The Real Romero(54)

                She was his mother and he indulged her but, at the end of it, it was his life and he would choose its outcome whether or not it flew in the face of her ideals. This exercise in harmless fiction would be a gentle learning curve for her.

                ‘I’m only going to be here for a short while and, when I return to London and my life’s all sorted out, maybe then I’ll let her in on some of the details.’

                ‘You honestly think your life’s going to be all sorted out when you return to London?’

                ‘You said that...’

                Lucas waved aside her predictable cry of protest. He had offered to have a formal agreement drawn up listing the conditions of this arrangement, what she would be given at the end of it, but she had airily told him that that wouldn’t be necessary.

                ‘I’m not talking about the job and the accommodation and the money, Milly. I’m talking about your blind faith in life always turning out for the best.’

                ‘I don’t have to listen to this.’ She turned away and felt his hand gently stay her.

                ‘If my mother’s long overdue a little learning curve, then you should take this opportunity to put in place one of your own. Reality doesn’t disappear because you decide that you’d quite like it to.’ He nodded to the maid, who had tactfully moved to stare through one of the sprawling windows on the landing, ears blocked to any conversation—although Milly didn’t think she spoke a word of English, so that probably was a step too far when it came to fulfilling her unspoken duties.

                Milly watched, mouth open in anger, as he sauntered off, once again speaking Spanish, once again making the maid giggle. The maid might have been an old retainer well into her sixties, but it was obvious that he could still work the charm offensive on her.

                Which was something he couldn’t be bothered doing in her case.

                How dared he think that he could bring his jaundiced views to bear on her life?

                Placid by nature, she could scarcely credit the fury bubbling up inside her as her brain began functioning once again, and she tripped along behind him, barely paying attention to the magnificent surroundings.

                The house was in the style of a rambling ranch. A short flight of stairs led up to the first floor, which, like the floor below, was wooden-floored, the wood gleaming from years of polish.

                The corridor opened out in places into small sitting areas and curved round in other places, leading to nooks and crannies, various bedrooms and sitting rooms. It should have been disjointed and higgledy-piggledy but in fact there was an attractive coherence about the honeycomb nature of the layout, something whimsical and charming.

                A lot of light poured in, thanks to large windows at regular intervals, a couple of which were fashioned of stained glass so that the bright sunlight was refracted into thousands of splintered shapes.

                Through the windows, as she marched along in Lucas’s wake, she could see extensive lawns and the bright turquoise of a swimming pool.

                She stopped behind Lucas as the maid disappeared into one of the bedrooms and she hovered, arms folded, still simmering.

                ‘Good news and bad news.’

                ‘Huh?’ Snapping out of her reverie, Milly focused on his swarthy, handsome face. He leaned against the doorframe, the very picture of cool elegance.

                ‘The good news is that it’s a vast bedroom, complete with two sofas. There are even twin wardrobes. The bad news is that we’re sharing it.’