Why, oh, why couldn’t Duarte have left? Orla thought desperately, her heart racing as he slowly stalked back towards her. She’d been doing so well, holding the emotions raging through her at bay and clinging on to her dignity even though it had taken every drop of strength she possessed. So well to steel herself against his declaration of love, which meant nothing when the memory of Tuesday night was still so raw.
Why had he had to turn around at that precise moment when the pain of what she’d lost had become too much? There was no chance he hadn’t caught the brief slip of her deliberately icy facade. Gone were the nerves she thought she’d detected in him a moment ago. He was all steely purpose, his jaw set and his eyes glinting darkly as he bypassed the chair he’d earlier vacated and came to perch on her desk, so close she could reach out and touch him if she wanted to.
‘I still have four minutes,’ he said, gripping the edge tightly as he gazed down at her.
Orla pushed her chair back, out of his mind-scrambling orbit, and sat on her hands. ‘Three and a half actually.’
And that was three and a half too many. How long would her strength hold out? Already, his proximity was battering away at her defences. Already she could feel herself weakening.
‘I’m so, so sorry,’ he said gruffly. ‘For everything that I said on Tuesday night. I was terrified of my feelings for you. I wasn’t ready to let go of the past. Ever since Calysta died I’ve been wrapped up in the idea that because what happened to her was my fault, I can’t be responsible for someone else’s emotions. But you were right. About so much. Especially the guilt and the blame. And if I’ve been wrong about that, then I’m wrong about the rest of it. I love you, Orla. I think I’ve been falling in love with you ever since I asked you to research helicopters for me when I didn’t even need one.’
Her heart thundered in her ears, and, with her armour suffering blow after blow, she simply couldn’t keep the icy front up any longer. ‘I offered you everything,’ she said hoarsely as all the hurt and pain broke through to batter her from every angle.
‘I know.’
‘You were cruel.’
His expression twisted and the sigh he gave was tortured. ‘I know.’
‘You hurt me.’
‘Irrevocably?’
‘I don’t know.’
He stared at her, regret and sorrow filling his gaze, and then he swallowed hard and gave a nod. ‘I understand,’ he said roughly. ‘Right. Well. That was all I wanted to say. I should go.’
He pushed himself off the desk and, in a split second that seemed to last a year, Orla’s brain spun. Was she really going to let him leave? After everything he’d told her? When it had to have cost him so much to say? Despite everything she still loved him madly and she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and never let go.
But was she brave enough to do it? Just because he’d recognised his hang-ups didn’t mean they were going to disappear overnight. But then, she thought, her heart hammering wildly, nor were hers. Was this one of those risks worth taking? Yes, it absolutely was.
‘No. Wait,’ she said before he could take a further step.
He stilled, his gaze snapping to hers, so wary, so hopeful it made her chest ache.
‘I’m sorry too.’
He shook his head and frowned. ‘You have nothing to apologise for.’
‘I do. I should never have pushed you into talking about something you weren’t ready to face.’
‘I might never have been ready and I needed to face it.’
‘There are things I’ve also had to face. Things that you’ve helped me to deal with.’
His jaw clenched, the tiny muscle there on the right pounding away. ‘What are you saying?’
She took a deep breath and rose from her chair. ‘We could continue to face them together.’
He nodded slowly, once, and her pulse skipped a beat. ‘We could.’
‘I’ve missed you.’
‘Not nearly as much as I’ve missed you.’
He opened his arms then and whether she threw herself or he pulled her into them she didn’t know. All she knew was that he was kissing her as if his life depended on it, and all her doubts and fears were being swept away on the wave of hot desire and delirious joy that was rushing through her.
‘I love you,’ he muttered against her mouth as his hold on her loosened. ‘Very much.’
‘I love you, too.’
‘I’ve been so blind. So stupid. I’m so sorry I hurt you.’ He pulled back slightly and the remorse on his face tore at her heart. ‘I’ll never forgive myself. How can I ever make it up to you?’
‘You can start by locking the door.’
‘What?’
‘Lock the door,’ she said again softly as she started to undo the buttons of his shirt just in case there was any lingering confusion. ‘And then, my darling, you can show me exactly how sorry you are.’
‘Ah, I see,’ he said, a glint appearing in his eye as he did as she instructed and then took her in his arms and sat her on her desk. ‘I thought you had a meeting.’
Back on the buttons, her whole body vibrating with love and happiness, Orla smiled up at him, leaned forwards and murmured in his ear, ‘I lied.’