‘And your parents also?’ Raúl’s aunt questioned.
‘Gianna’s mother died several years ago,’ Raúl informed her. ‘Her father remarried and resides in Paris.’
‘I see.’
No, she didn’t. Who could comprehend the loss of a dearly loved mother, then too soon afterwards witnessing a father remarry and move to the other side of the world? It had felt like abandonment at the time…although with hindsight that wasn’t strictly true. Their father had gifted Ben and Gianna the family home in equal shares. Ben, had already been a lawyer with excellent prospects, while she’d had steady part-time work while she studied business management.
Together they’d shared the home for three years, until Ben had married Eloise and bought out Gianna’s half-share, whereupon she had purchased a flat and taken in a friend to help share expenses.
The same friend who had suggested Madrid as a holiday destination…except holiday had extended into a longer stay when Gianna had been offered a temporary position by one of Ben’s associates based in Madrid.
It was where she had met Raúl, at an event she’d attended at the request of her employer. Glitz and glamour, Gianna recalled of the night in question, where, as corny as it sounded, she’d met Raúl’s faintly hooded gaze across the crowded room and become momentarily transfixed by him, aware even then that tangling with him in any way would consign her way out of her depth, floundering in previously unchartered waters.
He’d played it cool, engaging her attention, then dazzling her with practised charm. Putting in the groundwork, she attributed wryly. On one level the sexual chemistry had intrigued her, and she had been tempted to explore it. Yet there had also been the intrinsic knowledge that if she did she’d become totally lost in the fallout.
Except her fears had been unfounded, and following a whirlwind courtship she’d agreed to move in with him.
A leap of faith, Gianna concluded, that had begun so well…
‘Pablo has tickets for the opera at the Teatro Principal tonight,’ Cristina ventured. ‘Would you like to join us?’
‘Oh, please do,’ Teresa encouraged quickly. ‘Raúl?’
He met Gianna’s faintly desperate glance, divined it, and challenged her. ‘Thank you. We’ll meet you there.’
Wretch, she silently cursed him.
Teresa clapped her hands together in delight. ‘It will be lovely for you to have an evening out together.’
You think?
Yet how could she deny an arrangement that appeared to give Teresa such pleasure?
‘We have reservations to dine first,’ Cristina added, and named a restaurant.
Oh, joy.
Teresa’s family had to know of their estrangement. Surely an absence of three years conveyed they were living apart? On opposite sides of the world, for heaven’s sake.
So why this evening’s invitation? A covert attempt to bring them together?
Some chance.
Words which seemed to echo in her head as she put the final touches to her make-up, added jewellery and slid her feet into stilettos.
Formal wear meant she chose a sophisticated halter-neck gown in deep aqua silk, which flowed over her slender curves and highlighted her flawless skin. A matching silk wrap completed the outfit, and she silently thanked her instinct to pack it. She left her hair loose, collected her evening purse, crossed the suite to open the door and saw Raúl in the process of exiting his suite.
A dark evening suit shaped his form as if tailor-made for him—which it undoubtedly was.
He was something else, she admitted reluctantly as he paused, waiting for her to join him.
An intrusive presence who succeeded in putting her on edge. In spades, she acknowledged ruefully.
He bore a relaxed look that was deceptive, for beneath the projected persona was the mind of an intensely shrewd man who would stop at nothing to achieve his objective.
As long as it didn’t include her, the remaining days should pass with relative pleasantness.
So why did she harbour the instinctive feeling that they were each on a different page?
Crazy, she dismissed as she walked at his side to the head of the stairs and descended them to the foyer.
‘Pablo and Cristina have already left to drop their parents at Rosita’s apartment,’ Raúl indicated as they reached the BMW four wheel drive parked beneath the portecochère.
It was a beautiful evening, with fresh sea air drifting in from the ocean as Raúl eased the powerful vehicle toward the centre of Palma.
Traffic was beginning to build up as offices closed and staff made their way home. Soon the restaurants would begin serving those choosing to dine out, and entertainment in its various forms would attract clientele.
The hotel where Pablo had made restaurant reservations offered valet parking, and the maître d’s recognition bordered on the obsequious as he escorted them to their table, personally ensuring they were comfortably seated while offering any service they required.
The power of extreme wealth and social status, Gianna acknowledged wryly.
‘It would seem your reputation precedes you.’
‘Specifically?’
‘Why, your wit and charm, of course.’
‘Of course,’ Raúl mocked with a degree of amusement.
‘A babe magnet,’ she offered dryly. ‘I can’t quite pin it down to any one thing. The name Velez-Saldaña, perhaps, and all that goes with it…the villas, the apartments in various cities in the world, the luxury cars.’ She tilted her head a little. ‘The private jet, luxury cruiser, your—er—generous attributes.’
His eyes assumed a faintly wicked gleam. ‘Would you care to elaborate on that?’
‘No.’
‘I’ve missed your refreshing honesty.’
‘Oh, please. There were a string of women just waiting to take my place.’
‘None of whom interested me.’
She looked at him carefully. ‘You expect me to believe that?’
‘Your prerogative.’
At that moment she saw Pablo and Cristina enter the restaurant, and after checking with the maître d’ they made their way to the table.
Gianna liked Raúl’s cousins. Pablo possessed a droll sense of humour, while Cristina knew fashion—what was in, what
