say all sorts of things in the heat of the moment.’ He paused before adding, ‘I should have phoned him. I didn’t think of it, I’m afraid. There was so much going on at the time. He should have been notified about the accident.’
‘Did I at some point give you his contact details?’ Emelia asked.
‘No, but it wouldn’t have been all that hard to track him down,’ he said. ‘Would you like me to make contact now, just to let him know you are all right?’
Emelia thought about her father with his new wife, who was only three years older than her. After their last insult-throwing argument, she couldn’t see him flying all the way to Spain with flowers and a get well card in hand. He was probably sunning himself at his luxurious Sunshine Coast mansion with his child bride waiting on him hand and foot. ‘No, don’t bother,’ she said, trying to remove the bitterness from her tone. ‘He’s probably got much more important things to see to.’
Javier gave her a thoughtful look as he drew out her chair.
Emelia took the seat, waiting until he sat down opposite to say, ‘Our backgrounds—apart from the level of wealth—are very similar, aren’t they? Your father was estranged from you and mine from me. Is that something that drew us together when we first met?’
His dark eyes held hers for a moment before he answered. ‘It was one of many things.’
‘What were some of the other things?’ she asked.
He poured wine for each of them, his mouth tilting slightly. ‘Lust, lust and more lust,’ he said.
Emelia pursed her lips, hating that she was blushing, hating him for watching with such mocking amusement. ‘I can assure you I would never fall in lust with someone,’ she said. ‘I would only ever love someone I admired as a man, for his qualities as a person, not his possessions or social standing. And I most certainly wouldn’t marry a man on physical attraction alone.’
His mocking smile was still in place. ‘So you must have loved me, eh, Emelia?’ He flicked his napkin across his lap, his eyes still tethering hers. ‘The thing is, will you remember to love me again?’
EMELIA placed her own napkin over her lap, all the time avoiding those black-as-pitch eyes. The hairs on the back of her neck were tingling and her stomach was rolling like a ball going down a very steep hill. Had she felt like this during their marriage? Had her skin felt prickly and sensitive just with his gaze on her, let alone his touch? She desperately wanted to remember everything about him, everything about them—their relationship, the love they supposedly had shared.
Or had they?
The thought slipped into her mind, unfurling like a curl of smoke beneath a closed door. Did he love her the way she had evidently loved him? It was so difficult to know what he felt; he kept himself to himself most of the time. She understood his reluctance to reveal his feelings, given her loss of memory. He might resent looking a fool if she never regained her memory of him. In any case, the doctors had warned him not to pressure her. Was that why he was acting like the perfect stranger, polite but aloof, with just occasional glimpses of his personality? There was so much she didn’t know about him, things she would need to know in order to navigate her way through the complex labyrinth her mind had become. With an effort she raised her eyes back to his. ‘I feel such a fool for not asking you this earlier, but what is it you do for a living?’
‘I buy and sell businesses,’ he said. ‘I own and head an international company. We do work all over the world. That was why I have been in Moscow a lot lately. I have a big deal I am working on. It requires a lot of intense negotiation.’
Emelia sat quietly absorbing that information, hoping it would trigger something in her brain. She looked at his hands as they poured wine into both of their glasses. She could imagine him being a formidable opponent in business, his quick mind and sharp intelligence setting him apart from his rivals. ‘What sort of businesses do you buy?’ she asked.
‘Ailing ones,’ he said. ‘I buy them and reinvent them and sell them for a profit.’ He hitched one shoulder indifferently. ‘It’s a living.’
Emelia picked up her crystal wine glass. ‘Apparently quite a good one.’ She took a tentative sip and put the glass back down. ‘Was your father in the same field of work?’
‘No, he was in retail,’ he said. ‘Electrical, mostly. He had several outlets in Spain. He expected me to go into the business with him but I never wanted that for myself. Selling refrigerators and televisions and toasters never appealed to me. I wanted more of a challenge.’
‘Is that what caused the rift between you?’
‘That and other things,’ he said, frowning slightly as he returned his glass to the table.
Aldana came in with their starters and, while she was serving them, Emelia thought about Javier’s background. There was no shortage of wealth; the private jet, the villa and grounds and the staff to maintain it must cost a fortune. Had he inherited it from his father or accumulated it himself? He must be very good at what he did. No one could buy a company without a huge amount of money behind them. And if he was buying and selling more than one and all over the world, he must be far more successful than she had thought. She decided to check out his profile on the Internet later, to see a little more into the man she was married to.
‘Gracias, Aldana,’ Javier said as the housekeeper left with a sour look in Emelia’s direction, which she was sure he didn’t see. Emelia wondered if she should comment on it but then decided against it. Maybe Javier would think she was making trouble. Aldana seemed very much a part of the woodwork of the villa. But it worried Emelia that the housekeeper had not warmed to her over the last two years. She was not used to people disliking her on sight. It made her feel as if she didn’t know herself any more. Who was she now? Why had the housekeeper taken such an active dislike to her?
A moment or two of silence passed.
‘Is the wine not to your liking?’ Javier asked. ‘It used to be one of your favourites.’
Emelia wrinkled her nose. ‘Sorry, I guess my palate has changed or something. I’ll stick to water. I need the fluids, in any case.’
‘Would you like me to call a doctor?’ he asked. ‘You might have picked up a bug in the hospital.’
‘No, I’m fine.’ She twisted her mouth wryly. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m a little sick of doctors. I just want to get well again.’
He gave her a tight smile. ‘Of course.’
Emelia picked at her main course after Aldana had brought it in, but with little appetite. The tight band of tension around her forehead she had been trying so hard to ignore was making her feel ill again. All she could think of was retreating to the sanctuary of bed.
‘You’re really not feeling well, are you?’ Javier asked once the housekeeper had cleared the plates.
Emelia gave him an apologetic grimace. ‘I’m sorry. My headache’s been getting worse all evening.’
He rose from the table and gently helped her out of her chair. ‘Come on,’ he said.
