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Boldly, she held his gaze. ‘I want you, too.’
* * *
‘I want you, too.’
‘Are you listening, hermano?’
Xav jerked his head up. ‘What?’
Ramon eyed him across the meeting table in his office. ‘Where is your head today?’
Xav sat forward, pushed aside the plate at his elbow and grabbed his pen. He and Ramon had decided on a working lunch in the office rather than in a restaurant, where discussing sensitive matters might be difficult.
Ramon lounged in a chair on the other side of the table. He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, removed his tie and loosened his collar. Xav supposed he should be grateful his brother hadn’t yet removed his shoes and propped his feet on the table.
‘First you forget our lunch,’ Ramon needled, ‘and now you seem incapable of concentrating for more than five minutes at a time.’
Xav scowled. ‘My concentration is fine.’ Liar. ‘What else have you heard about Lloyd Anders?’
‘Nothing more than what I told you yesterday. He and Reynaud were spotted having lunch together last week in New York. And then Anders wined and dined Reynaud and his wife on Friday night.’
‘At our Manhattan club?’
‘Sí.’
Xav gritted his teeth. He and Lloyd Anders had been business rivals for years, with their respective companies often competing for the same acquisition. He should have known a prize like Reynaud Industries was too tempting for Anders to ignore. But to make his move at the eleventh hour, when Xav was so close to finalising a deal wi
th Reynaud, and then to have the balls to entertain Peter Reynaud and his wife in one of the Vega Corporation’s own clubs...
Xav put his pen down before he snapped it.
‘Frankly, I’m surprised Reynaud would consider Anders as a potential suitor for the business,’ Ramon said. ‘Reynaud is conservative. Old school. He has a paternalistic leadership style. If his son hadn’t gone into medicine and his daughter hadn’t died of leukaemia he’d be passing the company on to his children, not selling.’
Xav paused in the act of pouring himself another coffee. ‘Leukaemia?’
‘Sí. Died in her late teens.’ Ramon pushed his cup across the table for a refill, a frown settling between his brows. ‘Must’ve been devastating.’
It wasn’t the sort of observation Xav would have expected his brother to make. But, he conceded, Ramon had undergone a remarkable transformation in the past year. From careless playboy to husband and father. Of course he’d have some idea of how traumatic it must be to lose a child. At eighteen he’d got a girl pregnant and she’d miscarried the baby. Now he had a daughter he cherished and, Xav suspected, would protect with his life.
He set the coffee pot down, recognising the sharp tug in his gut for what it was.
Envy.
Growing up, Ramon had been impulsive and reckless while Xav had done everything right. He’d played by the rules, put work before pleasure, strived every day to be the perfect son and make their parents proud.
He’d thought he would be the first to marry and give their parents grandchildren.
Not that he begrudged his brother and sister-in-law their happiness. Nor did he resent the existence of baby Katie. She was a beautiful child who carried the de la Vega genes—something his own offspring would not, regrettably, be blessed with.
The thought gave him pause.
He had chosen ignorance when it came to his genetic heritage, but what if he had children who one day wanted to know from whom they were descended? Was it his right to deny his offspring that knowledge?
A chill brushed his neck.
Could he unwittingly pass on genetic disorders to his children?
Was leukaemia hereditary?
