His tight-lipped smile mocked her. ‘Well, in case it crossed your mind, revise that impression, guapa. And also revise the notion that I will be restricting myself to only nights from now on.’
She was flailing under the torrent of his words when his hand slid down to boldly cup her hip. Before she could so much as take a breath, he had once again taken control of her body.
CHAPTER NINE
RAMON ACOSTA WAS a man on a mission. That became very clear, very quickly. If she slept for more than two or three hours at a stretch during the night, she called that a victory. And he didn’t restrict himself to just the bedroom. Discovering her enjoying a mid-morning decaf coffee on his private terrace after lingering in bed for the morning, he’d calmly reefed off his T-shirt and paint-splattered sweat pants, stretched out beside her and pulled her negligee off her body. Afterwards, he’d carried her back to bed and started all over again.
The shower in her own suite had been another scene of his mastery. He’d tracked her there under some now forgotten pretext, invited himself into the steamy cubicle and proceeded to make her shower an unforgettable one.
That had been a week ago. A week when, in between bouts of intense lovemaking, he either spent equally intense hours ruling his kingdom from his study or disappearing into his studio on the boundary of his villa.
He’d given Suki the grand tour of all twenty-eight rooms of his villa the morning after they returned from Miami. Room after room had produced gasps of awe, as priceless antiques vied for attention beneath even more exquisitely carved stone and wood and beautifully cut glass, but, although he’d told her what the glass-roofed structure was, he hadn’t invited her inside his studio. What he had revealed was that his parents had also lived in this villa with him. The west wing where they’d had their rooms was slowly being cleared by Teresa and Mario, and Suki had chosen to stay out of their way.
It was also during that tour that she’d discovered there were two further rooms—a smaller dining room and a drawing room—that needed to be restored. Although her heart mourned the atrocity done to the rooms, she welcomed the opportunity to dwell on something else other than whether she was even now carrying Ramon’s child.
But by mutual tacit agreement, neither of them had brought up the subject of pregnancy tests. Suki shied away from the wicked voice that suggested that she didn’t want to know just yet so she didn’t have to give up her presence in Ramon’s bed. They would know soon enough when her cycle rolled around next week.
Until then, she busied herself by compiling a list of Cuban architects and restorers, conducting videoconference interviews to see who would be a good fit. And when her mother arrived in Miami, she made the trip, spending all day with Moira and Mrs Baron. Suki had been shocked to find her retired neighbour at her mother’s bedside in Miami, but the older woman had been full of praise for a ‘considerate’ Ramon, who hadn’t thought twice about making arrangements for her to accompany her friend. Suki’s expressed gratitude when she’d met Ramon at the hotel afterwards had been shrugged off and quickly dismissed before he’d whisked her into the bedroom.
Her own mother had, predictably, reserved judgement, more concerned with why Suki was still in Cuba. The half-lie that she was working on a commission for Ramon hadn’t sat well with her. But the bald truth would’ve distressed her mother even more.
So instead she’d discussed antique wallpapers and colour swatches and rhapsodised about the beauty of Luis’s childhood home.
The call to her boss to request an extended leave of absence had gone more smoothly than she’d hoped. Whether or not it was aided by the tabloid pictures of her and Ramon, first at the memorial and then coming out of the boutique in Miami that had the paparazzi speculating about their relationship, she didn’t know.
Charlotte Chapman, the tough but fair boss who’d hired her straight after her internship, had all but offered to keep her job open for as long as Suki needed. Unsure what the future held for her, she’d expressed her gratitude to Charlotte and promised that, yes, she would update her on a regular basis.
She was still bemused by the call when Ramon found her in the living room shortly after. A raised-brow query had prompted a retelling of the phone call. He’d given a very Latin shrug and deftly changed the subject.
That had been the first inkling that there were some subjects Ramon would pursue to the ends of the earth and others he wouldn’t waste a single breath on. One such subject was the amount of clothes that had arrived two days after their visit to Miami. Even the clothes he’d initially disapproved of were included in the dozens of boxes that arrived by helicopter.
And tonight, he’d specifically picked the metallic gold dress he’d all but sneered at in the boutique.
They were supposed to be dining by candlelight on his private terrace, yet half an hour after Teresa had set out their meal he hadn’t turned up.
Walking to the edge of the terrace, she glanced over to his studio. Lights blazed through the glass. She debated for a second, then went back into the bedroom. Throwing a light shawl over her dress, she left the suite.
Her flats were almost noiseless on the stone path as she approached the studio doors. The hand she raised to knock froze at the steady stream of Spanish curses that ripped through the air, followed by the sound of wood breaking. Then another.
Biting her lip, she remained caught between the urge to find out if Ramon was all right and the urge to flee
.
That was how he found her minutes later when he almost ripped the door off his hinges in restless fury.
Green eyes latched on to her. ‘Por el amor de—what are you doing here?’ he growled, low and dangerous.
She glanced behind him, caught a glimpse of the carnage on the studio floor. ‘I...we were supposed to have dinner forty minutes ago. I came to see if you...are you okay?’
He continued to stare at her as if she were an alien. Stepping out, he pulled the door shut behind him. ‘I’m fine. My apologies for keeping you waiting,’ he said stiffly, clawing a hand through his hair. ‘Give me five minutes and I’ll be with you.’
Questions tripped on the tip of her tongue, but the dismissal was clear. She returned to the villa, and, true to his word, he joined her five minutes later.
She turned from the terrace wall, and for a moment she thought he’d been struck dumb when he saw her.
The risqué cut of the dress negated the use of a bra, but, of course, what had looked a little daring but ultimately controllable in front of her mirror soon became a clingy, body-exposing and heat-inducing scrap of torture the moment Ramon laid his sizzling eyes on her.
Calmly he strode forward, pulled out her chair and saw her seated. But despite his attempt at easy conversation, tension poured off him. Whether it was from what she’d witnessed outside his studio or what she was wearing, she didn’t dare ask, seeing as she was fighting her ultra-sensitive body’s reaction to his every look.