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Suficiente.
Taking his phone from his pocket, he dialled his assistant’s number, relayed precise instructions and hung up. Then he turned around, intent on taking a moment’s peace of mind to enjoy the last of the blazing sunset.
Thirty seconds later, he was reaching for his phone again, and delivering slightly modified instructions.
The mocking laughter that rang in his ears, Ramon studiously decided to ignore.
Their journey to Havana two days later went without a hitch. As did the first exhibit of the talented artists who’d made the cut of his programme. The eclectic mix of local artists, avid collectors and overseas gallery owners interested in the thriving Cuban art scene meant the event was fully attended.
Already he’d fielded calls from other galleries in the States and Europe interested in featuring three of the artists.
He’d finished delivering the news to the artists in question when she caught his eye from the corner of the room. Hell, who was he kidding? His body’s radar had known where she was at every single moment, even after she’d politely excused herself on arrival and made sure to put the width of the room between them from then on.
From across the room of Piedra Galleria Havana, he watched her converse with one of his artists. The short-sleeved lace dress hugged her upper arms and slim torso before flaring in a full calf-length skirt. With her hair caught up and delicate silver jewellery complementing her style, she was easily the most captivating woman in the room.
A fact evidenced by the volume of male attention directed her way.
The powerful hit of pure possessiveness didn’t surprise him. Nor did the recognition that part of his irritation stemmed from the fact that her full skirt prevented him from seeing her belly. He didn’t care that her pregnancy wasn’t outwardly visible yet.
The caveman in him wanted his claim on her in plain sight.
Mine, he wanted to growl. But the word stayed locked in his throat. Because to utter that, he would need another word to give truth to the situation. Temporarily.
So the claim stayed down, and he watched as she nodded eagerly in conversation, then replied. The young artist, clearly thrilled to have a captive audience, proceeded to elaborate whatever point he was making with animated hand gestures. Ramon watched a smile break over her face, the first he’d seen for a while. The knot in his stomach annoyed him almost as much as the ever-closing gap between Suki and the artist.
A server approached them. Ramon watched the man snag two glasses of champagne and hand her one. Another smile accompanied her refusal, which should’ve made him back away. Instead, he leaned ever closer to catch what she was saying.
Ramon was moving across the floor before he’d fully registered the movement of his limbs. He reached them in time to hear his cocky cajoling.
‘Come on, a simple drink for the man who put the first smile on your face tonight, sí?’
‘When a woman states that she doesn’t want a drink, you need to be a gentleman and respect her wishes,’ Ramon cut in coldly.
Diego Baptiste’s attention jerked his way, whatever objection he’d been about to put up dying when he saw Ramon.
He took a hasty step back, almost tripping over his feet. ‘Sí, lo siento. I did not mean any disrespect...enjoy your evening, señorita.’ Turning on his heel, he struck a straight route into the busy crowd.
Stunning blue eyes, holding distinct accusation, glared at him. ‘He was being nice. Did you have to put him down like that?’
A hovering waiter approached. Ramon chose a peach mocktail he knew she would enjoy and handed it to her, then grabbed a glass of cognac for himself, after which he walked her out of Diego’s papier-maché exhibition into one more pleasing to him. ‘He was encroaching where he had no business encroaching. So yes, the put-down was necessary.’
Her eyes snapped. ‘Encroaching? We were just talking. And you’re the host of this event. If you insist on glaring at everyone who walks past, don’t do it in my presence.’
‘You’re the most beautiful woman in the room. No man wants to just talk to you,’ he bit out. ‘And I can glare at whomever I damn well please.’
She gave a dry laugh, but even that sound attracted more stares. ‘What’s got into you? If I didn’t know better I’d think you were jealous.’
‘Then I hate to be the bearer of bad news because you don’t know any better,’ he replied.
The glass in her hand wobbled. Her eyes widened adorably before heat flared up into her face along with a healthy measure of the confusion firing through his own bloodstream. ‘Ramon...’
‘You look stunning, querida, but I hate that dress you’re wearing.’
Her peach-glossed, deliciously kissable lips pursed. ‘Blame yourself, you chose it.’
‘Well, at the time I didn’t know that I would crave seeing your body bloom with my baby.’
She gave a soft gasp, then her forehead creased in puzzlement. ‘Are...are you okay?’
