A Ring for the Spaniard's Revenge, page 5
She avoided the area where the two gossiping women were standing and went out of the hotel and rang her solicitor. He told her what she’d already feared: Vidal’s people had called and said he was no longer interested in buying the castillo.
Eva felt sick. But she knew that she had only one option. She had to go and find Vidal and ask him to reconsider. Because he was the only thing that could stop her nightmare from coming true.
* * *
Vidal stood in the middle of a glittering crowd on the rooftop of one of London’s most exclusive buildings. London was laid out before him in a carpet of lights, its tall buildings piercing the dusky sky. He was among some of the most important people in the country. In the world. Tech entrepreneurs like him. Moguls, models, actors, politicians... Even royalty.
He was a lot more comfortable in these surroundings now, but sometimes he still felt like an imposter. Impossible not to when most people in this space had been born into privilege and took it as their due. He was accepted—but only up to a point. Some people still looked at him warily.
People like Eva.
He gritted his jaw. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind in the week since he’d left Spain. Ridiculously, he was feeling guilty when he thought of leaving her to her fate, when he owed her nothing. Even worse was the frustration and irritation that she’d managed to leave him feeling somehow at a loss. Exposed in his desire for her.
Vidal finally responded to the incessant chattering of a woman who was desperately trying to get his attention and schooled his features into some semblance of interest, when really his interest was back in Madrid.
So, when a movement out of the corner of his eye made him look to his left, he thought he was hallucinating. Eva Flores was just a few feet away. Immediately standing out in the crowd with her tall, willowy silhouette, wearing a dusky pink wrap dress with one arm bared. Hair pulled back. Minimal make-up. But she didn’t need make-up. Her bone structure alone was enough to make people turn and stare.
He heard someone say, ‘Who is that?’
For one cold, clammy moment he thought he really was hallucinating—that sexual frustration was infecting his mind. He blinked. No, she was still there. It was her. Unmistakably. And as that thought sank in and registered a sense of satisfaction settled deep in his gut. Along with something else he didn’t want to acknowledge—relief.
Everyone else faded away. His eyes were locked with hers. Her chin had that little defiant tilt, as if to remind him that she was better than him. But she had come because she needed him too badly. Because she had a weakness too.
* * *
He’d seen her. So much for sneaking into this exclusive party and getting her bearings before Vidal noticed she was there. As soon as she’d walked in his head had come up, as if scenting prey, and he’d looked around and straight at her.
Nowhere to hide. She had to brazen it out now.
She walked towards Vidal and saw his eyes narrow on her. He wasn’t wearing formal dress—a dark suit with a light shirt, open top button. No tie. She imagined how breathtaking he would be in a tuxedo.
She stopped a couple of feet away. She was vaguely aware of a woman beside Vidal emitting a huffy sound and flouncing away.
Vidal spoke first. ‘Fancy meeting you here.’
Eva felt heat climb into her face. Vidal was looking at her with something distinctly...satisfied in his expression. She chafed against it, knowing that she’d had no other choice. That awful nightmare still lingered, even a week later.
She tried not to sound peevish, ‘I went to the hotel the morning after we met, but you didn’t even wait for my answer.’
‘No, because I realised I’d wasted too much time in Madrid.’
Eva felt a sliver of panic. Perhaps even now it was too late?
She swallowed. ‘Well, I wanted to talk to you.’
‘Well, here I am.’
Eva looked around. She noticed people near them pretending to be studiously engaged elsewhere when they were clearly trying to eavesdrop.
She looked at Vidal. ‘Could we talk somewhere a little less...public?’
‘If you don’t want to be seen with me in public then you shouldn’t have come here.’
Eva frowned. ‘I... No... That is, I didn’t know where else to find you... I just feel it’s too personal to discuss here.’
A waiter came by at that moment, with a tray full of glasses of champagne. Vidal took two glasses from the tray and handed one to Eva. ‘Why don’t you relax for a minute? You look tense.’
She felt tense. She clutched the glass in her hand. She didn’t want to be seen in public. She’d hated these kinds of situations ever since that hideously embarrassing event in Madrid when she was eighteen.
She’d sighed with relief when she’d stepped into this party and realised she’d got the tone right with the dress she’d hired from a designer shop here in London.
‘You bring the glass to your mouth and you take a sip—like this...’
Eva’s scattered attention was brought back to Vidal, who was taking a sip from the glass that looked impossibly delicate in his hand. Her eye followed the movement of his throat as he swallowed. Little flames danced across her skin, making it rise into goosebumps.
This was crazy. How could she hope to have a rational conversation with him when she was so aware of him and so wound up?
She took a sip and the sparkling drink danced down her throat, as if to mock her for being so serious. She tried consciously to relax, but social situations always made her nervous. She wasn’t used to interacting with a large group of people. She’d never really been prepared for it—even though her mother had fully expected her to somehow charm and find a suitable husband after growing up in a bubble. Exactly as those women had said.
‘When did you come over?’ he asked.
‘I came this morning.’
‘Where are you staying?’
