“That’s really not necessary. When lessons are completed, your time is your own, unless we’re in need of a translator or there are extenuating circumstances. We have a full time nanny on staff.”
“It’s really not a problem, unless you have other plans for her, or unless you’re uncomfortable with me taking her. I realize you haven’t known me very long.”
“I assure you, I’ve had you checked out extensively, so that is not an issue. I know you’re from a wealthy family and that you rarely go home to Argentina. You also are self-supporting despite your family’s wealth, and you’ve traveled extensively through North, South, and Central America. Your mother died of leukemia when you were eight. You have no criminal record, and you have a reputation for being thorough, well-liked, if a loner by nature, and an advocate for all children. Did I leave anything out?”
“Let’s see … no intel on favorite color, dress size, or political affiliation? Religion? Dental and medical records? Perhaps the name of my second grade teacher? As I said, if you have no objection to me taking Marisol sightseeing with me when we get to London, I would be happy to do so.”
No comment, no response whatsoever, although the resentment and tension clouded the air between them. Miss Summer Alvarez clearly was not only unimpressed with her employer but leaned towards disliking him. “Why don’t you take her in the morning and make it an educational experience, killing two birds with one stone? Then you may take the afternoon off.”
“That’s fine. Should we be delayed, is there a number I can call, so you won’t worry? Assuming you’re not otherwise occupied with your career, or girlfriend, or whatever.”
Gabe looked at her seemingly guileless face closely. If that hadn’t been a directly aimed barb at him, he didn’t know what was. “I’ll have Pablo give you my numbers and those of my parents. Enjoy the rest of your flight
Señorita
. If you need anything, you have only to ask. The galley is fully stocked.” He turned around with his daughter asleep in his arms and left her to her own devices.
What a jerk. He’s so full of himself. So what if he was gorgeous? And talented, and intelligent and multilingual
. He sold more music in more counties than anyone else she knew of. Not only did he speak several languages, but he sang in them! He had more money than God himself, and he had everything money could buy. Obviously, he was used to getting whatever he wanted on a silver platter.
Too bad all his money couldn’t buy happiness for his little girl. No doubt she had every doll and toy on the market, but how much time did he spend with her? She’d wager her first paycheck the answer was very little. He had a full time nanny, his parents, probably several girlfriends, and now her to cater to Marisol’s every need when all she really needed was her father’s love and acceptance, and that was something nobody else could give her. Poor baby.
Gabe returned to his seat and sat down, Marisol still asleep in his arms. He kissed her head as he got resettled waiting for his daughter to work her magic on him and give him some inner peace as he held her. Lately, holding Marisol was the only way he was able to relax. Unfortunately, although she was an elixir of sorts for his unrest, she didn’t work as a muse to inspire new music. Throughout his life, he’d always had his music, even before he knew how to write it down, much less sell or perform it. For nearly two years now, he’d been unable to reach it.
He remembered one of his first interviews as he was climbing the fast track towards fame and fortune when the reporter had asked him how he was able to write so many songs in such a short time. He’d still been in his twenties at the time, and he’d answered that the music was just there, in his mind, whenever he reached for it and sometimes when he didn’t. It was just a part of him like an extra appendage of sorts. For whatever reason, the music had been silent for some time now, and he missed it, worried that it would never return. He wasn’t sure when it had stopped, only that he felt the loss deep in his soul and was desperate to get it back. He frowned as he asked himself for the thousandth time if he was unhappy
because
he’d lost his music, or if being unhappy had
caused
him to lose his music. He smiled ruefully as he considered yet again the puzzle of his own version of what came first, the chicken or the egg.
The plane arrived in London in the wee hours of the morning, and a caravan of vehicles took everyone to the hotel. It was barely light when Summer fell into bed and slept a good three or four hours before waking and calling room service. When she asked for the bill, she was told that her boss had requested that everything she ordered be put on his tab. It rankled, but she chalked it up to being one of the perks of her new job. Heaven knew her boss could afford it.
After showering, she headed out to check out her surroundings and to gather up some tourist information to plan the next day with Marisol. She took her time, lingering in several shops and making several purchases in a locally owned bookstore. She had lunch at a quaint sidewalk café and finally made her way back to the hotel in the late afternoon. She was just heading for the elevator when a swarm of women nearly ran her over, screaming loudly as they were escorted by security to the outer doors. She resumed her path to the elevator door and was just entering when she collided with a solid wall in the form of a tall, dark, and handsome man.
