‘Ricardo.’
The name was called in a staccato of impatience. Rowan flushed and looked away, feeling guilty and not knowing why.
Isandro glared at her, and then at his lawyer. ‘If you wouldn’t mind showing my wife the papers, please?’
‘Of course.’ Isandro’s lawyer bent and smoothly pulled out a sheaf of papers. He handed one set to Isandro, another to Rowan, and kept one himself.
They were in Spanish, but Rowan could make out the unmistakable. They were indeed the divorce papers. Something hard and unyielding settled into her chest, making her feel slightly breathless.
‘I think you will find that everything is in order. Very standard.’ Bitterness tinged Isandro’s voice. ‘Your entitlement under the prenup is unchanged. After careful consideration I fear that it will only cause more trouble than it’s worth to fight your right to it—which undoubtedly I could do after your … disappearing act.’
Rowan looked up, her hands clenching around the papers. ‘Isandro, I’ve already told you that—’
He flicked a lean hand, cutting her off with the violence of his gesture. ‘Spare us. Señor Sanchez is well aware of the circumstances. Your acting isn’t necessary here.’
She glanced to the other man, who now avoided her eye and looked uncomfortable. Very well. Isandro wasn’t going to listen to her. If he insisted on giving her the money then she would simply lodge it straight into a trust account for Zac, and perhaps give some to—
‘So, if you could just sign the back page here.’
Rowan looked at Isandro incredulously, to see that he had flipped back the numerous pages filled with technical legalese to point to a dotted line. Indignation coursed through her. ‘You have got to be kidding me.’
Isandro slammed down the papers, brows drawn together. ‘If you’re thinking of turning on an act to try and make me believe that you don’t want this—’
Rowan stood up jerkily, every cell screaming at her not to let him see how this was affecting her. How hard it was for her to be faced with the stark reality of their marriage ending for ever. ‘Of course I’m not. But do you really think I am so stupid that I would meekly allow you to shove this under my nose and expect me to sign it without so much as a by-your-leave?’ She threw the papers down on the table as if they’d stung her, terrified that he’d see them shaking in her hands. ‘It’s entirely in Spanish, which isn’t my first language—’
‘You’re fluent—’
‘Yes, I am—but not in legal terms. How do I know you haven’t added in a clever clause about custody, signing away my rights to Zac?’
He stood now too, and bristled at her from across the desk. Clearly she’d piqued his honour.
‘Of course I haven’t. These are divorce papers, pure and simple.’
‘Well, I’m not signing a single thing until I’ve spoken to my own solicitor and he’s looked them over. When he says they’re okay, then I’ll sign.’
Isandro felt impotent. Caught. And yet he knew that what she said made sense. In another circumstance, if she were a different person, he would have advised her to take exactly the course of action she’d just outlined.
In Spanish, Rowan heard the lawyer say nervously, ‘She’s right. We need to send a copy to her own people.’
Rowan looked down at Isandro’s lawyer. ‘And you can send them in English. I won’t take on the added expense of my solicitor having to bring in a translator.’ Her bravado was masking intense pain.
‘Of course,’ the other man assured her, with something approaching respect in his dark eyes.
She looked back to Isandro. ‘I’d also like to ring Mr Fairclough now, to advise him of this.’
She’d hitched up her chin, and with her arms crossed defensively Isandro felt inexplicably as if he should apologise. He quashed it down. This woman had committed a crime that not many would forgive. What right had she to be coming over all moral with him? He clenched his jaw and picked up the phone, handing her the receiver. She just looked at it. And then back to him.
‘In private.‘ Her tone could have peeled paint from the walls.
Isandro looked at her for a long moment. The tension tautened and crackled. Rowan felt a little sorry for Señor Sanchez.
It didn’t sit well with Isandro at all that he’d acted so out of character. But he couldn’t deny the visceral way she made him feel. It had led him to convene this meeting, to get papers drawn up in record time. He spoke with exaggerated courtesy. ‘I’ll have one of the maids bring a cordless phone to your room. You will have all the privacy you need there.’