Esteban had a way of staking his claim when they were together. Almost from the minute they entered any party, he stayed close to her side at first. He’d keep his hand low on her back, or become even more possessive by cupping her hip as he held her close to his side. Other times he would whisper in her ear, sending tiny shivers down her spine as his lips grazed the shell of her ear or his nose brushed her hairline.
Some nights, when they left an engagement, he’d pull her on top of him in the back of the Maybach, as if to prove that she did indeed belong to him, shoving her dress up around her hips. She’d ride him as he grabbed her ass and thrust into her, her body quivering with incomparable pleasure. In those moments, when he appeared to be as helpless as she, she looked down into his dark eyes and felt they were almost on equal footing. He could no more resist the passion between them than she could. And in those moments, she knew her own power as she gripped his hair and he gripped her ass.
Then they both erupted, she around him, he inside of her. Trembling, moaning as the city lights whizzed by the tinted windows. Once their heartbeats returned to normal, she would slide off him, but he never let her go. He held on to her hand, even once they left the car and went into the house.
Being with him like that, feeling needed, as if he couldn’t let her go—those moments were special. They were the only times in their lopsided relationship that she thought the intensity of his feelings might edge toward the intensity of hers.
Then she thought it might not be so scary to love and adore him, because during those moments, she felt like more than a mistress.
“Thank you,” Sonia said to Abel as she exited the car.
She heard Esteban’s footsteps behind her but continued with hurried steps to the door. She punched in the code and the lock disengaged. In the silent house, the electronic keypad in the wall beeped once, signaling that in thirty seconds a silent alarm would sound. She pressed her thumb to the screen and turned it off, and the countdown immediately stopped.
Her heels clicked on the marble tile as she walked toward the bedroom, but she heard the quiet beep as Esteban re-engaged the system. In the bedroom, she dropped her purse in the dressing room and stripped out of the sleeveless chiffon dress, replacing it with her floral print kimono.
When she walked back into the bedroom, Esteban sat in the chair near the window, looking out at the night, but his gaze angled toward her when she came out.
“You’ve been in a mood all night,” he said. She didn’t see, but sensed his eyes following her movement across the floor.
She sank down on the edge of the bed.
“Did something happen at the party to upset you?” he asked.
“What if I can’t do this anymore?” She hadn’t even known those words were coming, but now that they were out, she held her breath, wondering what he’d say.
Esteban paused in the middle of removing his platinum Patek Philippe watch. “Do what?”
“This. You and me,” she said in a small, uncertain voice. Fear twisted her stomach.
A faint smile crossed his lips, and he resumed removing the timepiece. “Did I forget something?” he asked, walking to the dresser on the other side of the room. He placed his watch on top of it, keeping his movements calm and controlled. “An anniversary that we should be celebrating? It’s not your birthday, so I can’t think of any other reason why you’d feel you couldn’t do this anymore.”
Sonia swallowed. “I’m not sure this is working out.”
He raised one black brow. “Would an increase in your allowance make things better?”
Her eyes flew to his face. “I don’t want more money.”
“Then what do you want? More jewelry? A car?”
He continued to speak in a calm voice while her emotions careened out of control.
“No.” She paced away from the bed. “I don’t want you to buy me anything.”
“May I ask where this is coming from, all of a sudden?”
“It’s not all of a sudden.”
“¿Verdad? How long have you been lying in bed with me wishing you were somewhere else?”
He faced away from her as he removed his cufflinks. Cold. Indifferent.
“Would you at least pay me the respect of looking at me when I’m talking to you!” she screamed.
He swung around and stared at her as if she had lost her mind. He marched over, and she shrank back internally, expecting him to yell and scream. Instead, he spoke between his teeth, practically seething with hostility. “I give you everything you could possibly want. When is it enough, eh? Tell me, Sonia.” His sharp eyes ripped her to shreds. “Diamonds, clothes, shoes, trips—what else do you want? Do you want the blood from my veins next? Will that finally be enough for you? Will that finally make you happy?” His chest heaved, his flushed face hard and angry.
She felt as if he’d slapped her. “This isn’t about things, Esteban.”
“Then what is it about?” His mouth crooked into a one-sided smile. “Your despicable ex-boyfriend? You should be thanking me.” He started unbuttoning his shirt. “Save me the theatrics. You’re not going anywhere. And do you know why?” His voice lowered. “We’re a lovely pair, you and me, because we’re both getting exactly what we want.” He tilted up her chin. “I don’t want to hear another word about you leaving.”
He kissed her hard, their mouths searing together in a heated kiss. They sank onto the bed as he kissed her neck and shoulders. Her fingers curled into fists between them, and she closed her eyes, determined to freeze him out.
But then he changed tactic and started whispering to her in Spanish. Her tightly compressed lips were coaxed apart by the smooth glide of his tongue—an intimate, erotic touch that sent faint tremors of pleasure rippling in her belly. She moaned, hating the way her body betrayed her, already dampening in preparation for him. Her fists tightened even more to resist, but when he stretched her arms above her head and held her wrists together with one hand, the fragile wall she hid behind buckled and fell apart. Her resistance couldn’t hold up against the seduction of the softer caresses or the gentle nudge of his kiss.
