And for the discarding.
It was no more than she deserved. She’d walked out on him, chosen a life scraping together an existence with a sewing machine over a life of luxury with him. It made no sense to him, but if that was what she preferred then he would happily send her back there.
He pushed himself off the railing and paced the terrace, looking for answers in the push-pull of the ocean’s edge below. If only he had more time. But there was no time. He had to return to Spain. He’d been away from the business long enough as it was. And he could hardly return to Madrid with Leah and risk her pulling a similar stunt again. What was to stop her, when he didn’t know what it was that had driven her away in the first place?
He had no choice. He had to get in first.
And then he could return home, the slate wiped clean, justice having been done.
Maybe he needed that wife after all. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. A wife would get both Catalina and his father off his back, and would have the bonus of taking his mind off Leah. Francesca de la Renta was pretty enough to provide a distraction. It would be no chore to introduce her to the delights of the bedroom. Maybe in time she might even become as adventurous and provocative as the woman in his bed. Maybe she might surprise him.
‘Alejandro?’
He turned at the husky early-morning voice to see her watching him, her sleepy eyes blinking against the light, her breasts swaying enticingly, an invitation in stereo.
‘What are you doing up so early?’
‘Just thinking.’
She patted the empty space alongside her. ‘Come back to bed. You can think here.’
That was the trouble. He couldn’t think in bed. Not once Leah was in his arms, blinding him to everything else, blanking out his mind to logic and reason and reducing him to lust. But it was their last morning, and the last thing he needed was to alert her that anything was wrong. So he went, sliding between the sheets and stretching out an arm under her head.
She nestled into his shoulder and settled her body in close to his, one leg over his thigh and resting between his, her eyes closed. She took a deep breath and sighed, pressing her lips to his throat. ‘You smell good.’
Did he? He gazed up at the ceiling and tried to ignore the turmoil going on in his gut. He’d played his hand well. She wasn’t merely his mistress any more. She was playful and affectionate, and now she was even doing things for him. Thoughtful things like sewing on buttons. She wouldn’t have any idea that he was about to pull the rug right out from under her feet.
It was perfect.
So why did he feel so bad?
The sleek launch was waiting at the end of the Diamond Head jetty, its deck crowded with the smiling Spanish team, their white teeth flashing in the sun at the prospect of a wind-down day after the hectic negotiations and plans of the last few days and before, for some of them, the long flight home.
The waiting staff moved between them, offering sparkling water and nibbles as the crew prepared the launch for departure. And Catalina was there among them, dark glasses hiding her eyes, but failing to disguise the smirk that adorned her red lips when Alejandro swung Leah on board.
‘Planning to enjoy your last day, Leah?’ she enquired, all saccharine sweetness.
Alejandro shot his sister a look that told her to shut up, and, while Leah smiled, he could see the tightness around her eyes and mouth. ‘Hello, Catalina. I’ve been looking forward to it.’
Catalina’s smile widened measurably. ‘I’m sure Alejandro is going to get a big kick out of it. We all will.’
He took a warning step closer. ‘Cata
lina!’
She backed away, one hand held upright, long acrylic tips spearing the air. ‘I’m sorry, Alejandro. You must excuse my enthusiasm. It’s just I’ve been so looking forward to this day.’
And suddenly he didn’t want his last day with Leah to be filled with his sister’s poison. He’d brought Leah here to pay her back for what she’d done to him. It had nothing to do with his sister.
He grabbed the arm of a passing waiter. ‘Where’s the skipper?’
Ten minutes later they were standing on the jetty, watching the launch disappear through the heads.
‘What was that all about?’ she asked. ‘I thought we were going with them?’
‘I had a better idea. Come with me.’
On the other side of the jetty bobbed a small dinghy the crew had organised, with a cooler and other gear stashed under cover. He stepped in, bracing his feet wide, and held out his hand. ‘Come on—but watch out. It’s not as stable as the launch.’