by Abby Green
‘What are you thinking about?’
She glanced at Gabriel, who was sitting back, leaning on one elbow, watching her. He popped a piece of pineapple into his mouth. The thought of blurting out exactly what was on her mind made her break out in a sweat.
She shrugged lightly. ‘Just about life...’
‘Oh, just about life? Nothing much, then?’ Gabriel mocked her easily.
Leonora smiled. ‘I was thinking about how I used the castillo to hide away for a long time. I was so shy... I never felt as if I truly belonged in our world. Everyone else seemed so much more confident than I felt.’ She looked at him almost accusingly. ‘You even noticed it.’
He sat up too. ‘Our perception of other people is usually wrong, you know. Some people just manage to put on a more convincing act. I don’t think you’re that shy, really. You didn’t like being the centre of attention that evening in the hotel, but you did it because you felt you had to. For your family.’
Leonora absorbed that. She hadn’t thought about it like that before. He was right—she hadn’t liked it, but she hadn’t been crippled by it. Maybe her shyness had dissipated over the years and she hadn’t even noticed. And he was also right that when it came to doing something for her family she didn’t hesitate.
Maybe it would be different if she felt she had a role. A reason to get up in front of people.
She looked at Gabriel and said grudgingly, ‘You’re very observant.’
He arched a brow. ‘I’m observant because I have to be. If I can’t read people and I don’t see what’s going on around me I lose my edge. And if I lose my edge I risk losing everything. My father lost his edge and I had to take over. Too many people depend on me. My family legacy depends on me.’
Leonora touched her belly under the caftan. ‘And me too.’
He turned to her and she saw the seriousness of his expression. It cleared, and he smiled, but it was wicked.
‘Yes. And you too, Señora Torres.’
He lay down again and pulled her with him, so she was sprawled across his chest. Her breasts were flattened against him and he funnelled his hands through her hair, pulling her head down to his.
‘About that legacy... I think it still needs work...’
When his hands reached for her caftan, pulling it up and off her body, she helped, throwing it aside. He removed the barrier of the towel between them and she sat astride him and took him deep inside her on a gasp.
Afterwards, when the sun was setting and it was warm on her naked back, where she lay sprawled across Gabriel’s bare chest, she knew she was in deep trouble. All the warnings in the world couldn’t stop her falling for this man, because she was already deeply and irrevocably in love with him.
* * *
A couple of far too short days later they took off from San José airport. Leonora felt nervous at the thought of leaving behind the idyllic bubble they’d inhabited these past few days. Nervous at the thought of going back into the real world with a man who was still an enigma to her in so many ways—in spite of their physical intimacy, and in spite of her getting to know him in a little better.
They’d discovered similar interests in everything from art to books, movies and politics. But she couldn’t afford to forget that the very urbane and seductive man she’d come to know hid a ruthless streak. How could he not be ruthless when he’d shouldered such responsibility for so long and when he was so successful? When he had a legacy to continue?
Physically, their obsession with each other didn’t seem to be waning. Far from it. They’d been ready to leave for the airport, dressed and packed, and all it had taken was one burning look from Gabriel and they’d been back in the bedroom, on the bed, clothes ripped off in minutes.
Maybe Gabriel was right, Leonora told herself now. Maybe all they needed was this insane chemistry and mutual respect. And a willingness to commit to bringing up their children differently than they had been brought up in order to have a happy life?
But she couldn’t shake the hollow feeling inside her that it wouldn’t be enough.
In a bid to try and distract herself, she reached for the pile of newspapers and magazines left out by the plane’s staff.
Almost immediately she noticed a picture on the front page of a tabloid magazine. It was Lazaro Sanchez and the red-haired woman who had crashed their engagement party. They were emerging from what looked like a town hall. She was wearing a cream dress and matching jacket, her bright red hair pulled back into a low ponytail, clutching a posy of flowers. He was in a suit and putting out a hand as if to ward off the paparazzi from getting too close. They’d just been married, clearly.
Leonora couldn’t remember him ever looking as intense with her as he did in the photo. She could see the faintest outline of the woman’s pregnancy bump. So he was the father. No wonder he’d married her so quickly. Her name was Skye O’Hara.
Leonora knew she should be feeling something at the sight of her recent almost-fiancé marrying another woman, but all she felt was relief. And a kind of terror to think that she might very well have not had that night with Gabriel which had led to their marriage.
‘What’s that?’
Leonora looked at Gabriel. She handed the magazine across and he took it, taking in the front cover.
He looked back at her, spearing her with those dark eyes. ‘Does this bother you?’
She shook her head. ‘No...actually, not at all.’
Gabriel crumpled up the magazine and tossed it in a nearby bin. Then he reached for Leonora, undoing her seat belt and tugging her all too easily out of her seat and into his lap. She blushed and looked around, but there were no staff.
‘Sanchez’s loss is my gain. He’s a fool.’
