Martinez’s Pregnant Wife(26)

He swore savagely in Spanish under his breath as yet more party guests arrived and paced to the door. What if something had happened to her? What if she was ill?

No, that is exactly what she wants you to think. Don’t give her the satisfaction.

What had happened to his mother wouldn’t happen again. He’d finally managed to get that clear in his mind and, by doing so, his emotions had started to unlock, to engage with hers. He’d been on the verge of admitting something he’d never thought possible, but Lisa’s cold note proved how foolish that would have been, how weak he had become.

As those dark thoughts roused his anger further, another car pulled up in front of the doors and he watched as Raul got out, then turned and took Lydia’s hand as she slid gracefully from the car. She looked stunningly beautiful in her gold dress, but it was the love in her eyes as they met Raul’s that really rocked Max to the core, until he felt such violent shaking that he thought an earthquake was happening.

Once inside the hotel, Raul was oblivious to his brother, his attention so fully focused on his wife that Max felt as if he were watching from a distance, that he was seeing something he couldn’t have.

‘But I love you, Max, why can’t you let me in? Let me love you? Maybe then you can love me too.’

Those words that Lisa had said at the cottage, the words that had condemned any chance of them being together, rushed back at him, like an angry dog, snarling and snapping at him. Forcing him to listen. To think and, worst of all, to feel.

‘Max?’ Lydia’s voice saved him from the savage jaws. ‘Where’s Lisa?’

The lovely smile had slipped from Lydia’s face as she and Raul had walked over and, if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a cool reserve of suspicion in her eyes. Already the two women had formed a close friendship, so wasn’t it only natural that Lisa would confide in her? But had she told Lydia he wanted a divorce?

‘She is on her way.’ His words were short and he didn’t miss Raul’s brows flicking upward in question.

‘On her way?’ The accusation in Lydia’s voice was as clear as a mountain stream in the spring. ‘From where?’

He sighed, not wanting this inquisition right now. ‘She had other plans today and insisted she’d make her own way here this evening.’

When Lisa had finally answered her phone yesterday afternoon she’d been adamant that he was not going to fetch her. The fire of independence in her had raged so strong he hadn’t been able to talk her round, but he had sent a car for her, along with the diamonds he’d given her at Christmas as a reminder of their deal. That had been several hours ago, so where the hell was she?

With a sinking sensation deep inside him he realised she wasn’t coming. His phone vibrated in his inside pocket and he pulled it out, but the text was from the driver of the car he’d sent for Lisa, informing him that Mrs Martinez had not required it.

‘Problems?’ Raul asked, his dark eyes watchful and irritatingly knowing.

‘Lisa is behind schedule, so I suggest we go on into the party.’ He put on his most charming smile and used it to its full advantage on Lydia. It didn’t quite have the effect he was hoping for, but when Raul took her arm, urging her to do as Max suggested, the attention was finally off him.

He lingered behind the happy couple as they made their entrance into the magnificent room. He stayed at the top of the wide flight of steps as they descended into the party. He couldn’t go down yet, couldn’t mingle with such joyous happiness when his heart beat so savagely in his chest.

Not only had Lisa left him, she’d stood him up too.

He absently scanned the room, looking but not seeing the array of colours of the ladies’ dresses and the uniform black of tuxedos. The light and melodious sound of a grand piano competed with the cacophony of laughter and voices. He didn’t belong here. Not tonight.

‘You look like you could do with this.’ Raul’s voice startled him and he turned to see his brother beside him, a glass of whisky in his hand.

Without a word he took it, swirled the amber liquid round the glass and then looked at Raul. ‘Where’s Lydia?’

‘With friends. Now are you going to tell me what is really going on?’

His first instinct was to tell him nothing was going on, but he didn’t want to. There was a connection between him and Raul, a bond made so quickly that he owed it to him, his brother, to be honest. To admit his failings.

He drank the whisky back in one quick gulp and looked at Raul. ‘We are getting divorced.’

