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Picturing the remote expression on her father’s face, the distance in his eyes, she curled her fingers into the pillow. He had not only managed to deny her existence, he’d replaced her too.

Her stomach flip-flopped as beneath her pillow the alarm buzzed on her phone. Reaching round, she switched it off, glancing at the screen. There were several missed calls, all from a number she didn’t recognise, and for one brief moment she considered calling back.

But now was not a good time. For a start, she needed to shower, pack and get dressed, and she also wanted to check in with her boss. She trusted Grace—not just professionally, but on a personal level too—and she wanted to see if she had any last-minute advice for her.

And anybody who mattered would call her back if it was important. Not that whatever he or she was calling about was likely to be life-changing.

Rolling out of bed, she grabbed a towel and walked into the bathroom.

*

In another bathroom, on the other side of the city, Luis stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around the taut muscles of his stomach. Ignoring the mirror on the wall, he ran his hands slowly through his hair, smoothing the tangles with his fingers.

He released a slow breath, remembering how just hours earlier Cristina had done more or less the same thing. Except her hands had been urgent, frantic. Almost as frantic as her mouth.

His lungs emptied slowly. And she’d tasted so sweet…sweeter than molasses.

It was supposed to have been just sex—a carnal union designed to delight and, more importantly, to distract him from his thoughts. Except that now he couldn’t stop thinking about her. And even though he knew she was in a hotel on the other side of the city, her presence was so strong in his memory that he kept turning to look at the bed, expecting to see her there.

Watching Cristina in the club had been one of the most confusing experiences of his life. She had dazzled him. Even just looking at her in those heels and that top, those shorts, had made a pulse of excitement beat beneath his skin. He had wanted her—and yet he’d almost hated her too. For she was too beautiful, too sexy, and an attention-seeker to boot. In other words, everything he loathed in a woman.

And so he’d got up to leave—

Gazing at his reflection, he felt his face grow warm.

She might have spilt his drink but she’d been right. It had been his fault. He’d been so desperate to leave that he hadn’t been thinking about anything but getting as far away as possible from her gravitational pull. He certainly hadn’t been looking where he was going.

Breathing in sharply, he ran his hand slowly over the stubble grazing his face.

Only instead of apologising he’d acted like a jerk.

His heartbeat slowed. He had lost her then, and that might have been the end of it—would have been if his bike hadn’t refused to start.

He stared at his reflection, steadying himself, pushing aside the thought of what might have happened, or rather not happened, if his bike hadn’t been washed or she hadn’t come outside.

But she had, and she’d rescued him.

He swallowed.

Rescued him and then kissed him.

Or were they one and the same thing?

Glancing out of the window, he felt his heartbeat accelerate. He was naturally cautious by nature, but even if he hadn’t been life had taught him in the most brutal and devastating way not to act impulsively. He didn’t do spur-of-the-moment or random.

Yet last night he’d done both. Only instead of regret

or shame he could feel a kind a radiance inside his chest. It took him a moment to realise that it was happiness, and that for the first time since stepping off the plane in Athens he was ready to face his past.

Picking up his phone, he punched in a number.

‘Carlos. It’s Luis…’

Having settled his bill, he made the hotel’s owner day by giving him his bike, and then, having finally extricated himself from the man’s grateful and disbelieving embrace, he strolled down the street towards the peluquería.

It was just opening, and the old guy who ran it seemed slightly astonished to have a customer so early, but he was happy to do what Luis asked.

Thirty minutes later Luis stepped out into the sunshine, his dark hair cropped close to the head, his face smooth. Catching sight of himself in the window, he felt a flicker of panic. He looked so young. Almost as though the last five years had never happened.


Tags: Louise Fuller Billionaire Romance