‘Perfect,’ she finished for him. ‘The famous Cazorlas, practically perfect in every way, apart from the only son clearly hating the infirm father and having a strained relationship with the mother, the only daughter hiding the essence of herself when with the parents so as not to fall off the pedestal they’ve put her on, everyone putting on a front when they step out of the door because nothing’s more important than showing that perfect face.’
The tendons on Raul’s neck were straining, his jaw clenched. ‘I warn you now, Charlotte, stop.’
‘Oh, I get it—it’s okay for you to pick fault with my family but I’m not allowed to criticise yours?’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Yes, I do—I lived with you for three years, remember? The difference now is that I’m not wrapped up in my own insecurities. I can see it all clearly.’
He got to his feet and placed his hands on the desk, looming down over her, his face a mask. ‘My family is none of your business, not any more. You lost that right when you walked out on me.’
‘Then consider my family off limits too.’
His eyes bored into her, his lips now a tight line. ‘What date has your father given for you to meet?’
Her answer was just as terse. ‘A week on Saturday.’
‘I will check my diary and let you know if we’re free.’
‘Thank you.’
He straightened and reached for his cup, his breathing heavy. ‘I’ve arranged for a member of the finance team to sit down with you for the afternoon and go through some accounts with you.’
‘Now?’
‘Now.’
He strode back into his adjoining office and closed the door behind him.
RAUL PASSED THE living room on his way outside for his daily swim and paused.
Charley was sprawled on the sofa thumbing through a Spanish magazine, dressed in a thigh-length white T-shirt, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, not a scrap of make-up on her face. She was working her way mechanically through a bar of chocolate.
Deep in concentration, she didn’t notice his presence, allowing him to gaze at her unhindered.
His guts twisted.
Walking away before she noticed him, he stepped out into the swimming-pool area, placed his towel on a sun lounger, and dived in.
As he powered his way through the water he waited for the usual calm to envelop him and empty his mind.
Today, it didn’t happen. Length after length, his mind was filled with his wife. Not the heated discussion about their families that had taken place two days ago and which had settled into a strange kind of truce, nor their lovemaking, the potency of which still showed no sign of abating, but the vision of her sitting on that sofa eating the chocolate bar, just as she’d been eating those biscuits at her desk.
It was that sense of déjà vu again, that feeling of staring at the Ghost of Wife Past.
For the first time, he properly considered if there could be any truth in her words that she had spent their marriage unhappily striving to be the person she thought he wanted.
When they’d first met she’d had an innate sunniness. Smiles and laughter had come easily. They were what had drawn him to her, along with the earthy sexiness that came off her in waves.
While the smiles and laughter were no more evident now than they had been by the end of their marriage, the earthiness had returned.
He’d assumed the casual way she’d dressed when they’d first met had been due to her lack of money, had assumed that all women wanted personal shoppers, hairdressers, beauticians and dieticians on speed-dial. His mother and sister did; all his exes had. He’d never met any woman who didn’t.
But then, he’d never met a woman like Charley before. His inner circle was insular, he acknowledged, filled with like-minded people with the same wealth and outlook on life.
Charley had embraced it all, he reminded himself, right down to the rationing of chocolate.
All he’d wanted was for her to be happy and fit into his world and, with a little help, she’d fitted in perfectly. With his help she’d never had to feel that anyone was judging her. Or so he’d believed...
To see her eating a bar of chocolate...it was such a small thing, but enough to shift his perspective even more. Enough to make him question...
Gone was the haute couture. Gone, the immaculately coiffured hair. Gone, the rigid diet. Gone too, were the rock-hard abs she’d developed during their marriage, replaced with the luscious softness he recalled from their early days.
When he’d completed his daily two hundred lengths, he hauled himself out of the pool. For once there were no hunger pangs. Everything felt tight inside him, far too tight to eat.
He grabbed his towel and rubbed it over his hair and face. As he towelled the water from his back Charley came out into the morning sunshine and walked over to him, her phone in hand.
‘Have we got anything planned for tomorrow?’ she asked, keeping a respectable distance from him although he noted with some satisfaction that her eyes lingered on his chest for longer than was respectable. All at once, the disquiet within him evaporated. He closed the distance and reached for her hips.
‘You’ll get me wet,’ she scolded but with definite half-heartedness. After a week of erotic lovemaking, he knew her resistance was nothing but a measure to prove her own self-control against him.
‘That’s the idea,’ he murmured. Unable to resist, he pulled her in for a kiss, delighting in the sweet, chocolate taste of her mouth.
She sighed into him, slipping her tongue into his mouth and sliding her arms around his neck, before her hands balled into fists and she stepped away. A dark, wet stain now marked her top.
‘Tomorrow?’ she reminded him.
‘You will be with me.’
‘Doing what though? Anything important or am I going to be stuck in my office again?’
‘Doing whatever I require.’
‘Seve’s just messaged me.’ Her speech came in a rush. ‘Two of the staff at Poco Rio have caught a sickness bug.’
‘And that involves you how?’
‘They’re going to be short-staffed.’
‘No.’
‘I haven’t asked for anything yet,’ she protested.
‘Do I have to remind you that our deal is for you to stay by my side?’
‘No, but if they don’t have the staff, the centre won’t be able to open and the children...’
He did not want to hear a single word about children, not from her lips.
Every time she uttered the word he was reminded of her treachery.
‘I’m not prepared to debate the matter. We have already agreed that your day-to-day work at the centre is over.’
Her face darkened, her eyes ringing with obvious contempt. ‘But—’
‘Shh.’ He placed a finger to her lips. ‘It’s a beautiful day with no work or anything else to worry about. Let’s not waste it by arguing about things we have already agreed on.’
Gently he moved his finger off her mouth and traced it down her neck.
He