Rags To Riches: His Wish, Her Command. Annie West

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ she does,’ he replied, turning back to face the portrait so that Ella could not see his face as he composed himself. ‘I’ve never actually seen that picture before. I don’t have many family photographs so it’s quite a surprise.’

      Ella shoved the drawer closed and pushed herself back onto her feet with a satisfied sigh. ‘Here is the original print. These were all in the same box in the attic.’

      Seb stared at the brown card wallet that Ella was holding out towards him and steadied himself to accept it from her, only they both stepped forwards at the same time and for a fraction of a second their fingers slid into contact, a gentle stroke of skin against sensitive skin.

      Instantly a burst of hot energy ran through Seb’s hand, then arm and body, like a small electric shock. It was so unexpected and surprising that he half coughed out loud, breaking the heavy weight of silence. The awkwardness of the moment made him look up from the folder into Ella’s blue, blue eyes. And found that she was staring back at him. Wide eyed. Startled.

      In a blink she sucked in a breath, waved her arms to the air above her head and squeaked. ‘More in the attic. I’ll go and, er, try and find them for you.’

      Before Seb could reply Ella fled away into the corridor, her sandals making a light pattering on the wooden staircase.

      Clearly he had not been the only one to feel the connection.

      Mentally shaking himself for being so obvious in front of a widowed single mother, Seb sighed heavily.

      More photographs? He didn’t even know that these photographs existed, and here they were. For strangers to see.

      He flicked open the folder, and quickly sorted through the jumble of mostly black and white prints he found inside.

      Some of the faces were so familiar to him they were like friends he vaguely remembered but could not name. His grandmother and his parents were in many of them, but in others strangers smiled back from locations and events from a very different world he knew nothing about—a world called the past.

      Then he found it. A small colour print with his mother smiling out. Her beauty and life force captured in two dimensions for all time. Only as he picked it up he saw that there was writing on the back.

      His heart skipped a beat as he read the faded words in French. ‘Engagement Party. 26 May. Andre’s house.’

      That was all. No indication of who had been celebrating their engagement. Or who André was. A friend? A relative?

      Perhaps André was one of the young people in the bundle of photographs he had just glanced at? Someone who had known his mother as a young woman and who could tell him who his birth parents had been and what had happened to them.

      He had so many questions. And way, way, too few answers.

      Seb dropped the folder of photographs onto the sofa and started pacing up and down the room between the fireplace and the garden.

      He had known the old house would have mixed memories for him, but this was something new. Something he could not have expected.

      Hot resentment flashed through him and his fingers clenched into his palms. His dad had left these precious photographs of his mother and his heritage behind in his rush to abandon everything and leave for a tiny apartment in Sydney.

      Seb stopped pacing and picked up the colour print. How could he do it? How could he have left these pictures behind for strangers like Ella Martinez to sort through? Maybe even throw out or burn in the fire? He could easily have made room for these few precious pieces of paper.

      Back in Sydney he had three photographs of his mother. Three worn, faded and torn prints, the surface coating worn away by the rubbing of his fingers over the years. His dad had one single wedding photo in a silver frame in his bedroom, which Seb used to sneak in and look at. He never got tired of grinning back at the pretty dark-haired girl in a long white dress and carrying a huge bouquet of flowers that trailed almost to the ground, standing next to his dad in his best banker’s smart suit, as they both smiled for the camera.

      Four photographs. And yet here in this house he had already seen more photographs than he ever knew existed.

      It was almost as if his dad had deliberately kept these photos from him. Was he trying to hide something? Trying to protect him?

      Not any more.

       Change of plan.

      He was here now. He had the means and the opportunity and he could spare a few hours of personal time. In a few days he would be back to Australia. This could be the only chance he might have.

      The more he thought about it, the more decisive he became.

      He had used his tenacity and determination to take his business to the top. Now it was time to apply that same energy and drive to do some digging into his own past.

      Decision made.

      He had a new mission. He was going to find any and every scrap of evidence of his family’s past. Even if it meant turning this house upside down to find them.

      Starting with the attic.

      Because whatever he found from now on, he had every intention of claiming for himself. This was personal and had nothing whatsoever to do with Nicole or her housekeeper. Nothing at all.

      Ella tried to wind her way through the jumble of unwanted furniture and assorted objects that had accumulated in the attic. And fought a sudden urge to kick them out of the way. Hard.

      Stamping her foot, she squeezed her eyes tight shut, dropped her head back and counted to ten. Backwards. The furniture was bashed enough without her adding to the knocks and scrapes.

      They said that bad things came in threes. Well, her Friday was certainly turning out to be a lot more challenging than she had expected. First was the news about the mistral. A summer storm was the last thing this garden needed a few days before a garden party. And it could last for days!

      As for the second? It was obvious to her now that Sebastien Castellano never had any intention of staying around long enough to attend Nicole’s birthday party. And that was just cruel.

      How could he do that? How could he promise to be here then change his mind?

      She simply did not understand that at all. He had travelled halfway around the world for a business trip, only to take off again without seeing Nicole!

      How could he be so selfish? Surely he could put Nicole’s needs in front of his own for once? And what was so urgent back in Sydney that he could not stay for a few more days?

      And then there was the killer. The thick letter stuffed into her trouser pocket that had been waiting for her when she got back from the school run.

      The very sight of the Spanish stamps made her heart sink into her deck shoes.

      To a six-year-old, Barcelona might just as well have been next to India and not just a few hours’ drive away. Not that Christobal’s parents came to see them very often. They hated staying at Sandrine’s clean but simple hotel and made repeated comparisons with their luxury villa complete with indoor heated swimming pool СКАЧАТЬ