by Mary Lyons
But first she must unpack her luggage, and hang up in the wardrobe the outfit which she was intending to wear at tomorrow’s wedding.
Having done so, it was only when she was putting her suitcase into a cupboard that she remembered her post—which she’d quickly grabbed that morning in her rush to the airport. She had quickly stuffed it into the wide outside pocket of her suitcase and promptly forgotten all about it. Until now.
‘It’s bound to be mostly bills,’ she muttered out loud, quickly sorting through the envelopes to see if there was anything which looked at all urgent. But there was only one—from her lawyer—which Gina felt she probably ought to open.
Having read the letter through once, Gina sank down on to the bed, her head in a whirl as she gazed into space for some moments before forcing herself to read it again.
‘I must apologise for the delay in writing to you,’ her lawyer had begun, before explaining that he had recently been in hospital for a minor operation.
‘However, having received a letter from your husband’s Spanish lawyers (copy enclosed) I will require your instructions before proceeding with this matter…’
Briefly glancing at the photocopy of a letter, written in Spanish, from a firm of notarios in Cadiz, Gina returned to read carefully through what her own lawyer had said.
Boiled down to the bare essentials, it seemed that Antonio’s Spanish lawyers had sent her lawyer a very stiff, curt letter, saying that their client had instructed them to return the money left to him by Sir Robert Brandon.
Not only had Don Antonio Ramirez been astonished to learn of the legacy following Sir Robert’s death, but he had no wish or need to accept it. Moreover, his grandfather-in-law’s request—that the sum involved should be used towards the modernisation of the Bodega Ramirez—was entirely unnecessary.
The funds to do so had already been arranged with a bank in Spain before Señor Don Antonio had left Spain for England and his first meeting with Sir Robert Brandon in London, earlier in the year. The signed contract between the Banco de Andalusia and the Bodega Ramirez was, of course, available for inspection by Señora Doña Georgina Ramirez, should she wish to satisfy herself as to its validity.
The Spanish lawyers were, therefore, returning the cheque forthwith—together with Señor Don Antonio Ramirez’s firm insistence that he wished to hear no more on the subject.
‘Oh, no…!’ Gina gasped, as the full implications of the letter broke through the dazed confusion in her mind.
Oh, God! What on earth was she going to do now? Antonio had been telling her the truth—all the time. He had already raised the money he needed for his business before he’d set foot in England, and before that meeting with her grandfather. What was more—he had a signed document to prove it!
With her thoughts whirling and spinning out of control, Gina threw herself back on the bed, staring blindly up at the ceiling as she tried to come to terms with the fact that she…and she alone…was responsible for the total collapse and destruction of her happy marriage. That every single bit of heartache and loneliness…all these months of desperate unhappiness…were the result of her own utterly foolish inability to believe the man whom she’d always—as long as she could remember—loved with all her heart.
How could she have been so stupid? Why hadn’t she trusted him? Was she really so insecure that she’d let an elderly, confused man and a nasty, viciously spiteful woman sow such seeds of bitterness and devastation?
Totally stunned at the extent of her own folly, Gina slowly sat up on the bed, before stumbling like a sleepwalker into the bathroom.
Lying in the hot water, trying to come to terms with the full, disastrous extent of what she’d done, it was only the fragrant and soothing bath oil which proved to be of any comfort. She was beyond tears. Dry-eyed, and staring blindly into the thick cloud of steam rising over the bath, she finally realised that, having been granted a brief glimpse of heaven, she was now trapped in a hell of her own making.
And there was nothing—absolutely nothing—she could do about it.
And when, some time later, she heard the door of her suite open, as she’d just finished towelling herself dry, Gina realised that the very last thing she wanted was the food she’d so carelessly ordered on her arrival.
However, she had no choice but to go through the motions of signing for the damn thing, she told herself grimly. Slipping on a light dressing gown and belting it up around her slim waist, she called out, ‘I’m just coming,’ before walking through into the main room of the suite.
