AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘It’s too late to right the wrongs. All that’s left to do is make the reparations.’
‘And let me guess, I’ll find out what those reparations are when you’re ready?’
He smiled a mirthless smile. ‘See, chiquita, you’re already learning.’
And because he couldn’t stand to watch her treacherous, offensively delectable mouth tremble for another second, he walked out of the living room, out of the suite, and out into the brisk Rome night.
* * *
Carla didn’t see Javier again until the limo ferrying her to the airport the next morning came to a stop next to a stunning private jet. She’d flown in her share of chartered planes—a perk her father had deemed necessary for her image—but the Santino jet screamed a different class, even from the outside. Tequila-gold, with thin platinum lines running from nose to fin, the aircraft was as visually masterful as its owner, who currently stood framed in the doorway at the top of the short flight of steps, arms folded and his bespoke-suited body projecting an aura of banked impatience.
She alighted, conscious of the brooding gaze on her, and smiled at the doctor who’d turned up at the hotel suite this morning with instructions to check her over. He’d pronounced her fit to travel, then accompanied her to the airport, his reassurance that her further health needs had been taken care of by Signor Santino, in the form of private medical personnel on board the plane, barely registering with Carla.
After Javier had walked out last night, she’d staggered back to her suite in a state of shock. It didn’t take a genius to work out who had made those disparaging comments to the press about Javier’s parentage.
Her father had been livid when the rumours of her association with Javier had surfaced in the months after her mother’s death. Steeped in grief, she’d barely paid attention to the tabloids, had stuck to saying no comment after the initial disastrous interview with the journalist the day of her championship win.
She’d made sure after that never to be drawn on a personal subject, not knowing the damage that was being done behind her back. That Javier had been dealt a much heavier blow than to be called a playboy.
She looked up at him now as she mounted the steps, and her stomach fell. Every accusation he’d hurled at her last night was still etched on his face. The light of day hadn’t brought an iota of mercy.
Whatever her father’s actions had wrought had to be monumental—
/>
‘If you dawdle any longer, we’ll miss our take-off slot,’ he ground out.
She hoisted her handbag onto her shoulder with her unhurt hand and mounted the last step. It brought her within touching distance of his sleek, silently seething perfection. She brought up her immobilised hand and tried to squeeze past him when he made no attempt to move out of her way.
He stopped her with a hand on her waist, his gaze burning into her. ‘You’re favouring your wrist. Did you aggravate it?’
‘No. But I slept badly last night. I’m certain that didn’t help,’ she murmured.
He looked from her face to her wrist as if examining the cast would determine the truth of her statement. ‘Did the doctor give you anything for it?’ he snapped.
‘I didn’t ask.’ Her mind had been on something else. Him.
Exasperation piled onto the myriad volatile emotions swirling over his face. Firming his hold, he guided her inside the aircraft, bypassing grouped armchairs and a conference setting to a sitting area complete with a plush double sofa and recliner. Relieving her of her handbag, he placed it on a nearby table and motioned her onto the recliner. He murmured in Spanish to a middle-aged woman in a neat skirt suit before turning back to her. He leaned forward to secure her seat belt and Carla’s breath fractured.
He straightened as the woman approached. ‘This is Selma. She’s part of my company’s medical team. She’ll give you something for the pain.’
He waited until she’d taken the painkillers and the plane was moving before he started to walk away.
‘Javier?’ His revelations last night would continue to haunt her unless she did something about it. She cleared her throat when he paused. ‘Can we talk, please?’
‘There will be enough time for that, if you insist. Right now, I have work to do. And you need to rest.’
She gritted her teeth as he walked away, silently cursing the guilt raking through her. If she’d been as duplicitous and unfeeling as Javier believed she was, she could’ve shut her eyes and pretended all this didn’t affect her. Instead she fidgeted in her seat as the plane took off and they raced east.
Eventually, the medication kicked in. At some point she woke to find a blanket tucked around her and the lights in the sitting area dimmed. A glass of water stood on the table next to her and she drank before once again succumbing to sleep.
She was awoken by Selma, who smiled and informed her that they’d landed and that Javier had already left the plane to head to his office.
Carla told herself the disappointment she felt was because she’d been denied the opportunity to set the record straight. And she kept telling herself that all through the next two weeks of barely seeing Javier. Of Selma, though, she saw a lot, the doctor almost frustratingly efficient in ensuring Carla was fed, watered and medicated within the four walls of Javier’s ultra-luxurious Upper East Side penthouse.
Emerging from her assigned bedroom on the morning after being given the all-clear to pursue light work, Carla caught sight of herself in the large gilt mirror gracing the wide hallway, and paused in surprise.
Her skin looked healthy and vibrant and her cheeks had lost the sickly pallor and gaunt hollowness. Her newly shampooed hair, which she’d worn in a tight bun for as long as she could remember, fell in waves around her shoulders, the distinct caramel highlights catching the sunlight.
