One Night in Buenos Aires: The Vásquez Mistress. Sarah MorganЧитать онлайн книгу.
a businessman.’
Her heart turned over at the unexpected compliment. ‘You’re lots of different things.’
‘Desperate,’ he said dryly, his smile full of wry self-mockery as he glanced at her. ‘That’s what I am at the moment, cariño. Thanks to you.’
Awareness exploded inside her. ‘I thought we were supposed to be avoiding the topic of sex.’
‘We were.’ He let out a frustrated sigh. ‘It’s your fault.’
She tried to ignore the electrified atmosphere and changed the subject swiftly. ‘So what do you want me to do this evening, seriously?’
‘Try not to draw attention to yourself so that you don’t distract me from the business in hand. This is a particularly tricky negotiation and I need to concentrate.’ He took her hand in his and led her towards the main house just as a car purred into the courtyard.
‘It’s really that important to you? Any chance that you’ll tell me why at some point?’
He didn’t answer her question, and when she glanced towards him he was staring down the long driveway at an approaching car. Gone was the lazy, sexy smile that had made him so approachable. Now he just seemed cold and intimidating.
The car came to a halt in a cloud of dust and a man heaved himself awkwardly from the driver’s seat, a sheen of sweat visible on his brow as he negotiated the heat and the demands of his own excessive body-weight. Faith guessed him to be in his fifties but it was obvious that he was holding on to his youth with grim determination. His shirt was open at the neck and strained over his thickened waist, his thinning hair artfully arranged to conceal the onset of baldness.
‘Vásquez—I hear congratulations are due.’
‘Pedro.’ His hand outstretched and his tone cool, Raul strode forward and shook the man’s hand and Faith watched while the other door opened and a woman slid elegantly out of the passenger seat.
Suddenly Faith understood why the man was so grimly determined not to be parted from his youth. The woman was stunning. She somehow managed to be both slender and curvaceous at the same time and the coal-black hair that hung straight over her bare shoulders shone like polished agate. Apparently undisturbed by the heat, she slowly removed the oversized sunglasses from her exquisite face to reveal almond-shaped eyes of surprising warmth. A friendly smile on her glossy mouth, she walked over to Faith, hands outstretched.
‘So Raul finally took the plunge,’ she said cheerfully, leaning forward and kissing Faith on both cheeks. Then she linked arms with her, as though they were firm friends, rather than total strangers. ‘Half of Argentina is ready to kill you—the female half, of course. The male half are probably incredibly grateful. Finally they can sleep easy in their beds without feeling they need to lock up their wives. I’m Sofia.’
Confused by the other woman’s direct approach and unsure how to respond, Faith glanced towards Raul but he was listening to something that Pedro was saying, his dark glossy head tilted because he was so much taller. Realising that he wasn’t paying her any attention, Faith turned back to Sofia and froze.
The other woman was staring openly at Raul, a look of naked sexual appreciation in her eyes. Then she looked at Faith and grinned sheepishly. ‘Oops, sorry. Caught red-handed.’ She gave herself a mock smack on the wrist. ‘Naughty me. But you have to admit that he is indecently handsome and I don’t get to look at men like him very often. I’m sure you’re used to women gazing at him. Being with Raul is a bit like owning a very rare and valuable painting—everyone wants to stare at it.’
Shocked and surprised by the hot spurt of jealousy that pumped through her veins, Faith struggled to stay polite. ‘And your husband doesn’t mind?’
‘I can’t imagine he’d be thrilled, but he has nothing to worry about. Raul and I were quite unsuited.’
Were?
For a moment Faith thought she had misheard, and then she looked into the other woman’s eyes and her entire world shifted.
‘You know him well?’ Why was she asking that question when she already knew the answer?
‘Pretty well.’ Sofia looked at her. ‘Oh dear. Me and my big mouth. Obviously the two of you haven’t discussed his past. Very wise. If I was with Raul, I can’t say I’d want to know about his past, either. One of the disadvantages of being with an extremely rich and handsome man is the knowledge that every other woman wants him too.’
‘Sofia …’ Raul’s voice came from directly behind them and Sofia turned, her eyes dancing with laughter.
‘Darling—no need to use that tone. I’m just pleased you finally found someone willing to put up with your domineering, macho ways on a permanent basis. How are you? You’re looking good, but there’s nothing new in that.’
Before Raul could respond, Pedro approached. Apparently unaware of the byplay, he was mopping his brow. ‘Shall we get out of the heat?’
‘Of course. We’ll have drinks on the terrace.’
Pinned to the spot by shock, Faith looked at Raul in disbelief.
That was it? That was all he was going to say?
Tact and sensitivity wasn’t his strong suit and she, more than anyone, was well aware of that—but still she couldn’t quite believe that he’d intentionally invited his ex-mistress to join them for dinner without at least warning her.
It must have been an unfortunate coincidence.
She desperately wanted to believe that he hadn’t known the woman was with Pedro—that any minute now he was going to throw her off his property. Because the alternative to that was to acknowledge that once again her feelings had been bottom of his agenda.
‘It’s cooler on the terrace,’ Raul said smoothly, nothing in his body language suggesting that he considered anything to be amiss.
Faith flinched as though he’d struck her.
So that was it, then.
Clearly he expected her to smile and chat to his ex, while he concentrated on his business deal.
No wonder he hadn’t told her what was expected of her.
He’d obviously known that she would have been on the first plane out of Buenos Aires.
Raul strode across the courtyard, Pedro by his side, nothing in his manner betraying the slightest hint of awkwardness.
Deprived of the opportunity to claw his impossibly handsome face, Faith wanted to turn and stalk in the opposite direction, but she was unable to do that either because the other woman tightened her hold on her arm.
‘We have a word in Spanish to describe someone like him,’ Sofia murmured, her voice like rich honey. ‘Guapísimo. It means “indescribably handsome”. I haven’t been here for a while,’ she confided, as they moved onto the sunny, vine-covered terrace where several staff were poised ready to serve drinks. ‘You must show me what Raul has done. This place is the talk of the international polo-circuit.’
Faith didn’t bother replying—she was too busy planning ways to kill Raul—but first she turned some serious anger onto herself.
You fool, she chided herself. You stupid fool.
He said he wanted the marriage to work and that was all it took for you to run back to him.
He’d hurt her so, so badly but had she learned her lesson? No, she’d come back for more.
Was he being deliberately cruel? Was he reminding her once again that she’d driven him into a marriage, when in fact that wasn’t what he’d wanted?
Was he was telling her that marriage wasn’t going to stop him living his life the way he wanted to live it?
Was