by Abby Green
She blurted out words before she lost her nerve. ‘I just wanted to say how sorry I am... I never intended on ruining your engagement like that. I just... I’d tried to get in touch with Lazaro but it was impossible. I sneaked into that room and I saw him... I had to let him know.’
For a long moment there was a tense silence, and then Leonora seemed to sag slightly. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I get that now. You met before he proposed to me.’
‘Yes!’ Relief flooded Skye. ‘I would have hated it if you’d been with him when...’
Leonora came closer. She gave a small smile. ‘No, that would not have been nice. But he would not have done that. These men...they have integrity at least.’
‘You mean Lazaro and...?’
‘Gabriel—my husband.’ Then she looked at Skye’s belly. ‘Congratulations. I wish you all the best in your future with Lazaro.’
Skye put a hand on her belly. ‘Thank you...’ She bit her lip, and then said impulsively, ‘I felt it move just now...a proper movement.’
Leonora seemed to go pale in the dim light.
Skye said, ‘I’m sorry—did I say something?’
The other woman seemed to collect herself and she smiled. ‘No, not at all. I really do wish you all the best in your future with Lazaro and the baby.’
She was turning away, and Skye reached out to take her hand. ‘I’m sorry again...and I wish you all the best too.’
Leonora squeezed her hand. To Skye’s surprise the other woman’s eyes looked suspiciously shiny.
She said, ‘Thank you.’ Then she let go and walked back inside, leaving Skye looking after her, feeling sad and relieved in equal measure.
Sad because she sensed that Leonora would be a nice person to get to know, possibly even a friend. And that was never going to happen.
* * *
‘Sanchez.’
Lazaro tensed. He’d been looking for Skye, and getting more and more irritated because he couldn’t find her.
He turned around slowly to face his nemesis. His brother.
‘Torres.’
Gabriel held a drink and stood in a relaxed pose, but Lazaro could feel the tension crackling between them. Height for height, they matched. And in looks too, even though they were quite different. Gold and dark.
‘Ready for the public unveiling of your bid next week, Sanchez?’
‘As ready as you are.’
Gabriel lifted his glass. ‘May the best bid win. But we both know whose that will be.’
Lazaro had to control his anger—an anger which stemmed from a place so deep and old that for the first time it felt like a burden.
‘Maybe this time you’ll be surprised, Gabriel, and maybe the best bid will win—the one that has the good of the city at its heart, not just the insatiable Torres need for domination in all things.’
Gabriel took a step closer. ‘I do remember you, you know. I remember that day when you confronted my father in the street and claimed to be his son. You have a chip on your shoulder, Sanchez, and it’s time to get over it and stop telling yourself you were hard done by.’
The two men were locked in a silent battle of wills for long seconds before they heard a low voice say, ‘Hello, Lazaro, it’s nice to see you.’
Lazaro blinked and looked to see Leonora standing beside Gabriel, who immediately slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close. Lazaro saw something in her face. A brittleness. Fragility.
He pushed down his anger. ‘Leonora. I’m sorry again for what happened. It was never my intention to do anything to hurt or embarrass you.’
She gave him a small tight smile. ‘I know. I just met your wife. Congratulations on the baby.’
‘Thank you.’
Lazaro looked at Gabriel and inclined his head. ‘Till next time, Torres.’
He walked away, aware of feeling many conflicting things. That strange sense of his anger being a burden, but also the buzz of exhilaration he always got from sparring with his brother. There were very few people who matched up to Lazaro—Gabriel Torres was one of them.
His brother’s words circled in his head. ‘You have a chip on your shoulder... I do remember you...claimed to be his son.’
It was suddenly more important than ever that Lazaro won this bid over his half-brother. It would be the first time anyone had ever bested a Torres, and even if Gabriel wasn’t willing to acknowledge they might be related, then he would at least respect Lazaro as an equal.
But as he scanned the crowd now the recent interaction with his brother faded into the background. Where once before Lazaro would have relished the opportunities an event like this could offer him, right now all he wanted—
There she was.
She was standing in the doorway looking hesitant. Clearly overwhelmed by the event and this crowd. But even as he watched he saw her smile at someone who passed her, and saw that person transformed from taciturn to surprised and then smiling back, all in the space of a few seconds.
Lazaro shook his head as he made his way towards her. She was a liability. Far too naïve for this world.
Or was she in fact just what this milieu needed? asked an inner voice. Someone who was genuine. Sweet.
She saw him then, and those blue eyes locked on to his. When he got to her he had to curb the ridiculously primal urge to pick her up and carry her out of there. She made him animalistic.
‘I’m done here—ready to go?’
She couldn’t hide her look of relief. ‘Yes, please.’
He took her hand and led her outside to where his car was waiting. They got into the back and Lazaro immediately undid his bow-tie. The car moved sleekly through the Parisian streets.
Lazaro looked at Skye. ‘You met Leonora?’
