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Gabriel shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I have a box at the stadium. He’ll be treated like a king.’
Emotion caught in Leonora’s chest. Gabriel really had no idea how a casual gesture could mean so much. ‘He’ll love it.’
Gabriel asked, ‘How are renovations coming along at the Flores castillo?’
‘Really well. They’ve done so much already. I think my parents have decided to keep doing the tours. They have plans to make them more dynamic—add in wine tastings, overnight stays, that kind of thing. The fact that they’ll be able to hire staff makes all the difference. It’s given them a new lease of life. Thank you.’
Gabriel inclined his head. ‘It’s all part of the agreement.’
That dented a little more of the hazy glow surrounding Leonora. Gabriel wasn’t doing this out of the goodness of his heart. He was doing it because it was part of their prenuptial agreement. Laid out in black and white. Okay, so his relationship with Matías was something he was doing out of the goodness of his heart...but she needed to remember that this marriage was very much a transaction for him. Much as it would have been for Lazaro Sanchez.
She was a commodity who had value in her background, her name, and in how she looked and could conduct herself. And she was lucky that Gabriel found her attractive or she wouldn’t be here.
His hand came over hers and she felt that all too familiar tingle of electricity. She almost resented it for a second.
‘Where did you go just then?’ he asked.
She cursed the fact that she couldn’t seem to hide her expressions around Gabriel, when for years she’d perfected the art of not showing anyone what was going on inside her.
She forced a smile. ‘Nowhere.’
* * *
Gabriel lifted his hand off Leonora’s. It was disconcerting to feel so attuned to another person. She’d retreated just then, closing herself off right in front of him. He’d immediately wanted to know why. Even though he was more used to people trying to read him for his reactions.
It was also disconcerting how quickly he’d adjusted to having Leonora here at the castillo. He almost couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been there. When he arrived home in the evening the first thing he noticed was her light scent. Floral, with musky undertones. Like her—serene on the surface but full of complexity and fire underneath.
The captivation he’d felt in Costa Rica didn’t appear to be diminishing. During a board meeting earlier his mind had wandered all too easily to remembering how he’d woken her that morning. It had started slow and sensuous but had quickly become urgent and explosive.
She was addictive.
He assured himself that this was normal. He just hadn’t expected that he would want his wife this much. He’d imagined a far more sedate arrangement, if and when he married, with sex turning into a function more than an indulgence. But this was a good thing, he assured himself now. He and Leonora had something to build on. A connection that went beyond what most couples in their world had.
* * *
Leonora said, ‘Your assistant called me today—about a function in Paris at the weekend?’
‘Yes. It’s a gala in aid of a charity. It’s on at the same time as Fashion Week, so it’ll be pretty high-profile.’
Leonora immediately felt intimidated. Which was ridiculous. She’d been bred for this sort of thing.
‘When do we leave?’
‘We’ll fly out Saturday afternoon, and come back on Monday. I have some meetings there on Monday morning.’ He put his hand over hers again. ‘You’ll be fine.’
She looked at him. ‘I don’t want to let you down. I’ve never been the most gregarious person in a group.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t want gregarious. I want you.’
The hazy glow was back. He interlinked their fingers and Leonora felt a pulse throb between her legs. It was as if her body had been made uniquely to respond to his. It was maddening—and utterly thrilling.
He stood up and held out a hand, the look in his eye very explicit. Unmistakable.
Her body reacted predictably, her blood growing hot, moving faster through her veins.
They’d just finished dinner. Leonora usually liked to relax, watching a boxset or reading a book before bed. But that had been before Gabriel had awoken this needy and insatiable side of her. And right then the thought of losing herself to his expert touch was a very enticing prospect. She really didn’t want to think about their first official public outing together as a couple.
So she stood up and let him lead her up the stairs and into their bedroom. She tried to feel cynical about it and remind herself that this attention from Gabriel was in part to ensure a quick result for an heir, but when he touched her, or looked at her like he was doing now—as if, like her, he couldn’t quite understand this thing between them—it was very hard to be cynical. It felt so pure. And raw. And necessary.
