long strides, but finally he told her what was happening.

      ‘His share of the business goes to Luka.’ His face was grey when he turned and faced her. ‘Even dying still he plays games, still he lies.’ He shook his head. ‘I get a vineyard…’

      ‘Raúl,’ Angela had caught up with them. ‘He saw how happy you two were the night before he died.’

      ‘He did not change his will.’

      ‘No, but it was his dream that his two sons would work side by side together.’

      ‘He should have thought about that twenty-five years ago.’

      ‘Raúl…’

      But Raúl was having none of it. He strode away from Angela and all too soon they were back in his apartment and rapid decisions were being made.

      ‘I’ll sell my share,’ he said. ‘I will start again.’ He would. Raúl had no qualms about starting again. ‘And I will sell that vineyard too…’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Because I don’t want it,’ he said. ‘I don’t want anything from him. I don’t want to build bridges with my brother.’ His mother’s business was being handed over to her husband’s illegitimate son—it would kill her if she wasn’t dead already.

      Raúl was back in the mountains—could hear her furious shouts and screams, the storm raging; he could hear the screech of tyres and the scrape of metal. He was over the cliff again. But that part he could manage—that part he could deal with. It was next part he dreaded.

      It was the silence after that, and he would do anything never to hear it again.

      ‘You don’t have to make any decisions tonight. We can talk about it—’

      ‘We?’ His lips tore into a savage smile. ‘We will talk about my future? Estelle, I think you are forgetting your place.’

      ‘No.’ She refused to deny it any longer. ‘The morning your father died, when were talking, we were both choosing to forget my place. If you want a relationship you can’t pick and choose the times!’

      ‘A relationship?’ He stared at her for the longest time.

      ‘Yes,’ Estelle said, and she was the bravest she had ever been. ‘A relationship. I think that’s what you want.’

      ‘Now she tells me what I want? You love me, do you? You care about me, do you? Have you any idea how boring that is to hear? I bought you so we could avoid this very conversation. You’d do well to remember that.’

      Estelle just stood there as he stormed out of the apartment. She didn’t waste her breath warning him this time.

      She refused to be his keeper.

       CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

      RAÚL SAT IN Sol’s with the music pumping and stared at the heaving dance floor.

      A vineyard.

      A vineyard which, if he sold it, wouldn’t even pay for his yacht for a year—would Estelle stick around then?

      Yes.

      He had never doubted his ability to start again, but he doubted it now—could not bear the thought of letting her down.

      ‘Te odio.’ He could hear his five-year-old voice hurling the words at his mother, telling her he hated her for