For some absurd reason he couldn’t pull his attention from her peach-painted toenails, nor stop himself from stepping closer to breathe in the unique scent he was sure didn’t come out of a tube of luxury product. Goldie’s scent was one he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind.
‘Of course not,’ he replied, his voice curiously gruff.
Her smile dragged his eyes up. Gael found himself absorbing it, wanting to bask in it. To perpetuate it long into the night.
Dios, what was wrong with him?
‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked abruptly.
Her smile dimmed.
Do better. He needed to do better. As much as he enjoyed sparring with an argumentative Goldie, he admitted he liked this ‘new leaf’ version better. She still had the fire he was drawn to, but in this place and time he could almost forget that there was a facet of her character he quietly despised. It was a naked ambition she was willing to do just about anything to achieve, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to abide it into the future.
The future? What future?
He had no plans of reinitiating or prolonging anything.
He’d built an empire.
He’d dated beautiful women.
And he’d vowed never to marry any of them because, inevitably, each and every one of them showed their true gold-digging and opportunistic characters eventually.
On top of that he had known from an early age that he would never produce a child who might feel a trace of the sting of rejection he’d suffered.
Nothing would change that particular vow. Not even Alejandro’s engagement and the subtle hints about revisiting old ground that he kept tossing Gael’s way. That, most of all, was a grenade he intended to keep tossing back into his brother’s lap.
‘An apple spritzer?’ he tried again, careful to keep his voice even.
Her nod was a touch wary. ‘Yes, thank you.’
Although there was a drinks console nearby, Gael crossed the room to the well-stocked bar, to give himself—and her—time to adjust, regroup.
He heard her pad over to the large rectangular windows that opened onto the wide patio and the stunning view of the Indian Ocean beyond. After fixing her drink he poured a glass of burgundy for himself and joined her outside, where the table had been laid by the private butler.
They sipped their drinks and watched the rolling waves hit the shore on the beach down below for a few minutes before their food arrived.
Halfway through their first course she raised her gaze from her plate. ‘How long are you planning to stay?’ she asked in an even voice, but he detected the thin nerves behind it.
‘Until I can no longer avoid my duties as my brother’s best man.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Your brother’s getting married that soon?’
‘In ten days,’ he answered, aware that the tension he’d hoped to dispel was still very much present.
‘Why is it that he’s getting married but you’re the one who has the jitters?’ she asked, and her acuity was a touch disturbing.
‘I wish him well, of course, but the inescapable truth is that a lifelong commitment like marriage more often than not fails eventually.’
She frowned. ‘You think your brother’s marriage is going to fail?’
He shrugged. ‘We don’t come from admirable stock when it comes to the sanctity of marriage. He’s...brave to want to give it a try, nevertheless.’
Troubled violet eyes connected with his. ‘I... What you said back in New York about being—’
‘A bastard?’ His jaw clenched. He thought about evading the suddenly abrading question, thought about how they’d ended up here in the first place. ‘I’m the product of an affair my mother had with Alejandro’s still married father.’