hurried to get the door open before he arrived. In her tiny hallway it took only two strides for her to reach her bedroom. Trembling lips pressed together, she walked over to her bedside cabinet and slid open the drawer,then just stood looking down at its contents through eyes that stung.
All kinds of small things were scattered in the drawer. She had not seen or thought about them in months. But it was a small box her fingers reached for, and with a heavy thump playing havoc with her heartbeat she pulled in a taut breath, then flipped open the lid.
Two rings winked back at her. One an intricately woven rich yellow gold wedding ring Roque had had to have altered to make it fit the narrowness of her finger. It was a family heirloom, passed down the line through the de Calvhos brides for too many centuries for her to dare to count. The same with the betrothal ring, with its fabulously rare pink diamond gleaming like a lustrous living thing from a bed of exquisite white diamonds.
She’d meant to return the rings to Roque when she’d returned to London, but she’d pushed them into this drawer along with the credit card and promptly forgotten about them.
Wanted to forget about them.
Needed to forget about them.
Though now, as she stared at these priceless and irreplaceable pieces from the de Calvhos jewellery stock, guilt made a fierce grab at her conscience for the way she had just tossed them into this drawer as if they were worth nothing.
Her brother had missed the jackpot when he’d left the rings behind, she thought helplessly, for the pink diamond alone would have paid off his debts, with an obscene amount left over for him to squander further.
A spike of hot bloody anger held Roque still in the doorway. It wasn’t because of the rings. The rings were still there—he could see them sparkling in the boxfrom here. It was having to witness Angie’s fear that her brother had taken them that was infuriating him.
Without saying a word, he walked forward, then bent to ease the ring box out of her grasp. She flinched when he snapped the box shut and closed it inside his clenched fist.
‘Okay.’ He sounded harsh, but couldn’t help it. ‘Now we are here, you can pack a bag before we leave again.’
‘He—he didn’t do it, Roque,’ Angie whispered.
‘What the hell difference does that make?’ he exploded, without knowing he was going to do that either. ‘You believed he was capable of stealing your rings from you, Angie! You are sitting there like that, fighting back the tears, because you are so relieved that he did not! Now, pack a damn bag!’
‘Don’t shout at me!’ Angie sprang to her feet and glared at him.
‘Do you need me to spell it out to you before you recognise what’s going on here?’ he rasped. ‘The rings do not matter. The credit card he took matters! If we let him get away with what he has done, what do you think he’s going to take next? Or, worse, who is he going to steal from to finance his gambling habit?’
‘It’s not gambling!’ Angie heard herself repeat Alex’s own defence from a hazy place filled with horror and self-disgust. ‘Y-you speculate on the markets all the time, Roque, and I’ve never heard you call it gambling.’
‘I do not steal from other people to do it. I do not drag my family down to a level where they are forced to defend me like you are doing now—just to save his face!’
Guilty as charged, Angie quivered out a pained, shaken breath. ‘He’s all I’ve got and I love him.’
It came out so bleak and so broken that Roque swung away in a lithe, angry movement to glare at the nearest wall with a burning desire to throw his clenched fist at it!
And he knew why he felt like that. Hell, did he know.
‘Where is his love for you, Angie?’ He swung back to her, grinding his teeth together when he watched her flinch. ‘He walks all over you—because you let him. How long do you think the rings would have remained in that drawer if what
All kinds of small things were scattered in the drawer. She had not seen or thought about them in months. But it was a small box her fingers reached for, and with a heavy thump playing havoc with her heartbeat she pulled in a taut breath, then flipped open the lid.
Two rings winked back at her. One an intricately woven rich yellow gold wedding ring Roque had had to have altered to make it fit the narrowness of her finger. It was a family heirloom, passed down the line through the de Calvhos brides for too many centuries for her to dare to count. The same with the betrothal ring, with its fabulously rare pink diamond gleaming like a lustrous living thing from a bed of exquisite white diamonds.
She’d meant to return the rings to Roque when she’d returned to London, but she’d pushed them into this drawer along with the credit card and promptly forgotten about them.
Wanted to forget about them.
Needed to forget about them.
Though now, as she stared at these priceless and irreplaceable pieces from the de Calvhos jewellery stock, guilt made a fierce grab at her conscience for the way she had just tossed them into this drawer as if they were worth nothing.
Her brother had missed the jackpot when he’d left the rings behind, she thought helplessly, for the pink diamond alone would have paid off his debts, with an obscene amount left over for him to squander further.
A spike of hot bloody anger held Roque still in the doorway. It wasn’t because of the rings. The rings were still there—he could see them sparkling in the boxfrom here. It was having to witness Angie’s fear that her brother had taken them that was infuriating him.
Without saying a word, he walked forward, then bent to ease the ring box out of her grasp. She flinched when he snapped the box shut and closed it inside his clenched fist.
‘Okay.’ He sounded harsh, but couldn’t help it. ‘Now we are here, you can pack a bag before we leave again.’
‘He—he didn’t do it, Roque,’ Angie whispered.
‘What the hell difference does that make?’ he exploded, without knowing he was going to do that either. ‘You believed he was capable of stealing your rings from you, Angie! You are sitting there like that, fighting back the tears, because you are so relieved that he did not! Now, pack a damn bag!’
‘Don’t shout at me!’ Angie sprang to her feet and glared at him.
‘Do you need me to spell it out to you before you recognise what’s going on here?’ he rasped. ‘The rings do not matter. The credit card he took matters! If we let him get away with what he has done, what do you think he’s going to take next? Or, worse, who is he going to steal from to finance his gambling habit?’
‘It’s not gambling!’ Angie heard herself repeat Alex’s own defence from a hazy place filled with horror and self-disgust. ‘Y-you speculate on the markets all the time, Roque, and I’ve never heard you call it gambling.’
‘I do not steal from other people to do it. I do not drag my family down to a level where they are forced to defend me like you are doing now—just to save his face!’
Guilty as charged, Angie quivered out a pained, shaken breath. ‘He’s all I’ve got and I love him.’
It came out so bleak and so broken that Roque swung away in a lithe, angry movement to glare at the nearest wall with a burning desire to throw his clenched fist at it!
And he knew why he felt like that. Hell, did he know.
‘Where is his love for you, Angie?’ He swung back to her, grinding his teeth together when he watched her flinch. ‘He walks all over you—because you let him. How long do you think the rings would have remained in that drawer if what
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