Alejandro walked us around the enormous apartment, with its stark contemporary furnishings and enormous windows overlooking the city. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful,” I said slowly, “but so cold. You can hardly tell anyone lives here.” Shivering, I cuddled my warm baby close. “You must not stay here much.”
He blinked. “More blunt honesty.”
“Was I rude?”
“I can take it.” He shifted his weight, then clawed back his thick, dark hair. I wondered what it would feel like to... No! I stopped the thought cold. Oblivious of my inner struggle, he continued with a sigh, “My company is headquartered here. I am in Madrid all the time.”
“Oh,” I said, looking at all the sharp edges of the furniture, all the glass and chrome. “Um. Well. It’s very—masculine.”
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Perhaps it needs a woman’s touch.”
In my current frame of mind, I wondered if he was talking about more than his apartment. My cheeks went hot and I cleared my throat. “I’m surprised your grandmother isn’t here. She sounded so keen to meet her great-grandson.”
“You’ll meet her tomorrow. I have an event tonight in Madrid, and Abuela doesn’t like to leave her roses, or all the people who count on her at the castle.”
“The castle?”
“Rohares, near Seville. Where the Dukes of Alzacar have lived for four hundred years.”
“Cold and drafty,” I sighed.
“Exactamente.” He gave me a sideways glance, seeming to hide a smile. “I can hardly wait for you to see it.”
“Yeah,” I grumbled. “How many rooms?”
“I lose count,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if he was joking. But at least such a large building would create more space between us. Even this large penthouse felt too...close, when we were together. Every glance, every word, made me more attracted. It was dangerous.
As soon as his grandmother met the baby, I told myself firmly, I’d be out of this country and away from Alejandro. We’d come to some agreement over custody. Preferably one that involved Miguel living with me in Mexico.
Although it would be a shame to separate my son from a father who loved him, just because I was afraid of being hurt....
I pushed the thought away. “You said something about an event tonight?”
“A celebration—a ball, really. Hosted by my company. Starts in—” he glanced at his platinum watch and said calmly “—twenty minutes.”
Thank heavens! I wouldn’t have to spend the evening with him, trying desperately not to feel tempted! With real relief, I said, “Go and have a good time. We’ll be fine. I’ll tuck Miguel into bed and maybe read a book until...”
But he was already shaking his head. “Leave you alone with our son, giving you the opportunity to run away again? No.”
“Why do you think I’d run away?”
“Why would I think you wouldn’t?”
“You could post your bodyguards at the door,” I suggested.
“You’d charm them and escape.”
He thought I was charming? For an instant I felt flattered. Then I folded my arms. “You could just decide to trust me.”
“I will trust you.” He tilted his head, looking down at me with amusement. “As soon as you marry me.”
“Never going to happen, and believe me, after this momentary madness—or whatever it is—passes, you’ll thank me.”
“Fine,” he sighed, plunking down on the soft sofa in front of a wide-screen TV and a window with a view of the city. He reached for the remote control. “Shall we see if there are any good movies on tonight? Maybe order takeaway?”
I stared at him, my lips parted. “You can’t miss your own party.”
He shrugged. “Yes. It’s a pity. Especially since it was to celebrate my company’s upcoming IPO on the stock exchange. But I can miss it to watch a TV movie with you. No problem.”
“Are you crazy? You can’t miss something like that. You’re the host! If you don’t even bother showing up, what do you think it will do to your stock price?”
“It’s fine. Really.” He shrugged. “I don’t have a date to the ball anyway.”
“You honestly expect me to believe you don’t have a date—you?”
“You have to admit it’s kind of your fault.”
Now we were getting down to it.
“How is it my fault?” I said suspiciously.
Tilting his head, he looked at me from the sofa. “I did have a date for tonight.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “A beautiful Swedish swimsuit model, in fact. But when I called her yesterday and explained I wouldn’t be picking her up in my jet because I’d just discovered a former mistress had my baby and I had to spend the day buying you presents instead of flying to Stockholm to collect her, well—for some reason, Elsa wasn’t interested in flying coach to Madrid to be my date tonight.”