‘If only, but it would take us a few days. One day I think we should set off for a long sail with no distractions, but this is not that day. No, we shall fly. Can you be ready in a couple of hours? Oh, and, Anna? Bring something dressy. We’ll hit the town tonight.’
CHAPTER NINE
COMING HOME WAS always bittersweet. On one hand Leo loved Barcelona, the city where he had first tasted freedom, where he had started his business, where he had got to know Valentina. On the other it was irredeemably tainted by his upbringing at the old castillo just a few miles out of the city environs. Even though Leo maintained an apartment in one of the modernist buildings that characterised the ancient, proud city, he rarely stayed there.
Truth was his life was so contained he could manage on his boat or in a hotel with little difficulty. All he needed was his laptop and a few changes of clothes; his music was digitalised, his books likewise. His living spaces were a stark contrast to the antique-filled castillo, all of which were strictly for looking at, not touching—including many of the toys.
Anna’s initial enthusiasm to see his ‘inner sanctum’ as she termed it visibly dimmed when she set foot inside the huge apartment with its tiled floors and arched roof. Although she was clearly charmed by the many quirky modernist touches, by the huge terrace, the view out over the city and the leafy inner courtyard, she was much less enamoured of his sparse furnishings. ‘This could be the most gorgeous apartment in the world,’ she said after completing her tour. ‘The bathroom is so perfect I want to move in and never leave, and as for the views...utterly incredible. But I’ve seen chain hotel rooms with more personality.’
‘What can I say? I missed interior design week at school,’ Leo tried to joke, passing her a freshly made gin and tonic and doing his best to steer her out to the terrace where the view more than made up for any deficiencies in the décor.
‘It’s just I don’t see you in here.’
That could be because there was nothing of him to put into the apartment. Sometimes Leo thought that he and the old building had a lot in common—illustrious pedigrees housing something hollow.
Luckily it was easy to distract Anna with a tour of the city and she was obviously enchanted by the parks, by the wonderful array of Gaudí buildings topped off with the still not finished Sagrada Família, and by the tapas served with their drinks in the small, local bars. ‘Don’t eat too many,’ he warned her as she tucked into the small bowl of spicy patatas bravas. ‘We’ve got an entire wedding menu to sample yet.’
Her hand stilled, hovering in mid-air over the small fried potatoes, topped with a spicy tomato sauce. ‘I love tapas,’ she said dreamily.
‘Keep that thought in your head,’ Leo advised her. ‘There are a lot of dishes to sample. You might never want to eat them again when we finish.’
But Anna was shaking her head. ‘Never going to happen.’
She was right. Despite the magnitude of the task before them she didn’t seem daunted. The restaurant occupied the bottom floor of one of Gaudí’s distinctive curvy buildings and Anna and Leo were seated in the private dining room, a cave-like alcove with undulating walls and a colourful mosaic on the ceiling. The room could seat up to twelve people, but it didn’t feel too big for two, not when the table was set with a huge variety of bowls and plates, each with a card propped up against it with the name of the dish written neatly on.
‘Right.’ Leo handed Anna a pen and a menu. ‘Tick the ones you like best. Be sparing with your samplings though. This is just the first round.’
‘You’re going to have to wheel me out of here, or maybe roll me out.’ But she didn’t sound at all worried by the task ahead. ‘This is my type of research. Why didn’t I decide to write about the history of food in Barcelona rather than boring old queens? I’m sure I’d be much further along with the book-from-hell than I am now.’
Leo waited until she had filled her plate with a selection of stuffed olives, marinated anchovies and meatballs before taking his seat and pouring her a glass of wine. ‘You don’t seem very enthused by your current work,’ he commented. When he had first met Anna he might have poked fun at her job, but secretly he’d been impressed. She had a real passion, something she was an expert in. Academia would never make her the kind of money that speculation and investment made Leo, but she was far richer in all the ways that mattered.