She’d never known a man like him before. The way he completely controlled her thoughts, her emotions, and her body—it thrilled at the same time it unnerved her.
Her mouth opened wider so their tongues could tangle together, and he gripped her hip and ground his pelvis against hers. She kissed him back with quiet desperation, pain swelling in her chest. She was falling apart on the inside.
She wished she could unmeet him, rewind her life and go back to the time before they met. But would it be worth it? Because then she wouldn’t know this painful ache called love—which made her feel alive, even as it killed her.
He entered her with a long stroke, her hands still pinned above her head, their bodies writhing together in raw, naked desire as passion consumed them. Every virile inch of him pressed her down into the mattress, and he continued to speak in Spanish through hard bursts of air, making it difficult to parse the words and his broken sentences. But she did recognize one word that he said at the end. She’d heard it before and recalled the meaning.
Nunca.
Never.
Chapter 32
Esteban employed vice presidents of operations based on location. At the moment, his head of operations in South America sat across from him in his office in the Patagonia. Santiago was a few years younger, and his promotion to vice president over a more mature employee had raised a few eyebrows, but early on he’d impressed Esteban with his sharp mind and work ethic. So far, the younger man hadn’t proven him wrong. In fact, he’d exceeded expectations.
The trip to the United States was a chance for Santiago to get a better understanding of Galiano Holdings’ North American operations, which Esteban considered placing under his supervision. In addition to Miami, there were plans to visit locations in California and New York.
“How did you know he’d give in?” Santiago asked.
Where Esteban was
conservative in style, his employee preferred more flash. He wore a gold necklace with a cross around his neck and a gold ring on his right hand. The question he posed was regarding a supplier, whose contract Esteban had told him to cancel when the man argued about terms.
“He has two daughters getting married within the next year, and a wife who’s accustomed to a certain standard of living. He needs the money, and there was no way he wasn’t going to sign,” Esteban replied.
Santiago chuckled. “Now I understand why you always say, ‘Know the people you do business with.’ It certainly helps with negotiations.”
At a faint knock on the door, Esteban called out, “Come in.”
Abena walked in wearing a turquoise tailored dress and carrying a stack of folders in her arms. “Good afternoon, Mr. Galiano. These are the files you wanted.” She deposited them on the small round table. “Will there be anything else?”
“Good afternoon, Abena,” Santiago said, without even glancing in her direction. He studied Esteban’s desktop and became unusually still.
Abena visibly stiffened. “Hello, Santiago.” The greeting seemed torn with difficulty from her lips. “Having a nice stay in Miami?”
Every time Abena and Santiago were in the same room, the air became rife with tension, and Esteban had long suspected something must have happened between them. Her engagement temporarily ended that speculation, but he was no longer sure.
“Better than the last time. Last time it was unbearably hot.” Santiago turned his head to look at her.
There was subtext upon subtext in those words.
“If you can’t stand the heat, you should stay out of the kitchen.”
“Good advice. I’ve given up cooking. It wasn’t worth the trouble,” Santiago said in a low voice.
Abena took a deep breath and looked about to blast him, when Esteban interrupted.
“Excuse me.” They both swung their heads in his direction. “Would the two of you prefer if I leave so you can hash out whatever the hell is going on in private? Or we could set up a boxing ring outside and see who’s left standing at the end of the match.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Galiano.” Abena intertwined her fingers before her. “Is there anything else?”
“That will be all. Thank you.”
She nodded and stalked away. Santiago tilted his head at an angle as if listening for her footfalls. When she shut the door, he relaxed in the chair and finally met Esteban’s gaze.
“Anything you care to tell me?” Esteban asked.
“No.”
Esteban thought about pushing the issue, but then decided it was better left alone, for now. He wasn’t a counselor, and as long as their personal problems didn’t affect their work, he’d let them sort it out themselves.
“Let’s get to work.” He rose, and Santiago followed him to the table.
Later that evening, Esteban walked the Patagonia dining room floor, checking on customers, making sure they were satisfied with their meals and service. His general manager usually performed this task, but getting out on the floor and interacting with customers offered him a firsthand sense of what they liked and didn’t like. The frankness of diners gave him information to improve in areas that were lacking, and continue in areas that operated to a satisfactory level.
He needed a focus group to tell him how to deal with Sonia. She’d been markedly different of late, all starting from when she saw Andrea in his office. He didn’t regret hiring her. He’d gotten what he wanted, and he was right about Pedro from the beginning. But he didn’t like the changes he saw in Sonia. It was like waiting for a pin to drop. She behaved more like someone going through the motions, with cool conversation and measured emotions—as if holding back. He wanted the woman he’d become accustomed to. The woman whose every action and every breath turned him on. From her enthusiasm about wine to the sensual way she laughed, or the way she looked at him from beneath her lashes, smiling with a warmth that filled her eyes and heated his blood. She was slowly slipping away from him.
