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* * *
Skye knew the moment Lazaro’s intense gaze moved off her. She felt it like a physical thing. She glanced over and saw he was talking with a group of important-looking men and women. All very serious.
She sighed. Her feet were starting to hurt her, and the nice older woman she’d been talking to had had to leave. So now she was on her own.
This function was being held in another beautiful palace on the Grand Canal. Candles and low lighting imbued everything with a golden hue.
The crowd was exactly like the one that had been in Spain the night Skye had gone to find Lazaro. Exclusive and moneyed. Entitled. Skye wondered what it must have been like for Lazaro to grow up knowing that he should have been part of this world, but had been cruelly and brutally cast aside due to an accident of birth.
She could understand where Lazaro’s drive and ambition stemmed from. But she wondered if it would bring him the satisfaction he craved.
Her hand went to her belly. She couldn’t fathom inflicting such cruelty on an innocent child. How a mother could have let her baby go just like that.
Skye became aware of the way people around her were looking at her. She tried not to fidget in her dress, and decided to go to the bathroom to check that everything was in place.
She looked at Lazaro, to let him know, but he was turned away from her, talking to someone. Ridiculously, Skye felt old hurt resurface. There had been too many times in her childhood and young life when her mother had turned her back on her to pursue her own whims, leaving Skye to her own devices.
She reminded herself of what Lazaro had said to her, ‘I’m your husband, not your mother.’ She needed to grow a spine if she was going to survive in this world. Lazaro had never pretended to feel anything but desire for her. She simply amused him with her observations and quirks.
Angry that she was letting his inattention get to her, Skye didn’t bother interrupting him and went to find the bathroom, sighing with relief when she got there and it was blessedly empty.
She was just checking her back view when a woman came in. Tall, stunningly beautiful, with long glossy dark hair. Wearing a simple strapless dress that instantly made Skye feel overdressed.
The woman smiled at Skye but it didn’t reach her eyes. Skye smiled back and washed her hands perfunctorily, not liking the chilly vibe.
The woman was reapplying her lipstick, but before Skye could leave she sent a pointed look to Skye’s belly and drawled, ‘The oldest trick in the book... Well done, Señora Sanchez, you caught the biggest prize of them all.’
Skye stopped. ‘Excuse me?’
The woman turned around. ‘You might look as though butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth, but you don’t trap a man like Lazaro Sanchez so easily. When are you planning on divorcing? A year after the baby? Two? You’re set for life anyway, so it probably doesn’t matter.’
Skye was speechless.
The woman walked to the door and looked back. ‘Enjoy him while you have him. It won’t be long before a man like Lazaro is back on the scene. I don’t see him playing happy families for long, do you?’
* * *
Lazaro knew when Skye had disappeared from the crowd. He’d felt a prickling on the back of his neck, a
nd when he’d looked around he’d just caught a glimpse of red hair before she’d gone from view.
The conversation he’d been having was boring him, so he’d made his excuses and walked away. And now he stood in the general vicinity of the bathrooms and leant against a golden pillar.
Where was she?
Irritation mounted, along with something else quite alien to Lazaro: concern. What if something was happening with the baby? What if she was alone and in pain?
Lazaro stood up straight, panic rising from his gut. And then he saw her, emerging from the bathroom. He went over, took her arm.
She looked up at him, surprised. Lazaro felt foolish for having panicked. Exposed.
He realised she looked pale and was avoiding his eyes. ‘What’s wrong? Did something happen?’
She looked at him and he had a sense that she felt guilty. ‘No. Everything is fine. Honestly. I didn’t tell you where I was going because you were busy.’
‘Are you tired? Do you want to go?’
He saw the expression that crossed her face before she could disguise it. Relief.
