The Trouble With Coco Monroe (39 page)

‘You needed a breather. You were upset. Louise said...’

But Coco wasn’t having him deflect the blame.

‘Don’t you dare try to blame Louise.’

Ethan got slowly to his feet.

Leaning over the desk his nose almost touched hers. ‘I have never hidden behind a woman in my life,’ he said through gritted teeth.

‘Say sorry.’

Closing his eyes he took a deep breath.

He opened his eyes and glared at her. ‘Sorry.’

‘Apology accepted.’

Sprawling in a fat chair of black leather, she folded her arms and glared right back at him.

‘What on earth has got into daddy?’ she wanted to know. ‘He’s impossible.’

Ethan shook his head and rose to get himself another cup of coffee.

‘God knows. Bruce Skyped me from Afghanistan, asked if the old man was sick. Apparently he’s been on at him to find a good woman, settle down and give him grandchildren because he wants to be around to enjoy them.’

Lifting the pot, he turned to give her a look of enquiry, but Coco shook her head.

‘No, thanks.’

Ethan sat at his desk, sipped his coffee, and all the while he studied her face.

‘You look like shit.’

Gee thanks, bro.

‘I’ve had a bug,’ she muttered.

‘If it’s any consolation Rafe looks worse.’

Actually it was consolation.

Coco wondered when she’d become small and mean. And supposed bitterness and heartbreak did that to a person.

She stood.

‘If you hear screaming and yelling coming from our father’s office do not give in to the temptation to interfere.’

Now Ethan grinned.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it. Gonna cream his ass?’

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

‘Yep.’

Since she was a woman on a mission Coco strode into the inner sanctum of Monroe Industries CEO’s domain right past his open-mouthed personal assistant and entered his office without knocking.

Her father was on the telephone.

She didn’t miss the wide-eyed shock mixed with love and something that looked suspiciously like terror.

Be afraid, you manipulative old plotter, be very afraid.

His blue eyes narrowed as they checked out her hair, the I-mean-business suit and the flat Chanel pumps.

‘Er... Sorry, but something urgent has just come up.’

He hung up and very very slowly got to his feet.

‘Coco...’ His I’ve-been-a-bad-puppy-dog eyes filled and dammit so did hers.

He held out his arms and Coco flew to her father.

‘I’m sorry,’ they both said.

Strong arms hugged her close and she couldn’t help but bury her face into his shirt and inhale the familiar scent of comfort, security.

A big hand was patting her back.

‘There, there, my darling. Don’t cry now, there’s a good girl.’

He’d never been able to cope with her tears.

With a final squeeze, she stepped back, swiping wet cheeks and found a cotton hanky thrust into her hands.

‘Thanks.’ She blew her nose.

‘Come and sit down.’ He pushed her into a chair and pulled one up close. ‘You’re too thin. Are you not eating?’

Of course she couldn’t tell him why she’d recently lost her appetite.

And she didn’t want to be distracted or sidetracked either.

Eyes very like her own, like her brothers’ stared into hers.

On the wall behind him was a well-loved painting of her mother.

And as Coco’s gaze lifted to the woman who’d given birth to her, she imagined she saw her mother give her a gentle nod of her dark head as if to say,
‘Go get him, tiger.’

Her eyes met and held her father’s and she recognised a deep regret.

‘I’m not happy with you,’ she informed him.

His eyes went wide as if to say,
‘There’s news.’

Big hands took hers in his.

‘Before you tear a strip off of me... I don’t deny I deserve it... But I need to talk to you. Will you listen without speaking?’

Blinking in confusion at the serious tone in his voice, in his eyes, Coco nodded.

Charles Monroe had been rehearsing this speech to his daughter since the day his wife had died.

He’d put it off for far too long.

Because he was a coward.

Eyes the colour of the deepest violet stared trustingly into his.

By his over protective behaviour he’d suffocated her spirit. And it had taken him too long to recognise it. Over a bottle or two of The Glenfiddich he and Rafe had discussed his daughter’s feelings. The things she’d said had seriously shaken them both. And in private he’d shed bitter tears.

