her name. But neither was she prepared to mess up her marriage.
She could do this. She just needed to lean on the designers she’d hired and make a plan.
* * *
Angie worked like a demon over the next two weeks, making a good dent in the list of commissions. Reserving the trickier pieces for when she got back, she handed the rest of the work over to her assistants and stepped on the jet for the trip to Mallorca with Lorenzo.
Shocked at how exhausted she was, she put the reclining seat back as soon as dinner had been served and slept while her machine of a husband worked.
When she woke, it was to the darkest of ebony eyes and a very seductive kiss from her husband. “Wake up, sleeping beauty. We’re about to land.”
She blinked. “We aren’t.”
“We are. A half hour tops. Go freshen up so you can have some breakfast before we land.”
She slid out of her seat and headed for the bedroom, where she changed her top, so she wouldn’t look so wrinkled when they met the driver, and freshened her hair and makeup. Breakfast, however, wasn’t to be. Her stomach still felt like it was 2:00 a.m. Coffee and orange juice would have to suffice.
The driver took them up into the lush green mountains of Mallorca’s peaceful northwest coast to the Belmont Mallorca, considered to be one of the world’s finest hotels. Nestled into a valley surrounded by soaring peaks, its two stone manor houses offered a spectacular view of a medieval village.
Still inordinately tired, she took a nap in the afternoon in their beautiful airy suite to arm her for a late dinner while Lorenzo spent the afternoon with Marc. But even after she woke and pulled herself out of the white-silk-draped canopy bed and showered, her limbs still felt as if they were weighted with lead.
She hadn’t felt this inexplicably tired since the first trimester of her pregnancy, she mused as she stood at the wardrobe selecting a dress to wear for dinner. Ice slid through her veins... No. There was no way. She couldn’t be. She was on the pill. She had been so careful.
Rationality, however, did not stop her from flying into the bedroom to find her purse, where she retrieved her birth control pills and found they were all accounted for. Slackening with relief, she saw the antibiotics she’d been taking following a dental procedure. Remembering she hadn’t taken one today, she popped one into her mouth, swallowed it with a gulp of water, then padded back to the wardrobe to choose her dress.
A cream-colored jersey sheath called to her. She pulled it off the hanger, then froze, her stomach bottoming out. Antibiotics and birth control pills... Hadn’t she heard somewhere...
* * *
Lorenzo watched Angelina in the mirror as he did up his shirt. Stunning in a knee-length ivory dress with a floral scarf draped around her neck, she was amazing to look at as always, but it was the preoccupied air about her that held his attention. He hadn’t seen it in weeks.
“You okay?”
She nodded. “Just tired. Sorry, I’m quiet I know.”
He did up the last button of his shirt and tucked it into his pants. “You don’t ever have to be sorry about being quiet. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.” She turned back to the mirror and spritzed some perfume behind her ears.
“Is it work?”
She shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ll catch up when I get back.”
“Then what is it?”
She spun around, a frown creasing her brow. “You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, Lorenzo. I’m fine.”
He lifted a brow. She expelled a breath. “I am a little stressed about work. And the time change kills me.”
He crossed over to her. “Try and put it out of your head and enjoy the week,” he murmured, tracing a thumb over her cheek. “It’s only a few days. You deserve a break.”
She nodded.
“There is no goal tonight, amore mio. Unless you count paying attention to me,” he added huskily, thumb sweeping over the lush fullness of her lips. “That is most definitely on the agenda.”
Color stained her cheeks. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to her temple, breathing in the sexy, Oriental fragrance of her, her perfume the perfect match for his strong, sensual wife. They were intoxicating, both the scent and her.
For a moment, he just held her, drank her in. Knew, in that moment, he felt more for her than he would ever admit. More than he should.
Her head dropped against his chest. “We should go,” she said quietly, but she didn’t move.
His mouth curved. Sliding his fingers through hers, he moved his lips to her ear. “Hold that thought.”
* * *
Dinner with the Bavaro brothers took place in the Belmont’s famed terrace restaurant, with its spectacular view of the mountains, the live piano music lending a distinctly sophisticated atmosphere to the setting. Marc’s brother, Diego, the Belmont’s other controlling shareholder, joined them for dinner along with his wife, Ariana. With Penny to round out the table of six, it was an entertaining and lively dinner.
Diego, who had been a bit of a dark horse during the negotiations, content to let Marc take the lead, could have been a double for his brother with his swarthy, dark Mediterranean looks and lean build. But that was where the similarities ended. Whereas Marc was cagey, careful in what he revealed, Diego was an extrovert who liked to hear the sound of his own voice.
If Lorenzo got the younger Bavaro brother talking, he might make some progress. He waited until the fine Spanish wine had had a chance to mellow all of them, and an amiable, content atmosphere settled over the table. Sitting back in his chair, wineglass balanced on his thigh, he eyed Diego.
“I’m sensing some hesitation on your part. If the regulatory issues aren’t going to be a problem in most jurisdictions, perhaps you can tell me where the pause is coming from?”
Diego took a sip of his wine and set down the glass. “My father is concerned the Belmont legacy will cease to exist with the sale. That you will absorb what you desire of our marquee locations to fill the empty dots on the map, then dispose of the rest.”
A warning pulse rocketed through him. That was exactly what he intended to do—certainly the Bavaros had been smart enough to figure that out?
“We’ll have to see what our assessment says,” he said coolly. “But since I am offering to pay you a fortune for this chain, more than half again what it’s worth, I would think it would keep you from lying awake at night worrying about it.”
“It’s not always about money,” Diego responded. “It’s about family pride. National pride. Spaniards look up to Belmont as a symbol of international success. It is bad enough to have it eaten up by a foreign entity, but to have its name extinguished along with it? It negates a hundred-year-old legend.”
“It’s always about the money,” Lorenzo rejected. “Nothing lasts