Oh, God, now Vidal was resorting to small talk. ‘Um...a hotel near Piccadilly.’
Eva didn’t want to admit that she was staying in a hostel near the train station, and that she had a flight booked to go home first thing in the morning. She’d changed in a bathroom at the hostel earlier, and had got some funny looks when she’d emerged, standing out amongst the backpacker tourists.
She scrabbled for something to say to avoid more questions. ‘You look good here.’ She stopped. Mortified.
Vidal arched a brow, amused. ‘A compliment from Eva Flores? That is high praise indeed.’
Eva cursed herself. ‘What I mean is that you...fit in. You’ve done well.’
Any hint of humour left Vidal’s expression. ‘For a kid from a minor suburb without a cent to his name and working-class parents?’
She looked at him. ‘Well, that’s the truth, isn’t it? That’s something to be proud of. What you’ve achieved is amazing.’
* * *
Yes, it was the truth. So why did her observation irritate him so much? Why was he suddenly so tense?
Because all he could see in his mind’s eye was the tired faces of his parents and their red hands. Red from working.
And suddenly that sense of being an imposter was back, looming large over his shoulder. As if Eva’s presence was all it had needed to re-emerge. Reminding him that he was only here through the sheer dumb luck of having a higher than average intellect and the ability to work hard.
He hated it that she pushed his buttons so easily. That she still had that power without even saying a word. Just by being.
It had been a mistake to think that she could bring something positive to his reputation. To his social standing. She’d done him a favour by turning up here to remind him of that.
But when Vidal opened his mouth to tell Eva that she was no longer welcome at this party, he found himself saying instead, ‘Fine, let’s go somewhere more private.’
Who was he kidding? His head didn’t want Eva Flores anywhere near him, but his body was another matter, and right now his body was ruling his head.
* * *
‘You don’t have to leave. I don’t mind waiting.’
They were standing at the elevator. Vidal didn’t respond. Eva was desperately trying to maintain her composure, but it was hard when Vidal’s hand was big and cupping her elbow. Skin to skin.
The elevator doors opened, and when they stepped in an attendant pressed the ground-floor button. The space was too small. All Eva could smell was Vidal. Sharp and spicy and masculine.
She said, a little threadily, ‘You can let me go now.’
Vidal looked down, as if surprised that he was holding on to her. He didn’t let go straight away, though. He took his time. Fingers trailing over her skin, leaving goosebumps behind.
Finally, Eva felt as if she could breathe again. The elevator doors opened onto the lobby of what was one of London’s most exclusive hotels. Luckily, Vidal’s social activities were well documented in the press, so she’d found out about this party relatively easily.
She could have tried to meet him at his London office once she’d found out he was here for the week, but the thought of being refused entry had been daunting. So she’d figured a social event might be easier. And it had been. Until now.
They were outside the building and a sleek SUV with tinted windows was waiting. The driver got out and opened the back door. Vidal extended an arm to Eva. ‘Please...’
She didn’t move. ‘Where are we going?’
‘To my apartment. It’s not far from here.’
The thought of being alone with Vidal made her feel nervous and excited all at once. ‘Can’t we just go somewhere like a quiet bar?’
Vidal’s jaw hardened. ‘Do you want to talk or not?’
Of course she did. That was why she’d come here.
Reluctantly she moved forward and sat into the back of the car. The driver closed the door and Vidal got in on the other side, immediately dwarfing the cavernous space.
The vehicle moved smoothly into the London traffic, barely making a sound. An electric car. They didn’t speak on the short journey. The car stopped outside a tall, sleek-looking apartment building. A concierge greeted Vidal and then they were in another elevator, and Eva’s stomach swooped as they moved smoothly skyward.
The doors opened, and it was only when they opened directly into an apartment that she realised it had been a private lift. The apartment was breathtaking. Contrary to what Vidal probably thought, Eva really hadn’t ever been anywhere like it.
Dark, moody tones were lightened by floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing a glittering view of the London skyline. Massive paintings were hung on the walls, and comfortable couches and chairs were dotted artfully around the space, with coffee tables groaning under big hardback books on photography and art.
Low lamps sent out seductive pools of golden light. It was a far cry from the spartan apartment Vidal and his father had once shared at the castillo.
Eva was rooted to the spot beside the elevator doors, which slid closed behind her with a muted swish.
Vidal had walked into the apartment, not even checking to see if Eva was following him. He was slipping off his jacket and draping it casually over the back of a chair, heading to what looked like a drinks cabinet.
He said over his shoulder, ‘Can I offer you a drink?’
Eva felt so tense she thought she might crack. Maybe a drink would help her feel marginally more relaxed. She’d barely touched the champagne at the party.
‘Sure, maybe a small white wine?’
He mixed a drink for himself and duly came back to her with a glass of perfectly chilled white wine. She took a sip quickly, and then saw Vidal hold his own tumbler up and say with a mocking tone, ‘Cheers...’
Eva felt very unsophisticated. Sheepishly, she echoed, ‘Cheers.’
‘Please, make yourself comfortable.’ Vidal waved a hand to indicate the vast expanse of his lounge area.