Yet all her enthusiasm seemed reserved for her older work. Every time Anna mentioned her new book, her forehead creased, a pinch of worry visible at the bridge of her nose, some self-deprecating comment ready.
‘I am,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s just a lot of pressure, that’s all. We need to publish all the time, to build our reputations, to seal the university’s reputation. And of course what we publish has to be really innovative and groundbreaking.’
‘Like a feminist reinterpretation proving the sanity of Joanna the Mad?’
There it was, the enthusiasm missing from any conversations about her current book. Anna’s eyes were immediately alight, the meatball on the end of her fork in danger of falling as she gesticulated widely. ‘Poor Joanna, she had a really hard life. Every man in her life betrayed her, you know, her father, husband, brother, son. Then she was sent to a convent for the rest of her life. She was probably a little unhinged by all that, as any of us would be. That book was considered groundbreaking, although some people,’ she added darkly, ‘don’t think it counts as research. They don’t think that anything that’s shelved in popular history and actually sells more than three copies can be academic enough to count. Other people think I’m all hype...’
‘Hype?’
‘I was only twenty-six when it came out, and the publishers went for this really moody black and white author photo, all bare shoulders and loose hair, playing on my Spanish heritage. It was a little controversial amongst my peers. When I got invited onto TV and radio to do interviews, and to book festivals, there was a lot of nasty talk. That I traded on Dad’s reputation—which, despite his inability to remember to take his own medicine, is stellar—that I used my looks to get ahead. That I was a one-book wonder.’
‘They were jealous.’
‘Yes, but there is just enough truth in the accusations to sting. The photo probably was a little too sexy, and my name certainly didn’t hold me back. Truth was I liked the photo, liked the image they created. That Anna looks fearless, so sure of herself. I just wish she was real.’
Leo had never heard her sound quite so self-doubting before. All he wanted to do was show Anna that she was wrong, that she was more than the success of one book. He swallowed, hand tightening on his fork. This overpowering need to comfort, to help, was uncharted territory, terrifying in its vastness. He fought to sound light, almost uninterested. ‘Does it matter that much? If you don’t write another groundbreaking book. After all, most of us don’t even manage to write one.’
‘Does it matter?’ She stared at him, eyes huge with astonishment. ‘Of course it matters. My reputation, my career, they are all I have. If I’m not an eminent historian then who am I? What have I achieved? What was it all for?’
Leo waited until the first courses had been cleared away and an array of seafood arranged before them—crispy, delicate fried calamari, prawns glistening with garlic and olive oil, sweet clams served with artichokes, and salt cod fritters, the whole thing served with a delicious selection of salads, rice and fresh bread. It all looked incredible, but his appetite had gone, chased away by the tumult in his mind. Why did he care so much about how Anna felt? They were just keeping each other company, turning what could be a dull few weeks into something more entertaining. Moreover, they were totally chalk and cheese. She was fun to be with in the short term—the very short term—but that organised, note-taking, sensible nature would drive him mad before too long.
His lifestyle might be a charade, but he was still used to pleasing no one but himself, his own needs, desires and
whims paramount. Maybe it was selfish, but at least this way he could do no damage. He took a sip of wine and searched for a safe topic of conversation. ‘What’s the new book about?’
Anna didn’t answer at once, busy staring at a huge prawn with fascinated wonder. She closed her eyes as she bit into it. ‘Ohmigod, that is absolutely amazing. Tick this dish, several times.’ She took another bite, swallowing slowly, eyes still closed.
‘Do you want me to give you and the gambas some privacy?’
‘Yes please, all I need is some music, candlelight and a plate of these bad boys.’ She speared another prawn with a flourish. ‘So, my new book is also about Spanish queens, not consorts, but rulers. It seemed to make sense, you know, after Joanna did so well. Unluckily for me the Spanish haven’t been too keen on female monarchs, so I only have Isabella I of Ferdinand and Isabella fame, and then a mere three hundred years later another Isabella, Isabella II as she is originally known. They shared more than a name. They both had to struggle to be recognised as rulers in their own right; they lived in times of great uncertainty and change. But all I have is a series of anecdotes, a lot of dates. Nothing more than a plain biography. I can’t see my way through to something new.’ She looked at the prawns speculatively, before pushing the plate away.
