The one relationship that had never failed Adrian—the one love that had never demanded anything—had been gone in the blink of an eye, leaving behind a sorrowful pain more intense than anything he’d ever known.
He shoved away the sharp sting of old memories and turned his attention back to his laptop. He’d found happiness of a sort in the surge of adrenaline he experienced with every accomplishment for Cabrera Wine, in the pride he took in seeing Alejandro and Antonio prosper.
They’d never been close as children, but as they’d each tackled their own endeavors in the Cabrera empire the bond between the three had grown and strengthened. They were colleagues, friends, united in the common pursuit of success.
The limo turned a corner and Casa de Cabrera appeared—a stunning mansion sprawled across fifteen thousand square feet. Stone stairs swept up to a wide flagstone path that led to two-story wrought-iron doors. Arched windows glinted in the sunlight, hinting at the luxurious rooms inside. A fountain splashed in the middle of the circular drive. Flowerbeds full of bright magenta blooms served as an elegant contrast to the sandstone-colored walls and reddish-brown roof tiles.
A small red convertible caught his eye. His chest tightened. Why had Madre not accompanied Padre to Paris? Trying to avoid both Everleighandhis mother while trying to get caught up on work was going to be a challenge he didn’t need right now.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Everleigh’s mouth drop open. He bit back a smile. “Welcome.”
She turned to him, her eyes wide. “This is your home?”
“Yes.”
A small frown creased her forehead. “Do you ever get lost?”
“Not since I was eight.”
His attempt at humor didn’t faze her. If anything, she seemed to withdraw into herself, her expression growing pensive. He’d got used to Everleigh’s spark, her confidence and wit. He didn’t like this change.
But you don’t need to like it, he reminded himself.Use her knowledge and expertise. Deliver her back to New York. Complete the purchase of Fox and move on.
The limo pulled up to the stairs. His driver, Miguel, hopped out and opened the passenger door before Everleigh could unbuckle her seatbelt.
“I hope you enjoy your stay with us,señorita.”
Adrian missed whatever it was Everleigh murmured back to Miguel, but he caught her subdued tone. It shouldn’t bother him.
But it did.
Diego, the family’s long-time butler, opened the front doors. The only two clues to the recent celebration of his sixty-fifth birthday were the slight tinge of silver at his temples and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. The man had barely aged since Adrian was a toddler.
“Welcome,señorita,” Diego said with a slight bow and a gentle smile. “Señor Adrian has said you will be joining us for a few weeks. We’re delighted to have you.”
His words brought a small smile to Everleigh’s lips. “That’s very kind of you. I know this was arranged last-minute. I’m sorry if I’ve put you out.”
“Nonsense,” Diego replied. “Señor Adrian tells me this is your first trip to Spain. We must make it memorable. But first, I imagine you’d like to rest?”
“That would be lovely.”
Diego picked up the suitcase Miguel had brought in from the limo and disappeared up the north staircase.
Everleigh turned to Adrian and, again, the faintest wisp of a smile crossed her face. “Thank you.”
Her simple words surprised him. Rarely had a woman thanked him for something without having a hidden agenda behind her gratitude.
The smile disappeared. She turned and started to follow Diego.
“You’re welcome, Everleigh,” he finally forced out.
He saw her shoulders tense, saw her hesitate, but then she quickened her pace and disappeared up the stairs. Leaving him alone in the marble entryway of his family’s home. The house he’d grown up in, lived in practically his whole life when he wasn’t traveling.
He turned in a circle, ignoring the family portrait that featured him, his brothers and his parents, seated on a white bench outside the house.
A lie on canvas.
That day had been terribly hot, with the sun beating down as the artist had taken far too long to capture the scene. Adrian had stood next to his mother, his hand resting listlessly on her shoulder. The artist had painted him with a small, innocent smile on his round face, instead of the daggers Adrian had given him for forcing him into such close proximity with his mother.