She turned to face him, a guilty look on her face. ‘How did you know?’
‘She told me. How was it?’
‘I apologised to her. She was fine about it. Really fine, considering. She’s nice. I liked her.’ Skye sounded almost defensive.
‘She is nice. Too nice for Gabriel Torres.’
* * *
Skye tried not to let Lazaro’s obvious regard for the other woman get to her. It was stupid to feel jealous. Nothing had ever happened between them. And yet...
Skye knew that if she hadn’t fallen pregnant it would have been Leonora sitting in the back of this car. Not her.
Then he said, ‘I showed your idea for the logo to my team today. They really liked it. If we use it I’ll make sure you’re paid.’
A rush of pleasure made Skye blush. ‘That’s not necessary, really. I enjoyed doing it.’
‘You’re very talented, you know.’
Skye shrugged, embarrassed. ‘I would have loved to go to art college, but it was never really a possibility.’
The car pulled to a stop outside the hotel and Lazaro came around to help Skye out. For the first time she was starting to feel slightly unwieldy. Aware of her protruding belly.
That reminded her... When they were back in the suite she vacillated for a moment before saying, ‘I felt the baby move earlier...’
Lazaro stopped and turned around. She put her hand on the bump. ‘It’s stopped now. But it’s the first time I’ve really felt it.’
* * *
Lazaro felt the strangest urge to go over and kneel down at Skye’s feet, spread his hands across her belly. The thought of his baby moving...making its presence known... It was unfathomable and deeply moving. Because he couldn’t help but think of his own mother, who would have felt similar sensations.
Would she have had the same look of wonder on her face that Skye had now? Or had she been hidden away out of sight until the baby was born and she could get rid of him? Why had she even put herself through the pregnancy?
As if reading his mind, Skye said, ‘I know this must bring up a lot of stuff for you...�
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Suddenly Lazaro was aware that he wanted only one thing. To eclipse these disturbing thoughts and revelations in the most effective way he knew how.
He walked over to Skye, taking off his jacket as he did so, throwing it over a chair.
He put his hands on Skye’s waist, pulling her towards him. ‘Do you know the only thing I’m really interested in discussing right now?’
‘Lazaro—’
He cut her off. ‘The fact that from the moment I saw you in this dress I wanted to take it off you.’
The clutch bag dropped out of Skye’s hands to the floor, unnoticed as Lazaro pulled her even closer—close enough to feel the press of his arousal against her soft curves. One of which held his growing baby.
He was vaguely aware of the distant sound of his cell-phone ringing, but that was easy to ignore when his hands were on Skye and all he could see and smell was her.
* * *
A sense of futility rose up inside Skye in the face of Lazaro’s blatant distraction technique. But also, like him, she felt a desire not to rock the boat unnecessarily. Not while this heat burnt so bright between them. This was the one pure place where Skye felt endless possibilities existed. It was when he wasn’t touching her, kissing her, that reality reminded her of its existence. And, right now, if he wanted to avoid that she would too.
Coward, whispered an inner voice.
But it was easy to ignore, because Lazaro was kissing her and nothing else mattered.
* * *
The following morning, as dawn broke over Paris, Lazaro lay awake. Skye was draped over his chest, her breasts pressed against him, one leg hitched up over his thigh, close enough to the centre of his body to cause pleasurable discomfort when his body reacted predictably to her proximity.
He could feel her belly pressing against him, the hardness of the small swell. He couldn’t feel any movement—not that he would be able to at this stage, when she was only just starting to notice it herself.
It seemed that the more he had of her, the more he wanted her. Their desire, if anything, was increasing. Becoming more urgent. More distracting. Even the thought of her body growing and ripening induced a big enough spike in his arousal levels to make him carefully extricate himself from Skye’s embrace, so he could take a cold shower and not expose how badly he wanted her.
Again. Already.
When he came out of the shower, knotting a towel around his waist, he looked broodingly at Skye where she lay on the bed. What was it about her that caught at him so easily? Like a sharp tack under his skin?
She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever been with. Or the most accomplished.
She was...utterly unique. Different from anyone else.
Lazaro shook his head at himself. Since when did he stand mooning over a lover? Or even, a wife?
He heard a noise and went out to the main salon. It was his cell-phone, and he remembered hearing it the previous night too, but ignoring it. He picked it up. Numerous missed calls from his assistant and legal team. His skin prickled.
He walked over to one of the windows as he listened to the messages.
Apparently a business associate he’d been trying to have a meeting with for weeks had been at the event last night, and Lazaro only remembered now that he’d agreed to meet him in the hotel bar for a drink before leaving. The man wasn’t impressed that Lazaro had failed to show.
His legal team had been looking for him because they needed him to sign off on some important documents before the public bid for the market in Madrid.
Lazaro’s gut clenched. He’d spent years undoing people’s misconceptions of him. Because of his playboy reputation. Because he was new money and had come out of nowhere. Because he had dubious roots. He knew his success was down to his diligence and his focus. He let people believe he was a louche playboy—but only when it suited him, so he could take them by surprise.