Only to find herself coming to a sudden halt, quickly grabbing hold of the back of a nearby chair to stop herself from collapsing with shock.
Her sapphire-blue eyes growing wide with disbelief, she stared in horror at the tall, dark figure of a man clothed in an elegant black cashmere overcoat. While he, for his part, having clearly spun around at the sound of her voice, was staring at her with an expression of utter shock and incredulity.
‘Gina!’ Antonio exclaimed, his deep voice sounding hard and cold. ‘What in the hell are you doing here?’
With her mind in a complete daze, she couldn’t seem to be able to get a firm grip on the situation for some moments. And then the full horror of the problems which lay ahead began flooding into her mind.
Quite apart from anything else, it was clearly the worst possible time for a meeting with her husband—let alone after she’d just discovered that he was innocent of all her wild accusations.
Besides, it looked as if her previous fears, that he would be less than pleased to see her at the wedding, were absolutely spot-on. From the way his dark, angry eyes were glaring at her, it looked as if hell would freeze over before he’d be prepared to even give her the time of day.
‘Is this some bad joke?’ Antonio’s dark eyebrows were drawn together in a deep frown. ‘I demand to know what you’re doing here,’ he grated angrily.
‘What am I doing here?’ Gina gave a high-pitched, shrill burst of laughter. ‘That is precisely the question I was going to ask you!’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he retorted curtly. ‘This is my room, and…’
‘Correction!’ she snapped. ‘This is my suite. There’s probably been some error on the part of the hotel. I had no idea that you were staying here,’ she added, wrapping her arms quickly about her trembling body. ‘But I think you’ll find it is merely a simple mistake, and…and that you’ve been shown to the wrong room.’
‘Absolutamente, no,’ he informed her firmly. ‘Since I didn’t make the booking, I checked the number on my arrival downstairs at Reception. And, as you can see…’ he held up a key with the same room number as hers dangling from its shaft ‘…this is most definitely my room.’
‘No, it’s not!’ Gina protested. ‘I’ve got exactly the same key.’
She marched over to the small, elegant table beside the main door of the suite of rooms, lifting up her key and walking back to show it to him.
‘And besides,’ she added firmly, ‘Roxana made all the arrangements for my arrival. Since everything else seems to have gone like clockwork, it’s obvious that you…’
‘Roxana?’ he exclaimed loudly, quickly seizing the key from her hand. Swiftly comparing the two matching numbers, he spun around on his heels, marching across the floor to pick up the telephone.
Following a rapid exchange in Spanish, far too fast for her to follow, he eventually slammed down the receiver, swearing violently under his breath.
‘So it isn’t your room after all?’ she queried.
‘On the contrary, my dear Gina, it is my room—and yours!’ He gave a low rumble of harsh, sardonic laughter at the expression of consternation on her face. ‘Yes, I’m afraid that we have both been booked into this room—under the names of Señor and Señora Ramirez. In fact, it seems that my dear sister Roxana has been very busy, does it not?’
Gina stared at him in openmouthed dismay. ‘I…I don’t believe it. Surely Roxana wouldn’t have…? She couldn’t…?�
‘Unfortunately, it is now abundantly clear that she could—and she did. And believe me,’ he added grimly, ‘I intend to have a few hard words with the blushing bride!
‘However, it is merely a small problem,’ he continued, in a hard voice. ‘It will be a simple matter for the hotel to find me another room.’
Trembling, and prey to conflicting emotions, Gina realised that although she’d been deeply apprehensive about this first meeting with Antonio, at least it was over and done with. He now knew she was in Spain, and would be attending the marriage tomorrow. So that was one hurdle out of the way.
Although how she was going to deal with the devastating information she’d just received, she had no idea. And this was hardly the time—or the place—to try and say she was sorry. Indeed, she had so very much to apologise for she hadn’t even a clue where to start.
Immersed in her thoughts, Gina had only barely noticed Antonio picking up the phone to talk, once again, to the reception desk. And was therefore surprised when, for the second time in a few minutes, he slammed down the phone before slowly turning around to stare at her, a harsh and forbidding expression on his handsome, tanned face.