As he finished shaking the hand of a young man who explained he and his wife celebrated their anniversary there every year, Esteban noticed a woman near the back of the restaurant. Her waist-length hair, shiny and dark, half covered her face when she rose from the table. Then she tucked it behind an ear and took the hand of a little boy with her.
He recognized her immediately as someone from the past. For a moment he was so taken aback that he didn’t move, and stood in the middle of the floor staring at her. She looked different, but the same. Her body had filled out and her hair was longer, but there was no doubt it was Elsa.
She spotted him, and after her initial surprise, a smile spread across her face.
He walked over. “Hola, Elsa.”
“I can’t believe it’s you. Hola, Esteban.”
Elsa Calderón, his first love. He’d loved her with youthful desperation—completely, unconditionally, and wholeheartedly. Almost every action he’d taken from seventeen years old to twenty years old had been done with her in mind. She’d broken his heart and taught him a valuable lesson about avarice—a lesson he remembered to this day.
His gaze flicked to the little boy, who looked about five years old. He was either her child or an exceptional clone in masculine form. The sight of the two of them together was shocking and caused a faint twisting of nostalgia in his gut when he recalled how they’d lain under the stars on a blanket, holding hands and planning their future.
She’d wanted a big church wedding, and he’d promised to give her one. They’d wanted three children—two girls and a boy. She’d promised to work by his side, the way his mother did with his father, the way her parents did at the small laundromat they owned. They would conquer the world—or at the very least, the Argentina restaurant scene—together.
But those dreams only partially came to be. Esteban opened his first restaurant at nineteen, a small café that served sandwiches and pastries along a busy tourist street in Buenos Aires. Then, too fast and too eager, he launched another restaurant with a more aggressive menu. He failed miserably and learned a lesson in humility. One that taught him that good food wasn’t enough. So much more went into running a restaurant: planning, advertising, financial management, negotiating—all skills he didn’t have enough of at the time.
He received the ultimate blow when, hot on the heels of his failure, Elsa ditched him for an older man, someone well off who could ensure she did not have to work in a restaurant, or a laundromat, or anywhere she didn’t want to.
“Don’t tell me this is your restaurant?” She sounded casual and friendly.
“As a matter of fact, it is. The first one I opened in the United States.”
“That’s wonderful. We had a great meal.” Her eyes softened. “You look well, Esteban.”
“So do you,” he replied, and meant it.
“Mommy, I’m tired.” The little boy rested his forehead against her hip.
“We’ll be leaving soon.” Elsa gently rubbed a hand over his hair. “We arrived today,” she said by way of explanation.
“How long will you be in Miami?”
“A few days, until my hus—” A stricken expression crossed her face.
“It’s okay, Elsa. You can mention your husband. I know that you’re married.”
A guilty flush filled her cheeks, and her gaze dropped for a moment. “My…husband is meeting with clients tonight.” She winced, as if it pained her to say the words. “When he wraps up his business, we’re flying to New York for a short vacation and then returning home.”
She finally looked at him again, and in her eyes he thought he saw the same questions that used to plague him. What would their lives have been like if they’d stayed together? What would have happened if she hadn’t left him for another man?
Then he realized those questions hadn’t crossed his mind in a very long time. He filled his houses with expensive, beautiful items to prove to himself, and the world, that he had arrived. All these years,
much of his drive stemmed from a need to prove to her and his absentee biological father exactly how valuable he was, and how much they had missed by not being in his life. Yet as he stood looking at the woman who’d held his heart for years, he came to the realization that having those questions answered no longer mattered.
“I’d better go. It’s getting late, and I should put him to bed. Take care, Esteban. It was good to see you.”
“Goodbye, Elsa.”
She smiled and walked away. For a spell, Esteban watched her maneuver through the tables before the activity around him penetrated his brain. While a busboy collected the dishes from Elsa’s table, Esteban returned to interacting with the customers. Shaking hands. Asking questions. Explaining meal selections. Then he checked his watch and decided to go home.
He said good night to his general manager, and on the way out saw Elsa talking to Armando, the maître d’. This time, she was alone.
Surprised, he approached. “I thought you’d left. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, everything is fine.” She flushed, glanced at the maître d’, and then said to Esteban, “Do you mind if I speak to you privately for a moment?”
Without touching, he guided her out the restaurant into the front lobby of the hotel. “What is it?” he asked.
“I wanted to give you this.” She took a card out of her purse and handed it to him. “I thought maybe we could be friends. I don’t know how you feel about that, but—sometimes I think…I don’t know…I thought maybe we could talk now and again. There’s nothing wrong with being friends, is there? And we used to have some great conversations. We had so much in common.”
“We did,” Esteban said.
She nodded, satisfied by his response. “Have a good night.” She reached out and touched his arm, almost as if she couldn’t help herself.
His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t reach back for her. “You too.”
He followed her to the door of the hotel and watched as she climbed into the back of a dark sedan.
More Than a Mistress (Latin Men Book 5) Page 20