Waitstaff presented their meal with artistic flair, and each morsel proved a delectable testament to the chef’s supreme reputation.
Raúl was an urbane host, relaxed and at ease as he led Pablo into a discussion of Real Madrid’s chances of winning a soccer cup final, with spirited conclusions drawn by Cristina who, Pablo teased, had her eye on one of the team players.
‘Romantically,’ Pablo added, only to be volubly chastised by his sister. A tirade he chose to ignore. ‘They met at a party. Went on a date. He sent her flowers.’
Given Cristina made no secret of her determination to remain dedicated to her career and single, it was impossible not to smile, and Gianna didn’t even try. ‘You’re not going to mention his name?’
Cristina’s response was swift and fierce. ‘Not if he values his life.’
A waiter’s presence to take their order for coffee was timely…so, too, was the need to leave for the Teatro Principal, where a stand-out performance by a cast in splendid costume captured and held the audience’s attention with breathtaking appreciation. Especially the female lead, whose clarity of voice and emotional delivery touched even the most insensitive heart.
The timed breaks between each act allowed the audience to move into the foyer, and it was there the social elite gathered and acknowledged friends.
‘Raúl.’
Gianna turned slightly to see if the husky feminine purr matched the woman to whom it belonged.
It did.
Model-slim, exquisitely gowned, beautifully jewelled, with gorgeous dark hair waved in a deceptively casual style and darkly sensuous eyes with thinly veiled intent.
‘Rafaela.’ His acknowledgement held polite warmth, but little more.
‘You should have told me you would attend the teatro tonight. I could have arranged for us to be seated together.’
‘We’re here as my cousins’ guests.’
‘We, querido?’
Oh, please, don’t let’s play the invisible person game, Gianna dismissed mentally as she proffered a polite smile.
‘Gianna.’
‘Another cousin, querido?’
‘My wife.’
Rafaela’s eyes flashed momentarily, although to give her credit she recovered quickly. ‘The marriage is over, sí?’
‘I have never indicated it to be.’ His voice was pure silk, like the edge of a very sharp knife grazing delicate fabric, with the threat of possible damage ever present.
‘But I thought…’ Rafaela trailed off delicately.
‘It is not something I choose to discuss.’
Gianna bore the woman’s scrutiny well. She even managed a conciliatory smile as Rafaela graciously took her leave.
‘One of your many conquests?’
‘An acquaintance.’
‘Of whom there are several.’ It was a statement not a query. ‘Is that why you wear your wedding ring? To fend them off, or to provide a challenge?’
For a moment she didn’t think he intended to answer, then he offered quietly, ‘I haven’t taken the ring off since the day you placed it there.’
She tried hard not to let his admission touch her…and failed miserably. She wanted to offer a flippant response, but somehow the words didn’t find voice, and then it was too late as an announcement signified the conclusion of the intermission, and urged patrons to return to their seats.
Watching the remaining acts required concentration, something Gianna found difficult to summon, and it was something of a relief when the evening concluded.
It was only when she was alone in the car after they’d dropped Cristina and Pablo at their elderly aunt’s apartment that she sought to take Raúl to task.
‘Please explain why you’re choosing to imply to people that our marriage is still valid.’
He spared her a dark look as the car traversed the distance to Teresa’s villa. ‘It isn’t?’
‘You know exactly what I mean.’
‘It’s a situation I have no inclination to change.’
But I do, she attested silently.
‘Nothing to say, Gianna?’ The words were a silky taunt.
‘Not at this moment, no.’
They covered the remaining distance in silence, and on entering the villa, Gianna trod the staircase without offering a word until she reached the door of her suite.
‘Goodnight.’ Extremely polite, she pushed the door open, entered, then quietly closed the door behind her…only to sag against its rear for several long minutes before she crossed to the bed, where she dispensed with her clothes, removed her make-up and slid between the sheets.
It was a very warm day, Gianna determined as she slid out from the car and told Miguel she’d call him when she was ready for him to collect her.
The cool air-conditioned hotel lobby was pleasant as she crossed to the lounge, where Christina rose from a deep-cushioned chair to offer an effusive greeting.
Elegant in slim-line linen, stilettos, her make-up impeccable, she looked gorgeous, and Gianna offered a genuine compliment as they became seated.
‘We’ll order coffee,’ Cristina began, ‘then go shopping.’
‘We don’t need to shop.’
‘Yes, we do. I’ve already checked out the boutique and they still have the gown in your size.’
‘Give me one good reason why I need another gown?’
‘Who cares about a reason?’
Logic in the face of Cristina’s determination simply didn’t equate. ‘OK, so we check out the gown. On the condition we also look at something for you.’
Cristina offered a chuckle in amusement. ‘Oh, no, you don’t.’
‘Hey. A deal’s a deal.’
A waiter appeared, took their order, and Gianna sank back in her chair. It felt as if the last three years had disappeared like nothing as they resumed a friendship they’d previously shared whilst she had lived in Madrid.
‘What’s the situation between you and Raúl?’
This was Cristina, shooting straight from the hip, no preliminaries.
‘I imagined business would keep him in Madrid.’
‘While you’re here in Mallorca? Are you mad?’
‘You say this…because?
Christina viewed her carefully. ‘You mean, you haven’t figured it out yet?’
‘I’m here because Teresa asked me to visit.’
‘Tia Teresa’s illness is very sad,’ Christina agreed. ‘It has touched us all.’
‘But?’
‘It is also opportune with time and distance to review the circumstances which prompted you to leave.’
There didn’t seem any point in avoiding the issue. ‘It won’t change anything,’ she stated, only to have Cristina’s eyes sharpen.
‘You do know Raúl filed stalking charges against Sierra?’ One look seemed to convince her otherwise. ‘No, I guess not.’ She pursed her lips. ‘He adores you. Always has.’ She