It wasn’t long before Cyrus came in from his run, sweating and breathing heavily. His shorts showed off his tight, muscular calves from years of running. Morning stubble shadowed his jaw and gave him a raw, sexy look.
“Good morning,” he said, watching her, as if he couldn’t believe she was actually there, making breakfast.
“Good morning.” She waited for him to say something else, perhaps mention last night and gloat about the fact that she’d initiated sex—in her sleep, no less. Subconscious or not, she’d wanted him and made the first move.
But he didn’t gloat. He came close and with a hand at her waist, pulled her in for a kiss. She didn’t pull away, even though he was sweaty and musty. The kiss was quick and more of a greeting by the way their mouths quickly touched before he withdrew.
He swiped sweat from his face with a forearm and then pulled a bottled water from the refrigerator. She could feel his eyes on her while he drank it.
She broke an egg into a glass bowl.
“What’s for breakfast?” he asked.
“Omelets.” She cracked another egg.
“While I was running, I had a thought,” he said. “Ivy thinks I should take a vacation. My whole family does, actually.” Knowing him, he probably should. He took his role as head of the family and the company very seriously and was the kind of person who thought if he wanted something done right, he had to do it himself. Which meant he seldom took time off.
“Are you planning to take one?” Daniella asked.
“I think we should both take one,” he replied. “We should go back to Spain.”
She paused. They’d gone there for their honeymoon, but the trip had been cut short because of business. She’d loved the location and often thought about it. “Back to Costa del Sol?” she asked hopefully.
“That’s what I was thinking. Can you take the time off?”
“Yes, but can you?”
“I have a few business trips to take first, but I’ll be able to in a few weeks.”
“How long will we be able to stay?” She was getting excited.
“How long do you want to stay?”
“A week would be nice.” If not, there was no point in going. By the time they recovered from jetlag, it would be time to return.
“Then we’ll stay a week.”
She wanted him to promise he wouldn’t let business interfere, but she didn’t feel comfortable saying it. With his responsibilities, it would be hard for him to completely shut out business.
“Short of someone dying, we won’t cut our trip short,” he promised. He must have read her mind.
Grateful, she smiled at him, and he smiled back. Then his face slowly sobered. “I’d do anything for you. You know that, don’t you?”
She didn’t really know, but she was starting to think he wasn’t as selfish as she’d always thought. That maybe he’d changed a little in the past three years. She was saved from answering when he reached up into the cabinet and pulled down a small jar of jalapenos.
“I like these in my omelets,” he said.
“Then I’ll add them,” Daniella said. “By the way,” she added, when he was about to walk off. “You know that’s weird, don’t you?”
“Jalapenos in eggs?” he asked. “That’s not so weird.”
She opened the door of one of the cabinets and pointed out the precise organization of the shelves. “This is not normal. It’s kind of Sleeping-With-the-Enemy-ish.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve mentioned it before. And by the way, the man in that movie was a crazy wife abuser,” he pointed out.
As difficult as he was, Cyrus had not been like the man in the movie, whose physical and emotional abuse sent his wife running. “True.” Daniella shoved a jar of olives behind a jar of artichokes and turned several of the bottles backward.
“Don’t do that.” Cyrus reached up to the shelf.
Daniella knocked away his hand. “Look at you. You can’t handle it, can you?” She shouldn’t tease him. She knew how much it drove him crazy, but she couldn’t help it. After living together for a couple of weeks and the intimacy they’d shared last night, she was starting to feel relaxed around him, and her playfulness was a direct result.
Cyrus straightened the jars so they all lined up again. “There’s a reason for this order.”
“And what’s that?”
“You know I don’t like chaos.”
“And you like to control everything,” she supplied.
“If things go the way they should, it saves time,” he said, ignoring her remark. “It’s called efficiency.”
“It’s called OCD,” Daniella corrected. She started whisking the eggs but paused when he started tidying up. “What are you doing?”
“Just cleaning up a bit.”
“I bet you don’t tidy up when Ms. Ernestine is in the kitchen.” She smacked his hand with the spatula. “Out.”
“That’s assault.”
“I said out. Don’t come back until I call you for breakfast.” She held up the spatula, silently threatening to hit him again.
Cyrus put his hands up, lines of amusement crossing his face. “All right, I’m going up to take a shower.”
But instead of leaving, he caught her wrist with the spatula and pulled her close. Goodness, he was fast.
“You stink,” she murmured, making no move to get away.
“I thought women liked it when their man was sweaty from working out or playing sports,” he said, looking down at her from lowered lids.
“Lies,” Daniella said.
That didn’t stop him from pulling her in and sucking on her neck. Her knees weakened and she turned her head to rub her cheek against the rough stubble on his jaw. He kissed her ear and chin, and finally her mouth. She sighed with pleasure. She loved his kisses. She’d been deprived of them for so long she’d actually forgotten how good they were, how delicious he tasted, and how enjoyable the fit of his mouth over hers.
He tugged on her lower lip with his teeth. She moaned. He could give lessons on how to kiss right.
When he withdrew, she felt a pang of disappointment. He tilted up her chin, searching her eyes. For what she didn’t know.
