Trinity’s heart skipped. She still felt raw after that moment of insanity when she’d wished for a domestic idyll that would never exist.
‘He was still there this morning?’
She sat down and helped herself to coffee, noting with relief that the boys seemed to be making up for their lack of appetite the previous day, with their mouths full of mushy cereal.
Mrs Jordan nodded and a look of unmistakable awe came over her face. ‘He was changing them when I went in this morning, and apart from putting Sancho’s nappy on back to front he didn’t do a bad job at all...’
Trinity choked on her coffee, spraying some out of her mouth inelegantly, and the boys went into paroxysms of giggles.
‘Funny, Mummy...do it again!’
She distracted them for a minute, playing aeroplanes with their spoons as she fed them, and avoided Mrs Jordan’s far too shrewd gaze. She almost felt angry with Cruz for blurring the boundaries like this and inducing disturbing fantasies. And then she felt awful—she should be happy that he was intent on connecting with his nephews in a real and meaningful way.
After the boys had finished their breakfast, and Mrs Jordan had taken them outside to play, Trinity sipped her coffee, recalling again how dangerously intimate it had felt to share that space with Cruz last night. And how seductive.
Just then a sound made her look up and her heart stopped at the sight of the object of her thoughts standing in the doorway, dressed in a three-piece suit, looking so gorgeous it hurt.
He came in and Trinity still felt a little raw, unprepared to see him. It made her voice stiff. ‘Thank you for watching the boys last night.’
Cruz poured himself a cup of coffee and took a seat opposite her. He shook his head minutely. ‘Like I said, I’m going to be in their lives in a meaningful way.’
Feeling absurdly shy, she said, ‘Mrs Jordan told me you changed them.’
Cruz’s eyes gleamed with wry humour and it took Trinity’s breath away. ‘I won’t ever again underestimate the ability of a two-and-a-half-year-old to create a toxic smell to rival the effluent of a chemical plant. Or the skill it takes to change one of those things.’
Cruz took a sip of his coffee and put down the cup. ‘I’ve arranged for some potential nannies to come later today, for you and Mrs Jordan to interview.’
‘Do you really think that’s necessary?’
‘Yes.’ The wry gleam was gone from his eyes now. ‘I’ve been invited to an event at the newly refurbished opera house in Madrid this Friday night, and I have meetings to attend in the afternoon. Barring any unforeseen events, I am asking you to attend the function with me in Madrid. We’ll be gone until Saturday. It’ll be a good opportunity for the new nanny to start and get used to the boys under Mrs Jordan’s supervision.’
Two things were bombarding Trinity at once. Namely he fact that he was asking her, even if it was slightly mocking, and that she’d be away for a whole night with Cruz.
‘But I’ve n
ever left the boys for that long before.’
His tone was dry. ‘I think they’ll survive less than twenty-four hours without you, and with two nannies in attendance. I spoke with Mrs Jordan about it earlier—she’s fine.’
Of course she was, thought Trinity churlishly. Mrs Jordan was his number one fan.
‘Tell me, Trinity,’ Cruz asked silkily, ‘is the reason you’re reluctant because you fear maintaining the lie that you don’t want me? Are you afraid that you won’t be able to control your urges if we’re alone? I don’t think it’s out of concern for the boys at all—I think it’s much more personal.’
She felt shamed. He was right. She was scared—scared of her reactions around this man. Scared of what might happen if he touched her again. Scared to have him see underneath to where her real vulnerabilities lay. Scared of what he would do if he were faced with the ultimate truth of just how deeply Rio had loathed him. Her guts twisted at the thought in a way that told her she was far more invested in this man than she liked to admit.
But as Cruz looked at her, waiting for her response, she knew she couldn’t keep running. She could resist him. She had to.
Coolly she ignored what he’d said and replied, ‘Friday should be fine. What time do we leave?’
* * *
A few days later Trinity risked looking at Cruz from where she sat in the back of the chauffeur-driven limousine that had picked them up at Madrid airport, but he was engrossed in his palm tablet on the other side of the car, seemingly oblivious to her. She’d just had a conversation on her mobile phone with Mrs Jordan, to check on her and the boys and the new nanny, who were all fine.
As if reading her mind, Cruz put down his tablet and looked at her, that golden amber gaze sweeping down her body and taking in the very elegant and classic sheath dress and matching jacket she’d put on that day in a bid to look presentable.
His gaze narrowed on her assessingly, and she had to fight not to squirm self-consciously. ‘What is it?’
She was half raising a hand to check her hair when Cruz answered simply, ‘You’re a good mother to them.’