And what for? For something her father had wanted? For something that had ruled his life, determined his creativity? Measured the man and the chef he was? Even though their earlier years had been transient, he’d always been sought after. Was she so driven to be just like him that she’d lost sight of what she was—what she wanted?
All her years growing up, she’d craved the stability of a secure home and a steady income and she had that here with Carson’s. Or did she? Blair had dared to hope for love, had dared to believe that she could blend her career with marriage, and maybe one day, a family.
Or maybe, she thought as she compared herself to her father’s single state, she’d allowed her father’s dreams and goals to set the course for her life at the expense of her own. She bent down and massaged her aching feet, wishing, not for the first time, that she had a partner to do this for her. No, someone more than a partner. More than she’d ever allowed Rhys to be. She wanted a soul mate. Someone without whom life was empty, someone with whom the stars shone that much brighter in the sky at night and the world was a brighter and happier place.
Blair shook her head at her fanciful thoughts and changed feet. The closest thing she’d have to a partner right now was her relationship with a foot spa that she was invariably too tired to lug out of the cupboard and set up to soothe her tired feet.
She wondered how she was going to cope as she grew bigger, especially with her father unable to return to work. The doctor, this morning, had been adamant. If, after his surgery, he couldn’t pace himself to a few hours a day, then he had to stay away from the restaurant completely. Blair made a mental note to advertise in the national newspaper for someone to share her role at the restaurant. She’d hoped Phil would be up to speed by now to take the promotion, but he had a wife and a toddler, with another baby on the way, and he’d made it clear when she’d broached the subject with him that he was happy where he was while his family was still so young.
She’d envied his wife in that moment more than she’d ever believed possible. She tried not to think about it, but right now it pressed heavily on the back of her mind. What would happen to her after the baby was born? She had no doubt that Draco would insist on full custody, and, to be totally honest, she couldn’t maintain her work pace and be a parent as well. She was between a rock and a hard place, and neither of them were where she really wanted to be.
“What do you mean she is gone?” Draco thundered, striding through the salon at the palazzo. “Why did no one tell me of this?”
“Ms. Carson said not to concern you, signore.”
The poor maid who’d informed him of Blair’s defection looked as if she was on the verge of tears.
Concern? She didn’t want him to be concerned? How ironic when she had been on his mind every second of every day, and he’d been in a fool’s paradise, imagining her here at the palazzo. Safe. Secure.
“When did she leave?” he asked, pitching his voice lower, softer.
“Last Friday, signore.”
“Thank you, Maria, and I’m sorry for shouting at you.”
His apology earned him a watery smile and another liberal dose of guilt. It went a long way toward showing how upset he was that he’d lost control with one of his staff. Draco looked at his watch—it was midday. The time in New Zealand would be around ten in the evening. Hopefully a good time to get hold of Blair at the restaurant—because he knew without a single doubt that was where she’d be.
Two hours later Draco snapped his phone off for what felt like the hundredth time. So, Blair was too busy to come to the phone and talk to him, was she? He’d see about that. He’d been shocked to hear that her father was in the hospital awaiting bypass surgery, but he didn’t see why both Carsons needed to work themselves into early graves. His instructions to Blair’s father had been explicit. That the man had ignored them and that Blair was now putting herself and their baby’s health in jeopardy was enough to make Draco see a violent shade of red.
Draco swiftly punched in the phone number of Blair’s apartment and left a message on the answering machine that would leave her with no doubt of his intentions.
“We had an agreement, Blair. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you stop working until my baby is born. Be sure of it, and expect to see me very soon.”
The next morning Draco readied himself for the long flight back to New Zealand. For the number of times he’d used the charter jet recently, he may as well invest in one for himself, he decided, as one of his staff zipped his suitcase closed and took it down to the waiting car.