“What?” she said uneasily, unable to remain quiet under such intense scrutiny.
“Nothing.” He dropped a final kiss on her nose before walking out, and she watched him leave with a strange hitch in her chest.
Daniella started setting breakfast on the table in front of the bay window instead of the formal dining room. The plates rattled in her unsteady hands. What was happening to her? She stopped moving and placed her hands on the table to steady her nerves and the shortness of breath.
“I’d do anything for you. You know that, don’t you?”
The last thing she needed to do was fall in love with Cyrus again, but when he said things like that, when he looked at her the way he did, it was so easy and so tempting to believe in him and forget his reprehensible behavior.
He bought companies and tore them apart. He bought people for his own selfish purposes, and he had a sense of entitlement ten miles wide. Hard to blame him when he’d grown up in such a wealthy household with the expectation that everyone would do as he commanded.
She couldn’t fall in love with him again. It would be the epitome of foolishness. She’d seen what love could do. She’d been young at the time, but her parents’ divorce had been bitter. How could the relationship of two people, whose wedding photos had displayed their love and affection for each other at one time, deteriorate into the hate fest their divorce had become?
She had to guard her heart. If she fell in love with him again, she would regret it. No doubt about it. Because love was like an insidious disease that crept up on the unsuspecting. One that, even after its cure, left the victims with lifelong scars.
****
A few weeks later, Cyrus chartered a plane to Málaga, Spain in the Costa del Sol region—the southern part of the country. Located on the Mediterranean Se
a, the city was a popular vacation spot for Europeans and where Cyrus and Daniella had spent their honeymoon—a honeymoon cut short because an unforeseen business emergency had cropped up back in Seattle. This time Cyrus promised their visit wouldn’t be shortened.
Despite his promise, after a jetlag-induced “nap” that lasted six hours, a phone call interrupted their lunch on the balcony of their rented villa overlooking the sandy beach. Cyrus took the call inside the bedroom and minutes later, he returned. He shot her an apologetic look, told her he was sorry, and ducked back inside.
He couldn’t realistically disappear as the head of a multi-billion dollar company. Too many people depended on him. Not only immediate family, but family members working at their restaurants and the breweries, and the tens of thousands of employees across the globe.
To put his mind at ease, she went into the bedroom where he was stalking back and forth and tapped him on the shoulder. “Take care of business,” she said softly. “I’ll still be here when you get done.”
Phone to his ear, he pulled her close and kissed her. He then took off out the door in the direction of the temporary office they’d set up, though she expected him to use it more often than she did. She heard him down the hall, his voice angry and annoyed. “What the hell is going on over there? I thought we had the Vegas deal locked up.”
Daniella went back out to the balcony and watched with envy all the people sunbathing and swimming in the warm blue waters. Cyrus couldn’t enjoy himself, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t.
She donned her white two-piece and joined the other vacationers. She spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach and met a friendly couple—Rex and Sylvia O’Ryan—originally from New York but now living in Norway. They kept her company and since she wasn’t sure if Cyrus would be busy at night, too, accepted their invitation to meet for dinner later.
When she returned to the villa, Cyrus apologized again, but she assured him she wasn’t upset.
“I hate I missed spending time with you,” he said. “I promise that won’t happen again.”
He was frowning, obviously struggling with the balancing act of taking care of business and being in the present, here, with her. She walked over to him and brushed her fingers over his furrowed brow. The lines immediately disappeared.
Gazing up at him, she said, “I’m fine. I’m a big girl and I know how to entertain myself.” She walked toward the bathroom to wash the sand and water from her sun kissed skin.
Before she could shut the door, Cyrus shouldered his way in. His gaze swept her body, sliding in appreciation over the slender lines. Being outside for hours had transformed her skin into a slightly darker caramel hue, showed off to perfection in the white bikini. “I like that bathing suit,” he murmured, his voice rich and dark. She glanced down at the rise in his pants and smiled.
“You do, huh?”
“Mhmm.” His fingers traced a line under the curve of her breast in the halter-topped bikini and her nipples puckered in response.
“What about the green one?” she asked. She’d worn it poolside in Seattle and he’d paid her plenty of compliments at the time.
“I like that one, too,” he said with a slow grin that made her breath hitch. “But this is my new favorite.”
He pulled at the bow behind her neck and the top fell away to reveal her breasts, her nipples turning into even harder pebbles.
“Yeah, this is my new favorite,” he said. He covered her mouth and backed her toward the shower.
They undressed slowly, kissing and stroking each other in a leisurely manner, as if they had all the time in the world. And it felt as if they did. Being away from the hustle and bustle of their everyday life had slowed them down.
When they finished their shower, Daniella wasn’t just washed clean. She’d been licked and kissed with a thoroughness that had sent her spiraling into two satisfying orgasms.
Chapter Sixteen
Dinner with the O’Ryans was at an open-air restaurant in Málaga, chosen for its proximity to the beach and abundant fresh seafood. While they waited for the other couple, Cyrus and Daniella perused the menu and decided on one of the special grills or especial parilladas, for two persons. Daniella didn’t think she could eat that much food, but with Cyrus’s appetite, the amount of seafood promised would probably be perfect for him.
