He shrugged minutely, this line of questioning making him uncomfortable. ‘Because it made sense. Because she would have helped me to get where I need to be and I would have helped her.’
‘That sounds so...cold.’
‘I would have said efficient, myself. Marriages based on such nebulous notions as love rarely last.’
Hesitantly she asked, ‘Were you together when we...met?’
‘No. It happened...just afterwards.’
Lazaro felt even more uncomfortable when he recalled how the intensity of his experience with Skye had left him feeling hungry for more, but also very wary. He was not looking for grand passion in his life. He was looking for acceptance and respect. And he needed a woman who would help him achieve it. A woman from his father’s world and the right side of it.
Leonora Flores de la Vega had already been on his radar—he’d seen her at a few events and had always been intrigued by her aloof manner. The way she always seemed slightly apart from the crowd. It had resonated with something inside him—perhaps the part that was still ostracised despite his success.
But he had to concede now that meeting Skye had spurred him on to ask Leonora out. As if that night with Skye had spooked him. Made him realise that he had a voracious hunger inside him that he’d never acknowledged before. He’d wanted to forget that he’d acted totally out of character for a moment. Put their extraordinary chemistry down to a fluke happenstance.
But it hadn’t been a fluke because he could feel it again now. An inexorable pull to this woman. A sizzling in his blood. A growing urgency to touch her again. Damn her.
‘Oh.’
Skye looked away for a moment and the irritation he was feeling at this woman’s effect on him showed in his curt response. ‘What does that mean? Oh.’
With visible reluctance she looked at him again. ‘Well... I’m very different to her. You looked good together. I can see why you chose her to be your wife.’
It was as if she could see into his mind. His skin prickled. She was right. Skye O’Hara couldn’t be more different from the very tall and svelte Leonora. But her petite curvy body and fresh-faced prettiness had a far earthier appeal to his libido than Leonora’s cool elegance. Leonora had never connected with that part of him.
In fact Skye was like no other woman he’d ever been with, and yet she’d been the one with whom he’d connected most viscerally.
She said, ‘Well, maybe this has done her a favour. Everyone deserves to be loved.’
Inexplicably, Lazaro felt an ache deep inside him. He quashed it brutally. ‘Don’t be so ridiculously sentimental. You caused this to happen by interrupting a private and exclusive gathering.’
‘Not that private or exclusive if the press were there,’ she pointed out.
Lazaro ground his teeth. ‘We are not here to debate the issue.’
She bent down then, and picked up her bag and coat. ‘No, we’re not. I came to tell you that I’m pregnant, and now that I have I’ll leave.’
She moved as if to walk out and then stopped, looking around at the maze of doors leading off in different directions.
She turned around, sheepish. ‘Can you tell me the way out, please?’
Lazaro shook his head, as much in negation of her question as to check if he was hearing her correctly. But she looked deadly serious.
Remembering how quickly she’d slipped out of his grasp once before, he went over and caught her arm, leading her over to a sofa, saying grimly, ‘You don’t get to deliver a bombshell, wreck my engagement and then walk out the door like nothing’s happened. Sit down. You’re not going anywhere.’
* * *
Skye should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. Of course a man like Lazaro Sanchez—so important that it was impossible to get in touch with him like any normal mortal—wouldn’t just let this go. And she had to concede that this had to be a huge shock for him. As much as it had been for her, and she’d had three months to absorb it now.
As if it was paining him to ask, he said, ‘Do you want something? Tea? Coffee?’
Skye appreciated the fact that he patently didn’t want her there but was being forced to be civil. ‘Maybe a glass of water?’
She was also starving. This was usually the best time of day for her to eat, when she could keep it down, but she didn’t think Lazaro was about to order her a club sandwich and fries—her current craving.
He came back from the drinks cabinet and handed her a glass of water, which she accepted gratefully. He had a glass of something for himself that looked like brandy or whisky.
He went and stood in front of one of the windows and Skye felt awed. He really did look like a titan. Master of his universe.