She couldn’t leave.
“I believe it’s the race-car driver. She has agreed to receive him. I thought you would wish to—”
“I would.” Xavier strode from the room. When he heard raised voices as he approached the apartment they now shared, his aggression increased. With a snap of his fingers, security personnel fell into step behind him. He pushed into what had once been his mother’s parlor.
Trella was red-faced as she confronted a man who looked like Henri but emanated a hot-tempered demeanor that was in complete contrast to his brother’s air of aloof control. “No, you shut up—” Ramon was saying to his sister.
“Leave quietly or I’ll have you removed.” Xavier would do it himself. He was in that kind of mood.
Ramon snorted as he gave Xavier a measuring once-over, hands on his hips, looking willing for the fight Xavier promised.
“Don’t.” Trella threw herself against her brother’s side, looping her arms tight around his waist. “I was saying things he didn’t want to hear.”
Despite the animosity that had been flaring between them seconds before, Ramon curled a shielding arm around his sister, even as he frowned at her, concern evident beneath his glare of impatience.
Trella looked as rough as the night she’d had. When Xavier had left her, she’d been subdued and exhausted, falling back asleep within seconds after he’d woken her to tell her he was leaving. She still had dark circles under red eyes and hadn’t changed out of the silk pajamas he’d given her to wear to bed. In fact, she’d raided his closet for a thick cardigan to belt over them.
Xavier snapped out of searching her expression to realize she was bickering with her brother, refusing to go with him.
“All those times you showed up when I called makes it possible for me to work through this. I know you will come if I ask. That means everything. But until I ask, you have to butt out.”
With a resigned scowl, Ramon dropped his arm from around her. “Bueno.”
“And be nicer to Iz—”
“No. Butting out goes both ways. And you will introduce me to your host.”
* * *
“Did you call me a virgin?” Xavier asked Trella in an ominous tone as they entered his suite hours later. “You switched between French and Spanish so often, I might have heard wrong.”
She tried not to snicker. “I told you it was a bad habit. Ramon and I are the worst because we get heated and grab the first word that comes in any language.”
Ramon had joined them for a meal that might have been pleasant if so many questions hadn’t been hanging over her like a guillotine blade. If he’d caught her alone again, he would have skewered her with all of them, she was sure, but he’d behaved. They had played verbal tennis as they always did, sticking to neutral topics like films and current events.
Sparring with her brother always helped restore her confidence. Where Gili was her security blanket and Henri was her rock, Ramon was her worthy adversary, keeping her sharp and forcing her to hold her own. She was tired and stifling yawns, but her lingering melancholy had lightened. As she looked into the cloudy crystal ball that was her future, she was thinking, I can do this.
Especially because, like her, Xavier seemed to be experiencing the same threads of attraction they’d felt when they had made this baby. A selection from her closet in Paris had arrived earlier and she now wore a dark blue skirt and a white maternity top. It draped her breasts in such a flattering way, she’d caught Xavier eyeing her chest more than once while they ate, making her tingle and giving her hope.
She turned her back on him and lifted her hair, silently requesting he release the tiny clasp at the top of her spine, realizing she hadn’t properly answered his question. “And yes, I did. Ramon asked me how you did with looking after me through my attack. I said pretty well, for a virgin.”
“Lovely. I hope the dining staff enjoyed that.” His breath warmed the back of her neck along with the light brush of his fingertips, making her shiver.
“I said worse. I called Ramon a—”
“I heard that one. Very clearly,” he cut in dryly, motioning her to lead the way to her side of the apartment. “Because of his engagement to ‘Izzy.’”
“Isidora, yes. She’s a dear friend. Her father handled our media for years. Aside from Gili, she was my only friend for a long time.”
Her heart dipped and rolled when he turned, locking them into her bedroom. Despite her rough night, sleeping with him had been more than comforting. She had liked the brushes of contact and the inherent intimacy, the way his strong arms had made her feel so safe. It had given her that bonding feeling she had felt in Paris, one that was incredibly bolstering.