They were chatting quietly when the O’Ryans finally arrived, both flustered as they hurried over to the table.
“Sorry for the delay,” Sylvia said. She sounded out of breath, as if they’d sprinted to the restaurant from their hotel near the villa. After they were introduced to Cyrus, she said, “We left the kids with my mother-in-law, and we had a minor emergency. My youngest wasn’t feeling well and wanted to talk to me. She’s the baby.”
“She’s not a baby, but you treat her like it,” Rex said with a good-natured smile. He rested his hand on the back of his wife’s chair. “Our youngest is five, and ever since she turned two, my wife has been trying to convince me to have another one. To make up for it, she treats our daughter like a baby.”
“I do not.” Sylvia hit him on the shoulder.
Rex rubbed the spot, pretending to be hurt. “Kids are expensive, and I think four is enough, don’t you?” He looked at Cyrus for agreement. He didn’t know who Cyrus was. Daniella had only told them her husband hadn’t been able to join her on the beach because of a business call. They had no idea the extent of Cyrus’s wealth.
“I wouldn’t know,” Cyrus said. “We don’t have any yet, but we’re working on it.”
Daniella took a sip of her wine. She felt a twinge of guilt over the pills she’d brought on the trip.
“How long have you been married?” Sylvia asked.
“Four years,” Cyrus supplied.
“Don’t rush. Enjoy each other while you can,” Rex advised. “Because once the kids come, your life will be completely different.”
“In a good way,” Sylvia said, shooting her husband a chiding glance.
“Most of the time,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye. Their differing viewpoints were a sight to behold. They managed to disagree without being disagreeable, argue without being argumentative and mean to each other. A skill no doubt learned over their fifteen years together.
“We are looking forward to it,” Cyrus said. “We’re definitely ready to start a family.” He slid his arm across the back of her chair.
Daniella remained silent, conflicted. He trusted her, but she had been deceiving him for weeks. And with their newfound intimacy, having a baby didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Maybe they could make their marriage work after all.
As they sat there talking with the O’Ryans, Cyrus impressed her with his ability to switch gears. One minute he was the affable husband making small talk and discussing how he looked forward to having a family of his own. The next he spoke Spanish to the waitress and translated the conversation to the rest of them so they could better understand what was offered in each dish. She was impressed and a little jealous, regretting that she’d never learned to speak her grandmother’s language.
He appeared to be quite relaxed, laughing and talking easily with the O’Ryans. He should take time off more often. The only other time she could remember seeing him like this was during their honeymoon. Perhaps the difference was because no one here knew who he was, and therefore had no expectations in regard to him. When they inquired about his business, he briefly mentioned the restaurants without giving the names, and avoided telling them about the beers. If they were curious, they didn’t pry, but it was obvious he wanted to maintain his anonymity.
All of a sudden she felt the need to connect with him, and she touched his thigh with her hand under the table. The muscle there flexed, but he didn’t miss a beat in the conversation. Across from her, the O’Ryans were none the wiser about what she’d done.
Feeling daring and mischievous, she squeezed his leg, wanting to unnerve him a little bit. He simply covered her hand and held it in pla
ce. She allowed him to do so for a little bit longer and joined the conversation. The O’Ryans did most of the talking, discussing their children and their antics.
Daniella slipped her hand from Cyrus’s and commented on something Sylvia said. At the same time, Daniella brushed her fingers over her husband’s crotch. He nodded his head at one of Rex’s remarks, but her action elicited an almost unnoticeable tightening of his hand on the table. His right hand, still resting on his thigh, swiped across her mons so unexpectedly she almost leaped from her chair. She moved suddenly, and to cover her reaction, she started coughing.
“You okay?” Cyrus asked, his face filled with false concern. He rested a hand at her back.
Continuing the charade, Daniella pressed her hand to her chest and cleared her throat. “The wine went down the wrong pipe,” she said, even though she hadn’t touched her wine in several minutes. “Excuse me. I need to run to the restroom.”
“Hurry back,” Cyrus said, his eyes filled with amusement.
Daniella knew exactly what to do to fix him. In the bathroom, she removed her underwear and balled it up in her hand. She checked her appearance briefly and smiled at the playful expression on her face. This trip had been good for them. She was actually feeling a little giddy.
She made her way back to the table and sat down.
“Feeling better now?” Cyrus asked.
“I’m feeling a bit flushed, but I’ll be fine,” she replied.
“Would you like some water?” Sylvia asked, already picking up the glass pitcher.
“Thank you. That would be nice.” Daniella accepted the glass and took several sips before rejoining the conversation.
They’d moved on to favorite vacation spots. Rex said their trip to Australia had been his favorite, but Sylvia said their honeymoon touring southern Italy had been hers.
“How about you two?” Sylvia asked.
“I work a lot, so we haven’t had much opportunity to travel together,” Cyrus said. “That will change in the near future.” He said it with such confidence, she didn’t doubt him for a minute.
“This region is my favorite,” Daniella said. “It’s where we spent our honeymoon and coming here again was a good idea to re-energize our marriage.”
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