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He cut off the estate agent, who was saying something about security. ‘There was a house my wife looked at in the centre of the city, near the park. I’d like to see that one.’
A week later
‘You can go in.’
Lazaro took a deep breath and walked into Gabriel Torres’s office. The man was standing by the window, hands in his pockets.
‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’
Lazaro walked over to the desk and put down a padded envelope. He tapped it lightly before looking at Gabriel.
‘There is all you need in there to find out if we are related. Which we are. Again, I don’t want anything from you, or your family—simply an acknowledgment that I’m of your blood. It’s the least I’m due, I think. Also, I’ve decided to pull out of the bid for the market. I still think my bid was the better one, but it’s not my priority any more. And, yes, you’re right: a big part of my motivation was in going up against you. You’re a worthy adversary, Gabriel, but I’ve lost the appetite for battling with you.’
Lazaro turned to go, and he was almost at the door when he heard Gabriel say, ‘What’s changed?’
Lazaro turned around. He smiled, and realised he felt lighter than he’d felt in years. In his life. ‘I’ve just realised what’s truly important in life...that’s all.’
He turned again and walked out, but not even the expression of confusion and shock on Gabriel’s face could distract him from what he had to do next.
* * *
Skye tried to put everything out of her mind except what was in front of her. A heaving restaurant on a Friday night. Her old boss had given her a few shifts, and she was grateful to be kept busy so that her mind didn’t keep circling back to that last conversation with Lazaro. And to the pain near her heart.
Ha! Near her heart? The pain was her heart.
She hadn’t heard from Lazaro in two weeks, and it couldn’t be clearer that he’d already moved on from whatever they’d had.
‘Stop scowling, Skye. You look like you’re going to take someone’s head off.’
Skye rearranged her expression with effort. ‘Better?’
The friend who was letting her crash in her spare room said, ‘Marginally. Now you just look deranged.’
Skye smiled properly at that. And then she kept that smile on her face as she dived into the fray, using the hectic pace to take her mind off her pain.
She was so intent on distraction that she didn’t even notice him at first.
She’d walked over to the table on auto-pilot, pulling her pen from where she’d stuck it in the bun on top of her head. She moved to a new page in her order book and looked up, pen poised—and fell into two green pools.
The shock was so profound that she swayed on her feet, her blood rushing south.
Lazaro grabbed her. ‘Skye. Do not faint on me.’
Something in the autocratic tone brought her back to her senses, like smelling salts. She blinked. He was still there. The sheer reality of his physicality was overwhelming.
She scrambled back, almost landing on the table behind her. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘We need to talk.’
‘I’m working. This is not a good time,’ she hissed at him.
She turned to walk away, and then she heard him speaking from behind her, in a loud voice.
‘This woman is the mother of my child and I’m here to talk to her. But she refuses.’
She turned around in horror to see Lazaro appealing to the people in the restaurant. Everyone was looking at him, rapt. She saw one woman take out her phone to take a picture—or, worse, maybe a video.
Then her boss came up behind her and said, ‘Skye? Do you want to take this outside? Please?’ He took her order book from her and handed her her bag and coat.
