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Lazaro made a rude sound and led Skye over to a chair to sit down. He handed her the water. ‘What do you want to eat?’
She hated being weak and vulnerable like this. She’d wanted to come and face Lazaro, give him the news and then walk away with her head held high, knowing she’d done the right thing.
‘Maybe a sandwich? And some fries?’
He went over to a phone and made a call.
When he came back Skye said, ‘Thank you. I’m sorry. I really didn’t intend to cause such an upset and I didn’t intend taking up your time like this.’
He looked at her and put his hands on his hips—which only drew Skye’s attention to that lean waist.
‘So you were going to come, drop your bombshell and then leave?’
Skye winced at his thunderous expression. ‘I just wanted to let you know. I don’t expect anything from you. Maybe once the news has died down you can repair things with your fiancée...’ She saw his expression darken even more and corrected herself. ‘Sorry, ex-fiancée.’
He dismissed that with a wave of his hand. ‘I told you—Leonora won’t have anything to do with me after this.’
In fairness, Skye had to admit she had looked like a nice person. A person who didn’t deserve to be upset in public like that.
Her insides cramped with remorse. She hadn’t handled this very well at all.
Just then a chiming sound rang through the room, and Lazaro sent her a dark look before he went to the door. He came back with a tray. On it was a plate covered with a silver dome.
‘Come into the kitchen.’
Skye dutifully followed Lazaro, trying not to notice the sexy athleticism of his stride. Or feel hurt that he was going to take her into that utilitarian kitchen to eat—probably for fear she’d drop crumbs all over his pristine suite.
He must have been staying here in order to make the announcement. Perhaps he’d even planned on spending the night here with his fiancée. Celebrating their engagement. It was certainly romantic enough, with its stunning views of Madrid laid out around it.
Then Skye stopped on the threshold of a kitchen she hadn’t seen before. It certainly wasn’t the
one she’d been led through. This one was massive, and had state-of-the-art appliances and a sleek modern finish. There was a dining table and chairs by one window. Lazaro was putting the tray down and taking off the silver dome to reveal a very fancy-looking sandwich and fries.
Her mouth watered. She went over and sat down.
‘I thought I came up through the kitchen?’
Lazaro looked slightly discomfited. ‘I asked them to bring you up that way to avoid the paparazzi.’
‘Oh.’
* * *
She said ‘oh’ a lot. Lazaro watched, half-fascinated, as Skye tucked into the sandwich and fries with little self-consciousness. Watching a woman eat, he realised, felt like a curiously intimate thing to do. Especially when most of the women he spent time with chased a lettuce leaf around their plates.
He got another glass of sparkling water and put it down on the table. She glanced at him and wiped her mouth. Her cheeks were tinged pink as she said thank you.
They’d gone pink like that when their eyes had met in that small restaurant near his hotel in Dublin. And they’d gone even pinker when he’d asked to her join him there for a nightcap when she finished work.
She’d said Oh then too.
‘Oh... Wow... I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I don’t know you. You could be anyone.’
He’d handed her a card from his jacket pocket. A platinum-embossed card, with his name and contact details. He’d said, ‘It’s not proof I’m not a serial killer, but I can assure you I’m not. I’m just asking you to meet me for a drink at the bar...a chance to get to know one another a little better.’
