of a vindictive ex-lover prepared to use any means to reach an ultimate goal. Listened to Sierra, and discounted Raúl’s explanation because the incident had occurred at a time when she was an emotional mess, and Sierra’s version had appeared more plausible?
But…what if Raúl’s explanation had been the right one?
Why hadn’t she stayed to check it out for herself instead of escaping to the other side of the world and the only familiar sanctuary she’d imagined she had?
The benefit of hindsight could be a mixed blessing, she perceived ruefully, for it forced her to choose between accepting the status quo…or beginning a search for the irrefutable truth.
With Raúl in Madrid on business, and Teresa resting, it was an ideal opportunity to make some investigative enquiries as to what had really happened almost three years ago.
She could, she ruminated, leave it be.
But, dammit, she’d reached a point where she needed whatever proof she could unearth in order to resolve the incident conclusively…irrespective of the result.
Gianna had no problem recalling the name of the hotel where Raúl had stayed in Rio, for it had been indelibly imprinted in her mind from the onset together with the dates.
Who could forget the momentous event of a husband’s infidelity? The date, time and place where it took place?
Purportedly, she allowed, surprised she could even consider the distinction.
As a precaution she used her cellphone instead of the villa’s landline, and with a list of written questions she made the first call.
By day’s end she’d made several connections, researched media archives online…and accumulated sufficient information to reach some interesting…make that intriguing conclusions.
Enough, she determined, to confront Sierra.
It was just a matter of where and when…preferably in private.
Almost as if fate played a helpful hand, there was a phone call from Teresa’s friend, Adriana, reminding Teresa of an invitation to a fashion showing the following afternoon in order to raise funds for terminally ill children. The event would begin with lunch.
Teresa seemed pale when she joined Gianna for dinner, and ate little. And although she dismissed feeling unwell she nevertheless begged tiredness soon after dinner, and at the nurse’s bidding excused herself and retired for the evening.
Gianna opted to view a movie on DVD, and when the credits had rolled she accessed her laptop, caught up on a few e-mails, checked the data Annaliese had sent through, then made ready for bed.
She told herself she enjoyed the solitude and knew she lied. For all it had taken was a few nights of Raúl sharing her bed for her to miss his presence.
Admit it…she enjoyed having his hands on her body, his mouth taking erotic liberties that made her forget everything except him and what he could make her feel.
What a conundrum…to want, but not accept she wanted or needed him. Except it was a truth she had to face—especially now, when she’d uncovered proof of Sierra’s lies.
The question of what she was going to do with that proof, and how she intended to resolve the situation, conjured up various scenarios which played in her mind until sleep tipped her into a dream-like state, where the past merged with the present, providing stumbling blocks she fought hard to circumvent.
It was late when Raúl entered the villa after a tense day of negotiations, ending with his ultimatum that could swing the deal for or against the Velez-Saldaña conglomerate. It was a deal he wanted but on his terms.
He could have stayed in Madrid overnight. Common sense had dictated it to be a sensible option. Except he’d called his pilot and directed him to file a flight plan to Mallorca.
The reason was the sleeping form of his wife, curled beneath the bedcovers, blissfully unaware of his presence.
He shed his clothes, took a leisurely shower, then, towelled dry, he crossed to the bed and carefully slid in beside her.
She didn’t stir as he gently gathered her close, and he pressed his lips to the sweet curve of her neck, then closed his eyes and attempted to sleep.
Gianna woke next morning as Raúl was in the process of fastening buttons on his business shirt.
His eyes gleamed with a degree of humour as he met her slightly bemused look. ‘You slept like an angel.’
‘Must have,’ she acknowledged as she reached for her robe. ‘I didn’t even know you were here.’
‘Is that a complaint because I didn’t wake you?’
Her response was swift…too swift. ‘No, of course not.’
A husky laugh escaped his throat as he crossed to her side and closed his mouth over her own.