Page 71
Story: Missed Opportunity
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you. Ravi will be okay. And the thief believes he got what he wanted, so it’s likely he’s long gone.”
Not true, according to Ravi, but she wasn’t going to freak out her mom.
Desperate to change the topic before her mother could probe further, she pointed to the bags on the dining room table. “What’s all that?”
Vivienne sucked in her lips. For a moment, Nathalie was sure she would argue, but all she said was, “Painting supplies and chicken salad in case you haven’t eaten.”
Nathalie’s stomach growled at the mention of food.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Vivienne pulled two plastic containers and a loaf of fresh sourdough out of one bag.
Nathalie grabbed plates and poured two glasses of Pinot Grigio while her mom made sandwiches. They sat at the kitchen island and ate in companionable silence.
Halfway through, Vivienne set down her sandwich and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “If you don’t want to talk about what’s been happening at work, at least promise me you are taking every precaution you can.”
“I am,” Nathalie assured her. She squeezed her mom’s hand. “I want you to be careful, too. Just in case.”
Vivienne gave a delicate snort. “I have a feeling Lucas has appointed himself my guardian angel.” She tilted her head, her eyes questioning. “It’s been years since you’ve mentioned painting.”
Nathalie forced her food past a throat gone tight. “Hence the reason my paints are rock hard.”
“I haven’t heard you that emotional since,” her mother’s brows knitted, “you came home from Oxford, maybe? Although from the sounds of it, you certainly have reason to be upset.”
Lifting her glass, Nathalie took a generous sip of her wine. She’d been a wreck when she returned from England, devastated over what she’d done to Ryder, and avoiding his calls. The night her father came home and announced a British aerospace firm had offered him a contract that would keep Williams Advanced Avionics solvent until the company’s DoD contract began, she’d run to the bathroom and vomited until only guilt remained.
“You also said Ryder’s back. Is that the same Ryder…?” Her mom left the sentence unfinished.
“Yes.” Nathalie’s admission whispered out.
Vivienne’s face scrunched. “Didn’t he go to work for his father? And isn’t he heir to a British title, Earl or Duke or something?”
“Earl of Cannington. After I left England, he joined the British Army instead, became a special forces soldier, and served in Afghanistan.” Nathalie blew out a harsh breath. “Now, he’s head of executive protection for Dìleas. And in charge of my security detail.”
“Wow.” Vivienne covered Nathalie’s fingers with her own and squeezed. “How is it, seeing him again?”
“He’s not the same boy I fell in love with and yet…” Nathalie reached for her wineglass again, then set it down without taking a sip.
This version of Ryder was confident. Hard. Not at all sweet. A dominant, protective male.
And her body turned to liquid heat when he was near.
But what had made her fall in love with him the first time was still there. The passion simmering beneath his reserved surface, his attentiveness—he’d been the one to comment on the fact none of her paintings were in her home. His manners.
He still likedDoctor Who.
“You still have feelings for him.” Vivienne traced a finger over Nathalie’s cheek. “Are you finally ready to tell me what went wrong between the two of you all those years ago?”
Her mother’s gentle, knowing look made Nathalie’s eyes fill. “The aerospace firm that bailed Dad out is owned by Oliver Winfield—one of Philip Montague’s closest friends. Ryder’s father gave him the money for the contract he offered Dad. The one that kept Williams Advanced Avionics from bankruptcy. And—“
She couldn’t say it.
“And the price for his investment was your ending your relationship with his son.” Vivienne sighed. “Oh, baby.”
“I didn’t want Daddy to know. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”
Her mother’s lips firmed. “He never came out and admitted it to me, but I’m pretty sure he knew.” She toyed with the remains of her sandwich before dropping it back onto the plate. “It was selfish on his part. He wanted you back, working with him, not married and living an ocean away in another country. He told me he was glad you had broken up with Ryder. That you would never have been accepted into Ryder’s world and that eventually, you’d be miserable.”
