She shivered, a pulse of fear and longing beating beneath her skin. But how could she have done either?
Being so close to him had rendered her not just incapable of speech—it had deprived her of any sense of self-preservation. Why else had she acted so recklessly? Letting him kiss her like that and then kissing him back…
Remembering the feel of Luis’s mouth and hands on her body, she breathed in sharply, a ball of heat rolling over inside her. Despite suggesting that she had only wanted him because he was there, the truth was that she had been prepared to risk everything—including her future—in order to satisfy her desperate need for him.
And if she hadn’t caught sight of that photograph—
Her breathing stalled in her throat.
It she hadn’t come to her senses, then what?
Would she have gone all the way?
Her mouth slanted upwards in a not-quite smile. All the way. She sounded like a teenager. Her smile faded. Except that your average teenager was actually pretty savvy and switched on, whereas she had been like a leaf tossed in the wind, with desire driving her actions, not just disregarding the consequences but failing even to acknowledge them.
How could she have been so stupid? So short-sighted?
She steadied her breathing.
But she wasn’t completely to blame. If Luis hadn’t come to her room—
Her throat started to prickle. She knew she was overly sensitive, and she despised herself for caring about other people’s opinions—particularly his—but it had hurt hearing him dismiss her portfolio like that. Only then he’d come to find her, and apologised, and then—
Her thoughts were running away from her like meltwater in the spring. With an effort, she slowed her breathing again.
It was his gentleness that had messed with her head. Coming so soon after he’d been so cold and cutting, it had caught her off balance and broken down the walls she’d built around herself. He had made her feel as though he cared, that she could trust him.
Trust.
Her mind snagged on the word.
Luis couldn’t be trusted. She knew that. The cool-eyed biker she had met in that club was the antithesis of the sober, suit-wearing heir to the Osorio fortune—and who knew how many other versions of him there were?
She’d learned from her father that living more than one life was an addiction that overrode everything—family, finances, even the laws of physics—for how else had he managed to be in two places at once?
Her mouth twisted. All of which meant that she could never trust Luis. Oh, she’d thought he was different once. In Segovia she’d believed that he was gritty and real, but she knew now that he was just like her father—all stubble and no soul.
Yes, he wanted her—but only in the way that she’d claimed to have wanted him, because she was there. No doubt he would distance himself as soon as he found something more interesting.
Slowly Cristina stood up and pulled her suitcase across the bed. There was nothing to be gained from picking over everything again and again. If she was going to stay—and she was—then she needed to focus, not waste time or energy wanting something from him that in reality couldn’t ever exist.
The next day she was relieved to discover that Luis was not at breakfast. She would have faced him, of course, but even thinking about seeing him again made her skin feel hot and tight. Thankfully, the photo shoot was finally going well, and the glow of everything coming together absorbed her all morning.
There were many reminders of Baltasar around the house, but in the end Agusto had chosen a yachting medal and Sofia her son’s favourite book. Their choices were not just proof of his life, they were charged with a deep, unwavering love, and perfectly captured both Bas’s unalterable absence and his continued presence in his family’s life.
Of course the living were harder to forget, and as the morning lengthened Luis was still absent. From feeling grateful that he was no longer watching her every move, some of her elation started to ooze away. In fact by lunchtime his absence was making her feel on edge in the same way that his presence once had.
Glancing at the table, she felt almost lightheaded as she saw that it was set for three. ‘Is Luis not joining us?’
The question was out of her mouth before her brain had a chance to censor it.
She steeled herself as Sofia looked up at her, praying that her expression showed no trace of any intimacy between herself and the older woman’s son.
‘No, querida. He’s popped over to the mainland. Something to do with business. He’ll be away for a couple of days.’ Looking across to where her husband was talking to Pilar, Sofia lowered her voice. ‘He works so hard. Too hard, we think. But…’
She shrugged—a wordless gesture that somehow managed to imply both regret and confusion.
Cristina swallowed. She had grown fond of the older woman, and hated seeing her look so sad. Forcing br