Lazaro got a pen and made some notes to say she wanted to renegotiate the settlement monies, and then turned to the last page and handed her the pen. She signed without even looking at the rest of it. Then she put the pen down and stood up again.
‘Is that all?’
‘So eager to leave?’
Lazaro had asked the question lightly, but Skye had the impression he was actually a little hurt. Nonsense. Lazaro Sanchez was impermeable. She was dreaming. In truth, she wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg him to make love to her again, but there was no way she would ever reveal herself like that.
‘I want to go up to that room and work on my sketch of the old man. I promised his daughter I’d get it to her before the weekend.’
When he was silent for a moment Skye thought he was about to tell her she couldn’t do the sketch, but then he said, ‘I have to go to Madrid, actually—today. And I won’t be back until the wedding. The stylist and her team will help you get ready on the day. We’ll leave for Venice after a small breakfast reception here.’
‘Venice?’
Lazaro nodded. ‘I have some events to go to and some business to take care of there—a building I’m acquiring. We can double it up as a honeymoon.’
Skye panicked at the thought of being in such a beautiful place with the most intoxicating man she’d ever met. And if there were social situations how on earth could she hope to match up to the kind of people she’d seen that night at the engagement party?
‘But it’s a fake marriage—do I have to go there with you?’
* * *
Lazaro had never met a woman who made him so hot that every time he looked at her he wanted her, but who also couldn’t wait to get away from him at every opportunity.
The fact that she preferred to sketch some old stranger rather than—
Rather than what? sneered a voice. Rather than spend time with you?
Lazaro didn’t think. He reached for Skye, and just touching her was instant heat. He brought her flush against his body, saw her pupils dilate, colour flood her cheeks. The silk of the dress was a flimsy barrier between their bodies.
‘You want me, don’t you?’ he asked, even as he could feel the tremor of reaction in her body. He had to hear her say it. She couldn’t deny it. But she wanted to—he could see that.
‘You know I do.’
Something inside him howled with gratification. He bent his head and fused his mouth to hers, the cushiony softness of her lips almost undoing him. He willed her to open up to him, and she did, on a sigh, giving him access to all that sweetness.
In seconds he was drowning, pulling her even closer, spreading his hands down her back to her pert behind. He almost forgot... But at the last moment he remembered and pulled back, taking great satisfaction in seeing how long it took for her to open her eyes. Feeling the rapid rise and fall of her chest next to his.
When she was finally focused on him he said through the clamour of his blood, ‘There’s nothing fake about this, Skye. It’ll be a real marriage in every sense of the word, believe me. As real as it gets.’
* * *
As real as it gets in his world, thought Skye. Where no emotions are involved.
She hated him for making her admit that she wanted him, and yet she was reeling from the kiss. Trembling.
She pushed herself back and out of Lazaro’s arms. ‘I’m going to go and do that sketch now.’
Lazaro looked infuriatingly cool. ‘I’ll see you on Saturday, Skye.’
She turned and fled, before she could humiliate herself further.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The day of the wedding
‘MUY BONITA, SEÑORITA.’
Skye forced a smile for Almudena, who had a suspiciously bright look in her eyes. She’d become a friend to Skye, and it made her feel even more like a fraud.