“You have come back.” He grinned, throwing his arms around her in a friendly hug. “Did you miss working for that tyrant Señora Martinez that much?”
“I’m not here to work this time,” she murmured, and fought the blush that threatened. It would soon be common knowledge that she was here with Andrés Montero, but she hesitated to announce it. “Is Betsy still in Spain?”
Regret flashed in Carlos’ eyes. He shook his head. “No, she has returned to London for the time being. I plan to visit when I can raise the funds. I miss her more than I expected.”
Chloe nodded with sympathy, wondering if Estella Martinez had managed to drive the other girl away too. A shiver ran through her and she bit back a sigh. “I would stay longer to chat, Carlos, but I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a rush to meet someone…”
“Of course.” He nodded and lifted her hand, pressing a brief kiss on the knuckles. “Enjoy your stay, Chloe. Nice to see you.”
“Nice to see you too.” Chloe gave him another smile, then continued on her way to the resort.
A gentleman concierge opened the door for her to enter the hotel. She smiled in appreciation, trying not to feel self-conscious. It was different being in Diablo’s Paraíso as a guest instead of an employee. If she hadn’t been with Andrés, she never would have dreamed of staying in a hotel of this class.
She lifted her gaze toward the elevator and spotted Estella Martinez boring down on her. Tension ripped through Chloe and she clenched her jaw, not looking forward to the inevitable meeting.
She straightened her spine and forced a pleasant smile onto her face. “Good evening, Señora Martinez.”
“Good evening, Señorita Wilkinson.” The other woman stopped just inches from her, a warm smile on her face, but her softly spoken words were venomous. “You think you’ve trapped him, don’t you? Getting yourself pregnant.”
Chloe blanched and stumbled backward at the verbal assault, shock robbing her of her ability to respond.
The older woman grabbed her wrist and leaned in, her nails biting into Chloe’s skin and a deceptive smile still on her face. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice your fattening belly, puta?”
Whore. She translated Estella’s insult quickly and some of the shock subsided. The first burn of anger took root in her stomach.
“If you think he cares for you in the slightest, Chloe, you are dumber than you look. You are pitiable American trash,” she spat. “He will take your brat once it is born, and then you’ll be disposed of just as quickly as every other lover he’s had.”
“Like he did to you?” Chloe didn’t bother to hide her anger.
Estella’s nostrils flared, but that sickening smile stayed pasted on her mouth. “No, Chloe. Andrés knows that I have the experience to please a man.” Her eyes flashed with triumph. “And I can assure you that while he might be dallying with you now, once your body is distorted with a child, Andrés will be in my bed.”
Chloe wavered on her feet, nauseated from the churning of her stomach. She bit her lip to hold off the tears that threatened until she tasted the metallic tang of blood. The seed of doubt she’d had about Andrés and Estella being lovers had just sprouted monstrously.
“You are a vile woman,” Chloe ground out and jerked her arm free, turning and fleeing for the elevators.
Once inside the lift, she leaned heavily against the wall. Her distress grew and she slid down to the floor to curl her arms around her knees. She didn’t bother to stop the anguished sob that ripped from her throat.
Andrés heard the elevator stopping at the penthouse and set his brandy down on the counter. His mouth tightened while he waited for Chloe to enter.
Dios, he wanted to trust her, but where the hell had she been? He’d arrived back at the penthouse earlier to find her missing, without so much as a note. And he’d been waiting, trying not to make assumptions, for her return for the past hour. Until he’d gone out onto the balcony and seen her in the arms of another man… His blood continued to heat with fury.
Chloe entered the suite without seeming to notice him. She tugged her dress back up from where it lay off her shoulder and then thrust a hand through her tousled hair.
A frisson of unease slid through him. He tried to not compare her appearance to that of a woman coming from a lovers’ tryst. Who was that man whose arms she’d been in?
“Where have you been?” he asked with deceptive calm.
Chloe’s head jerked up and she seemed almost surprised to see him. Her gaze turned wary as she studied him. “I was…walking on the beach.”
“Indeed?”
She took a quick step backward at his approach, running her tongue over her mouth. Her swollen mouth.
Anger erupted inside him and Andrés drew in an unsteady breath, not wanting to believe the evidence that was beginning to align itself. He’d thought Estella’s warning about Chloe being overly flirtatious was nonsense. Yet now she returned to him appearing as if she’d just rolled from another man’s bed.
Never trust a woman. They’re all unfaithful liars. His father’s words shortly prior to his death returned to haunt him.
Over the past few weeks he’d foolishly allowed the hope to build that Chloe would be the one to prove his father’s words false. She was different; he'd sensed it from the start and confirmed it after reading the diary. From the moment he’d first seen her he'd been drawn to her. Had wanted to claim her for himself and never let her go. Foolishness, he knew, but he'd been helpless to the swell of emotion that overwhelmed him every time she was near. An emotion he couldn't name no matter how hard he tried.
Since he’d confessed his past to her, he’d grown entirely too complacent in their relationship. They’d been together constantly, spending hours not just in bed, but walking the ground of his villa and exploring the countryside. They’d grown closer in a way that almost made him uneasy.
Rightfully so, it seemed. He was a fool. Perhaps it was a good thing he’d been presented with a harsh reminder of the true nature of females just now. Chloe might play the compassionate and devoted lover when he was near, but she was still a woman who enjoyed male attention. Just as Estella had warned him.
“Who was he?”
Her brows drew together. “I’m sorry?”
“The man whose arms you were just in, cariño.” His body almost shook with restrained anger, yet he tried to remain calm.
Disbelief shone in her eyes. “You were watching me? We were coworkers from when I worked here, Andrés. It was a simple hug from a friend.”
“Simple hug?” He bit back a snarl. Not with her flushed face and swollen mouth. He grabbed her wrist, jerking her forward and against him. “I hardly think so.”
“This is ridiculous. You always think the worst of me,” she lifted her chin. “I have absolutely no need to explain myself to you.”
“Ah, but I think you do, cariño.”
“I have done nothing wrong. But if you’d like to cast stones from glass houses, you were the one in an uncommonly long meeting with Señora Martinez. So let me be clear about something. If I stay here in Spain with you,” she said defiantly, “I will not tolerate you sleeping with other women.”
Andrés stilled, dismay and a ferocity sweeping through him at her bold words. That she would dare to give him an ultimatum about being monogamous after she’d possibly just been with another man.
He caught her chin in a ruthless grip and stared grimly down at her swollen lips.
“You are mine,” Andrés said refusing to even acknowledge her baseless accusation. He closed his mouth over hers, determined to show her that her denial was nothing but an insolent protest.
She struggled, giving a furious whimper. He thrust his tongue past her lips to dance and retreat against hers, until he finally coaxed Chloe’s submission and her body went pliant against his. Only then did he lift his head and stare down at her. Her eyes were closed and she clutched his shirt, her breathing uneven.
“Deny it all you’d like, but we both know the truth. You belong to me,” he stated firmly. “And by this time tomorrow, it will be official.”
Her lashes fluttered up, her gaze still dazed with passion. “W-what do you mean?”
“I mean that you will marry me.”
Swollen, pink lips parted in shock. “But…you don’t love me.”
“No, I don’t,” he said bluntly, snuffing out any hope she might have that he would ever indulge in such a crippling emotion. “Love has nothing to do with us, or the contract we’ll sign.”
She flinched and shook her head. “I thought you understood. I can’t enter into a—”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“Don’t do this, Andrés,” she pleaded huskily. “You couldn’t possibly force me—”