She took out a small file and handed it to Lotte.
‘This is a list of everyone you’ve helped since you started supporting us last year. And this is a spreadsheet of everything we plan to do for the next five years if we remain the recipient of your generosity. As you’ll see there are several outreach programs to neighbouring islands that don’t have an established charity yet. Also our network is growing day by day so…’
Even though her focus remained on Abigail’s verbal report, a sense of awe swept over her as she perused the document, a grounding she’d never experienced before settling deep. She hadn’t come seeking selfish validation, butthiswas tangible evidence that she wasn’t a waste of space.
That she’d made a difference.
‘Oh…my dear, are you okay?’
Lotte startled a little as Abigail’s hand covered hers, and she realised to her surprise that she was blinking back tears.
‘Yes.’ She swallowed and plastered another smile on her face, determined to get herself together. ‘I’m perfectly fine.’
And she was, she reiterated to herself long after she’d given the charity head her promise for further financial support and agreed to become a patron. And promised, now that she had a better sense of the sheer scale of need, to use her platform to garner more support.
Abigail had thanked her profusely and left. She’d returned to the living room to find Valenti waiting for her.
Intense silver eyes tracked her face, lingering no doubt on her slightly blotchy eyes. About to turn away from the far too keen inspection, she froze when he said, ‘Your sister would be proud.’
She gasped and started to face him again. Lotte suspected her yearning for more very much poured off her in waves. For one electric moment, she thought,hoped, the blaze that lit his eyes echoed her hunger.
But it winked out with shocking ease before his walls slammed firmly back in place, and Valenti calmly walked away without a backward glance.
It set the tone for Costa Rica. Then Brazil. South Africa. Switzerland.
The only difference during the six-week tour was the magnificence of the Domene-owned residences and the many changing faces of the staff who bent over to accommodate her every wish, as per the orders of their boss, who haunted her presence without once relenting on his vow to not touch her. Or engage with her longer than the perfunctory greeting or dismissal.
And more fool her, but Lotte’s heart continued to hope with each interaction, then squeeze with anguish as he became her shadow, staying no more than three feet away when she met with the tiny but mighty charities dedicated to helping those in dire need of escaping harrowing circumstances.
He didn’t hesitate to fire questions at each group she met, meticulously shoring up any gaps in her own concerns. It would have been perfect. If not for the austere guilt etched into his face that he didn’t bother to hide.
Valenti had taken his emotion-free stance, and he intended to stick to it. At first it frustrated and saddened her. Then the conviction that he was using it as a real but effective crutch turned those emotions into anger.
‘I can speak for myself thank you,’ she interrupted when he began firing questions at the Moldovan charity head.
Perhaps it was the unyielding awareness that this was their final stop. That their time together was running out like sand in an hourglass.
Or perhaps it was the growing confidence and fulfilling acceptance that she’d indeed found her goal.
Whatever. His head snapped in her direction.
Whatever he saw in her expression widened his eyes a fraction before he jerked a nod far too regal to be called true acquiescence.
And whatever it was bubbled up all the way back to the presidential suite of the hotel he’d rented in Chisinau.
‘Something bothering you?’ he drawled when she all but leapt from the lift the moment the doors opened, almost trotting in her haste to get away from him. Because, it turned out, shedidhave a ceiling when it came to withstanding Valenti’s rejection. To witnessing his blatant self-flagellation.
And she was ready to blow when she whirled on him at his question. ‘Do you really need to ask me that?’ she seethed.
‘Evidently I do.’
She started to rip free with every roiling emotion inside her, but the words locked in her throat. Because a great part of her questioned the futility of it.
‘What do you care what anyone thinks, least of all inconsequential me?’
His statue-still form didn’t alter, nor did he rush to correct her assertion, much to her chagrin.
She sighed. ‘I’m tired, Valenti. I’m going to lie down.’ To compose herself before he dropped the news that he was done with her once and for all.
