He drops my arm and steps away, crumpling the Band-Aid trash into a ball and arcing it into the garbage can near the vanity like it’s a basketball. “Not anymore. The lease got too expensive.That was before I bought my properties outright. It taught me a lot, though, and I got a taste for success. I took the money from that business and funneled it into the next venture and the next.”
I adjust my towel. “And that hunger for success still motivates you? Work, work, work all day, every day, to keep the sky from falling again?”
He looks at me with a sardonic smile. “You say it like I don’t do anything else outside of work.”
“Doyou?”
“I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
“I’m sure it took some rearranging on your part. I doubt you had the morning free.”
“Barely.” He chuckles when I lean closer and prod his chest with my finger. “All right.Some,” he relents. “A meeting or two.”
I smile, then ask, “Are your parents proud of you? I know Dolores would be.”
“Yes. Dolores would be.” He shrugs, looking away to partially conceal his faraway look. “I’m not close with my parents. I can’t say whether they’re proud or not.”
“Really? Are they here? On Ibiza?”
He sighs and I know he’s close to pulling the plug on this conversation. It must not be easy for him to talk about his family. “No, and it’s a relief to be away from them. My mom is very old-school, conservative, traditional, religious. Now that she’s no longer with my dad, she lives with her friends, cloistered away in a small village near Barcelona. She goes to Mass twice a day and doesn’t even keep a cell phone. She doesn’t approve of this lifestyle, wishes I would settle down and give her grandchildren. Montones y montones.” He sighs at the thought. “My dad is theexact opposite, chasing the next failing venture, out every night with a new woman.”
I drop my hand against his forearm and squeeze. “I’m sorry. That sounds… complicated. I don’t blame you for creating a life for yourself separate from them.”
His dark eyes settle on me, and I become hyperaware of how close we’re standing and the fact that my hand is still draped on his forearm. I release it quickly.
“It’s not so bad. I still see them every now and then, and I’m close to Juan Carlos. He’s my cousin, but in many ways we’re like brothers. Are you close with your parents?”
“Yes, very. My mom and I don’t always see eye to eye. She’s old-school, too, maybe the American WASP version of your mother.” I smile. “She can be a little judgmental, but it’s out of love. My dad is easygoing, though, the peacemaker. He and I love to surf together.”
“And it’s just you? No siblings?”
This question always creates a crossroads for me. I can offer a simple answer—“Yes, it’s just me”—or I can tell him the truth. I very rarely choose the second option. It’s not because I want to brush aside Winnie’s existence altogether but because there’s no way to share her story without somehow altering the mood, shifting things and settling a gloomy cloud over an entire conversation.
My lips part. I’m about to make this easy on the both of us, and then instead, I say, “I had a sister. Actually… she’s the reason I’m here for the summer.”
Chapter Fifteen
Cristiano
I’m staring out at the traffic in front of me, concentrating on the road. La carretera de Sant Antoni hasn’t been this crowded all summer, but now that it’s early June, we’ve officially entered high season and the tourists are out in full force. I won’t have a slow night at any of my clubs or restaurants from now until the end of September.
“You’re being quiet,” Juan Carlos notes.
I hmm to let him know I’ve heard him but have nothing to say on the matter.
“Something on your mind?”
I don’t answer.
“You haven’t said much since you and Elle—”
I swerve and slam to a stop on the side of the road, eliciting a cacophony of honks behind me.
“Get out.”
Juan Carlos laughs. “Are you crazy?”
“If you keep asking questions, I’ll make you walk home.”