‘Then pick another topic.’
‘It’s not that easy. My editor, my agent, my college have all approved this. I’ve dedicated the last two years to research. I have an advance, a contract...’
Leo sat back. ‘What drew you to Joanna in the first place?’
Anna paused, her eyes soft in the dim light. ‘My grandmother used to tell me bedtime stories about her. The traditional ones, you know, the “carting her husband’s corpse all over the country” one. I wanted to find out more.’
‘So it was the story that attracted you, not finding something groundbreaking?’
Anna paused, laying her fork on the plate in front of her. ‘I guess.’
‘There you are. Look for the story first and then look for the facts. Find a story which sings to you.’
‘I’m a historian, not a storyteller.’ But she looked thoughtful.
Leo picked up his glass of wine. ‘Can’t you be both?’
* * *
Leo’s words continued to echo around Anna’s mind as they finished the seafood and moved on to meat and vegetables before finishing with a final course of sweet dishes and a platter of cheese and fruit. She’d always known who she was and what she wanted to be. But why? Because her father noticed her when she got top marks in history, liked her following in his footsteps?
No. Or at least, she conceded, not wholly. She had always loved the stories behind the facts, loved bringing the long-dead back to life with her words. Maybe Leo was right. Maybe she was looking in the wrong place at the wrong stories. All she knew was that she couldn’t put off calling her agent any longer. Her book needed a profound rethink, maybe even her entire career. Just coming to that conclusion was like losing a huge burden she hadn’t even known she carried, she was so used to the weight.
She smiled at Leo, but he didn’t notice, sunk in thought, barely touching the incredible food, his shoulders a little slumped. Was his mood due to being back in Barcelona? He’d mentioned his parents lived just outside the city.
What would it be like to despise your parents? Anna freely admitted that hers exasperated her, frequently disappointed her, but she loved them, recognising that their flaws were a crucial part of them. She even envied them, wished she could have a little of her mother’s insouciance, her father’s certainty. Leo didn’t mention his parents often but when he did anger was never far from the surface—and buried underneath the desolation of someone lost.
Maybe that was why his apartment was so impersonal, why he preferred to spend his time on his boat, never anchored down. He didn’t know where he belonged.
The urge to fix him was almost overwhelming. But Anna had tried fixing people in the past. Tried to fix her father’s health, her mother’s unhappiness, her sister. She’d failed all three. The truth was she couldn’t fix anyone who didn’t want to be fixed. And that kind of involvement wasn’t part of their deal anyway. She had to remember what their friendship was, remember what happened last time she’d started projecting feelings onto another human being, seeing truths that simply weren’t there.
‘Thank you,’ she said, sliding, with some difficulty, off the bench. ‘How many dishes did we tick?’
‘You ticked nearly all of them,’ Leo said with a ghost of a smile. ‘Luckily I was a little more restrained.’
‘They were all delicious. Do you know, now the decorations have arrived, now we’ve discussed the practicalities with the kitchen here, now the rest of the staff are due to arrive, I’m beginning to think maybe, just maybe, we can pull this wedding off after all.’
‘I always knew you could do it.’ The intensity in his dark eyes weakened her knees. ‘The minute I met you, when you marched up to me, notebook in hand, wanting my name, rank and badge number. I almost saluted.’
‘You did not. You were arrogant and supercilious, and downright annoying.’ And sexy as hell, but she wasn’t going to admit that.
‘All I wanted to do was unbutton you. In every possible way,’ Leo said hoarsely and Anna had to grip the table to prevent her legs from buckling, heat spreading from the pit of her stomach, scorching a path along every nerve.