‘It seems that my dear sister has been even cleverer than she imagined,’ he said at last in icy tones. ‘Because I have been informed that this hotel is booked solid—mostly, I regret to say, with guests attending my sister’s wedding. They have no other room for you other than a small maid’s room on the top floor.’
Gina stared at him for a moment, before giving a strangled snort of incredulous laughter.
‘You must be joking!’
‘No, of course I am not,’ he snapped.
‘But…but you can’t seriously think that I…I’m going to go and spend the night in “a small maid’s room on the top floor”!’ she exclaimed. ‘Besides…I was here first. And here I’m staying!’ she announced, lifting her chin aggressively towards him.
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ he ground out, shrugging off his dark overcoat and throwing it, in what she could only think of as a highly possessive action, onto the large double bed.
‘You cannot possibly expect me to sleep in a small, inferior room,’ Antonio told her, sounding amazed that she should even be prepared to think the unthinkable. ‘I am simply not prepared to discuss the matter.’
‘Oh, great! You mean it’s good enough for me, your poor old wife, but not for the grand Señor Don Antonio Ramirez?’ she stormed, before it suddenly occurred to her that he just might…he just could be expecting that awful woman Carlotta Perez to be joining him.
Well! She certainly wasn’t going to put up with that! Whether he liked it or not she was still his wife. And if he thought that he could just install his…his current mistress in this suite—he’d definitely got another think coming!
‘If you think that I’m moving out of here to make way for your girlfriend…you’re badly mistaken!’ she ground out, almost beside herself with fury.
‘Que?’ He looked up from his briefcase, which he’d just placed on the small desk by the telephone. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about? What girlfriend?’ he demanded angrily.
‘Hah! I know all about you and that woman. I’ve seen the picture of the two of you in that Spanish magazine. And it was clear that she’d got you well and truly nailed to her mast!’
Antonio stared fixedly at her for a moment, before giving a slight shrug. ‘You have said that you no longer want me, Gina. So why should you care about Carlotta?’ he drawled coolly, the slight glimmer of sardonic amusement in his dark eyes adding fuel to the flames of her anger.
‘As it happens, I couldn’t care less!’ Gina retorted, quickly trying to retrieve the situation. The last thing…the very last thing she wanted was to have Antonio suspecting that she might be jealous of the glamorous Spanish woman.
‘However,’ she continued, ‘I just wanted to make it plain that if you’ve set up a sordid rendezvous here with her—or any other woman, for that matter—you’re way out of luck. Because I’m not moving!’
‘Oh, really?’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘I think you’ll find that the porter will be here in a moment or two, to escort both you and your luggage out of this suite!’
‘Oh, really?’ she echoed furiously, dearly wishing that she wasn’t standing here in her bare feet. Because just at this moment she’d give everything she possessed for a pair of high-heeled pointed stiletto shoes—with which to give him a sharp kick in the shins!
‘Well, have I got news for you!’ she told him grimly. ‘I have absolutely no intention of taking one step outside this bedroom suite.’
‘Now, Gina…’
‘What’s more, I’m going back into the bathroom, and…and I may not be out for some hours!’ she added, trembling with rage as she strode determinedly back into the adjoining bathroom, slamming the door loudly behind her before firmly turning the key in the lock.
This was all very well, Gina told herself, gradually simmering down as she paced up and down the large, luxurious bathroom. But she couldn’t stay here for ever, could she?
So what the hell was she going to do? was the over-riding question in her mind as she sank dispiritedly down on to the small stool beside the bath.
Oh, Lord! First she’d made a complete pig’s breakfast of her once happy marriage, and now she was locked in a bathroom, with her very angry, thoroughly irate husband on the other side of the door. If the situation hadn’t been so damned tragic it would have been totally hilarious!
Quickly reviewing the alternatives open to her—and there seemed very few, if any—Gina realised that any idea she might have had of attempting to apologise for her part in the destruction of their marriage had just flown out of the window.
