She nuzzled her cheek farther up his thigh to his groin, then nuzzled her face between his legs, smiling at his arousal.
Lifting her face, she worked at his trousers button, only to be foiled from opening it by his hand covering hers and moving it away. ‘Later. I don’t have time now.’
She rolled onto her back and pulled the sheets off her breasts. ‘There won’t be a later. I’m staying at the hotel tonight.’ At the same hotel as her friends and family for one last send-off to the single life.
There was a flash of hunger in his stare, and then the switch turned off.
It was the same switch he’d turned off when he’d ended them.
‘We have our whole lives to make love,mi vida,’ he said reasonably but with an edge to his voice that demanded no argument. He pressed a firm kiss to her mouth, unceremoniously removed the arm she hooked around his neck and got to his feet. Looking down at her, his tone gentled. ‘We’re not kids anymore, Beth. I have responsibilities, but when we go away…’ His gaze dipped down to her exposed breasts and then roved back to meet her stare. ‘I promise you will haveallmy attention.’
She never got the chance to reply for he strolled to the door, only looking back once he’d opened it. He gazed at her with an expression that made her heart catch. ‘Until tomorrow.’
‘Until tomorrow,’ she echoed.
He pressed his fingers to his lips and then walked out of the bedroom.
When the door closed, Beth swallowed a breath and closed her eyes, willing the burning tears back.
She shouldn’t let him hurt her. He’d already set his markers out and made it clear their relationship would be different to how it had been before. Just because he’d made love to her in such a carefree way on the roof terrace didn’t mean his thoughts on the matter had changed.
Just because she’d seen the young man she’d fallen in love with all those years ago reemerge for a brief moment in time didn’t mean he would be prepared to let him out again.
For a brief moment in time, she’d felt like she was eighteen again.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath.
All these years of being unable to cry, and in the space of twelve hours her tear ducts had proved they’d only been in hibernation.
She wouldn’t let the tears fall. Not for him. Not again.
That afternoon, Beth had barely left Xavi’s driveway when her phone rang. It was Paul Haldron, now listed in her contacts under the name of Arsehole. It was a moniker he’d earned and more than deserved. She checked the intercom between her and the driver was switched off, and took a deep breath before answering with a cool, ‘Hi, Paul.’
‘Beth!’ he exclaimed as if they were old friends. ‘Just checking in to see if there’s been any movement.’
‘Nothing since we last spoke.’ She saw no reason to tell him things were likely to proceed quicker than anticipated, mainly because his voice made her skin crawl and so she wanted him out of her ear as soon as possible. Everything was in hand as she’d demanded. The granting of probate would release investments and cash assets that would comfortably cover the agreed price. The remainder would more than comfortably cover the other shares she’d already instructed her legal and finance team to vacuum up as soon as funds allowed. Even after her share-buying spree, she would still have more money than she’d know what to do with.
‘Okay, well, keep me updated, yes?’
‘Sure.’
‘I’m travelling to Europe on business next month. Let me take you out for dinner?’
‘Considering my emphasis on discretion, I don’t think that’s appropriate, do you?’ His chuckle made her lips twist in distaste. ‘I’m getting married tomorrow, Paul. Don’t make any further contact until you hear from me or my people.’
She ended the call and closed her eyes.
This time tomorrow, she would be a married woman. Married to Xavi. Sunday morning, they would fly to his family’s Caribbean island where they would make love like rabbits on heat.
Everything was proceeding exactly as planned.
She just wished her heart didn’t feel so heavy, and when her phone buzzed with a message, wished it didn’t leap with hope that it would be from Xavi.
It was from her father, letting her know they’d landed. She messaged him back saying she’d meet him at the hotel. A moment later, it buzzed again. Again, it wasn’t a message from the man who’d spent the night making love to her.
It would never be from him. Not in working hours. He’d set out his markers, and he would stick to them until she broke his defences and control. Five days in the Caribbean should do the trick. If he took his laptop with them, she’d ‘accidentally’ throw it in the sea.
It was her own control she was having concerns about. She kept replaying their night together and chastising herself. She should have played it like a cucumber when he’d spoken about his past lovers, but she’d been powerless to stop her jealousy seeping out. When she took the company from him, she wanted to be as controlled as him. She wanted to look him in the eye and not display a flicker of emotion. She wanted him to look in her eyes and know he’d been played and that she felt nothing for him.