She licked her lips, desperate for moisture in her suddenly dry mouth. ‘How’s that going for you?’
‘I’d say not too bad. There’s some ways to go...’
‘Really?’ She arched a brow, aiming for cool and casual, but all too aware of her heart hammering away.
‘I’m just waiting till I have your full attention, mi cariño.’
The promise in his voice turned her insides molten, her grip tightening on the table. ‘You have it.’ Was that really her voice? So husky, so full of desire? How could Leo seduce her so completely with nothing more than words and eyes full of promise? Her whole body was pulsing with desire, swaying towards his as if he was her true north, her true south, her everything.
‘No, part of you is still wondering what’s going on on La Isla Marina, another part of you is thinking about your book, and I’m pretty sure you are still obsessing over those prawns. My task will be completed when you can think of nothing but me. Nothing but me and what I’m going to do to you.’
The noise that escaped her was purely involuntary, a mix between a gasp of surprise and a moan of pure need. The smug smile that spread across his face showed he’d achieved his goal. No way, she vowed, would Leo di Marquez get to have everything his own way. Summoning all her strength, Anna stepped forward, her eyes focussed directly on his.
‘That’s nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you before this is through,’ she said. ‘Consider this a challenge. And, Leo? Remember how much I like to win.’
Surprise flared in his eyes, wiping the slightly smug expression off his face. Surprise swiftly replaced by lust so pure it was as if the whole room seemed to smoulder with its heat. ‘Challenge accepted.’ He stepped back. ‘I think we should go back to the apartment, An-na.’ His voice lingered lovingly over her name. ‘Don’t you?’
He didn’t take her hand as they exited the room, barely looked at her as they bid farewell to the manager, Leo promising to email the final menu choices through the next day. He didn’t need to. They were connected by a rope of desire, binding them together, ensuring she was aware of his every move, every word, moving with him like the steps of an ancient dance. This wasn’t what she’d signed up for. This went beyond a good time, crossing a barrier she knew neither of them were ready to cross and yet they had no choice. It felt foreordained and she welcomed her fate, however it fell.
The formalities over, they walked slowly, in perfect time towards the door. There was no need to hurry. They might as w
ell savour every single second of this night. Somehow Anna already knew it would be the kind of night she would relive in her dreams, the kind of night she would look back on as on old lady and know that she had lived.
‘Leo?’ A sharp, surprised voice cut through the atmosphere that surrounded them and Leo halted, a curiously blank expression immediately descending onto his face. The deep breath he took was so quick Anna might have thought she’d imagined it, if she hadn’t seen his hands curl into quick, tight fists before relaxing again.
He turned, slowly, and looked at the corner table where a well-heeled couple sat. ‘Madre, Padre. What a surprise.’ He’d switched to Spanish, she realised. Her own was fluent enough that the transition wasn’t too much of a problem, although he immediately reverted to English. ‘I’d like you to meet Dr Anna Gray. Anna, these are my parents, the Conde and Condessa de Olvares.’
Should she curtsey? It almost seemed as if the haughty woman, her hair in the kind of sleek chignon Anna could never manage, her outfit a marvel of devastating understatement and wealth, expected it. Anna reined in the urge, smiling instead. ‘Encantado,’ she said with a nod instead. ‘Leo has told me so much about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
There was no answering smile, just a swift, sweeping look, which quite clearly summed Anna up, found her wanting and dismissed her. All in less than three seconds. Impressive.
‘How long are you back?’ The Conde had at least switched to English, even if he didn’t acknowledge Anna outright, his cold attention focussed on his son.
‘One night only.’
‘How lucky we ran into you, then.’
‘Lucky indeed.’
‘Please, join us for a coffee and a drink.’ His sharp gaze switched to Anna. ‘If it’s agreeable to your companion? We so rarely get the pleasure of our only son’s company.’
‘Coffee will be lovely,’ Anna said as the silence stretched on.
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