Leonora looked down at Gabriel. There was a tone in his voice that made her want to ask if he knew Lazaro Sanchez personally, but before she could he was pulling her head down and pressing hot kisses along her jaw and neck. Her head fell back and every coherent thought was wiped out as the last, lingering effects of their magical honeymoon were continued in the luxurious bedroom of the private plane.
* * *
Almost a week after they’d returned from honeymoon they were having dinner in one of the castillo’s less formal dining rooms.
‘How are you settling in?’ Gabriel asked.
Leonora thought of the way he’d woken her this morning—the way he woke nearly every morning, actually—in a very sensual way that inevitably put her back into a satisfaction-induced coma for a couple of hours while he got up and went to work. She’d never behaved so decadently in her life.
He was watching her closely and she suspected he was even smirking slightly, which helped her not to blush.
Airily, she pretended not to be thinking about sex. ‘Fine, thank you. Ernesto has been very kind. He’s shown me every part of the castillo. Including the vaults where you store the wine that you don’t drink and your family portraits.’
Gabriel took a sip of his sparkling water. ‘The portraits are scary, aren’t they?’
They were. And they were a sober reminder of the sheer weight and extent of Gabriel’s family’s legacy.
Unconsciously she put a hand to her belly, thinking that it would have to be miracle if she hadn’t fallen pregnant on their honeymoon, given that they’d made love every night and every morning. She’d know in about ten days, anyway.
Now she did blush, which she deflected from by asking hurriedly, ‘Why don’t you drink—is it just because of your father?’
Gabriel put his glass down. ‘That, and I don’t like the sensation of not having my wits about me. I once got very drunk when I was a teenager and I never wanted to feel like that again.’
She could understand that. Even though she’d never really been drunk herself, she felt as if she lost her wits every time Gabriel looked at her.
Curious, she asked,
‘Why did you get drunk?’
He looked as if he didn’t want to say anything, but then reluctantly he said, ‘My first lover. She was a bit older than me. I was besotted with her. Until I found her in bed with my best friend.’
Leonora felt her insides plummet. ‘You were in love...once?’
He made a face. ‘Was it love? It was more like an obsession. And even if it was love she merely confirmed for me that it doesn’t exist.’
It was a sign, as if she’d needed one, not to look beyond the physical intimacy of their honeymoon.
She changed the subject and forced a neutral tone into her voice. ‘I saw Matías today. He’s so excited about the football match in a few weeks. Thank you for getting the tickets.’
Gabriel shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I have a box at the stadium. He’ll be treated like a king.’
Emotion caught in Leonora’s chest. Gabriel really had no idea how a casual gesture could mean so much. ‘He’ll love it.’
Gabriel asked, ‘How are renovations coming along at the Flores castillo?’
‘Really well. They’ve done so much already. I think my parents have decided to keep doing the tours. They have plans to make them more dynamic—add in wine tastings, overnight stays, that kind of thing. The fact that they’ll be able to hire staff makes all the difference. It’s given them a new lease of life. Thank you.’
Gabriel inclined his head. ‘It’s all part of the agreement.’
That dented a little more of the hazy glow surrounding Leonora. Gabriel wasn’t doing this out of the goodness of his heart. He was doing it because it was part of their prenuptial agreement. Laid out in black and white. Okay, so his relationship with Matías was something he was doing out of the goodness of his heart...but she needed to remember that this marriage was very much a transaction for him. Much as it would have been for Lazaro Sanchez.
She was a commodity who had value in her background, her name, and in how she looked and could conduct herself. And she was lucky that Gabriel found her attractive or she wouldn’t be here.
His hand came over hers and she felt that all too familiar tingle of electricity. She almost resented it for a second.
‘Where did you go just then?’ he asked.
She cursed the fact that she couldn’t seem to hide her expressions around Gabriel, when for years she’d perfected the art of not showing anyone what was going on inside her.
She forced a smile. ‘Nowhere.’
* * *
Gabriel lifted his hand off Leonora’s. It was disconcerting to feel so attuned to another person. She’d retreated just then, closing herself off right in front of him. He’d immediately wanted to know why. Even though he was more used to people trying to read him for his reactions.
It was also disconcerting how quickly he’d adjusted to having Leonora here at the castillo. He almost couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been there. When he arrived home in the evening the first thing he noticed was her light scent. Floral, with musky undertones. Like her—serene on the surface but full of complexity and fire underneath.
The captivation he’d felt in Costa Rica didn’t appear to be diminishing. During a board meeting earlier his mind had wandered all too easily to remembering how he’d woken her that morning. It had started slow and sensuous but had quickly become urgent and explosive.
She was addictive.
He assured himself that this was normal. He just hadn’t expected that he would want his wife this much. He’d imagined a far more sedate arrangement, if and when he married, with sex turning into a function more than an indulgence. But this was a good thing, he assured himself now. He and Leonora had something to build on. A connection that went beyond what most couples in their world had.
* * *
Leonora said, ‘Your assistant called me today—about a function in Paris at the weekend?’
‘Yes. It’s a gala in aid of a charity. It’s on at the same time as Fashion Week, so it’ll be pretty high-profile.’
