He’d turned down four parties on their behalf since they’d married. Never minding his loathing of large gatherings, he’d had no intention of putting Sophie in the firing line of the inquisitive eyes he was always subjected to at these things. Now all he could do was get through his business as quickly as he could and get her out of there.
Swiping them a glass of fruit juice each from a passing waiter, Javier was taking his first sip when Dante approached, the easy smile so reminiscent of Luis’s smile on his face.
‘I knew you’d come,’ he said smugly, before introducing himself to Sophie and putting his hands on her bare shoulders to kiss her cheeks in turn.
Javier clenched his jaw and forced himself to breathe, turning his mind away from the impulse to punch Dante in the face.
Get a grip of yourself. He’s only greeting her the way he greets everyone; the way all polite society people greet each other.
His fingers still itched to punch him though.
Dante called his date over. She was a statuesque model, famed as the elite designers’ clothes horse of choice.
Her eyes fixed on Javier with a gleam he recognised, part fear, part curiosity, part desire.
He only just managed to stop his face twisting with disgust.
The woman was beautiful, that could not be denied, but she did not hold a candle to Sophie. No one did. No one could.
Dante turned to the woman. ‘Lola, look after Sophie while I steal her husband away. We have business to discuss.’
If Sophie was bothered about being palmed off, she didn’t show it. She smiled at Javier and gave an almost imperceptible wink.
‘I’m afraid I have disappointing news,’ Dante said as he led him into his private office. ‘The sale’s off—temporarily.’
‘Oh?’
Dante opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. ‘An illegitimate heir has come out of the woodwork. Her lawyers say she has a claim to the inheritance and therefore a claim to the land.’
‘And does she?’
Dante’s eyes glittered menacingly. ‘I will make sure she doesn’t.’
Javier shrugged. He couldn’t care less about Dante’s problems. All he cared about was taking his wife home.
‘Drink?’
Javier raised his palm and shook his head.
‘Oh, yes, I forgot you don’t drink. That was always Luis’s forte. And speaking of Luis, I’m surprised you’re not in the Caribbean with him. Or are the rumours that you two have ended more than your business relationship true?’
Javier did not dignify that with a response.
His private business was no one else’s concern. Dante might be comfortable sharing personal confidences; that did not mean Javier had to follow suit.
‘When do you anticipate solving the problem with the illegitimate heir?’ he asked, putting the conversation back on the business footing it should have stayed on.
‘A few weeks. Maybe a month. I’ll call you when it’s done. I should warn you though, Luis has asked that I give him the opportunity to make another counter-offer.’
‘Whatever he offers, I will top it,’ Javier said flatly.
Dante raised his glass and grinned. ‘I do love a bidding war.’ He knocked back the Scotch, grimaced and poured himself another. ‘My money would be on you winning.’
Despite himself, Javier’s curiosity got the better of him. ‘Why?’
Luis might be the more easy-going of the Casillas brothers but when it came to business he was as razor sharp as Javier. It was what had made them such a good team.
‘When I saw him the other week he was all loved-up.’ His grimace that time had nothing to do with the drink. ‘His heart’s not with the business, it’s with his new wife...’
‘He’s not married yet,’ Javier interjected.
Dante’s surprise appeared genuine. ‘You don’t know? Luis and Chloe married yesterday. They released a statement about it this morning.’
* * *
Sophie stared around at the crowd of beautifully dressed people all so comfortable in their wealth and standing in society and felt as she’d done on her wedding day: like an imposter.
She had been so looking forward to this party, had been determined to ignore Javier’s grumpiness about it and embrace something new in this new life of hers, something they could share together.
Lola, the cat-eyed supermodel, had abandoned her after a few minutes of not-in-the-slightest-bit-subtle questioning that Sophie had stonewalled with non-committal answers all delivered with a smile so as not to hurt her feelings.
But, honestly, did Lola really expect her to share confidences about her husband with a complete stranger?
She wished she could have a glass of the free-flowing champagne but she hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in her pregnancy and was not about to start now.
Sliding her phone out of her clutch bag, she messaged Marsela to check on Frodo, pretending not to see the inquisitive stares still being directed at her from all corners.
She missed her little shadow. He was such a playful comfort to her during the days when she felt Javier’s absence like a hole in her heart. She didn’t have a clue what breed he was, some kind of small poodle cross. The vet had suggested a DNA test on him but she’d decided not to. Whatever Frodo was, he was hers and she loved him. He responded to her love in a way she wished so badly that Javier would.
Javier hadn’t even bothered to comment on her appearance. She’d made such an effort for him, desperately wanting him to be proud to have her on his arm, but he’d looked her up and down and left the room.
A slap on the face would have been kinder.
‘You look lost.’
The man who’d approached her, who could only be described as a silver fox, smiled.
She smiled back at the friendly face that matched the unmistakable English voice. ‘Not lost. Just soaking up the atmosphere.’
‘Javier abandoned you, has he?’ he said, his words and tone implying he and Javier were acquaintances.
They wouldn’t be friends. Javier did not have friends.
‘He’s talking with Dante.’
‘Were you not invited to join them?’
She pulled a face. ‘It’s about business, something I know nothing about.’
‘Ah, yes, you’re a ballerina. I remember watching you perform in The Sleeping Beauty.’
‘Did you?’ she asked dubiously. She had been a part of the corps de ballet and utterly inconspicuous in her costume.
He suddenly looked sheepish. ‘My wife—she’s Spanish—dragged me along to it. I only know you were in it because she told me on the drive over here. Dante told everyone that Javier would be bringing his new wife. You’re the star attraction, you know.’
‘Am I?’
‘But of course. He’s been hiding you away for months. We all wanted to see you for ourselves and make sure that it wasn’t a vicious rumour that he’d snared another young English ballerina as his bride—’ He cut himself off and winced. ‘My apologies. That was callous of me.’
‘No, it’s fine.’ She adopted nonchalance. There was no point in making a fuss over what everyone was thinking. Javier’s engagement