Chapter 7
(Eva)
Nathan.
It’s indeed him leaning on our fence in a relaxed posture. He’s ditched his custom suit for navy slacks and a white buttoned-down shirt that’s open at the neck. A pair of comfortable dress shoes in a butterscotch hue and a matching belt complete his casual look. Despite the apparent laid-backness of his style, all the pieces he wears are posh and tailored superbly to enhance his manly form.
I adjust my glance to stay at his eye-level as I approach him, hoping that he didn’t notice me checking him out before. Especially not when my eyes wandered below his waistline.
“Hi, Eva.” He greets me as naturally as if he were a regular guest in my house and not a stranger who’s turned up announced.
I lick my lips and pray that my voice isn’t going to crack before speaking. “Hi, Nathan. What a surprise. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I was just in this neighborhood.” He waves around, expecting me to believe that he’s been driving around aimlessly in our less-than-fancy barrio.
My brows arch. “Sightseeing a little?” I retort with the same challenging edge that defended me well against Nathan’s charm last night, even if I keep my voice low to avoid anyone overhearing us.
The buildings in our district are so tightly lined I could reach out of my bedroom window and turn on the water in our neighbor’s shower if I wanted. This great proximity has two consequences—everybody knows everybody, and nobody ever minds their own business.
Instead of becoming cocky like I expect him to, Nathan only gives me a genuine smile. “Busted. I’m sorry, I’ve lied. I wasn’t really just driving around. I actually came to see you.”
“Me?”
Nathan came to see me? Why? And how does he even know where I live?
Nathan rubs his neck. “Yes. I wanted to excuse myself. You obviously found my proposal yesterday…uhm, unacceptable? Even if I didn’t mean it as you must have interpreted it, I still wanted to say I’m sorry.”
A glint that I can best describe as flustered-sexy creeps into his eyes. To fight back the effect it has on me, I resort to mocking once more. “Did you consult a coach on social manners?”
His jaw hardens and I feel awful all of a sudden.
Did I have to be this rude? The guy just admitted that he behaved inappropriately with me. No, he actually said he never intended to be inappropriate in the first place. Why couldn’t I just accept his words with a gracious “thank you” and be done with it?
“So how did you find out where I live?” I add to soothe the edge of my previous comment. Also because I’m truly curious to know his answer. I suspect the involvement of my boss.
“It was Alfonso,” he says lightly.
Huh, I knew Alfonso wouldn’t be able to resist Nathan’s money. How much did he pay him to get my address?
As if Nathan realizes what I’m pondering, he lifts his hand. “Before you make any wrong assumptions, I didn’t offer Alfonso money.”
“So why would my boss give you personal information that he isn’t supposed to tell any guests?”
Nathan’s lips move into a coy smirk. “I might have visited him this morning at the bar and told him you lost one of your earrings.”
He pulls out a diamond drop from his pocket.
I gape at his hand, then my eyes automatically dart around checking who else might have noticed my unexpected visitor and the sparkling stone he’s holding.
At the house across from us, Señor Moreno, the bold, fat man with that ridiculous Chihuahua is standing on his sad joke of a terrace. Though he’s pretending to water his plants, it’s obvious he’s spying on us.
I move a bit closer to Nathan, so that my body shields the view from my prying neighbor. “And Alfonso believed you?” I ask. “He should know I could never afford an expensive jewel like this. Also I’d have guessed that he tried to persuade you to give this earring to him.”
And sell it off as soon as you were out of the door.
I bite back this comment because I don’t want to joke with Nathan at Alfonso’s expense. After all, my boss did take me back when I needed his help, so I have to show a certain degree of loyalty.
Nathan snorts. “He offered to keep the diamond for you. But I told him I’d prefer to bring it back to you personally.”
“I can’t believe you tricked him with such a fib.”
Nathan reaches into his pocket again and produces the other piece of the ravishing earrings. He holds his palm out to me. “Well, these are yours now. I bought them on my way to see Alfonso to make my story believable.”