The sheer amount of choice made Eva move instead towards one of the windows. London twinkled and glittered under a clear sky. Helicopters traversed the city with blinking lights.
She was very conscious of Vidal behind her. Watching her. Waiting for her to beg for mercy. For a handout. For help. For her life.
She steeled herself and turned around. ‘Look, Vidal, it’s obvious you’ve decided to change your mind about the castillo and the...’ She trailed off.
‘The fake engagement?’ he supplied helpfully.
‘Why?’ she asked hoping she didn’t sound too needy. Or desperate.
He came and stood at the window, tumbler in his hand. He said, ‘It was a moment of weakness to even want to see you again. See what you might have become. See if you had changed at all.’ He looked at her. ‘I don’t indulge in weaknesses. But you always pushed my buttons, Eva.’
Her insides swooped and dived. ‘I was young...’
Vidal looked back out of the window and made a dissenting sound. ‘Yet you knew how to patronise those around you before most people could even spell the word.’
Eva swallowed her defence. How could she even begin to articulate what she had only come to terms with in the past year—the depth of her mother’s malign influence on her life?
Desperately, she cast around for another way to try and get through to Vidal. ‘You said it was your father’s dying wish that you do something to restore the castillo...’
He responded easily. ‘I also said I wasn’t sentimental. My father was raving at the end...high on morphine. He thought he saw my dead mother standing behind me in the room.’
Eva had never known Vidal could be so obdurate. Feeling a sense of futility, she looked blindly at the view. ‘Your father felt sorry for me, you know.’
‘I know.’
‘He used to say to me that there was a whole world outside the castillo and I had to get out and explore it...find my own way.’
‘So why didn’t you?’
‘It wasn’t that easy. My mother became unwell. I had to care for her.’
‘And now you’ve lost precious time in establishing yourself on the scene, and perhaps no one is really that interested in an heiress with nothing but a pile of medieval bricks to her name?’
Eva forced a tight smile. ‘You have it all worked out.’
‘Because, let’s face it, it’s not as if you’re qualified to do anything else.’
Eva realised this wasn’t going anywhere, and she was terrified that the longer she stayed the more likely it would be that Vidal would notice her awareness of him. An awareness that she couldn’t hide.
She set her glass of wine on a nearby table. She hadn’t even put down her clutch bag. It was still clamped in her other hand. ‘I think it’s best if we stop wasting each other’s time. You should go back to your party, Vidal.’
She forced herself to look at him. His face was cast in shadow as he turned to face her from the window. The glow of the city outside made the lines on it look grim. She sensed he was fighting some kind of inner battle, but she needed to move on and try and seek salvation elsewhere.
‘It was nice to see you again...and I’m happy that you are doing so well.’
‘Are you, Eva? Really happy? Because you don’t look it.’
That nearly felled her. Happy. The fact that he’d noticed she wasn’t. Her chest felt tight. Dios.
‘I’m perfectly fine, Vidal. Thank you for your concern. Now, I should go.’
She turned and took a step towards the door, which felt very far away, across an expanse of luxurious carpet.
Vidal said, ‘Back to work at the hotel tomorrow?’
Eva stopped. Turned around again. A spurt of anger mercifully diluted her emotion. ‘Are you intent on torturing me until the last moment, Vidal? It’s not enough to dangle the solution to all my problems under my nose and then whip it away at the last minute? I think you’ve made your point now—your life was a misery while you were at the castillo and now you’re wreaking your revenge.’
Vidal stepped out of the shadows. He put his glass down on a table. He shook his head. ‘It wasn’t a misery, actually. My father enjoyed working there and I enjoyed helping him. It just got miserable when we had to deal with your mother—or when you decided that that day would be a good day to subject me to a little torture.’
Eva’s heart thumped. She’d never known she’d had such an effect on him. ‘Torture? That’s a strong word.’
‘It felt like torture. Being so aware of you and being so aware that everything about you was forbidden. Your age, your experience, your social status... All far beyond my reach. And yet that didn’t stop you from parading yourself in front of me at any opportunity, looking for attention.’
Eva longed to defend herself. She hadn’t known what she was doing. She’d had no idea of her effect on Vidal. She’d only known of his on her. She said, almost accusingly, ‘I could say the same of you.’
He frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
Eva cursed her runaway mouth. ‘The midnight swims you took. Naked. You knew where my room was. You knew I’d hear you.’
A vivid memory sprang fully formed into her head before she could stop it. Late one night, under a full moon, Vidal hauling himself out of the pool in one graceful move, muscles flexing and bunching. Water sluicing down over perfectly sculpted muscles. His back broad, waist narrow. Buttocks muscular. And then he’d turned around, as if aware he was being watched. And Eva’s avid gaze had dropped to the dark hair between his legs where, even after a cold swim, he’d been impressive.
He’d looked like a Greek statue. The embodiment of physical perfection. And then he’d looked up and their eyes had met. And Eva had stepped backwards so rapidly she’d tripped and fallen over. Pulse hammering. Feeling like an idiot. Completely exposed because she’d known he’d seen her.
