Her mouth grew pensive and her touch on that sensitive scar began to burn.
He caught her hand and carried it to his lips so he could kiss her palm.
She let him, but looked deeply into his eyes. “You don’t want to talk about it.”
“I don’t.” He tried to soften his words with a caress of her cheek, but he couldn’t escape the fact he was setting hard, necessary boundaries. “If you’re looking for someone you can truly share secrets with, I am not that man.”
She blinked in a way that suggested his words had struck like a blow. She bit the corner of her mouth and looked toward the window as she sat up and withdrew her hand.
He fought the urge to drag her down into his arms again. To press her beneath him and make her his all over again. He’d never been possessive. He hadn’t been allowed to be. Everything was Fernando’s with very few crumbs left over for the spare.
Joaquin had taught himselfnotto want anything to be his. That had helped enormously when it came to gambling in tech manufacturing. He was willing to take risks that others weren’t, simply because he didn’t attach himself to material wealth or personal recognition. Losing a contract or a sum of money annoyed him, but he didn’t let it affect him too deeply. The global company his father was now dangling like a carrot, pretending he had intentions of allowing Joaquin to run it? It meant absolutely nothing to him. He didn’t want it. At all. Only his loyalty to his brother compelled him to take an interest in keeping it afloat.
Siobhan, though. He discovered he wanted Siobhan. It was visceral, this urge to grasp onto her and keep her by his side.
Which was disturbing enough to prevent him from giving in to that desire. Everything he possessed needed to be something he was willing to lose. It was the only way to stay sane. Fear of losing something he really wanted was the reason he coveted nothing.
He tucked his arm beneath his head to keep from reaching for her, but his conscience pinched as he acknowledged she might not be as sophisticated as he’d judged her to be.
“I’ve hurt your feelings.”
“No.” He suspected she was saving face, adding with forced lightness, “Apparently, you’re right about fate and free will. We’re not meant to be. This was lovely, though. Thank you.” Her hair spilled across his chest and cheek as she tapped his mouth with hers then flitted away just as quickly.
Was. He unwound his arm from behind his head, but she was already sliding off the bed. “You’re not coming back?”
“You still want me to?” she asked over her shoulder, allowing him to glimpse a vulnerability in her gaze that kicked at his conscience again.
Let her go, he told himself, but his mouth said, “If you want to.”
Her smile dawned in a way that expanded light inside him, promising a stay of execution from the mess that awaited in Madrid.
As she dressed, he rose to pull on his own trousers, then followed her into the lounge where she picked up her shoes, but didn’t put them on.
“My walk of shame is only down the hall.”
“Is that how you feel?” he asked with dismay. “Ashamed?”
“No. I’m actually feeling very smug.” She slid him a heavy-lashed look that tightened his skin.
“Good. I’ll order dinner and call someone to clean up the glass. Hurry back.”
They kissed lightly. Too lightly. If he’d known it would be their last kiss, he would have made it count.
Chapter Three
Two weeks later…
Siobhan had barelylearned how her new boss, Oladele, liked her coffee when she came in to find the woman already at her desk, still wearing a raincoat speckled with the drizzle of Madrid’s December morning. Among the handful of people who had also trickled in before nine, there was an air of alertness. Something was going on. Something big.
Oladele was VP of Legal here at LV Global. She’d risen in the ranks under the previous president, Fernando Valezquez, and still choked up when she spoke of him. He’d passed suddenly over a year ago. It had been an electrical accident of some kind. His father, Lorenzo, had since come out of retirement to retake the helm.
“We’re in a state of transition,” Oladele had told Siobhan on her first day. “Señor Valezquez will return to retirement once a decision is made on his successor.” Her expression had been pleasant, but as deadpan as a high-stakes poker player’s.
Siobhan’s antennae had gone up, thinking there was a lot that Oladele was leaving unsaid, but she wasn’t likely to be forthcoming until Siobhan had proven herself trustworthy. Oladele had hired Siobhan for her legal aspirations, her fluency in six languages, including Modern Standard Arabic, her stellar grades and the security abstract she had voluntarily attached to her CV.
Siobhan had a feeling that last item had been the clincher because there seemed to be ample staff here at LV Global who could have stepped into the shoes of Oladele’s very pregnant EA.
After two days of orientation with that EA, Siobhan was on her own. She loved everything about the job and the new life she was starting. She had leased a gorgeous one-bedroom flat in the barrio de Chamberí and, so far, was still unrecognized as Dorry Whitley. She would ride that horse as long as it had legs.