Is he kidding me?
The two gems sparkle in the crease of his hands, reflecting the bright sunshine in an almost eye-blinding manner. They’re wonderful, absolutely perfect. Despite their allure on me, I shake my head. “No thanks. I can’t accept them.”
Nathan’s eyes widen. “You don’t like them? Are they too small?”
Oh, gosh. What is he even thinking? “No, Nathan. They’re gorgeous but it’s better if you return them to the shop. I can’t let you give me a pair of diamonds. Why should I?”
Nathan shoots me a haven’t-I-just-explained glance and clicks his tongue. “I got these for you. And not just to build a good cover story, but also to excuse myself.” He is still keeping those marvelous little rocks in his hand as if he’s expecting me to change my mind.
I put my fingers around his palm, forcing him to close it. “No, Nathan. I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Even if the earrings are the most exquisite piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen, it would be wrong of me to take them from Nathan. On so many levels. Their price probably equals six months of our rent. Also, I’m sure that such a generous gift can’t come with no strings attached. And I don’t want to be bought by anyone. Not even by a man as handsome as Nathan.
As I touch his skin, a strange current buzzes through my arm, similar to the one I get when I plug my phone into Abuelita’s badly kept kitchen plug. Only the sizzles are way more delicate and pleasant.
Nathan sighs and lowers his hand. He slips the diamonds back into his pocket with a nonchalant movement.
“Don’t you want to put them into a box or wrap them into a napkin at least? You know, for protection?” I eye his slacks pocket.
“What for? You don’t want them, right?”
“No, I don’t. No forgiveness should cost that much.”
“It’s not much for me,” he snaps back. “I thought they would please you. Obviously I was wrong. Again.” His voice carries a hurt edge, as if my refusal is truly bothering him.
No, Eva, stop.
Indeed, I need to stop before my thoughts slide off track and take me to fantasyland where the wisdom my mother engrained in my mind doesn’t have any power. Instead, I need to focus on sending Nathan away. It’s already a miracle Juan hasn’t interrupted us yet. The chance to kick the ball for a few minutes undisturbed must have overpowered his curiosity. But sooner or later he’ll be back to snoop around.
I clear my throat. “Is that all you wanted to tell me, Nathan? Because if it is, we’re good. Your apology is accepted.”
Nathan cocks his head to the side. “Yes, my main motive was to apologize for my behavior.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Are you absolutely sure you aren’t mad at me anymore?”
His kind insistence is so unexpected, and his tone so tinglingly warm, that I can’t help but wonder where he left his enigmatic “I love to negotiate” persona. Does he have a twin brother, too? Or perhaps a clone? That would certainly explain the change in his manners. Because the Nathan in front of me seems to have little in common with the broody, calculating billionaire I met last night. Today he doesn’t seem to be playing a game.
Which one is his true self?
To hide my bewilderment, I wave nonchalantly. “No, I’m not. For the record, I was never really mad at you. I just didn’t like your proposal or the cocky way you presented it to me. In any case, it was nice of you to make all this effort
just to apologize. The diamonds…well, those were a little…mhmm…extravagant.”
Nathan gives me a true boyish smile, and I can’t help but think that I like this new Nathan far more. “Hey, but they worked, right?” he says. “Alfonso wouldn’t have given me your address if I just plainly asked him.”
He probably would if you handed him twenty bucks. A deal way cheaper than purchasing diamonds. But Nathan sounds so proud about having tricked my boss that I choose not to share this information with him. “Yes, you may be right.” I smile. “And don’t worry, all is good between us. As good as it can be.”
My statement is a tick more upbeat than I intended it to be. I’m not only hesitant to burst his bubble about his over-the-top gesture, but I also feel an urge to put him at ease.
Uh-oh, that’s a bad sign.
Nathan presses a hand to his chest, his eyes darting to the sky. “Oh, thank you. I’ll sleep much better now.”
I shake my head at his theatrical gesture. “Don’t make me assume that I kept you awake all night. I’ll feel guilty.”
