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‘I’ll show you.’ His hand was on her back, compelling, relentlessly driving her forward.
They walked back inside and Ramon took her over to the desk. He didn’t intend to prolong the agony with meaningless platitudes. He simply picked out one of the silver-framed photographs and gave it to her.
‘Who is this?’ she said, but in her heart she already knew. The black and white photograph showed three people: Don Pedro di Fuego Montoya stood in the centre, with two beautiful young women either side of him. Claudia was one; her mother was the other. Vaguely Annalisa became aware that Ramon’s arm had moved to circle her shoulder. ‘What does this mean?’ she asked, turning her face up to him.
‘Your mother was employed by Claudia’s father,’ he said, prising the photograph out of her hands and returning it to the desk.
She frowned and gave her head a shake, as if trying to release the memories locked inside. ‘I know she worked here on the island… I know that’s how she met my father… I never knew the details—’
‘I’ll tell you everything I know.’
‘Please,’ she said, resting her hand on his arm almost as if she was reassuring him now. She needed to know more…everything.
‘Claudia’s father was highly respected on the island. He came from old money. He was a widower, bringing up his daughter alone. He indulged her every whim. But an aristocratic lifestyle costs a lot of money and puts none in the bank.’
‘He went broke?’
‘Yes,’ Ramon confirmed. ‘But that didn’t stop him spending money on Claudia…her education, her clothes…’
‘And my mother?’
‘Claudia met your mother when she was at school in England.’
Comprehension dawned in Annalisa’s eyes. ‘My grandfather was a teacher.’
‘Claudia and your mother became friends. Your mother returned to the island as Claudia’s paid companion.’
‘Her companion?’ Annalisa said with surprise, glancing at the photograph again. ‘My mother never mentioned Claudia once.’
‘Hardly surprising,’ Ramon murmured dryly. ‘They spent holidays together, almost always over here…for the freedom as well as the weather.’
‘I can see why,’ Annalisa murmured as she remembered her loveable but rather authoritarian grandfather. She couldn’t imagine anything getting past him.
‘As soon as Claudia began to appreciate the financial predicament her father was in, she began to cast her eye around to find something…someone…who could bail her out.’
‘And Don Pedro—’
‘Was certainly rich enough,’ Ramon confirmed. ‘But Don Pedro di Fuego Montoya was in love with your mother.’
Annalisa passed a hand across her brow as she worked the rest out for herself.
‘I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t had to tell you this,’ Ramon said gently.
Annalisa lifted her chin. ‘I’m only glad that someone has told me the truth at last. Thank you.’
Ramon stared at her intently for a moment. ‘You’re sure?’
‘And I’m glad it was you,’ she added softly.
‘Then I’m glad it was me,’ he said.
She was glad. Ramon had made her face up to the past instead of living in its shadow. She would always be grateful to him for that.
‘Would you like to see the rest of the house?’
She smiled her assent. An impersonal tour would buy her the time to adjust she so badly needed.
‘I’m keen to see what you think,’ he said, leading the way out of the room, ‘because my plan is to make this house the centrepiece of my development.’
‘You mean you wouldn’t live here any more?’
‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘When Margarita and Luis move into their own place this house will be far too big for me.’
‘So you’d turn it into a hotel?’
He confirmed her deduction. ‘Very select. Twenty bedrooms to begin with, all en suite…every sports facility you could imagine—’
‘Including a marina?’
His eyes slanted in wry agreement.
‘And you would live where, exactly?’
‘I’ve got my eye on a few desirable properties in the country.’
‘A few?’
‘One in particular.’
The amused challenge in his stare met the growing comprehension in Annalisa’s eyes. ‘The finca is not for sale,’ she said flatly.
‘Did I say I wanted to buy it?’
‘You’ve seen something similar?’ she guessed.
‘Having seen what you’ve achieved with the interior of Finca Fuego Montoya, I have to confess that I am attracted to that style of property.’
