She had begun unhappily questioning the road she had taken and the choices she had made and now, as London drew closer and closer, she felt faint with the sickening suspicion that she might have made the wrong decision.
Abigail didn’t want to think this way. She fought to recover some of the conviction she had felt all those months ago when she had decided not to contact Leandro.
She forced herself to remember that she had never known her parents. She had no idea who her father was because he wasn’t even registered on her birth certificate. Her mother was now only a vague memory because Abigail had been taken into care when she had been just seven years old. She had known little but the indifference of strangers who had been paid to make sure that she was fed, watered and educated in a manner of speaking.
The system in which she had grown up had made her fiercely protective of her baby even before he had been born.
That was why she had chosen to keep the pregnancy a secret, she reminded herself. She hadn’t dared risk Leandro, rich, powerful and filled with hatred after the break-up of their relationship, trying to lay claim to his child. Of course, he might have chosen to walk away completely, given the option, or offer some financial support and nothing more, but that had been a risk she had been unwilling to take.
Who knew what the future held? she had asked herself. Maybe in time, when her baby was old enough to start asking questions, then she would reconsider the decision she had made, but by then she would be on her feet financially, would hopefully own her own house, and would certainly have many years of successful motherhood behind her to ensure that no one could take her child away from her.
In that manner, she had been able to shove any guilty conscience out of sight, and out of sight had been out of mind.
Her guilty conscience was certainly making up for lost time as she lapsed into silence during the short helicopter flight down to the outskirts of London.
The snow which had been falling steadily in the Cotswolds was not in evidence when they landed. It was cold and windy but, instead of snow, they exited the helicopter into freezing rain and Abigail wrapped her coat tightly around her and stood for a few seconds, getting her bearings.
‘My car.’ Hand propelling her gently behind her back, she found herself tripping along beside Leandro towards a gleaming black vehicle, at the side of which a smartly dressed middle-aged man was standing with the passenger door open.
With a stomach-churning feeling of someone on a rollercoaster ride, Abigail was deposited in the back seat of the car with Leandro next to her before she had time to consider what would happen next.
‘Right.’ Leandro slid shut a partition screen so that they were enclosed in complete privacy. ‘Address?’
‘Address?’ She stared at him in alarmed silence as he waited patiently.
‘Where do you live, Abigail?’ He clicked his tongue impatiently as she continued to stare at him, cheeks a dull red, her mouth parted, her eyes wide. ‘I need to tell my driver where to take you.’
Abigail closed her eyes briefly and rested her head against the leather seat. All the chickens had come home to roost now. She had closed the door on all those ‘what if?’ questions which foolishly she had been sure would never see the light of day.
What if Leandro discovered that he had a son?
What if she had chosen to tell him the moment she had discovered that she was pregnant?
What if he threatened to fight her for custody?
‘You don’t have to drop me to my house, Leandro,’ she said with a touch of desperation. ‘You can drop me to the shop. Vanessa will be keen to hear how the whole thing went. I tried emailing her yesterday but I don’t think it was sent.’
‘You’re still in the same clothes from yesterday.’
‘That doesn’t matter. They’re clean! And...and...’
‘Just tell me where you live. I’m sure your boss can wait another hour for the urgent debrief.’ He clearly wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Defeated, Abigail just looked at Leandro’s bronzed, handsome face. She’d really and truly thought that she had put him behind her. She’d made a big mistake and fallen for someone utterly out of her league, and she had only discovered just how unreachable he was when he had believed his sister and the lies her ex-boss had told and refused even to allow her to give her side of the story.
She had fallen for a guy who had chosen to ignore everything they had shared because all he’d seen was a lying gold-digger who had used him. It hadn’t mattered that they had done more than have sex. It hadn’t mattered a jot that they had laughed, talked and done all the things that couples falling in love with one another do. Except, she had misread the signals. While she had been falling in love, he had just been having a bit of fun. All Leandro had shared with her was his body.
She’d been bitterly hurt and heartbroken when they had split up, but she’d had a lifetime of having to pull herself up and get on with things, and she had done it again. Her eyes had been opened and she had put him behind her as a mistake she had made.
One sidelong glance to her right was enough to confirm that she hadn’t even come close to putting Leandro behind her. Her biggest mistake right now would be to let him see how vulnerable she still was as far as he was concerned.
She drew in a deep breath and said steadily, ‘I think we need to talk before you drop me off at my house. Would you have some time? We could go to...a café close to where I live...’
Leandro leaned against the door and looked at her. Talking could only mean one thing and he controlled a kick of satisfaction at knowing what it meant. She’d had time to think about what he had said and the offer he’d put on the table was one that she was going to accept. Lust was a powerful thing and of course, he thought with cool rationality, there would also be the lure of money because she knew from experience that he was a generous man.
He smiled. ‘I could spare the time,’ he murmured. ‘And we could always go to your place instead, or even mine. I have a place in Belgravia. Why don’t I tell my driver to take us there and when we’re finished...talking...he can drop you back to your flat? How does that sound?’
