If there was a bright side to be seen, it was that, amid all the chaos and heartache, somehow she and her brother had grown closer than she’d ever dreamed possible.
They both were yet to decide what they wanted to do with their lives after choosing to walk away from their father and the company, but Camila had encouraged them to take their time. To heal. To reconnect.
When her mother’s childhood friend had offered them a job in her restaurant they’d both jumped at it. She’d worked it around her volunteer work and, between the two jobs, it kept her plenty busy.
Keeping herself occupied stopped the tight knot of pain inside her from mushrooming into unbearable agony. In the dark of the night when she lay wide awake and aching was time enough to suffer through the hell of wondering if she was doomed to heartache for ever.
Of wondering if Theo had left Rio in the three weeks since their final bitter encounter. Of wondering if his nightmares were gone for good or if her brief presence in his life had made them worse.
Her hand trembled and she immediately curled it into a fist. Theo was strong. He would survive…
Yes, but he called you his saviour. His angel. And you walked away from him.
‘No,’ she breathed through the pain ripping through her. She’d done the right thing—
‘No what? If you tell me I’ve got the wrong wine, you’ll have to go and get it yourself.’
She shook her head blindly and turned gratefully to the door as Camila walked in. Her quick but assessing glance at her made Inez frown.
‘We have a new booking. Table One. And an order of feijoadas for one.’
‘Wow, you’re on fire tonight, sis.’
She ignored Pietro. ‘Okay, I’ll serve it up and—’
‘No, I didn’t take a drink order. And I think they want an appetiser first too. Can you go take care of it?’
Inez’s eyebrow shot up. ‘Me? But I’m not dressed to serve.’
‘Pfft. This isn’t the Four Seasons, meu querida. Besides, it’s time you took a break from that hot stove. Tidy your hair a bit and go and take the order.’
Inez looked down at her black skirt and grey T-shirt. It wasn’t standard waitress attire but, as Camila had said, this wasn’t the Four Seasons. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and caught the worried look in the older woman’s eyes. It was an expression she’d spied a few times and she reached out and shook her head before the concern could be voiced.
‘I’m fine.’
Camila’s mouth pursed. ‘Good. Then go and attend to Table One.’
With a weary sigh, she washed and dried her hands on her apron. Unfastening it, she hung it on the hook and avoided her image in the small mirror by the door. Her red face from manning the stove for the last three hours would depress her even more.
Plucking a pencil, notebook and menu from the kitchen stand, she nudged the swinging doors with her hip and turned towards Table One.
‘You…’ she choked out.
Through the drumming in her ears she heard the items in her hand clatter to the floor. A couple of diners glanced her way. Someone picked up the scattered items and placed them in her numb hands. She opened her mouth to thank them but no words emerged.
Every atom in her body was paralysed at the sight of Theo Pantelides.
She heard movement behind her. ‘You can’t stand here all night, pequena. Life will pass you by that way,’ Camila said solemnly.
She exhaled shakily and forced herself to move.
Those light hazel eyes never left her as she approached his table. He looked as powerful and as magnificent as ever, even if his cheekbones seemed to stand out a little more than she remembered. His hair had grown a little longer and looked a little dishevelled.
‘Sit,’ he rasped.
Her heart lurched at the sound of his voice. Licking her dry lips, she shook her head. ‘I can’t. I’m working.’
‘I’ve received special dispensation from Camila. Sit,’ he commanded again.
She sat. He stared at her for a full minute, his eyes raking over her face as if he had been starved of her… Or he was committing her face to memory one last time?
White-hot pain ripped through her. ‘Why are you here, Theo?’ she blurted.