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Ava’s eyes had a hint of defiance when they met his. “I don’t want another job. I have no problems with the fact I’m a cleaner. I’m sorry if it disappoints you to realise that the woman you were sleeping with does something so… beneath you… but that’s what I am. Who I am.”
“You think I have a problem with your occupation?”
She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing. “I think you’d have found it harder to bring me here and introduce me to your family if you told them, in the same breath, that I’m responsible for sanitizing the restrooms on the thirty second floor of The Walsham Tower.”
Guy couldn’t explain how that made him feel. Nothing good, but not for the reasons she thought. It wasn’t snobbery that motivated his reaction. So? What was it?
“You are wrong.” His nostrils flared as he exhaled. “I would have brought you here and introduced you to my family, irrespective of what you do for a living. If you had been the woman I thought you were, instead of the illusion you turned out to be.”
She recoiled from him, and again, he couldn’t help but note the disparity in how her reaction of pain affected him. The satisfaction he’d felt in Madrid was gone, completely. Now, there was only a deep sense of regret at the ease with which he could discomfort her.
But Ava rallied, her face lifted, and she reached for her wine for another sip before she spoke to Guy. “Why don’t you come to the island more often?”
He shook his head. “That’s not how this works. I’m asking the questions.”
Addie nodded, a small shift of her head, and then she stood. “Fine. Then enjoy your platter.” She stood and took one step away from the table but he snaked his hand out, curving it around her wrist, jerking her towards him.
“Sit down, querida. We’re not finished.”
“Yes, we are,” she muttered, blinking furiously to stem the tears that were close to overflowing. “We’re so finished.”
She glared at him and he felt her anger and hostility, her hurt and her pain, and the grip on her wrist softened, so that his thumb was stroking her soft, sensitive flesh. He saw the way her pupils widened, darkening her eyes.
“You can’t buy me,” she said softly, but with a strength that cut through him. “I’m here, talking to you, because I want to. I wanted to. But not if you’re going to treat me like some kind of possession.”
His gut twisted. She was right.
“There is no sinister reason,” he heard himself say, releasing her wrist and waving his upturned palm towards the seat opposite. “I like it here, but I do not often have the time a visit requires.”
Her expression softened, but he had no idea if she was going to stay or go, and found himself holding his breath.
Finally, though, with a small nod, she said, “Why not?”
“To bring the yacht, it takes at least a weekend.” He didn’t let his relief show.
“Your parents are flying in a helicopter,” she murmured. “They’re going to the mainland just for one night. So that can’t be it.”
Her perceptiveness was as unsettling as it was familiar. Hadn’t she always been able to see beneath his words and find the heart of what he was feeling? Even before he realized it?
“So why do I visit so rarely?” He leaned back in his chair. “In your opinion.”
“In my opinion?” She lifted a brow quizzically. “You’re sure you want it?”
He tilted his head forward.
“You adore Santiago, but you know you disappoint him. He wants something from you you’re not capable of giving him. So you hide from him. You avoid him. You don’t want to disappoint him.”
Guy didn’t speak; what need was there for his words when hers had been so accurate?
“You brought me here to fool him, but he’s not fooled, Guy.”
“I know that.” His eyes glittered.
Addie’s eyes jarred with his. “What?”
“He accosted me on the drive back; he was full of questions as to why I had not proposed marriage to you.”
