Public Marriage, Private Secrets

Fine tailoring, handcrafted shoes, the faint glimpse of a Rolex gracing his wrist, merely showcased a man whose presence was equally dynamic in anything he chose to wear…or not.

As she could attest to…and she hated the sensation that shook her slender form as an image of his splendid body unadorned rose to taunt her.

The broad shoulders, superb musculature, lean waist and hips, tight butt, long powerful legs. Awesome…in every area.

She recalled how it felt to be held close to him, the faint muskiness of aroused male combining with his elusive cologne…oh, God, his skilled touch with his mouth, tongue, fingers, as he sought out every sensitive pulse, each erotic nerve-end in a bid to escalate her emotions to fever-pitch…

Stop!

For a wild moment she imagined she’d screamed the word out loud.

What was wrong with her?

Somehow she managed a seemingly polite fa?ade as the drinks steward approached and offered a formal greeting and presented Ra?l with the wine list.

‘We have an excellent selection. Do you have a particular preference, or would you prefer me to offer a suggestion?’

Dark eyes captured her own. ‘Gianna?’

It was easy to defer, and she did so with a polite smile. ‘You choose.’

He did…a mild red, well-known as one of Australia’s finest vintages.

‘Mineral water—still,’ she added, and earned Ra?l’s faintly arched eyebrow.

‘The need for a clear head?’

‘An aversion to drink-driving.’

‘Wise.’

She summoned a sweet smile as she accepted the proffered menu, and pretended to study the various selections while attempting to deal with a host of conflicting emotions.

It didn’t make sense.

She was over him…had been for a while, she reiterated silently.

To the point of weighing up the need to initiate divorce. Three years…Even discounting the initial few months of separation, when she’d retreated into despair, sufficient time had elapsed to reach a decision.

So…why the nervous tension? Or the wildly beating pulse-rate that threatened to go off the Richter scale?

She couldn’t be susceptible to him…surely?

The mere thought was untenable. Impossible.

She was unaware of her teeth worrying the soft swell of her lower lip or of the faint narrowing of Ra?l’s eyes as he caught the gesture.

‘Shall we order?’

The thought of forking morsels of food in his presence held little appeal. Consequently she settled for an entree as a main, with a side salad, and declined dessert.

It was as he lifted his goblet of wine that she noticed a gleam of gold on his left hand, and her eyes widened in recognition of the unique handcrafted band she’d placed there on the day of their wedding.

He still wore it?

Why so surprised, when her own still graced her hand?

Admittedly transferred to her right hand. A wide bevelled gold band encrusted with diamonds. She had been morally unable to discard it while the marriage remained valid.

Gianna searched for something to say…and came up with nothing that made any sense.

You’re looking well didn’t cut it.

How is business these days? seemed ludicrous, given his consortium had inevitably diversified into areas she had little or no comprehension of, racking up millions in the process.

Failure and Ra?l Velez-Salda?a did not equate.

He was a hard-hearted ruthless entrepreneur, wellrespected for his uncanny ability to successfully manipulate and strategise, forging ahead with unfailing resolve when colleagues and adversaries chose to opt out.

Yet each acquisition was carefully and painstakingly researched, every possible angle examined to the nth degree.

She could recall the times she’d awakened alone in their bed in the late-night hours, only to find him closeted in his home office studying graphs and projections on-screen.

Then she would go to him, ease the tension in tight shoulder and neck muscles, and suggest he needed sleep…only to have him smile, press save and pull her onto his lap. Sleep, as such, had rarely happened for a while.

Dear heaven…why were such memories surfacing now?

It was madness. A brief moment of insanity she immediately banished to the nether regions of hell.

‘I suggest you tell me precisely what Teresa will expect of me.’ Her voice sounded calm, even to her own ears…amazing, given she was an emotional mess.

‘The pleasure of your company. One-on-one time.’ His eyes speared her own—dark, enigmatic. ‘She occasionally lunches with a few close friends, and I imagine she will delight in having you join her.’

Not a difficult ask. She held his gaze, silently wishing it wasn’t so hard to do so. ‘I’ll be happy to fit in with whatever Teresa wants me to do.’

A woman Gianna held in high esteem, whose compassion, genuine affection and loyalty had helped fill the void left by losing her own mother at a young age.

The only stumbling block was Ra?l himself, for spending any time in his company would be difficult, to say the least.

Yet a few weeks wasn’t a lifetime, she rationalised. Primarily, her purpose was to fulfil Teresa’s wish to be able to say goodbye in person.

Time to focus on the prosaic…and she did it by forking delicate morsels of food without tasting a thing.

Soon the meal would conclude and she could leave, retrieve her car from the shopping complex and retreat to the sanctuary of her apartment.

If only it were that simple.

Yet nothing about the man seated opposite could be categorised as simple. For how was it possible for her to feel as if she’d been caught up in a sensual whirlpool when she’d vowed to hate him?