“I didn’t want to worry you. Ravi will be okay. And the thief believes he got what he wanted, so it’s likely he’s long gone.”
Not true, according to Ravi, but she wasn’t going to freak out her mom.
Desperate to change the topic before her mother could probe further, she pointed to the bags on the dining room table. “What’s all that?”
Vivienne sucked in her lips. For a moment, Nathalie was sure she would argue, but all she said was, “Painting supplies and chicken salad in case you haven’t eaten.”
Nathalie’s stomach growled at the mention of food.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Vivienne pulled two plastic containers and a loaf of fresh sourdough out of one bag.
Nathalie grabbed plates and poured two glasses of Pinot Grigio while her mom made sandwiches. They sat at the kitchen island and ate in companionable silence.
Halfway through, Vivienne set down her sandwich and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “If you don’t want to talk about what’s been happening at work, at least promise me you are taking every precaution you can.”
“I am,” Nathalie assured her. She squeezed her mom’s hand. “I want you to be careful, too. Just in case.”
Vivienne gave a delicate snort. “I have a feeling Lucas has appointed himself my guardian angel.” She tilted her head, her eyes questioning. “It’s been years since you’ve mentioned painting.”
Nathalie forced her food past a throat gone tight. “Hence the reason my paints are rock hard.”
“I haven’t heard you that emotional since,” her mother’s brows knitted, “you came home from Oxford, maybe? Although from the sounds of it, you certainly have reason to be upset.”
Lifting her glass, Nathalie took a generous sip of her wine. She’d been a wreck when she returned from England, devastated over what she’d done to Ryder, and avoiding his calls. The night her father came home and announced a British aerospace firm had offered him a contract that would keep Williams Advanced Avionics solvent until the company’s DoD contract began, she’d run to the bathroom and vomited until only guilt remained.
“You also said Ryder’s back. Is that the same Ryder…?” Her mom left the sentence unfinished.
“Yes.” Nathalie’s admission whispered out.
Vivienne’s face scrunched. “Didn’t he go to work for his father? And isn’t he heir to a British title, Earl or Duke or something?”
“Earl of Cannington. After I left England, he joined the British Army instead, became a special forces soldier, and served in Afghanistan.” Nathalie blew out a harsh breath. “Now, he’s head of executive protection for Dìleas. And in charge of my security detail.”
“Wow.” Vivienne covered Nathalie’s fingers with her own and squeezed. “How is it, seeing him again?”
“He’s not the same boy I fell in love with and yet…” Nathalie reached for her wineglass again, then set it down without taking a sip.
This version of Ryder was confident. Hard. Not at all sweet. A dominant, protective male.
And her body turned to liquid heat when he was near.
But what had made her fall in love with him the first time was still there. The passion simmering beneath his reserved surface, his attentiveness—he’d been the one to comment on the fact none of her paintings were in her home. His manners.
He still likedDoctor Who.
“You still have feelings for him.” Vivienne traced a finger over Nathalie’s cheek. “Are you finally ready to tell me what went wrong between the two of you all those years ago?”
Her mother’s gentle, knowing look made Nathalie’s eyes fill. “The aerospace firm that bailed Dad out is owned by Oliver Winfield—one of Philip Montague’s closest friends. Ryder’s father gave him the money for the contract he offered Dad. The one that kept Williams Advanced Avionics from bankruptcy. And—“
She couldn’t say it.
“And the price for his investment was your ending your relationship with his son.” Vivienne sighed. “Oh, baby.”
“I didn’t want Daddy to know. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”
Her mother’s lips firmed. “He never came out and admitted it to me, but I’m pretty sure he knew.” She toyed with the remains of her sandwich before dropping it back onto the plate. “It was selfish on his part. He wanted you back, working with him, not married and living an ocean away in another country. He told me he was glad you had broken up with Ryder. That you would never have been accepted into Ryder’s world and that eventually, you’d be miserable.”
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