A Mistress, a Scandal, a Ring

It was the look of stupefied awe on his face when he first saw her in the evening gown.

It was the almost imperceptible tremor in his hands as he helped her put on a stunning choker of diamonds and yellow sapphires and his anxious expression when he asked her if she liked it.

It was the hour they spent with Emily and Ramon at their beautiful Chelsea home before returning to Barcelona. She’d blown raspberry kisses on Katie’s tummy and looked up to find Xavier watching, a smile playing about his mouth. That night, after making love, he gently kissed her stomach and said how sexy she would look when she was round with child, and what a wonderful mother she would be.

It was every shared smile, every lingering look, every moment of heart-rending tenderness.

Early in the week she attempted to broach the subject of his birth father. Now she knew about the brutal rejection he’d suffered, his reluctance to learn about his biological origins made more sense. It was fear. That awful woman had put the idea in his head that he might somehow be defective.

But he shut her down. Gently but nevertheless firmly.

On Wednesday she contacted Maria Gonzalez anyway. Asked the older woman if she’d assist her to make some discreet enquiries.

Maria was delighted to help, but she was also concerned. ‘There was a man here last weekend. Asking about Camila. He said he was tracing family history, but something did not feel right. I did not know if it was important enough to call you.’

Jordan’s nape prickled. ‘Did you tell him anything?’

‘No. Benito sent him away. Told him we did not remember her. But he spoke to other people. People who may have known Camila.’

When Xavier came home he looked unusually tired. He said he was fine but, seeing the lines of strain around his mouth, she decided it wasn’t the time to mention Maria’s concerns.

On Thursday night, before the sun set, they walked down to the beach and scattered Camila’s ashes into the ocean. Afterwards they spread a blanket on the sand, opened a bottle of brandy—Camila’s favourite tipple—and saluted her.

Xavier pulled her back against him, his arms strong, his body warm and comforting. ‘Tell me about her,’ he invited, and she did.

By the time they went to bed that night she’d accepted that she was hopelessly, desperately in love with this man.

And then finally, on Friday morning, it all came to a terrible, terrible end.

CHAPTER TWELVE

SHE WOKE WITH a start and a single word comprised her first thought.

Friday.

The day she had promised herself she would make her decision. The hospital in Sydney had confirmed an interview for next Thursday. She needed either to withdraw her application or change her return flight to depart Spain on Sunday.

She loved him.

The thought made her heart leap, and at the same time filled her with a bone-deep ache of desperation and despair.

He had made his position clear. Love was not on the table. Not part of what he was offering. And yet she still hoped. Still held her breath for those three tiny yet monumental words.

There was still today, she thought with an optimism she had to force with every ounce of will she possessed. She could wait and make her decision tonight.

She got up and slipped on a robe. Morning sunlight slanted through the bedroom’s shutters, casting pale yellow stripes across the navy satin sheets.

Xavier had decided to work from home today. She didn’t know whether that was significant. Perhaps he, too, had mentally marked Friday as D-day. Given the sheets on his side were cold, he must have risen early, decided to let her sleep and gone to his study.

The door was ajar. She listened for a moment to ensure she wouldn’t intrude on a phone call, then went in.

Xavier wasn’t at his desk. He stood at the French doors to the terrace, staring out, and the instant Jordan’s gaze fell on him a cold wave of anxiety washed over her.

His hands were fisted and the taut, rigid lines of his body screamed tension. Even from behind, without his expression visible, he looked like a man poised on the edge of violence.

‘Xavier?’

He turned, and she gasped at what his hard-set features revealed. There was anger, even rage, but she saw bleakness, too. He stalked across the office, took her briefly in his arms, kissed her forehead, then drew her to a chair.