Page 68 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

Dios, Rose was pregnant with his babies.

‘I can’t say I was calm when I did the test,’ she admitted with a rueful shrug. ‘And when two heartbeats were detected on the scan…’ She gave another laugh and shook her head. ‘Two babies to bring safely into the world? Only atinybit terrifying. But it is what it is, and all I can do is my best.’

‘You didn’t think to…?’ He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

She recoiled in horror and covered her belly with both hands. ‘Abort them? Absolutely not. They didn’t ask to be conceived, so don’t even think of suggesting it.’

‘I didn’t…’ His voice had become hoarse. ‘I wouldn’t.’

‘Good.’ She gave a tight smile and readjusted the strap of her handbag. ‘I should go.’

‘Go?’ What the hell was she talking about?Go?

‘You need to digest the bombshell I’ve just thrown at you. Get in touch when you’re over the shock of it all and we can talk properly then. And don’t worry—the pregnancy doesn’t change anything as far as you and I are concerned.’

Rose, desperate to get away without Diaz realising just how desperate her need for escape was, left him staring at her with the expression of someone who really had suffered a grenade explosion at close quarters.

The moment the door shut behind her, she slumped against it and clasped her thighs to stop herself sinking to the floor. She was shaking, inside and out.

That had been easier than she’d imagined, and yet a hundred times harder.

Easier because Diaz had been too shocked to erupt with the anger and accusations she’d prepared herself for. Harder because all the mental preparations she’d made to be with him in the flesh again had gone to nothing.

But that was the story of her life. Diaz had always been capable of eliciting emotions in her with nothing but the mention of his name, and it destroyed her that the pain she’d tried so hard to bury had risen back up again, fragmentary memories of their night together floating like whispers to the surface. She didn’t dare risk exposing herself to those fragments, not now, and she blinked hard to push them away.

She had to get out of here. She couldn’t stay slumped against the door, not when he was on the other side it. She’d thrown a grenade into his life but Diaz was not the kind of man to stay shellshocked for long. She’d much rather be safe in Devon and in control of her surroundings for when the shock wore off and he demanded they talk. She needed every ounce of advantage she could get.

Pulling herself together, she went back into the casino and headed for the exit. As she descended the stairs she couldn’t stop herself thinking of the first time she met him. She’d been eleven, a lonely girl on the cusp of adolescence, excited that Mrs Martinez’s grandchildren were going to spend the whole of the summer holidays in Devon with them. Well, not withthem. With Mrs Martinez. After all, Rose’s mother was Mrs Martinez’s live-in housekeeper. Rose was just the housekeeper’s daughter. But Mrs Martinez had never seen her like that. Certainly never treated her like that. She’d made Rose feel welcome in her home. Wanted. Only two months living there and, to Rose, it had felt like she’d finally found a grandmother.

Surely a woman as wonderful as Mrs Martinez would have wonderful grandchildren? She’d been half right.

Twelve-year-old Rosaria had been thrilled to make a friend of Rose, had marvelled at the similarity of their names and declared they would be best friends for ever.

Sixteen-year-old Diaz had been a different proposition. He’d made no effort to hide his resentment of Rose’s presence. Only days after his arrival, she’d overheard him complaining about the ‘feral’ child of the hired help leading his sister astray.

‘Why does your brother hate me?’ Rose had asked his sister after he’d flatly refused to let her walk with them to the local town for ice cream.

Rosaria had shrugged. ‘Don’t take it personally. He hates everyone.’

‘He doesn’t hate you.’

‘That’s because I’m his sister.’

She’d been confused. ‘But I thought brothers and sisters were supposed to find each other annoying?’ At least, that was the impression she’d always got from her old friendship group, where she’d been the only only-child. The others always used to say how lucky she was. They wouldn’t have thought her lucky after the move, when she’d failed to make a single friend in her new school and didn’t even have an annoying little sister to fall back on for company.

‘Diaz thinks it’s his job to look out for me,’ Rosaria had explained.

It had taken a few more years for Rose to understand why Diaz thought that way, a few more years of long school holidays spent with her favourite person—Rosaria—and the sulky presence of her least favourite—Diaz—for her to consider that if they spent their terms at their English boarding school and most of their holidays with their English grandmother, then how much time did they actually spend in their native Spain with their parents? The answer to that was not a lot.

Not her problem, Rose thought defiantly when she reached the ground floor of the hotel. She was long done with trying to understand what made Diaz Martinez tick or understand why, despite his sister’s long-ago assertion that he hated everyone, it was just Rose he abhorred. Just Rose his hackles lifted for. Just Rose he watched with distrust and suspicion.

She wished she could scratch away the memory of the night when he’d looked at her with a tenderness that had made her heart fill like a balloon.

Thanking the porter for opening the door for her, she stepped out into the early autumn air. She should have brought a jacket with her. It had been a long time since she’d been outside this late in an evening.

A black cab was approaching. The porter hailed it and opened the back door for her. He was closing it when it swung back open and Diaz slid in beside her.

CHAPTER TWO

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