He’d hurt her.

And was about to hurt her again.

His heart gave a strange little tremble in his chest.

He squeezed her fingers, let her hands go and rose to move and stare at the painting of the only woman he’d ever loved.

Over the years he’d had women. After all a man had needs, but bringing another woman into his family home, into his bed, his heart, had been impossible.

With his eyes on his late wife, Charles spoke,

‘You were nine months old when your mother was kidnapped on her way home from a charity function.’ His daughter’s shocked gasp made him close his eyes tight. Taking a heaving breath he continued, ‘It took four days of negotiations, but we agreed to pay the ransom. Their demands were simple. Two million pounds and I’d get my wife back. They got their money and I got my wife back. Except she wasn’t breathing.’

He turned and met the agony in her eyes and he knew Maria would be so very proud of the wonderful woman their daughter had become.

‘They’d kept her buried underground in a seven foot by three box with an air tube. We don’t know if it was an accident or if they’d decided to kill her anyway. Maybe she’d seen them, recognised them, we don’t know. By the time we reached her it was too late.’

He would never, ever tell her what they’d found or the condition they’d found her mother in either.

‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me,’ she whispered.

For drawn-out moments he simply stared at her.

How to find the words?

‘Because I didn’t want you to live in fear. For many days, for weeks after your mother died I wondered how I would go on. But you needed me. The boys needed me. And so we made a pact to always keep you safe.’

Now she blinked. ‘Who made the pact?’

‘Your brothers, Rafe and me. We swore nothing would ever happen to you. But we also swore that you would have as normal a life as possible.’ With a shake of his head, he spread his arms. ‘And as you can see, I failed abysmally. I’ve been overprotective, controlling. If your mother had lived she’d have pulled me back. You are so very like her. But I just couldn’t find it in myself to let you go. As you grew older, grew into the living image of her, I held on too tight. And the tighter I held you the more you pushed back and away. I created the very environment that had the potential to destroy you. And I can’t apologise enough for it, darling. Can you forgive me?’

Of course she forgave him.

He was her father.

And maybe she could understand why he’d behaved the way he did. Why he had to control everything and everyone around him.

Fear of loss did that to a person.

‘But... Why has there been nothing in the press?’

Her father blushed. ‘In those days it was easy to pay to have records sealed. They never caught the kidnappers so there was never closure. And I’ve lived every single day since worrying if they were going to come back for you. And then you were attacked, stabbed, fighting for your life. I couldn’t cope, I held on too tight and again pushed you away. Will you forgive me?’

Mind still reeling and trying to come to grips with the pain of the truth, Coco knew this was the perfect time to set out her stall, to set out the way their future relationship would be going forward.

Now she lifted her chin in a way that had her father’s brow crease.

‘One one condition,’ she said.

And almost grinned at the wary look in those sharp eyes.

‘Name it.’

Sitting back in the chair, she crossed her legs, her arms.

‘I want a seat on the board.’

He tried to look stern but failed miserably.

No way could her father hide the delight in his eyes.

‘You’ve earned it.’

‘That’s not all,’ she said in a silky voice.

His tongue ran over his top teeth, but he nodded. ‘I’m listening.’

‘I want you on the board of
First Step
.’

Silence.

Stunned, he simply stared at her.

‘But that’s your baby...’ he spluttered.

True.

However, he’d no idea that she’d be giving him a grandson or daughter in seven months time. And she’d need help and lots of it. Who else could she trust with the foundation?

‘
First Step
is not all about me, daddy. It’s about helping vulnerable women and children. Who better to bring his expertise to expanding the centres, the therapy areas, than a wily old pirate?’

He took a quick step forward and then stopped dead.

‘Are you sure? We might fight, disagree on strategy, ideas.’

Standing, she moved into his arms, gave him a hug and gazed up into his face.

‘I’m counting on it. Don’t think of retiring into sunset anytime soon. We have lots to do.’

