A positive of his facade. When he hurt, when he felt too much, he could pull the mantle of his pretense around him like a shield and distract himself with the vices he’d indulged in over the years.
For tonight, at least, the vices would keep the heart-wrenching pain at bay.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THEWAVESOFthe Mediterranean were sharper this morning, capped white as a brisk wind barreled over the water. Clouds darkened the horizon, puffy gray transitioning to a dark slate that advanced ever closer toward land.
Memories assailed her, of another stormy day long ago when rain had fallen into Lake Geneva as she sat on the window seat of her mother’s room. Johanna and she had escaped into the luxury of their mother’s suite as thunder had roared. Mom had been in bed, her skin so papery thin Calandra had imagined she could see her bones just below the surface.
Johanna had climbed into bed and snuggled against Mom’s listless body. Calandra, unable to stomach the knowledge that their mother was wasting away from a broken heart, had gone to the window seat, leaned her head against the cold glass and watched the drops fall onto the lake.
“Calandra,” her mother had whispered at last. Calandra had turned to look back at her, dark hair spread across the pillow, lips pale so that when she smiled, she looked like a ghost.
And then she’d uttered the words that had governed Calandra’s life ever since.
You’re so strong.
Was it the weather taking her to such dark memories? Or her own cringeworthy actions from the night before? She’d relived seeing that smile on his face, that horrid smile that she had put there with her cold words and her casual dismissal of the passion they’d shared, at least a dozen times since she’d gotten up.
It hadn’t been his fault. Far from it.Shehad been the one to kisshim. Once she started, she hadn’t been able to stop, her desire an addiction she’d needed to sate.
And then she’d been so angry with herself, so horrified at her behavior, that she’d taken it out on him.
Alejandro had called a driver to pick her up at the port and take her back to the villa. After spending an hour crafting half a dozen statements as she’d paced the guest quarters, she’d tossed them all out the window and decided that maybe, just for once, she’d wing it, let her emotions and remorse speak for themselves when Alejandro returned.
But he hadn’t come back. She’d sat up until nearly one in the morning waiting for his headlights to appear on the drive. Doubt had crept in with every passing of the hand on the clock in her room. She’d found her release under his skillful lovemaking. He’d had none. What if he had decided to seek out someone in Marseille? It wouldn’t be any of her business; they weren’t a couple, and her treatment of him—her employer, the father of her child, her only lover to date—had been abhorrent.
She had absolutely no business being jealous. No reason for experiencing the same kind of hurt she’d felt when she’d spotted that tabloid magazine at the supermarket and seen him walking into the hotel in London with that actress on his arm, gazing up at him in adoration.
At least that’s what she kept telling herself as she sipped her tea.
Thunder rumbled across the water, soft yet so deep she felt it in her bones. The sensation relaxed her muscles as she leaned back into her chair.
An angry voice yanked away her precious moment of peace. She sat straight up, her head whipping around as furious Spanish filled the air.
Calandra’s breath caught when she caught full sight of him. His hair was combed back from his face, damp like he’d just come out of the shower. With a loose gray shirt hanging off his broad shoulders, blue jeans clinging to those muscular legs and bare feet padding against the patio stones, the sexily casual look fanned the lust that seemed to always be within arm’s reach these days.
It wasn’t just how perfectly his clothes molded to his physique, though. No, it was the firmness in his granite jaw, the blazing anger in his stormy eyes, the tautness of his biceps beneath the shirtsleeves as he cursed into the phone.
“Terminamos con esta conversación. Adiós.”
He dropped into the chair opposite her. He blinked, then suddenly focused on her as if seeing her for the first time. The anger disappeared as he flashed her a cocky grin. One that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Parents. Hopefully I do better in that role than my father.”
He said it in jest, but his words caught her attention. “He wasn’t a good father?”
It was like watching a door being slammed shut as his face hardened. Just as it had last night. He grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl and focused his attention on peeling it.
“Room for improvement. How are you feeling this morning?”
A deft change of subject. But she followed his lead.
“Good.” She sucked in a breath. Time to apologize. Except the words froze in her throat as he bit into an orange slice. Juice dribbled down his chin. He swiped a hand across his chin and sucked the juice off a finger. Her heartbeat kicked into overdrive, remembering the way he’d sucked her nipple into his mouth last night as his hands had drifted...
“Calandra?”
“Sorry.” She mentally shook her head as she met his amused gaze. The bastard knew exactly what she’d been thinking. “What did you say?”