“Wow, they really like you here,” Ashley says, raising an eyebrow in surprise when her dishes come out in record time.
“Yes, I suppose they do,” I say, reaching for the first dish – calamari – and taking a piece onto my own small plate.
“Not just here,” Ashley says, speaking in a way that makes it sound like this is only just dawning on her. “But everywhere else, too. All the restaurants and bars and cafes we’ve been to. They always seem to serve us so quickly, and we always get a seat even when they’re full.”
“I suppose that’s true,” I say, reaching for a small bowl of paella to spoon some rice onto my plate.
“Wait, why is that?” Ashley asks, frowning. “Do you just go out that often? Is that it?”
I give a small chuckle. “It’s not entirely just that.”
“What is it, then?” she presses. “I can’t work it out. You can’t just be that rich and famous that everyone here knows you, or Dad would have told me about it. Right?”
“I don’t know what your father would tell you,” I say, deciding that now is the time to reveal my hand. I don’t want to lie to her, after all. I’ve held the information back because I wanted us to form a more natural relationship, to keep those kinds of considerations out of it. She has to know eventually, and now is as good a time as any. But that doesn’t mean I can’t play it out a bit first. “But I’m not that recognizable. Most of the people on the street would have no idea who I am at all.”
“So, then, what?” Ashley demands. She hasn’t even touched her food yet, even though the smells wafting from each dish are making my own mouth water already. “Why do you get treated so well?”
I smile modestly, looking down at my plate as I take a little piece of something – I’m not even sure what, because for all my casual manner, my attention is fully and wholly on this conversation – and add it to my food. “Well, probably because I own this tapas bar.”
Ashley stares at me for a long moment. It’s not until I look up and meet her gaze that she speaks again. “You own this place?”
“Yes,” I tell her. “It’s one of my favorites. I thought you might like it because it’s a bit more upscale. Some of my bars are a little more tourist-oriented.”
“Wait, some of?” Ashley shakes her head. “How many do you own?”
“A few,” I admit. “And not just bars, either.”
“Then…” Ashley’s eyes widen even further. “You mean, all of the places that we’ve been this week…?”
I nod. “All of them. Well, not the stores. I only operate in the hospitality sector – bars, restaurants, cafes, hotels.”
“Hotels?” Ashley splutters. “You don’t own…?”
I grin wider. “No, I actually don’t own your hotel. That’s part of why I was so interested to come in and look around. I wanted to check out how a rival does it. Your father should have told you; I could have gotten you a discounted room at one of my places.”
Ashley pressed her hand against her mouth for a moment, as if looking back on memories in a new light. “I told him I wanted to do everything myself, without any help,” she said. “That’s probably why he kept trying to insist that he could give me some recommendations.”
“That would probably be it,” I say, with an easy laugh. “It must have been hard for him to keep it to himself.”
Ashley shakes her head again, clearly still struggling with this information. “Wait… but then, you’re… well, you must be…”
“Disgustingly wealthy?” I suggest. “Yes. I’m afraid so.”
“I suspected you had good money from the house, but…” Ashley drops her eyes to the table. “Wow. I… I don’t know what to say.”
A small bead of panic forms in my gut. “You don’t like it?”
Ashley shrugs. “I don’t mind either way. Whether you’re rich or poor, I’ve had fun this week. But I just don’t know why you would want to spend this time with me.”
In response, I lean over the table and kiss her. “Because there are some things that can’t be bought,” I tell her. “And that is more precious than anything I own.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ashley
My last day in Barcelona dawns far too quickly. I haven’t even yet fully come to terms with the massive bombshell that Fernando dropped on me last night, revealing that he's actually an incredibly rich businessman who owns half the restaurants in the city. I just about managed to get my head around it enough to eat and enjoy tapas with him, and then come back here to fall back into bed and then eventually sleep, but this morning it’s preying on my mind again.
I was really stupid to think that I could have any sort of future here. Even in a fantasy, I should have known better. Now it's all too clear to me that I've been living in a dream world. Tonight, the dream ends. My flight leaves at midday, and I'm going to be getting on it alone. Which means that all of this will be behind me. Fernando will be just a memory, my time in Barcelona just a postcard.