e.
That not only had he never been proud of her but he had judged her unworthy of his love and support.
She fixed a smile on her face.
‘Thank you. I’ll let you get back to your book.’ She hesitated. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to photograph one of the paintings in your elder son’s bedroom.’
For a moment Sofia didn’t reply, and then, slowly, she nodded. ‘Of course. And would you mind if I held on to this for a little longer?’ Her mouth twitched. ‘Like most men, Agusto responds so much better to show than tell.’
Upstairs, Cristina worked quickly. She felt excited—elated, almost—and desperate to explain her concept to the Osorios. Sofia, she was sure, would understand. Hopefully Agusto would too, and then—
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
The voice was familiar, but the anger rippling through it exceeded anything she had ever experienced. Turning she felt alarm shiver down her spine.
Luis was more than angry. In the gloom of the room his features were almost luminous with fury.
She felt her whole body turn to stone, her mind blanking as his gaze locked onto the camera in her hand.
‘I was just—’ She croaked.
‘Just what? Snooping? Stealing a little private shot?’
‘No!’ She shook her head, knowing exactly how it must look to him. But if knew the whole story… ‘If you’d just let me speak—’
‘You mean lie.’
‘You’re not giving me a chance—’
Luis stared at her in disbelief. ‘A chance?’ He repeated the word with distaste. ‘I gave you a chance to prove me wrong. I let you stay. And look how well that turned out.’
‘You just want to think the worst of me.’
There was a shaken note to her voice, but he told himself that he didn’t care.
‘And you make it almost pathetically easy for me to do so.’
Shivering, Cristina backed away. His voice was cold. But not as cold as his eyes.
‘I can explain—’ she began.
But her words dried to dust in her mouth as he strode across the room towards her.
‘No—stop!’
She held up her hand but he just kept on walking, as though she hadn’t even spoken.
‘Please. Just let me explain.’
Her body bumped against the wall and she stopped moving. Her thoughts were racing. Had she imagined this situation she would have supposed that she would be scared. And she was scared—but not of him…not physically, anyway.
What scared her was the way he was looking at her—as though he’d seen who she really was. A boring, mousy little girl who didn’t belong anywhere but especially not in his gilded world.
He stopped in front of her and the ferocity in his eyes sucked the breath from her lungs.
‘You don’t need to.’ His lips were curling with contempt and the hostility of his gaze was giving her skin trauma. ‘Your actions speak for themselves. I read your CV, remember? Once paparazzi always paparazzi.’
‘No, you don’t understand—’