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Addie lifted her face, skimming his expression. “What do you mean?”
“I have no intention of scampering around like your personal tour guide, Ava.”
“But last night, you said…”
“I was acting, Ava! Playing a part, just like we discussed. What was I meant to do? Tell my mother I didn’t want to spend any more time with you than I absolutely have to?” He drew his thick, dark brows closer together. “You know why you are here. To fool my family. That’s it. I want nothing from you beyond that, particularly not to go running around the island with you, as though any of this is real.”
Addie’s heart cracked wide open, pain flooding in. Disappointment engulfed her, making it hard to breathe suddenly. “But Guy…”
“What?” A sharp
hiss, and then, a movement over his shoulder caught Addie’s attention. A golf buggy, drawing up along the sand.
Only Guy had his back to the beach, and so couldn’t have known that they were on the brink of having company. Addie opened her mouth to point the fact out, but he spoke first.
“I should have thought you’d recognize my sentiment.”
“Sentiment?” She repeated, her eyes darting nervously to the beach. Was that Santiago, stepping out of the golf buggy?
“Acting. Pretending. Faking.” He brought his mouth closer to hers. “I was faking, just like you.”
“I told you,” she whispered back urgently, as Santiago approached the deck. “Nothing about this is fake for me.”
He whipped his head up and she saw anger in every line of his body. “Lying to me is going to get you nowhere. I learned my lesson about women like you a long time ago, and you have certainly given me a refresher course. I suppose I should thank you…”
“Thank me later,” she snapped. “Your grandfather is here.”
For a moment, there was a look of complete surprise on Guy’s face and then, she thought, fleetingly, guilt. But it was all gone again within a nano-second. Guy turned away from her, moving towards the entrance to the yacht, his back ramrod straight.
Addie didn’t immediately follow him. She needed a moment to regroup, to regain control of her senses before plastering on a façade of happiness she was far from feeling. She caught their voices without being able to distinguish any words.
Balling up all her grief and ramming it deep inside of her, she stuck a smile on her face and made her way along the boat, towards the two men. Seeing them standing side by side, she felt for herself how similar they were.
“Santiago,” she smiled at the older man, unable to look in Guy’s direction. She felt his gaze on her though, and her skin pricked all over.
“Ah, bella dama,” he grinned. “I hope you will not resent an old man crashing your day?”
“Of course not,” Addie said, frankly relieved at the idea of company. Was it wrong that she felt that way? To know that in the presence of his grandfather, Guy would be charming and kind, and her heart would be – temporarily – safe?
“Luciana has begun,” he said with a grimace. Addie risked a glance at Guy. He was silently watchful, his expression unreadable, his eyes not meeting hers.
“What does that mean?” Addie asked.
“She is setting up for the party. There are people everywhere! The marquee goes up, the caterers have taken over the kitchen, the garden is being transformed – an ice statue is being sculpted – I cannot think for the noise.”
“I see,” Addie said sympathetically.
“And it’s been so long since I’ve been to the caves myself,” he said with a grin, “that I thought I would hitch along with you two.”
Addie’s eyes flew to Guy’s face now, in time to catch a hint of impatience in them.
“I’m sure it’s not what my grandson had in mind,” Santiago winked. “But I am allowed to be selfish at eighty five, am I not?”
“Eighty four,” Addie corrected with a wry smile. “And we’re thrilled you’re here, aren’t we, Guy?”
“Of course,” he nodded. His eyes were cold though, when they met Addie’s, his smile a very poor imitation. “I’ll get the ball rolling.”
It took only twenty minutes. Staff from the island withdrew the moorings, casting the boat away, and Guy took the helm himself, steering the yacht expertly while Addie sat with Santiago, sipping on an ice-cold lemonade.