Abigail couldn’t think of anything worse. As soon as she could, she would have to phone Claire and tell her to hang on for just a teeny bit longer, but there was no way she was going to his place in Belgravia, or anywhere else aside from a busy café, surrounded by people, where she would be able to say what she had to say and the fallout would be diluted. She knew very well why he’d want nothing more than for her to go to his house.
Not going to happen in a million years.
‘No,’ she said simply.
Leandro shrugged. He realised that he didn’t care how much money he had to part with. He’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted her, and the fact that her CV as a woman who had lied to him and cosied up to him under false pretences left a lot to be desired didn’t seem to have diminished her appeal.
He was willing to throw the rule book out of the window just to get her out of his system once and for all. At least this time round he was in full possession of the facts and would be able to control the situation.
Abigail gave him the address of a café she had occasionally visited in the past and he dutifully relayed the information to his driver. Then—not because she was interested, but to break a silence that was beginning to make her skin prickle—she said, ‘Your country house is magnificent, Leandro. How often do you get up there to stay?’
‘A couple of times a year.’ She had tied her hair back once again but in his mind’s eye he was seeing it in all its glory, hanging low down her back, vibrant and colourful. A few stray strands hung down on either side of her face and he wanted to tuck them neatly behind her ears and then pull her towards him so that he could feel the cool softness of her mouth on his.
‘What a shame
that you have so many houses in different parts of the world and you seldom get to enjoy them.’
‘Perhaps, for me, it’s the ownership that counts and that none of my properties will ever lose me money. I keep a sharp eye on them all and, over the years, they have done sterling work when it comes to increasing in value.’
‘There’s so much more to life than money.’
Leandro laughed shortly. ‘Is this where we start going over old ground so that you can try and convince me that you’re as pure as driven snow, despite the fact that you made no effort to tell me the truth about your background or about why, indeed, you were sitting in my hotel foyer in the first place?’
‘No. I don’t want to go over old ground any more than you do. I was just making small talk.’
‘Feel free to skip the small talk.’
‘If you dislike me so much, why do you still want to...sleep with me? How can you sleep with someone you dislike?’
‘Do you have to ask that?’ Leandro questioned roughly. ‘Aren’t we in the same boat? Driven by the same urges that haven’t gone away? Or are you telling me that you have feelings for me? Because, if that’s the case, then I should be clear right now and tell you that, sex or no sex, this is about wiping the slate clean and nothing more.’
Abigail resisted the urge to tell him that he was crazy if he thought that she wanted to talk to him because she had come round to his way of thinking, but then that would lead to all sorts of questions, and eventually to the conversation she knew would have to take place, but not in the back seat of his chauffeur-driven car.
‘I don’t have feelings for you, Leandro.’ She stuck her chin out at a defiant angle. ‘How could I?’
‘Well, at least we’re agreed on that score. I expect this conversation you want to have is to do with the terms and conditions of any liaison we enter into?’
‘Yes, but not in the way you imagine,’ Abigail told him truthfully.
Leandro shot her a half-smile. ‘I’m a big boy, Abigail, and too experienced to be surprised by anything. Terms and conditions are a good thing in this situation.’
‘Are they?’ She was pretty sure that, firstly, he wasn’t too experienced to be surprised by anything and, secondly, the terms and conditions she had in mind would take him so far out of his comfort zone that describing them as a good thing would be the last thing he’d do when she was done talking.
Done telling him what she’d never envisaged telling him. She should be scared stiff, but she felt very, very calm as the car continued to eat up the miles to the café. Sam was nearly one. She’d had months of motherhood and she felt much stronger than she had during those tumultuous months of pregnancy. Then afterwards, when she had held her new-born baby in her arms, she’d been torn between marvelling at the miracle of life looking at her with unfocused big, black eyes, and sickly wondering how on earth she was ever going to cope.
‘Of course they are,’ Leandro murmured, tilting her chin so that she was looking at him and actually seeing him instead of staring off into the distance, almost as if he no longer existed. ‘I like terms and conditions. They’re practical. They help keep things on an essential business level.’
Abigail’s breathing quickened. His touch electrified her and that wasn’t going to do. She wrested herself away but the blood had rushed into her face. ‘If you’ll give me a minute, I have to make a call before we get there.’
‘We’ll be there in under twenty minutes. What’s the big rush?’
‘I have a friend staying with me and I need to get in touch with her.’
‘Friend? What friend?’ His eyes narrowed and he shifted impatiently.
‘My friend Claire is at home.’ Abigail was already dialling. She’d planned to wait for a snatched moment when Leandro was otherwise occupied to make this call, but what did it matter now? Still, she kept the conversation brief, merely informing her friend that she would be home soon and thanking her for helping out.
‘Helping out with what?’ Leandro stared at her, frowning. Curiosity about her wasn’t part of the deal and yet he was curious. Hushed conversations, he reasoned, had that effect on a person.
