It was the wrong thing to say. She knew that instantly as his expression hardened to stone.
‘Oh, I understand. I understand that you’re a leech. A parasite. You latch on to people and bleed them dry. Well, not this time. And not with my parents.’
Before she had a chance to register what he was doing his fingers had curled around her camera, tugged it out of her hand.
‘First I’m going to wipe this clean—’
‘You can’t do that. It’s my camera.’
‘And this is my home.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘And I want you gone from it. So first I’m going to wipe this clean, and then you’re leaving—
‘That’s not your decision to make.’
She made a grab for the camera but he held it out of reach, his other hand capturing hers. Then he jerked her against him.
‘And yet I’m making it. So I suggest you lose that martyred expression or—’
‘Or what?’ She struggled against his grip, her fingers splaying ineffectually against the muscles of his chest. ‘Oh, let me guess. This is where I get to choose between the hard way and the easy way?’
His grey eyes bored into her. ‘You’re wrong twice over. You don’t get to choose. And there is no easy way.’
She jerked her hand free, her throat tightening. ‘Oh, I know that. Believe me, I know there’s no easy way. There never is.’
And before he had a chance to respond she ducked past him and walked swiftly out of the room.
Luis stared after her. For a moment he just stood there, too distracted by what she’d just said to follow. What did she mean about there never being an easy way? It made no sense.
Some of his anger began to fade. To be honest, he hadn’t expected to get that angry with Cristina. Why would he? By nature he wasn’t given to outbursts of emotion, but seeing her in Bas’s room had been too much for him to handle and he’d lost his temper.
Only he hadn’t meant to scare her—and he didn’t like the feeling of knowing that he had.
His chest tightened and, turning, he stalked out of the room. He had to walk fast to catch up with her.
‘Cristina—’ he began.
‘Oh, there you both are! I’ve been looking for you.’
It was his mother. He felt the familiar rush of guilt, and remorse as he watched her walk slowly towards them. He had broken her, and she would never recover. But as she got closer he saw that she was smiling.
‘Mamá.You should have sent Pilar.’ He frowned. ‘Is there something wrong?’
His mother shook her head.
‘Does something have to be wrong for a mother to look for her son?’ Reaching out, she tapped the camera in his hand. ‘I thought you liked buying photographs, not taking them.’
Luis glanced down. He had forgotten the camera. Had almost forgotten why he was holding it.
As a flare of frustration kicked up inside him he turned to Cristina, just as his mother said anxiously, ‘Querida, did you get what you wanted? It was the painting of Luis and Baltasar, wasn’t it?’
He watched Cristina nod. ‘Yes. Let me show you. May I?’
She held out her hand, and as he handed her the camera their eyes met. He knew that she wanted him to be a witness to the moment. Gazing down at the screen, he watched as she clicked through the photos right to the end, so that there could be no doubt as to what she’d taken.
Stepping forward, Sofia slid her arm through his. ‘In that case I suggest we all go and have some apéritifs before supper. Agusto and I are dining out tonight,’ she said, turning to Cristina. ‘But don’t worry—Luis has promised to take good care of you.’
Cristina smiled mechanically, but inside her stomach plummeted. Given Luis’s low opinion of her character, she was pretty sure that his version of ‘taking care of her’ was not going to be quite the same as his mother’s.
Unless Sofia was also planning on dumping her into the sea at the first opportunity she had.