The Real Romero(40)

                ‘What do you mean when you say partially? You said that it was partially true that you came here to unwind. What other reason would you have for coming here?’

                ‘I have been experiencing a few problems with an ex,’ Lucas said heavily. Unaccustomed as he was to accounting for his actions, he was decidedly ill at ease with explaining himself to the woman sitting opposite him, but explain himself he had to.

                ‘No, let me guess.’ Milly’s voice was a shade higher than normal. The whole situation felt surreal. In fact, the past few weeks had felt surreal. You’d think I’d be used to dealing with surreal by now, she thought with an edge of bitterness that was alien to her. ‘The ex wasn’t ready to be an ex. Did the poor woman start getting ideas about settling down with you?’

                Lucas found it difficult to think of Isobel in terms of ‘the poor woman’. She was anything but a helpless, deluded damsel with a broken heart. She was a sophisticated, hard-as-nails, six-foot model who had capitalised on the fact that, very slightly, she was acquainted with his mother. She had mistakenly figured that the connection carried weight. His parents had known her parents, both wealthy families living in Madrid, both mixing in the same social circles. The relationship had fizzled out when his father had died but she had done her utmost to resuscitate it during their six-month fling in the hope that familiarity would somehow guide him to a flashbulb moment of thinking that what they had was more than what it actually was. It hadn’t but she still refused to let go.

                ‘My relationship with Isobel was not of the enduring kind.’

                ‘Don’t you ever want to settle down? What was she like? Why wasn’t it of the enduring kind?’ Curiosity dug into her. ‘Was she a gold-digger?’ She pictured a kid who was too naive to comprehend all the things Lucas did and didn’t do.

                ‘I am a meal ticket for most women,’ Lucas responded drily, not flinching from the absolute truth. ‘Even for rich women who can manage quite happily on their trust funds. I have a lot of pull, a lot of connections. I offer a lifestyle that most women would find irresistible.’

                ‘What sort of lifestyle is that?’

                ‘What can I say, Milly? I have a passport to places only available to the rich and famous. It’s not just about the limitless spending and the shopping sprees, it’s also about the mixing and mingling with famous faces and people who appear in magazines.’

                ‘It sounds hideous.’

                ‘You don’t mean that.’

                ‘Being on show every minute of the day and living your life in a glass house with everybody looking in? Having to dress up for social affairs every night? Wear war-paint and make sure you’re shopping in all the right places and mixing with all the right people, even if they’re dull and shallow and boring? I’d hate it.’

                Which was why she had been such a breath of fresh air—enough of a breath of fresh air to make him alter his plans for leaving. Anonymity had brought him a glimpse of being the sort of man who could dump his cynicism for a minute...except cynicism was just much too ingrained in him for him ever really to do that. And besides, that glimpse of freedom was now gone.

                Lucas gazed at her open, honest face and wondered whether she would be singing the same song if she were to be introduced to that life of glamour and wealth that she claimed she would hate. It was very easy to dismiss the things you’ve never personally experienced.

                ‘All this is by the by,’ he said with a shrug. ‘The fact is that Isobel has been annoyingly persistent in thinking that we can salvage something and carry on. She’s refused to fade away and, having finally reconciled herself to the end of our relationship, she’s decided that a little healthy revenge might be called for. When I went looking for you in the town, I was snapped.’