A Touch of Notoriety - By Carole Mortimer Page 0,50

a man before checking out again.

Oh, God...

CHAPTER ELEVEN

BETH’S TOTAL MISERY continued during their silent breakfast together the following morning, after a restless and sleepless night on her part. Although Raphael, apart from that brooding silence, behaved and appeared as coolly distant as ever, his expression harsh, despite his casual appearance in a pair of black denims and blue shirt.

Not that either of them ate any breakfast, the aching pain in the pit of Beth’s stomach robbing her of any appetite for food, and Raphael seeming equally uninterested as the two of them just drank several cups of coffee together in that total silence.

Raphael finally spoke as they cleared away at the end of the meal. ‘Cesar sent the jet for us overnight, and it is now refuelling and waiting at the private airport in preparation for flying us back to Argentina today.’

That Raphael couldn’t wait to get back to Buenos Aires, before no doubt discharging all responsibility for her, was more than obvious from his frostily aloof manner and the arctic chill of his gaze as he looked down his arrogant nose at her.

Beth gave a tight smile as she straightened from loading the dishwasher, ironically wearing similar clothes to Raphael: black denims and a green cotton shirt. ‘I guess those alterations to my house weren’t necessary, after all!’

Raphael’s eyes narrowed. ‘They will be very necessary when you decide to return to England.’

‘And when do you think that will be?’ she came back dryly. ‘If Cesar has his way, his little sister will never be allowed to leave Argentina ever again!’

Raphael scowled darkly. ‘I had thought you had more self-determination than to allow Cesar to dictate your movements in future.’

Beth rounded on him fiercely, her eyes flashing darkly and her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

‘How dare you talk to me like that? I haven’t finished yet,’ she added warningly as Raphael would have spoken. ‘How do you have the nerve to stand there, talking down to me because I’ve decided to at least try to be Esther and Carlos’s daughter, when your relationship with your own father is so obviously non-existent?’

Beth had spent quite a lot of the previous night sitting in a bedroom chair staring out of the window as she thought about her future as Gabriela Navarro—when she wasn’t thinking about Raphael and reliving the humiliation of his rejection of her, and his terse goodnight to her once they were back at the estate, that was! For all her words of rebellion before she and Raphael left Argentina, Beth simply couldn’t see the Navarro family happily letting her trot off back to England, and her house and job here, once Grace and Cesar were married.

Quite what she was supposed to do as Gabriela Navarro, Beth had no idea, never having had any dealings with heiresses, Argentinian or otherwise. But she had a feeling that it would involve hours and hours of shopping for suitable clothes, so that she could be taken out to suitable parties and dinner parties, and be introduced to suitable people. People as rich and privileged as the Navarro family.

All of which sounded like total misery to Beth.

At the same time as she knew she owed it to Esther and Carlos, her real parents, to at least try to fit into their world. To try to become their daughter again. Even if it was the last thing she felt like doing.

The first thing she felt like doing was getting as far away from Raphael Cordoba, and those humiliating memories of last night, as she possibly could!

And instead she was now going to spend hours and hours on a plane with him, suffering in silence while he continued to ignore her...

‘I was not talking down to you—’

‘It certainly sounded like it to me,’ she came back determinedly. ‘And from the little I know about your own situation, you appear to have walked out on your own family years ago, and never looked back!’

‘That is not true.’ A nerve pulsed in Raphael’s tightly clenched jaw. ‘I see all of my sisters whenever my other responsibilities allow.’

‘Which doesn’t appear to be very often,’ Beth scorned. ‘And you don’t see your father at all. Why is that, Raphael?’

Raphael was beginning to wish he hadn’t told Beth anything about his family. Most especially of the strained relationship that now existed between himself and his father.

‘Or is it your stepmother you’re avoiding?’ Beth prompted astutely. ‘Maybe because you begrudge your father the happiness of a second marriage?’

‘My father’s second