Abigail chose to ignore that because he would find out soon enough. ‘I won’t be able to hang around for long,’ she said instead.
Leandro scowled at the brush-off but he decided to let it go. ‘Nor will I,’ he informed her. ‘This whole sorry mess has screwed up my schedule. It might be Sunday but I’ve had to cancel several conference calls.’
Abigail felt a pang of sympathy for the woman who had now been reduced to the creator of a sorry mess that had put his work schedule out of sync.
She glanced through the window to find that they were already in North London, and it wasn’t long before the car was pulling to a stop in front of the café, disgorging them both into damp cold and the onset of a fine, grey drizzle.
Her stomach clenched into knots as they found a table. She’d thought that it might have been busy but in fact the little chi-chi café, usually packed with yummy mummies or nannies with their little charges, was relatively empty.
‘So...’ Leandro wondered if she could look any more nervous. Should he help her out with the ‘terms and conditions’ chit-chat? Maybe ease the path by talking about his generosity as a lover? Clear the way for her to ask him what she wanted? Maybe not. ‘Let’s cut to the chase. Tell me what you wanted to talk to me about.’
They’d ordered coffees and these had now been brought to them, along with a selection of pastries, which she looked at without touching. He had no such qualms, breaking a croissant and looking at her steadily as he ate.
‘Do you remember the time we went to that lake?’
Leandro paused mid-bite and gently replaced the croissant on his plate. He sat back, his big body loosely relaxed and yet tellingly still. He had no idea where this was going and that, in itself, wasn’t working for him. He also didn’t like the way she was fidgeting, playing with the rim of her cup and studiously avoiding his eyes.
‘I remember,’ he said abruptly. ‘Five days in a little cabin by a lake just outside Toronto. Why do you ask? Trip down memory lane? I thought we’d agreed that there was no profit in going there.’
Abigail looked at him without any outward sign of the nervousness tearing her up inside. His lean, handsome face was closed and she knew that he would be annoyed because this was not what he had been expecting to hear. ‘Something happened there, Leandro,’ she said quietly. ‘Do you remember?’
Leandro shook his head and raked his fingers impatiently through his hair. ‘Are you going to carry on speaking in riddles, Abigail? Because I haven’t come here to play guessing games with you.’
‘We made love by the lake. Do you remember?’ Her voice had grown wistful without her realising it. ‘It was really warm and we’d been lying out on the jetty with a picnic lunch and a bottle of wine and we...we made love right there, out in the open.’
Leandro remembered it all. In fact, it had been the first time he had really felt as though he’d been on holiday, and he’d never felt so relaxed in his life before. Unfortunately, there was always a serpent lurking in paradise, and he wasn’t going to be sucked into dwelling on a memory that didn’t deserve an airing considering the revelations that had come later.
‘We didn’t use any contraception.’
Five little words dropped into the silence like unexploded bombs, except that it took a few seconds for them to sink in. She was looking at him carefully but his mind had gone blank and he felt like his thoughts were wrapped in fuzzy cotton wool.
‘What are you saying?’ he asked eventually.
‘You know what I’m saying, Leandro.’ Abigail’s voice was gentle. ‘I know you’re probably going to be enraged, and maybe you’ll think that I should have told you then, but I’m telling you now. We had unprotected sex and I
got pregnant.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘That’s why I was so desperate to get back down to London. Claire, the friend I just spoke to, had agreed to look after Sam because I had to deliver the ring, but I never expected to get stuck up there.’
‘If this is some sort of gimmick to get me to part with money, then you’re overplaying your hand.’
They hadn’t used any contraception. He’d been so turned on that he’d taken a risk. For the first time in his life, he had taken a risk.
‘He’s ten months old.’
‘I refuse to believe a word of this.’ But the burnished bronze of his golden skin was ashen. He didn’t believe what she was saying, but he was still doing the maths.
She sighed. ‘I would have told you right at the beginning, Leandro, but I was scared. We’d broken up under some pretty horrible conditions, and I was scared because I thought you might try and take Sam away from me.’
Leandro reached for his coffee cup and was surprised that his hand was unsteady.
‘You need time to process all of this. I can see that.’ Abigail stood up and began backing away from the table. ‘If you let me have your mobile number, then I will give you a call in a couple of weeks’ time, once you’ve...um...come to terms with...everything. And I just want you to know that I’m not expecting anything from you.’
The sight of her scuttling towards the exit galvanised Leandro faster than a rocket blazing into outer orbit. He slammed some money on the table and was by her side before she had time to do a runner.
Two weeks? Then she’d be in touch?
She’d just dropped a hand grenade into his lap and she really and truly thought that she could disappear and then resurface after he’d dealt with the fall out?
Had the woman lost her mind?
‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’ His hand circled her arm and he yanked her to a stop, ignoring her wriggling attempt to break free. ‘Don’t think that you can spring this on me and then vanish!’
The Secret Sanchez Heir Page 6