Leonora immediately felt intimidated. Which was ridiculous. She’d been bred for this sort of thing.
‘When do we leave?’
‘We’ll fly out Saturday afternoon, and come back on Monday. I have some meetings there on Monday morning.’ He put his hand over hers again. ‘You’ll be fine.’
She looked at him. ‘I don’t want to let you down. I’ve never been the most gregarious person in a group.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t want gregarious. I want you.’
The hazy glow was back. He interlinked their fingers and Leonora felt a pulse throb between her legs. It was as if her body had been made uniquely to respond to his. It was maddening—and utterly thrilling.
He stood up and held out a hand, the look in his eye very explicit. Unmistakable.
Her body reacted predictably, her blood growing hot, moving faster through her veins.
They’d just finished dinner. Leonora usually liked to relax, watching a boxset or reading a book before bed. But that had been before Gabriel had awoken this needy and insatiable side of her. And right then the thought of losing herself to his expert touch was a very enticing prospect. She really didn’t want to think about their first official public outing together as a couple.
So she stood up and let him lead her up the stairs and into their bedroom. She tried to feel cynical about it and remind herself that this attention from Gabriel was in part to ensure a quick result for an heir, but when he touched her, or looked at her like he was doing now—as if, like her, he couldn’t quite understand this thing between them—it was very hard to be cynical. It felt so pure. And raw. And necessary.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL, LEO.’
She tried to feel confident under Gabriel’s approving gaze but a million butterflies were fluttering around her belly. No, buzzing. Fluttering was too gentle. She felt as nervous as she had the night of her engagement announcement.
She checked her reflection again. A styling team had come to get her ready and her hair was in a simple chignon. Her dress was a dark royal blue. Floor-length and fitted, it had three-quarter-length sleeves. It was modest at the front, with a high neckline, but it was backless at the back. A more risqué design than she would usually wear but the stylist had insisted.
Gabriel had surprised her with sapphire drop earrings and a matching bracelet and necklace. The jewels glittered against her skin. She knew she looked the part—she just didn’t feel it.
She forced her gaze back to her husband’s. ‘Thank you. So you do.’
And he did. She’d seen him in a tuxedo before, but he still took her breath away. He wore a white bowtie this evening, and the white of the shirt and the tie made him look very dark.
‘Shall we? My driver is ready downstairs.’
Leonora took a breath and slipped her arm through his, hating how much she liked it that he reached for her hand and held it in the lift on the way down. A little extra touch.
They were staying in a hotel not far from where the function was taking place. An exclusive hotel overlooking the Arc de Triomphe. Gabriel had an apartment in Paris, of course, but it was undergoing refurbishment. He’d taken Leonora there earlier to meet with the designer and get her input on the design. Another unexpectedly thoughtful gesture.
They were in the back of his sleek chauffeur-driven luxury car now, her hand still in his. She wanted to be able to pull away, tell him she was fine, but she wasn’t. She saw the flashing of the paparazzi cameras in the distance. The sleek line of cars. The beautiful people getting out.
Bizarrely, at that moment she thought of the picture she’d seen on the magazine cover, of Lazaro Sanchez’s new wife... Skye?...and of how terrified she’d looked. Leonora felt a spike of empathy for her.
It was time to get out.
Someone had obviously caught a glimpse of Gabriel inside the car a
nd the camera flashes went crazy.
He looked at her. ‘Ready?’
She nodded.
‘Wait here. I’ll get out first and come around and get you.’
He got out and the shouts were deafening.
‘Gabriel! Over here!’
‘Where’s Leonora?’
‘We want to see your wife!’
He came to her door and she sucked in a big breath and stuck on a smile—just as he opened the door and the world became one huge bright flash of light.
* * *
After about an hour of milling around the thronged ballroom, after the charity auction had taken place, Leonora’s smile felt like a rictus grin on her face. Gabriel was deep in conversation with some very serious-looking individuals, and she’d spied some open doors leading out to a terrace that looked blessedly airy and empty.
She caught his attention and motioned that she was taking a little break, and then made her way through the crowd of well-known faces from film and politics. When she reached the doors she stepped outside, relief flooding her to find the space was indeed empty. Nothing but fresh air and the lights of Paris glittering as far as the eye could see.
She ventured further and then stopped suddenly—because there was someone else out here. A woman in a strapless black dress. Petite. Very pretty. With bright red hair. Looking at her with big blue eyes. Shocked eyes.
The woman said, ‘You.’
Recognition was swift. It was Skye O’Hara. Lazaro’s pregnant wife.
Leonora looked down and saw the small bump. Inexplicably, she felt a spurt of something that felt like jealousy.
She spoke in English. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise there was anyone here.’
She turned to leave, but she heard from behind her, ‘No. Please, don’t go.’
Leonora stopped. Tension thrummed through her. She turned around again, schooling her expression to be as non-committal as possible.
Skye said, ‘I just want to say how sorry I am... I never intended to ruin 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 saw him... I had to let him know.’