All teasing exaggeration disappears from his features. “Well, you did. But I don’t want you to feel guilty. It was an amazing night. Filled with wonderful memories.”
My face becomes so hot that I must look like the poppy flower from Espie’s favorite bedtime story.
Did he just say he was remembering me? What could he have…?
The alarm detector in my head starts a loud whistle. It clearly doesn’t agree with where my thoughts are going. And it’s probably right. Somehow this new Nathan is affecting me more than his somber alter ego, which isn’t a safe situation to be in. The best thing to do is to retreat from this conversation.
Fast.
Before more neighbors can join in to watch the spectacle we’re giving. Or before the staccato in my chest makes me say something I’ll regret later. “Uhm, okay. So…well, thanks for dropping by. And for bringing back my never-lost earrings. And…yeah, thanks. Bye…”
I back toward our stairs.
Nathan, instead of taking my hint, follows me to our doorstep. “My throat is parched. I’d love a glass of water before I drive home if it’s not too much bother.”
I’m about to say yes when I realize what inviting him in would mean. What if Abuelita and Espie come down while Nathan is still in our kitchen? I force out a chuckle that’s more like a bark, but I pretend it was meant to sound that way. “What? You don’t have a mini-fridge in that fancy car?”
My miserable joke is an attempt to buy time, but Nathan answers as if I’ve posed a legitimate question. “No, this model isn’t equipped with it, given that it’s a two-seater. So may I come in?”
My brain is working at full speed, while he stares at me, waiting on my verdict.
Nathan can’t possibly come into our home, even if it means that I must violate Abuelita’s sacred rule about being a good host. If my grandmother were to bump into him in our kitchen, it wouldn’t take long for her canny brain to connect the dots between my previous comment about rich guys and Nathan. Abuelita might be old, but she’s still a smart fox. Also, she doesn’t share Mom’s cynical vision about wealthy folks. She might even take Nathan in her sympathy…and I definitely can’t have that.
Not when my interest in him has spiked alarmingly in the past few minutes. No, I have to come up with an acceptable way to refuse and satisfy his request…
Aha, I have it! I hold up my hand. “Wait here for a second.”
I step inside and shut the door behind me. I bolt into the kitchen and grab a small bottle of mineral water from our fridge. I jog back to the door and open it. “Here.” I hand the bottle to Nathan. “It’s sparkling. I hope you like it.”
Nathan seems at a loss of words. Then he shrugs and takes the bottle. “Thanks. I’ll go then. I’m going to….” He scratches his head. “To the city center.” He taps the pocket where he hid the diamonds. “Yes, I’ll go and return these. Don’t you want to come with me?”
His question catches me off guard, so instead of refusing immediately, I ask, “Why?”
“It might be easier to convince the shopkeeper to take them back if I have you with me.”
He accompanies his statement with that bright smile that makes me forget he’s a Montgregor and in an entirely different social class than I am. I do have two hours of free time so I could…
Just tell him no. It’s your safest option. Don’t forget La Mujer Sin Alma never sleeps.
My mother’s warning voice pops into my mind. Together with that scary folktale about the creature who feeds on the shattered hearts of betrayed women. Mom used to tell it to me, probably to hone my wariness about men who might exploit me. Men like my father.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Nathan. I can’t. I’m sure you’ll be able to bend the shopkeeper’s will on your own. I have to go inside now. My family’s preparing to go to church. Bye.”
I wave to him and retreat quickly into our house closing the door in his face again. I press my back to the door. My chest is humming with an unusual quiver, but I know I have done the right thing.
After a few deep breaths, I take a quick peek outside. Nathan is standing in the same position I left him in. Why isn’t he moving?
All of a sudden, Nathan shrugs, then turns and walks back to his Bentley. He waves to Señor Moreno, who exchanges his greeting with a loud, “¡Adios!”
I watch him drive away, glued to the window but still hiding behind Abuelita’s purple drape. Only when the Bentley has disappeared at the end of our road do I turn and saunter back to our kitchen.
