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‘Why don’t you date?’ she asked directly, curiosity sparking too large to ignore now.
‘What’s the point?’
She flexed one brow, waiting for him to elaborate.
‘Isn’t dating the route you take to marriage? Why bother, given that I don’t intend to get married?’
‘I think you’re being too binary in your thinking,’ she said after a moment. ‘After all, I intend to get married, but not to fall in love. I intend to date to find a suitable husband, not to fall in love.’
‘And will you tell your husband how limited you want your marriage to be?’
A cheeky smile flickered on her lips. ‘Do you think me capable of lying?’
‘Not for one moment.’
She sighed with assumed melodrama. ‘Then what choice do I have?’
If he was amused by her comment, he didn’t show it. ‘And what sort of man do you think you’ll find, who’s willing to marry you in name only?’
‘Oh, I don’t mean for the marriage to be in name only, necessarily.’
‘What does that mean?’
She lifted her shoulders. ‘I’m not getting married with the intention of getting divorced again right away.’
‘But to satisfy your father’s will, you need only to marry, correct?’
‘Yes. But the idea of doing it just to meet his dictatorial requirements doesn’t sit right with me. I’d prefer to find someone I actually like, someone I can be friends with, and forge a relationship with them.’
‘And will sex form a part of this relationship?’
Something like nausea wretched through her. The idea of another man touching her, kissing her, making love to her, was like swallowing acid. ‘Undoubtedly,’ she said, reaching for her drink only to realise it was empty. Alejandro didn’t take his eyes off her face as he lifted the jug, refilling her glass.
‘Be careful, querida. It tastes sweet but it packs a punch.’
She sipped it defiantly. ‘I don’t want to live a sexless life, if that’s what you’re asking. Nor do I want to cheat on my husband. So I suppose I’ll have to find someone I find sexually attractive as well.’
But the idea made her head swim, because that had never been part of her plan. Alejandro had set the cat amongst the pigeons, showing her body what it could feel, making her crave him around the clock, so she couldn’t imagine going on with her life without that kind of satisfaction.
‘Perhaps Tinder?’
Was she imagining the dark edge to his words? Probably. Wishful thinking. Why would he care what she planned to do with her life?
Tapas began to appear at their table, a selection of crumbed olives, anchovies on toast, saffron-flavoured rice balls, and vegetables in olive oil. Sienna ate, grateful Alejandro moved the conversation on to something more general, entertaining her with the history of this area of Barcelona, while Sienna went through the motions, eating though she was no longer hungry, praising the food though she could barely taste it.
She was surprised to realise, when all the plates were cleared, that almost two hours had passed, and the sangria jug was almost empty. She hadn’t seen him take more than a couple of sips from his glass, so she suspected she’d had rather too much to drink. Whoops.
When they stood, she did indeed feel a little woozy, but the hand he put in the small of her back anchored her back to this room, this restaurant, to him, so she moved her body close to his, closing her eyes as she inhaled his intoxicating, masculine fragrance.
‘Would you like to dance, querida?’
‘Don’t you remember? I have two left feet.’
‘It doesn’t matter. You’ll feel the music.’ He stroked her arm. ‘Trust me.’
Something stirred low in her abdomen, spreading through her whole body, and when she looked up into his eyes, she was lost. Trust me. Why did that sound like both a spell and a curse at the same time?
