The Mediterranean Millionaire's Reluctant Mistress. Carole MortimerЧитать онлайн книгу.
looked challengingly at Alejandro. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something, Mr Santiago?’
Alejandro’s eyebrows raised. ‘Have I?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Brynne Sullivan informed him triumphantly. ‘The judge made several other rulings, one of them being that it would be best for Michael to stay with me for a further three weeks so that he could complete the summer school term.’
He eyed her warily. ‘Which is now over …’
‘But he also ruled that, as my school year is now over for the summer too, that if I wished to do so, I might be allowed to accompany Michael for the first month of his stay with you. In order to ensure Michael’s—smooth transition into his new life,’ she said, unable to disguise the disgust in her voice.
Alejandro was aware the judge had made that compromise to what was obviously a delicate situation. It just wasn’t one that he had ever thought this woman, disliking him as she so obviously did, would ever take up!
Brynne Sullivan, he was sure, would be nothing but a nuisance if she came to Majorca with him and Miguel, and would no doubt disagree with him over every decision he made concerning his son’s future.
‘That would seem to be the ideal solution to Michael’s immediate comfort, don’t you think, Señor Santiago?’ Paul Symmonds prompted carefully while Alejandro looked at his own lawyer with a frown and received only an acquiescent shrug in reply.
What of his own comfort? Alejandro inwardly fumed. He didn’t doubt that if he agreed to this the rebellious Brynne Sullivan would enjoy making life difficult for him for the next four weeks.
Brynne wasn’t any happier at the prospect of going to Majorca than Alejandro looked at the idea of taking her there. For one thing she was all too aware of the fact that, despite everything, she actually found the man attractive, nerve-tinglingly so.
But practically she knew her presence would be of help to Michael in learning to accept his change of circumstances. It wouldn’t make parting from him at the end of that month any easier for Brynne, but at least she could try and ensure that Michael was reconciled to living with his new father.
She had tried to explain things to Michael, of course, but as a six-year-old he really hadn’t been able to understand the complexities of the situation.
‘Mr Santiago …’ She looked across at him confrontationally, well aware that the wariness she felt towards him was more than reciprocated.
Not surprisingly, really; she had fought this man every inch of the way the last six weeks. A battle Brynne had been destined to lose.
But accepting this man’s legal right to his son, and then just walking away while he took Michael from all the people who loved him, were two distinctly different things!
Alejandro gave a dismissive shrug of those broad shoulders. ‘It is of little interest to me whether or not you choose to accompany Miguel to Majorca, Miss Sullivan,’ he snapped dismissively.
‘I’m sure that it isn’t,’ she replied irritably, her face flushed with resentment.
‘But if that is your decision then I advise that you also be ready to leave with Miguel tomorrow morning at ten,’ he concluded harshly.
So cold. So intransigent. So damned arrogant!
Only the thought of being with Michael for another month could ever have persuaded Brynne to spend even another second in the company of this man she should have disliked intensely, but who instead made her legs feel slightly weak just looking at him, and her pulse race!
‘DID you see the swimming pool, Aunty Bry? And the beach as we drove up here? Aunty Bry, did you see the beach?’ Michael asked excitedly as he slid open one of the two glass doors that led onto the terrace of the bedroom that Alejandro had informed him was to be his for the duration of their stay here. Alejandro had then stiffly informed Brynne that she could use the bedroom next door. ‘I can see the beach from here, Alej—er, Father,’ Michael corrected awkwardly as he spoke to the tall, silent man who had accompanied them up the stairs. ‘The sea is all bluey-green. And the sand is almost white. And—’
‘Don’t get too close to the rail, Michael,’ Brynne instructed instinctively as she followed him outside, glad of a few seconds’ respite from Alejandro’s overpowering presence.
The warmth of the late July Majorcan sun instantly beat down on her as she looked at the one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view of the tiered orange groves leading down to the ocean.
It wasn’t difficult to understand Michael’s enthrallment at his new surroundings. If the two of them had just been here on holiday together then Brynne would have been thrilled by the view and location of Alejandro’s villa too, but knowing she would be going alone when she left here in a month’s time certainly took the edge off any excitement she might have felt at their luxuriously opulent surroundings.
She should have known that the Spaniard’s Majorcan home would be like this.
After being on the private jet that had flown them here, with its twelve seats that were actually like armchairs, and a young man who had supplied them with a lunch that any exclusive London restaurant would have been proud to serve, Brynne didn’t think anything was going to surprise her ever again!
This magnificent hillside villa was unbelievable though, she thought. Surrounded by terraces on every level, the marbled interior was wonderfully cool after the hour-long drive from the airport, the white furnishings adding to that feeling of coolness, and the swimming pool was glittering invitingly as an alternative to the tempting beach and cool Mediterranean Sea.
Despite his initial feelings of apprehension Michael had become absolutely captivated with his new surroundings as soon as they had got on the private jet earlier this morning. If he had continued to be a little shy of his new darkly brooding father, who once aboard the jet had ignored them both completely as he had become engrossed in some papers he had taken from his briefcase, then it hadn’t been enough to dampen the little boy’s enthusiasm once they had been airborne.
Brynne wished she could share his youthful pleasure, but, unlike Michael, she had been totally aware of Alejandro Santiago’s presence for the whole of the flight, and then again as he had sat with them in the back of the limousine that had been waiting to drive them from the airport along the west coast of the island to this incredible villa.
No longer wearing one of the formal suits that were all Brynne had seen him in during their legal battle, he looked tall, overpowering and ruggedly handsome in black tailored trousers and a black short-sleeved shirt that was obviously more suitable attire for the warmer climate they were flying to.
Alejandro’s manner had been formally polite when he had arrived at her apartment earlier this morning, and he hadn’t shown any sign of emotion when he had seen that Brynne was packed and ready to accompany Michael, after all.
In fact, he hadn’t acknowledged her presence at all, she thought. Any remarks he had made had been addressed to ‘Miguel’—remarks Michael had completely ignored until he had realized he was the ‘Miguel’ being referred to!
Seeing the two of them together like this made Brynne achingly aware of exactly why Alejandro had been so sure Michael was his son. Both were dark-haired and grey-eyed, and even Michael’s baby face was starting to show some of the harder angles of his father’s features. The fact that Michael was also tall for his age indicated that he would probably eventually attain his father’s considerable height too.
‘I do not believe I have ever given you cause to think that I will be—a strict father to Miguel,’ Alejandro said tersely as he saw Brynne’s tearful gaze rest indulgently on Miguel as he ran from one side of the terrace to the other in order to look at the amazing views over the valley and sparkling blue sea.
She