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Of course he’d won – when did he not? Except it had been a mistake, one he would always regret.
He’d let his need to triumph remove his ability to think straight, and so he hadn’t seen a single warning sign to tell him that she was playing him. What had she wanted? A ring? To be Mrs Guy Rodriguez?
A dangerous shiver of apprehension ran down his spine, because he knew how close he’d come to asking her to be exactly that! On the very night when the truth had shattered
What an A-grade moron he’d been. He struggled, even now, to analyse the source of her power over him, acknowledging only that there was indeed something within this woman that called to him in a way no one else had - not since Sofia, anyway.
Perhaps that was it? Perhaps her innate gift for dishonesty made Ava the perfect reminder of the first woman he’d ever thought he loved?
“This will be your room,” he said, bringing himself back into the present swiftly, reminding himself that Ava was right behind him, her perfect body as sinfully tempting as ever, so close that he could reach out and touch her, feel the soft smoothness of her skin.
“My room?” She repeated, the small frown showing confusion.
“What’s the matter?” He asked, unable to stop himself now, as he closed the distance between them. “Did you think we would be sharing?”
He saw the way her lips parted and heard the way her breath got thicker, clouded by the heat of her thoughts? “I…” Pink moved across her face. Was she blushing because she was embarrassed or was it simply another trick in her arsenal?
“You are here to fool my family,” he said simply. “I told you in Madrid, I have long-since replaced you in my bed.”
Her eyes flashed away from him and her breath got louder. This wasn’t an act. The pain, the shock. This was real. Raw. Truth.
Yes, there was truth in her reaction to his gloating, and he liked that. Not hurting her necessarily, but shocking her into an honest reaction. Connecting with a part of her that wasn’t a construct.
“The crew has unpacked your clothes in here,” he nodded towards a white door that concealed a wardrobe. He moved further down the corridor, to the room next door. “This is my room.”
She nodded, toying with the silky ends of her hair, plaiting it nervously between her fingers.
“So we’re staying here? On the boat?”
Guy’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
“But I thought the whole point was to fool your family…”
“To please my grandfather,” he corrected. “And while I realise we must lie to them, that I am being dishonest, I do not relish the idea of rubbing this falsehood in their face. We will spend the bare minimum time with them, and otherwise, be onboard the yacht.” He moved deeper into the corridor, which gave way to a large, luxurious lounge area, complete with white leather sofas, an open-plan kitchen and bar, and on the deck beyond, a spa bath.
“Won’t they think that’s kind of rude?”
“They know I like to … entertain … on my yacht,” he drawled, and again, had the satisfaction of seeing her blanche at the heavy-handed and exaggerated inference to other women. As a point of fact, he didn’t bring women onboard often at all. The yacht was his sanctuary, somewhere he came when he needed to get away. “They will simply presume I am too infatuated to want to share you. If anything, it will make this seem more plausible.”
Addie spun away, moving towards the floor to ceiling windows that showed a panoramic view of Acantilados. With her back turned, Guy feasted his eyes on her body as he’d been wanting to since he saw her on the deck, staring out at the island with visible wonder. He stared at her, remembering every sweet curve of her, every dip and hollow, every pulse point and how she liked them to be touched.
“You really don’t have any problem with this, do you?”
He frowned, moving closer, having to strain to hear her softly-spoken question.
“What problem would I have?”
When she turned to face him, there was an ethereal sadness in her expression. “This. You. Me. Being here together but not together. You’re really able to sever what we used to be from what we are now, aren’t you?”
Guy frowned. “Of course.”
Her laugh was a sharp sound of disbelief. “Of course? You’re not … awkward?”
He spoke with cold determination. “I am simply looking forward to giving an old man peace of mind in his twilight years. That is the only reason you’re here, and when the week is over, my driver will take you to the airport and, make no mistake, I will be glad to see the back of you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
OF COURSE SHE’D EXPECTED the island to be luxurious. She’d had a glimpse of Guy’s lifestyle in London. His stunningly expensive penthouse in Mayfair, the driver who ferried him around in some kind of Aston Martin, the way he dressed, everything.
