She was ready to climb into bed when she heard the apartment door to the living room open and slam shut. She braced herself for his entry, and the continuation of their earlier hostilities, but there was nothing but the bump of cupboard doors being thrown open and closed and the tinkle of glass against glass. Eventually all was quiet, apart from the rhythmic whoosh of the waves crashing onto the beach below.
Eventually she gave up on sleeping and padded out to the living room. She found him on the sofa, his head slumped to one side, a half-filled tumbler in his hands tilting at an alarming angle, and she allowed herself a smile as she eased it away. So Alejandro was mortal, after all. The curtains were open along one windowed wall, and he’d obviously fallen asleep watching the waves rolling in along the shore.
For a moment she just looked at him, his dark face beautiful in repose, his lashes curled long and thick over his closed eyes, before finding him a pillow and a cover.
The night was still warm, without a hint of the chill there’d been further south, but he would need it later on.
It had been a long three days of doing nothing. Alejandro had been involved in wall-to-wall meetings with architects, builders and government officials, and Leah had been relegated to the role of ‘little woman’ and packed off to wander the boutiques and cafés, instructed to ‘keep herself busy’.
She had—for as long as she could. She’d found a new pair of bikinis and a matching tie skirt, and that had consumed all of an hour of the first morning. She’d bought a book and read it from cover to cover by the pool. But the idea of aimless shopping and doing little more, when she should have been back in Sydney running her shop, held little appeal. And not being there for Jordan bothered her too. He’d got himself in trouble last time while she was away. Sure, he was an adult, but he was still her younger brother. Someone had to look out for him.
But, if the days were filled with aimless nothing, at least the nights had proved productive. Alejandro had woken on the sofa some time during that first night and slipped under the covers of her bed, slipping simultaneously under her defences. They’d made love without words, then drifted back into sleep and done it all over again upon wakening. And the nights had just got better since then.
But the days. The days were endless. She stood now on the terrace of their apartment, watching the ever-changing view. On one side lay the Pacific Ocean, the crashing waves, the surfers and beachgoers, and beyond them, out to sea, the shipping lanes busy with enormous vessels ploughing along the coast.
From another terrace she could see the northernmost tip of Bribie Island, a thin, narrow scrub-covered spit that ended at Caloundra, where Pumicestone Passage emptied into the sea. And from another she had a magical view across the city to the hinterland, with the majestic Glasshouse Mountains often shrouded in mist or spearing passing clouds.
It was beautiful. It was a charmed life she was living. But it wasn’t enough.
Because every time she made love with Alejandro, she loved him just a little bit more. Every time he pushed inside her, pleasuring her, taking her to new heights of passion, she lost more of herself to him.
And soon he would undoubtedly decide she’d paid off her debt in full and depart, leaving just a broken and empty shell behind.
He should never have come back.
She was doomed, she was edgy and she was resentful, and it was all Alejandro’s fault. Why couldn’t he have just left her alone?
Half a dozen times today she’d been tempted to just ring up the airline and book the next available flight back to Sydney, to escape this constant pressure cooker existence, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She’d made a bargain with Alejandro to save Jordan’s hide, and for all she knew of the thugs who ran those money-lending operations he probably had. She at least owed him something for that.
If only i
t didn’t come at such a personal cost!
It was after seven by the time Alejandro finally returned to their suite that night, looking surprised to find her standing on the balcony in shorts and tank top, even though she’d left the building before nine this morning to walk with him on his way to yet another round of meetings.
‘What have you been doing today?’ he asked, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her bodily towards him for a kiss.
‘Nothing.’
He smiled as he headed towards the drinks cabinet, as if she were talking rubbish. ‘Nobody can do nothing all day.’
She followed him inside, shaking her head when he held up a bottle. ‘And nobody can shop twenty-four-seven. It tends to lose its appeal rather rapidly.’
‘You surprise me,’ he said, pouring a slug of Laphroaig into a glass. ‘I thought all women loved shopping.’
‘Apparently not. Especially when they could be doing something useful, like running their business.’
He put the bottle and glass down and surveyed her through narrowed eyes. ‘Your business is not being ignored. You have someone to take care of that for you. Besides, you are doing something useful. You are here to service my needs.’
She scoffed. ‘You make me sound like some kind of livestock!’
‘I thought you enjoyed the sex?’
‘You know I do.’
‘Then what are we arguing about?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We have a dinner tonight, but there is still time…’
There was a hunger in his eyes that fed straight into her bloodstream, setting it fizzing and steaming when it was supposed to be her temper that was steaming. But he was right. She loved the sex, and right now that was all she had—all she would ever take out of this deal. It wasn’t love, but she would settle for it. The best sex ever. It would have to be enough.