Father and daughter turned to stare up at the wife and mother staring down at them from the painting in the wall.

He bent to press a tender kiss on her forehead.

‘She would have been so terribly proud of you.’

‘We’ll talk soon,’ she promised. ‘Is Rafe in his office?’

Now her father’s eyes went too sharp in a way that told her he was scheming.

Her eyebrow rose in warning.

‘He loves you very much.’

‘I know.’

‘What are your feelings for him?’

‘I don’t know. I loved him years ago and I love him now. But his feelings about you stand in the way. You’re approval always comes first. He’s fought and strived for it his whole...’ Then she stopped dead when she realised what she’d said. ‘God. How pathetic are we? Why is it that both Rafe and I are fighting for the same thing? And neither of us are putting the other first?’

She turned to her father who was frowning now.

‘Will it be possible for you to step aside and stop interfering? To let us live our lives? Because if you don’t we won’t have a chance.’

He nodded.

‘Yes. If that’s what you believe then of course I will. He’s in his office.’ Adding quickly, ‘He’s packing.’

The flutter of alarm in her belly mirrored the panic in her voice.

‘Packing? Where’s he going?’

He blinked.

‘He resigned three months ago. Didn’t he tell you? He’s setting up his own security company.’

Chapter Forty Seven

With her father’s words ringing in her ears Coco marched through the corridor to Rafe’s office.

Why hadn’t he told her he’d resigned from Monroe Industries
before
he’d taken her to Ludlow Hall? At Rosie’s wedding she’d called him the monkey and her father the organ grinder, why hadn’t he said anything then? What the hell was he thinking?

Her anger outweighed the bats beating inside her belly.

Outside Rafe’s office his personal assistant’s desk was empty.

Without knocking she opened his door.

Fingers pecking at a keyboard, he didn’t look up. ‘Thanks, just put the files on the table.’

Her gaze was riveted to his face.

He’d lost weight.

That fabulous face was too gaunt, too pale.

And she wondered what sort of person was she that the physical sign of his suffering pleased her.

No longer immaculate his hair was too long and looked as if he’d been ploughing his fingers through it.

‘We need to talk,’ Coco said in a voice that meant business.

The way his head jerked up she was amazed he didn’t have whiplash.

But in that moment she not only recognised the shock but also the love he simply couldn’t hide.

He rose slowly and came around the desk like a man walking in a trance.

The way his dark eyes burned as they went from the top of her head to her shoes and back again, made her own eyes sting and had her heart leaping into her throat.

In defence, she took a couple of steps back.

The move stopped him dead.

‘Coco?’

Her hand gripped the back of a chair for balance. The way the room spun she was afraid she might pass out.

She swayed.

‘Whoa.’ He leapt forward, grabbed her.

God, she was so fragile in his arms.

‘Don’t.’

Totally ignoring her Rafe held her close burying his face in her hair and took in a deep breath. ‘Baby, let me hold you.’

She shook her head, but he took great comfort in the way her arms wound around his waist and held on tight.

Her whimper was not one of complaint but one of need.

His mouth found hers.

He took.

She gave.

Her kiss was one he’d never forget. The connection between them forged in fire. Her body was plastered against his. The hot slide of her mouth on his, all the power, all control was hers.

Rafe went with it and sank into her like a drowning man.

The small, helpless cry that whined in her throat shattered him.

And immediately Coco realised through a racking pleasure that what they brought to each other was more than love.

She might be terrified, but she didn’t want to need him and God knew she didn’t want to love him, but without a word being spoken she recognised those feelings in him too.

Rafe tasted her fears, the needs. And made a solemn promise to destroy the first and embrace the second. He didn’t even try to speak, just held on, slipping his arms around her narrow waist, welcoming the tongue that entered him, kissing her back again and again.

‘Don’t speak,’ he whispered the words as he pressed light kisses over her cheeks, her forehead, her chin. ‘Let me speak.’

Big bruised eyes stared into his.

‘I can’t keep going through this with you, Rafe.’