Even thinking of trying to have some sort of reconciliation with that hard, angry man next door was totally inconceivable.
While he might be cross with his sister, for so clumsily trying to bring him and his wife closer together, he certainly wasn’t happy about the situation in which he now found himself. In fact, he was downright furious. Which wasn’t surprising, she acknowledged with a slight grimace. No one, least of all her proud and imperious husband, liked to think that they’d been manipulated by outside forces. And she wasn’t at all happy about the situation either.
Damn Roxana! Why couldn’t the girl have just left matters alone?
‘Come out of there immediately!’ Antonio called out, banging imperiously on the door.
‘No, I won’t. Go away!’ she retorted loudly, still trying to think of a way to extricate herself from this embarrassing situation.
She would, of course, have to leave this bathroom fairly soon. But she was damned if she was going to do so just because her husband was shouting at her.
‘Stop being so silly, Gina,’ he said in a slightly quieter tone of voice. ‘It’s been a long day. And I need to wash and shave before having dinner.’
‘That’s just too bad!’ she snapped from the other side of the door, finding some balm for her exhausted emotional state as she heard him muttering oaths in Spanish under his breath.
However, about ten minutes later, she was alerted by a soft tap on the door.
‘It is patently ridiculous for the two of us to be behaving like children in this way,’ she heard him say quietly. ‘It is also clear that we have no choice but to share this room tonight. I have already phoned down to the restaurant, asking them to serve dinner for two up here in the suite. So…may I suggest that we both take a deep breath and come to our senses?’
There was a long pause before he added in softer tones, ‘Come, querida—it is foolish for us to be so angry with each other, no?’
Well…he did seem to be offering an olive branch, Gina told herself. So she might as well be sensible and grab hold of it, while the going was good.
‘All right,’ she sighed, undoing the lock and slowly opening the door.
‘I’m sorry that I seem to have been behaving childishly,’ she admitted as she entered the room. ‘It was a long flight from London, and…and I’m probably tired,’ she added with a slight shrug of her slim shoulders.
‘It has been a long day for me, too,’ he admitted, brushing a weary hand through his thick black curly hair.
‘I flew into Madrid from California yesterday. And I had so many meetings today that I only just caught the plane up here by the skin of my teeth. So, we are both tired, yes? Which is all the more reason,’ he added, as she gave him a slow nod, ‘for us, as you say in England, “to bury the hatchet” and try to have a pleasant dinner together, hmm?’
‘That seems a sensible decision,’ she agreed slowly, noting for the first time the deep lines of strain on his face. ‘Why don’t you have a bath? After all, dinner can wait, can’t it?’
While Antonio was taking her good advice, and having a long soak in the bathtub, Gina took the opportunity of asking Room Service to send up a bottle of chilled champagne, as well as putting the delivery of their dinner back by an hour. And Room Service, in this wonderful hotel, seemed only too pleased to accept her new instructions.
God bless Roxana! At least she hadn’t booked them both into some grotty hotel, which would have clearly made life a lot harder, more difficult than it already was at the moment. Although, bride or not, Antonio wasn’t the only one who was looking forward to having a few hard words with her old schoolfriend.
As soon as the champagne was delivered, and the servant had left the room, she took the opportunity to quickly change into a long sapphire-blue velvet house-coat, which for some reason she’d thrown into her suitcase at the last moment.
What with one thing and another, she told herself, as she fastened a large string of pearls about her neck and matching pearl studs in her ears, it was going to be a tough evening. So…looking as smart as possible and putting on some make-up was the only defence in her armoury. Though Antonio seemed prepared to be civil, that was clearly the most she could expect.
She had no illusions that he would draw any false conclusions from that bottle of champagne, either, she told herself glumly. But she needed something to cheer herself up in this dire situation. And at least she could pretend for a few moments, while sipping the golden liquid, that her whole life and her marriage hadn’t gone right down the tubes.
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