Page 66 of For Better or for Ransom

Sol

Perhaps she should order a strong espresso. Sol had gone with Divya and Luke to the café in Palma from which a user could have posted the Leonardo Pascual video that got her the tip to head to the island. After two black teas had done nothing to alleviate her headache and overall feeling of discomfort, Sol hoped coffee would do the trick.

Of course what she should have done was not to drink like a madwoman the previous night. But it was too late for regrets now. Plus she was cutting herself some slack. After all, there had been chatter about a marriage last night. She and Luke hadn’t talked about the subject again since Divya had interrupted their very momentous chat the night before—there had been no time. But Sol almost preferred it this way. She needed to think. No, she needed to figure out what it was that she was thinking—what she really wanted. Because last night she’d been about to propose, but she’d been drunk, feeling ecstatic, and not thinking straight, right? Then why was she still feeling like proposing even if she was completely sober and feeling like crap?

“Another English Breakfast tea for you, Sol?” Divya asked her as they reached the front of the line.

She shook her head. “Double espresso, with a slice of that orange pound cake, please,” she asked the barista at the counter.

“Hangover is killing you, eh?” Divya was sharp as ever.

“My head is about to explode,” Sol admitted. Her heart skipped a beat when the door to the little coffee shop opened and she saw Luke coming through it. He’d fallen behind Divya and Sol with the excuse of having to run an errand. Sol could not imagine what errand her lover had to run on the island, but preferred not to ask.

“Did you get something for me?” He smiled at the two women.

“I ordered something sweet for the table but let’s add tea for you,” Sol told him, her heart racing. Was that how things were going to be between them from now on? Her, an absolute mess who couldn’t even look at him without feeling the butterflies in her stomach, and him, simply gorgeous and magnetic.

They paid and went to sit at one of the high tables by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking carrer de Can Asprer while the barista prepared their drinks. Sol kept counting the seconds until her coffee got there. She was good for nothing. As Luke took his cell phone out of his jeans back pocket, she thought even that familiar gesture was sexy. She’d fallen hard for him.

“I’m going to try the barista,” Luke said, and that took Sol out of her reverie.

Divya must have realized she was completely lost, because she explained: “We’ve gone through like three years of posts for the user who published the video with Leonardo, finally found a selfie of him. We thought we could ask in case someone had seen him here.”

“Right, good idea.” The barista called Sol’s name then and she almost squealed. “I’ll get it!”

When she got to the bar, Luke was showing the barista the selfie on his cell phone.

“Sure, he comes here all the time. He’s over there actually.” The barista pointed in front of them, and they saw a young guy of around twenty, his head buried on the screen of a battered laptop and he was seated at one of the low profile tables.

The place wasn’t even that big—or full of costumers—but the three of them had totally missed the guy. Apparently, Sol wasn’t the only one who wasn’t feeling exactly a hundred percent that morning.

“You go have that coffee, cara,” Luke told her, grabbing his tea. “I’ll go talk to the chap.”

Her eyes caught and held his. Was he just being extremely considerate because she was feeling miserable? Or was he trying to get her out of possible harm’s way? Either way it wasn’t like she could complain. Luke was clearly focused on her wellbeing.

She added that to the mental list of things she’d started compiling the night before: reasons why she should and shouldn’t marry Luke. So far the yeses clearly outweighed the nos. He’s gorgeous, tall, talks with a British accent—or in Italian, calls you cara, listens to you, makes you feel sexy, laughs at your jokes, makes you laugh, he’s freaking smart too—oh, and the sex is just hot, and perfectly delicious. All that versus: A third marriage, really? Didn’t you have enough the first two times?

Sol sighed, took a sip of the espresso, handed Divya her coffee and sat next to her, looking out the window at the passersby on the pedestrianized street.

“Something happened between you two?” Divya asked her, her face also focused on the street in front of them.

“Why do you ask?”

“There’s something in the mood. Did he talk to you?”

Sol stole a glance at Luke, who was across from them in the café, chatting with the guy who was supposed to have posted the Leonardo Pascual video. She then shifted on her stool and faced Divya.

“What do you know?” Her tone brooked no argument.

Divya swallowed. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Sol hiked her eyebrows, she didn’t believe the detective.

“All right, he told me he wants the title.”

Sol scrunched her nose. “The title?”

Divya’s voice lowered to an almost whisper. “The husband title. I’m betting he has talked to you about it, eh?”