I’m trying to convince myself that this brief chat hasn’t changed anything. Or if it did, then only after Nathan’s surprising effort to excuse himself. I may stop thinking about him as if he’s an arrogant moneybag. Or in any terms, really.
Yes, that’s probably the best course of action. Forget him. Period. I won’t be seeing much of him after I refused him twice. He won’t be back for a third time. Nobody can be that masochistic…
Chapter 8
(Nathan - Day 3)
The next morning, I’m in the spacious dining area of my condo with Murphy.
He’s sitting across me at the table, reading the newspaper. He came over to my place—unannounced. It’s the second unexpected visit he’s paid me in two days. So as much as he tried to sell the story that he just missed my company, I know his real reason for being here is to check up on my progress with Eva. He’s acting all natural, but I can feel the stolen questioning glimpses he’s throwing at me.
He seems pretty involved in my bet.
Is it because it was his idea? Or did Mother enlist him to send her daily reports about how I’m handling my task?
It’s a possibility. Even if, Mother has been unreachable every time I tried to call her last night. Though she could be too embarrassed to speak to me after backstabbing me the way she did.
“What’s the matter, brother? You don’t like the meal Tracy prepared?” My brother blinks up from his newspaper.
I realize that I’m digging around in my breakfast with my fork and I stop. “There’s no flavor.”
I’m lying. My reluctance to eat has nothing to do with my cook’s culinary skills. If anything, Tracy has outdone herself. The eggs glisten in a bright inviting yellow, the tomatoes couldn’t be riper, and the guacamole is as creamy as it can get.
No, the reason the food is tasteless on my tongue is caused by one person only. And she has mesmerizingly dark eyes and an infuriatingly undecipherable personality.
Murphy eyes me with a lopsided smirk, then neatly folds his newspaper and places it on the table. He refills his mug with coffee, then stands up and walks over to me. The chair screeches as he pulls it out.
I cringe at its sharp sound. “You could lift that, you know.”
Murphy shrugs and sits down beside me. “Do you seriously want to engage in a futile discussion about how I’ll scratch the floor of your loft? It’s Greek marble, Nate. I won’t leave a mar
k even if I hit it with a hammer. Why did you have to get these ugly, plain metal chairs anyway? They weigh like a ton. I think your place looked much nicer the way it did when you bought it.”
It’s again one of those points where my brother would score big with Mother if she heard him speak. Perhaps I shouldn’t wonder that she teamed up with Murphy, after all. I might be similar to her when it comes to our stubbornness, but my brother got the rest of her personality. Including her opulent taste.
“This house looked like the residence of a king. I asked a young designer to eliminate all the fluff.”
The sleek leather and simple steel I chose creates a cleaner space. One that allows me to live and work from home without distractions. The decorator did a decent job of respecting my preference for objects that actually serve a purpose. She rid my house of all the chandeliers, antique mirrors, and large-scale Renaissance artworks, as well as the ostentatious plush furniture. The only pictures I let her hang are from my favorite modern painters.
Murphy twirls his finger beside his temple. “You’ve a problem, Nate. Your refusal of anything that’s pleasurable to the eye but serves no clear purpose indicates a severe imbalance in your life.”
“I have no imbalance, thank you very much.”
“Well, we’re testing that now, aren’t we?” Murphy smiles then adds, “By the way, how did your second encounter with Eva go? You haven’t told me anything about it yet.”
“I’ve had a minor setback,” I say as nonchalantly as I can. It’s pretty hard work, because the impotent frustration I felt when Eva shut the door in my face is taking possession of me once more.
I did an early workout on my climbing wall just to release the sting that her second refusal left me with. Normally, when I disregard the safety ropes during a practice, my mind immediately switches off. It knows that a bothering thought could cost me a fracture. It’s my safe haven when no other method works to tame my mind.
Law #1: Never Bet on Love: A Sweet Billionaire Love Story (Laws of Love) Page 6
