Patriot Threat. Steve Berry

But not the kind she looked forward to experiencing.

      Yet you’ve been there before, remember? The social occasions, some of which had required attendance by the wealthy elite, and she’d excelled first as Raúl’s partner, then as his wife.

      A strange ache settled deep in her heart and became a tangible pain. They’d been so happy, so very much in tune…until it all went wrong.

      Enough. She’d replayed that fateful scene so many times she could repeat verbatim every word Sierra had uttered. It was like a bad movie played by hostile characters with no happy resolution.

      Now there was only the road ahead…one she’d successfully forged on her own. Surely she could survive a two-week sojourn sans any emotional damage?

      Consequently she chose a comfortable hotel lounge chair, sank back into it, sipped excellent coffee and attempted to fit Raúl into the mould of casual friend.

      It didn’t work… How on earth had she expected it to work? He’d been her lover, and just looking at him revived vivid memories of what they’d once shared. Almost to the point where she could feel his hands on her body, his mouth devouring her own, the intimacies…

      Oh, dear God…stop.

      She met his thoughtful gaze and offered a stunning smile. It was purely a defence mechanism, one she deliberately adopted in an attempt to fill the time.

      Soon they’d return to the car, drive to Calvià, enjoy a light lunch, hopefully with Teresa, who acted as a perfect buffer. Given the customary siesta, after which she could plead time out to connect with her laptop, it would soon be time to shower, tend to her hair, make-up and dress.

      Apropos of which, she offered Raúl a perfunctory thanks.

      The gown bore an expensive price-tag, the evening sandals were designer, the evening purse… All totalled close to an amount that made her blink.

      ‘I appreciate your assistance in purchasing the gown, the shoes. Thank you,’ she said, and tried to ignore the way her heartbeat quickened at his lazy smile. ‘However, I insist on reimbursing you.’

      ‘Consider it a gift.’

      He was such a strong and vital man…way too much for any one woman to handle with ease. And yet she had…for a while. Loving him with everything she had, everything she was…heart, mind, soul.

      Don’t go there. It served no purpose.

      ‘No,’ she insisted. ‘I cannot possibly permit you to pay for anything on my behalf.’

      He regarded her with indolent amusement. ‘And why is that?’

      There was never going to be a better time. ‘Because I intend to file for divorce.’

      She wasn’t sure what she expected from him. Agreement? Expressed regret? An attempt at persuasion to change her mind?

      Who could tell from his unchanged expression? The man was a skilled strategist, adept in concealing any apparent reaction.

      ‘You don’t perceive another solution?’

      There was little she could do about the slow curl of her stomach. ‘Such as?’

      He took his time in answering. ‘Reconciliation.’

      Gianna looked at him in stark disbelief. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

      ‘We still share a mutual attraction. That’s something to build on rather than discard, don’t you think?’

      Her response was instantaneous. ‘No.’

      How could she even begin to entertain anything like his suggestion.

      Re-enter his life, his bed—dear heaven—be subjected to Sierra’s machinations, and those of the various women who tried to tempt him? No. She couldn’t…wouldn’t do it. That path lay strewn with the kind of pain she refused to revisit.

      But what of the good times? a silent voice taunted. The loving? What they’d shared in bed and out of it? The joy, being so in tune with each other there had been no need for words? His wicked mouth…how easily he could arouse her to a depth of passion she hadn’t known existed? What of that?

      Oh, please. Sex, even very good sex, wasn’t a basis for marriage. So don’t even go there!

      So why this secret longing in a part of her heart for what once had been? How could she revisit and recapture the past…and not deal with what had torn everything apart?

      Fidelity, once breached, made it almost impossible to repair trust. All she had to do was control her emotions—and the effect they were having on her body…and her heart.

      Her mind ran on. A reconciliation would mean a total change to her life as she knew it. Could she move back to Spain? Give up her business and everything she’d done to put her life back on an even kilter?

      It didn’t even bear consideration.

      ‘No.’ Her voice was firm in reiteration.

      It was a relief when they finished their coffee and he instructed the concierge to summon the car, and she sat in silence during the drive to the villa.

      There was pleasure in witnessing Teresa’s delight with the contents of the various designer-emblazoned carry-bags.

      ‘Perfect,’ Teresa enthused. ‘Raúl has an excellent eye. His late father possessed the same ability.’

      In all aspects? Gianna queried silently. Had Sebastiano Velez-Saldaña also cheated on his wife during their marriage?

      Doubtful, given the photographic images which portrayed them as a devoted and loving couple.

      Yet images could be deceptive. Hadn’t she proved that by posing at Raúl’s side with a loving smile when inside she’d been racked with heartsick pain?

      CHAPTER SIX

      ‘NERVOUS?’

      The foyer adjacent to the hotel ballroom held numerous invited guests, standing together in various groups as uniformed waiters offered a variety of drinks and canapés as they moved among the crowd.

      Gianna lifted the slim flute to her lips and took a sip of champagne. ‘Have I reason to be?’

      Raúl’s dark eyes pierced her own. ‘No.’

      He looked incredible, attired in an impeccably tailored black evening suit, white linen shirt and black bow-tie. Striking, she amended. His skin tone, sculpted broad bone structure highlighting a strong jawline, the generous, sensual mouth, and eyes as dark as sin.

      Attractively rugged, rather than traditionally handsome. Powerful, intensely primitive. She’d seen him in action brokering a deal…and witnessed the ruthlessness apparent, his forbidding ability to cut and walk away.

      Which brought the question as to why, after he’d followed her and she’d rejected him, he hadn’t filed for divorce? Unless it suited him to appear to remain married.

      For what reason? she persisted, and gave it up as being too complex to examine in any detail…at least right now.

      ‘Raúl,’ a deep, heavily accented voice greeted him. ‘Good to see you.’

      Gianna turned slightly and saw a man similar to Raúl in height and age, whose rugged features and sharply focused dark eyes categorised him as a likely business colleague.

      ‘Rafael.’ The acknowledgement emerged with a briskness that bore politeness more than friendship, and she saw Raúl’s eyes harden a little as the other man switched his attention to her.

      ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’

      She recognised the type—astute and a bit of a rake, sure of his effect on women, and content