style="font-size:15px;"> ‘We’ll order coffee,’ Cristina began, ‘then go shopping.’
‘We don’t need to shop.’
‘Yes, we do. I’ve already checked out the boutique and they still have the gown in your size.’
‘Give me one good reason why I need another gown?’
‘Who cares about a reason?’
Logic in the face of Cristina’s determination simply didn’t equate. ‘OK, so we check out the gown. On the condition we also look at something for you.’
Cristina offered a chuckle in amusement. ‘Oh, no, you don’t.’
‘Hey. A deal’s a deal.’
A waiter appeared, took their order, and Gianna sank back in her chair. It felt as if the last three years had disappeared like nothing as they resumed a friendship they’d previously shared whilst she had lived in Madrid.
‘What’s the situation between you and Raúl?’
This was Cristina, shooting straight from the hip, no preliminaries.
‘I imagined business would keep him in Madrid.’
‘While you’re here in Mallorca? Are you mad?’
‘You say this…because?
Christina viewed her carefully. ‘You mean, you haven’t figured it out yet?’
‘I’m here because Teresa asked me to visit.’
‘Tia Teresa’s illness is very sad,’ Christina agreed. ‘It has touched us all.’
‘But?’
‘It is also opportune with time and distance to review the circumstances which prompted you to leave.’
There didn’t seem any point in avoiding the issue. ‘It won’t change anything,’ she stated, only to have Cristina’s eyes sharpen.
‘You do know Raúl filed stalking charges against Sierra?’ One look seemed to convince her otherwise. ‘No, I guess not.’ She pursed her lips. ‘He adores you. Always has.’ She paused as she appeared to come to a decision. ‘What the two of you share is special.’
Was, Gianna amended, only to have Cristina shake her head.
‘Do yourself a favour and go seek the real truth.’
As if she could do that. The question was did she want to?
‘OK, I’m done,’ Cristina said smoothly. ‘We have some serious shopping to do.’ She offered a faintly wicked smile. ‘Let’s go flash some plastic.’
They did. The gown Cristina recommended was sheer perfection, in lilac chiffon, with tiny crystals beading a fitted bodice, thin spaghetti straps, and a softly flowing full-length skirt that showcased Gianna’s slender form to attractive advantage. A matching wrap added a finishing touch.
‘Now, was I right?’ Cristina queried as they exited the boutique. ‘Or was I right?’
Gianna laughed and lifted a hand to share a high-five gesture. ‘I concede. Now it’s your turn.’
Red—a powerful colour for a powerful young woman.
‘Fantastic,’ Gianna declared a short while later as Cristina checked her mirrored image. ‘You have to have it.’
‘You’re wicked.’
Gianna merely smiled. ‘If the glove fits…’
The vendeuse smiled at the thought of her commission on two expensive gowns, and carefully packaged each purchase in tissue before consigning them to a glossy signature carry-bag.
‘Coffee—hot, sweet and strong,’ Gianna directed as they emerged from the boutique. ‘While you get to tell me about the Real Madrid soccer player.’
‘Nothing to tell.’
‘You don’t see it going anywhere?’
‘How can it? His face is constantly in the media. He doesn’t make a move without some photographer trailing along in the hope of a photo opportunity.’ Cristina gave a careless shrug. ‘Who wants that?’
‘You like him.’ It was a statement, not a query.
‘I’m merely one in a cast of thousands…millions,’ she amended.
‘You might see it that way,’ Gianna offered sagely. ‘The question is…does he?’
‘Who would know?’
‘Maybe he’s tired of women playing the sycophant and he values your honesty.’
‘And maybe the moon is just a round yellow cheeseball.’
At that moment Gianna’s cellphone beeped, and she took the message, keyed in an answer, then returned the phone to her bag.
‘We have ten minutes before Miguel collects me.’
Except it was Raúl at the wheel when the large car slid to a halt outside the hotel entrance. Cristina declined his offer to drop her back to Aunt Rosita’s apartment.
‘Shopping,’ she explained eloquently, then waved as Raúl eased the Mercedes into the flow of traffic.
‘If Miguel was unavailable, I could easily have taken a taxi. There was no need for you to stop work.’
He cast her a brief musing glance. ‘Perhaps I chose to take a break.’
‘How kind.’
He bit down the desire to laugh. ‘You managed to fit in some shopping?’
‘Cristina can be very persuasive.’
‘Girl-time?’
‘Something a man will never understand.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Men tend to bond with each other from time to time.’
‘Business. The stock market. Shares. Property. Women talk clothes, shoes, bags, cosmetics, perfume.’
He negotiated an intersection, then drawled, ‘You want to talk clothes?’
She turned and subjected him to an analytical appraisal. ‘Love the shirt. That deep blue enhances the darkly brooding Mediterranean look.’ She wasn’t done. ‘And the cologne…what is that? A special lux blend, or off the shelf?’
‘Darkly brooding?’
‘Oh, definitely. White also does it,’ she offered sweetly. ‘Perhaps you could try pale blue, or…’ she paused fractionally