Raul swore harshly in Spanish, causing guests who were just arriving at the party to turn and look at him as they made their way down the stairs and into the centre of the merriment and celebration.

‘She asked for a divorce?’ The disbelief in Raul’s usually firm tone was all too apparent.

‘She did, before she knew about the baby.’

‘And you want a divorce?’ The disbelief in Raul’s voice was clear.

‘I do now.’

Raul swore again. ‘We can’t talk here,’ he said, looking around him. ‘Let’s get another drink.’

He turned and made his way down the stairs and Max knew he had to follow. Not out of any sense of duty or obligation, but because he wanted to. Hell, he had to share this with someone. He needed someone to reassure him he was doing the right thing, because it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

Raul led him through the snooker room and into a bar more reminiscent of a men’s club and gestured toward two large leather chairs by the window. Max sat and within seconds two glasses of whisky were on the table between them. Outside the window, Max could see the street and the cars and cabs moving away from the hotel entrance after dropping off their passengers.

Lisa wasn’t going to be one of them. His stupidity had made damn sure of that.

‘What the hell are you playing at?’ Raul looked at him sternly as he launched his tirade, one he deserved every bit of. He’d avoided love, telling Lisa what she wanted to hear, because he thought he could save her from hurt, but he’d only her hurt her even more and now she’d left him. Just as everyone else he’d ever loved had. Hell, even Angelina couldn’t bear to be with him for long.

‘It’s for the best.’ He clenched his jaw as his brother looked at him reprovingly.

‘The hell it is.’ Raul all but growled at him, then launched into a torrent of Spanish. ‘What is the matter with you? Can’t you see she loves you?’

‘Love isn’t everything, Raul,’ he threw back at his brother in Spanish, finding it liberating to be letting it all out, letting all the emotions he’d been holding behind his dam of hurt burst over the top. ‘I certainly didn’t get any from my father and I’m damn sure you didn’t either.’

Raul leaned forward in a slow and purposeful way. ‘I got past that and you sure as hell can too—or regret it for the rest of your life.’

Max gritted his teeth and frowned at him, remembering what Raul’s mother had told him at the wedding in Madrid.

‘Don’t run from the truth, Max, face it. Own it. Make it your friend, not your enemy.’

What was that truth? That he didn’t have to be like his father? That he could be exactly who he wanted to be?

Raul stood up, his glass of whisky untouched. ‘You told me the day we met I should sort out my love life and now I am offering you that same advice. Sort it, Max, don’t allow the past to kill your future.’

Max inhaled deeply, not ready to accept what his brother was saying. ‘I will give it some thought.’

‘Not thought, action and damn soon.’ Raul straightened his jacket as if he’d physically done several rounds with his brother. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to be with my wife.’

Max watched as Raul wound his way back through all the high-backed chairs and out of the room, leaving Max to brood. He was worse than his father, walking out on the woman who’d so honestly declared her love for him, the woman who carried his child.

He looked into the bottom of the whisky glass, but no answers lay there. He put it down roughly, sliding it across the table away from him. He was pushing it away as roughly as he’d pushed away the woman he loved.

The woman he loved.

The icy bucket of truth poured all over him. He’d been trying to fight the one thing he’d always thought would make him like his father, believing that by loving someone it only led to pain and heartache for them and rejection for him. But he’d been wrong.

Very wrong.

Love was the one emotion his father had been incapable of feeling, of receiving, and by allowing love into his heart he was proving he was far more of a man than his father had ever been.

Why the hell had it taken him until now to accept that? He’d pushed so many people away. His stepfather. His sister. Worse than that, he’d forced Lisa to walk out on him.

* * *

Lisa took in a deep breath, instilling herself with calm, trying to soothe the heavy thump of her heartbeat. After what Max had said to her, what had made her come here tonight? Was it to see those dark eyes filled with such coldness once more, to feel the weight of his anger, his rejection yet again? Was it one last attempt to suffocate the love she had for him?