He thought of Skye, and the way he’d left the event last night. That exchange with Gabriel had touched a raw spot. And she’d called to something in him to escape. To rebel.
But he couldn’t afford to make those little missteps. Gabriel Torres and many like him were waiting in the wings for any opportunity to take a chunk out of Lazaro’s success and fortune. And he was all but handing them that opportunity.
No more. He had to focus, or everything that was important to him and all he’d worked for would be in vain. He couldn’t afford to let Skye continue to distract him. He knew what his priorities were.
* * *
Skye was sipping herbal tea with her legs tucked underneath her, taking in the spectacular view of the city outside the apartment windows. They’d arrived back in Madrid earlier that day, and Lazaro had gone straight into his study.
When Skye had woken that morning in Paris she’d been alone in the bedroom, her body aching from the previous night’s passionate lovemaking. She’d been glad of the time and space to get herself together.
Each time she came together with Lazaro another piece of her soul and her heart cleaved to his. Another vital part of her defences was decimated.
But he’d been cool and solicitous when she’d emerged. Proof that, for him, when they made love it was just a physical release. A by-product of their arrangement.
The baby was growing daily now, forming into the small person who would bind them together for ever. Skye’s heart palpitated at the thought of the day when Lazaro would start to lose interest and distance himself. Because it was coming. Of that there was no doubt. No matter how urgent their desire felt right now.
She heard a sound and looked up to see Lazaro striding into the room. He was wearing dark trousers and a polo shirt and he looked vital and breathtakingly gorgeous. He was holding something in his hands, and when he came closer he handed a bunch of brochures to Skye.
She put down her cup to take them. They all had houses on their covers. ‘What’s this?’
Lazaro put his hands on his hips. ‘I’ve arranged for an estate agent to come and pick you up tomorrow to look at some houses. Pick out a few you like and then I’ll come with you to see them again.’
She looked up at him. ‘You trust my judgement?’
‘You’re an artist, aren’t you? You have an eye for aesthetic detail. But also for practicalities. All of these houses have good playgroups and schools nearby.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I have to go to a function this evening...’
Skye didn’t relish the prospect of getting dressed up, but forced a smile, standing up. ‘Should I get ready now?’
A look crossed Lazaro’s face that she couldn’t decipher. Something that looked suspiciously like guilt.
‘No, actually, you don’t need to come this evening. I’ll go alone. I’ll talk to you after you’ve seen the properties tomorrow.’
He turned and left the room. Skye looked at the empty space and did not like the cold breeze that skated up her spine, reminding her of too many times when her mother had left her behind.
She turned around quickly and went to stand at the window, wrapping her arms around herself. She hated it that he could get to her like this. Tap into her deepest insecurities and fears with such ease. Because she’d let him in.
* * *
A couple of hours later Lazaro stood in the middle of a vast ballroom, surrounded by the most important and wealthy people in Europe. A man was talking to him, but he was only half taking in what he said.
His tuxedo felt shrink-wrapped to his body. He wanted to undo his bow-tie. He looked around and his heart stopped beating when he glimpsed red hair. A thousand things ran through his mind—chief of which was, Why the hell has she come? He’d told her she didn’t need to be here. And yet he couldn’t deny the sense of something lightening inside him.
It was only when he was within touching distance that he realised it wasn’t her. The woman had turned around. She was too tal
l, for a start. Too angular. No curves. Brown eyes. And her hair was clearly not her natural colour.
Nevertheless she was a strikingly beautiful woman, and Lazaro saw her instant recognition register and how her eyes immediately became covetous.
She moved towards him, seizing on his interest. Lazaro backed away, muttering something about mistaken identity.
A very uncomfortable revelation hit him then. Not bringing Skye was actually more distracting than if he had brought her.
* * *
‘You can see here, Señora Sanchez, that the state-of-the-art security system has cameras all over and around the property.’
Skye smiled politely, while privately thinking that this house felt more like a prison than a home. They were in the security room of the house and it felt disturbingly like the set of a sci-fi movie.
‘It’s...er...certainly well-protected.’
The officious young man nodded. ‘Oh, yes, our clients value security above almost anything else these days.’
They were walking out through the vast entrance hall when the estate agent said, ‘We have two more properties in this area. Would you like to see them today?’
Skye knew she should say yes—after all this was important. But she couldn’t stomach viewing another massive, architecturally designed glass box, set in a lush private paradise with not another building in sight.
She declined politely and agreed to call him and set up another appointment in a couple of days.
On their way back to Lazaro’s apartment they passed by a big green space. Skye leant forward and asked the driver in Spanish what it was. He told her it was El Retiro Park. She asked if they could stop so she could take a look.
It was beautiful—a nineteenth-century park, bordered by tall, elegant buildings. There was a large lake, dotted with boats filled with couples and families, and a stunning glass palace.
