For a moment she couldn’t reply—she was too busy loathing the way he could say one thing and mean something entirely different. She knew definitively that he hadn’t even looked at her work, and that he thought her ‘muse’ was Lady Luck.
Meeting his gaze, she felt her heart skip a beat as his dark grey eyes swept over her face.
‘I’m happy for any interruption that includes an espresso, Señor Osorio,’ she said sweetly.
Agusto laughed. ‘I agree.’ His earlier tension seemed to have shifted. ‘Luis? Why don’t you go and ask Pilar if she will bring us some coffee?’
‘Isn’t it a little early, Papá? It’s barely ten o’clock.’
His father ignored him. ‘And some of those rosquillas that she makes so well.’
Cristina held her breath as Luis stood up, his eyes steady on her face. If looks could kill, she might not be dead but she would be seriously maimed.
‘I’ll be right back,’ he said stiffly.
Watching him stalk out of the room, Cristina released her breath. It was a relief to be free of his baleful presence—even it was only going to be a short respite. But she had no time to enjoy her small victory, as from inside her pocket she felt her phone vibrate. Normally she would never have answered it—particularly not with Luis looking for any opportunity to hint at her unprofessionalism—but it was the third time it had rung that morning, so it was probably someone from the office checking up on her.
‘Excuse me, Señora Osorio. Would you mind if I took this call? It’s the magazine.’
‘Of course, my dear.’ Sofia smiled. ‘Agusto and I are just going to stretch our legs.’
Turning, Cristina walked quickly out of the room and swiped across the screen. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello? Is that Cristina? Cristina Shephard?’
The voice at the other end of the phone was a little breathless, as though the owner was nervous, or wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing.
It didn’t sound like anyone from the magazine, but then who else knew how to get hold of her? She had only just switched phones, and so far had only given her new number to the magazine, the Osorios and her mum.
Had something happened to her mother?
It seemed unlikely, but she couldn’t stop the fear, sharp and irrational, spiking inside her.
‘Hello, yes—who is this?’ She flinched at the sound of her own voice. It sounded strange, taut and too high.
‘You don’t know me—well, you do, sort of…’
The woman hesitated. She sounded young—probably around her age—and in fact her voice sounded familiar. Cristina wondered why that should make her hand suddenly grow clammy against the phone—
‘Only we’ve never met. I know you know about me, though, because you came to the hotel that time…’ She hesitated again, and then gave a small, nervous laugh. ‘I’m Laura.’
Laura.
It wasn’t just the name that made her heart vibrate painfully inside her chest. Laura was a reminder of everything she’d lost and everything she’d failed to be.
Ice was slipping over her skin. It was lucky there was a wall behind her, she thought dazedly as she took a step back, pressing her spine against the cool plaster. Her legs felt like blades of grass and her mouth was dry.
The hotel.
Out of a lifetime of mistakes, that had probably been one of the worst.
And she wasn’t about to repeat it now.
‘I don’t want to speak to you—I don’t—I can’t—’
‘Please don’t ha—’
She disconnected the call, her pulse racing. With trembling fingers she switched the phone to silent and stuffed it into her pocket.