“
Perdón, Señorita
, oh it’s you, Señorita Alvarez. Please forgive the collision. I’m afraid I was in a hurry to avoid a scene and wasn’t watching where I was going.
Lo siento
.”
“I assume you mean the legion of fans that nearly ran me over trying to reach you?”
“The very same,” he smiled. She didn’t smile back. “Have you been sightseeing?”
“Not really. A little shopping and I picked up some information on some places I was thinking of taking Marisol to see tomorrow. Were you rehearsing?”
“Yes. I have performed here many times, but it’s been awhile. I’m afraid I’m somewhat of a perfectionist, and I schedule enough days in between concerts so that I can take my time traveling as well as rehearse beforehand.”
“Um. Doesn’t it get boring singing the same songs over and over again?”
Caught off guard, Gabe had to smile. “As a matter of fact, it does sometimes, although I’m not sure anyone has ever asked me that question. Most think I live a charmed life.”
“Don’t you? I’m guessing you get tired of traveling from time to time, but you’re so successful at this point in your life that I’m sure you could quit if it wasn’t to your liking, couldn’t you?”
“Yes, I suppose I could. But then what would I do with all my time? I’m only thirty four years old. A little young for a rocking chair, don’t you think?”
“You could always spend the time raising your daughter. Ah, this is my floor. Goodnight, Señor Rodrigo. If you see Marisol, please tell her I’m looking forward to seeing her tomorrow.” Summer left him without a backwards glance.
For the life of him, Gabe could not figure out what he’d done to warrant such obvious dislike from the woman. Most women liked him. Hell, the lobby had been filled with them, for Christ’s sake. And why would he even care one way or another whether or not Summer Alvarez liked him? She was an employee. She was intriguing. Yes, the lobby was full of women who wanted him, or at least who they believed him to be. Rich, famous, a playboy. None of them knew him or really even wanted to. Not that it mattered. He’d been married before, and once was one time too many, as far as he was concerned.
Gabe replayed Summer’s question about being bored singing the same songs over and over. He was bored and had been for some time now. His latest CD was a greatest hits compilation with no new music. The CD before that was made up of songs he’d written through the years but had never recorded. He was completely out of new material and had no idea if or when that would change. Although he hadn’t shared it with anyone, he was very much afraid that he had nothing new musically to offer anymore. The thought bothered him more than he could say.
Chapter Three
Summer went to Marisol’s room to pick her up shortly after breakfast. She was surprised when she walked in to find Gabriel inside reminding his daughter to stay with her teacher at all times and to do as she was told.
“
Buenos días, Marisol
. Good morning Señor Rodrigo. I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“No? Why would I not be in my own suite?”
“Oh, I thought this was Marisol’s room.”
“It is. We always share a two or three bedroom suite when I travel. She’s a bit young to have her own room, don’t you think?”
“Of, course, it just … well I thought she and her nanny would share rooms. I didn’t realize … never mind.”
“As I mentioned, Marisol does have a nanny, but she stays with her only when I am unavailable. My concerts usually last too late for her to stay up, so the nanny stays with her until my return.”
“Oh, … that’s … good.”
The woman was obviously shocked at the news. Perhaps she thought he had a traveling harem as well as the rest of the staff? Or maybe she thought he picked up a stray fan or two for his entertainment? Apparently, Miss Alvarez was a fan of the tabloids. He had no idea why that should aggravate him so much or why he should care one way or another what she thought of him.
There was a knock at the door, and Pablo went to answer it. Celia walked into the room and was not pleased to see that Summer had beaten her there. Summer chose to ignore her.
“Mr. Serrano, I wonder if I could trouble you for some contact numbers.”
“Of course, and please call me Pablo. Gabe asked me to make sure you had his and his parents’ numbers last night. If you’ll give me your cell phone, I’ll program them into it under their first names.”
“Why does she need their personal numbers? Why not just give her the nanny’s and Pablo’s numbers, Gabe? For all we know, she could turn around and sell the numbers to the highest bidder.” She walked over to Gabe and put a possessive hand on his chest. “Really, darling, you hardly know the woman.”
Summer rolled her eyes before she could catch herself, and Marisol giggled. Celia looked down at the little girl, and Gabe nodded to Pablo to proceed with the numbers.
“Are you almost ready,
Chiquita
?”
“Yes, Summer, and thank you for taking me.”
“You are very welcome. I thought we could go see Buckingham Palace in time to see the changing of the guard. That’s where the Queen and her family live.”
“Is she a real queen?”
“Yes, she is.”
“Papá calls me his princess, but I’m not a real princess. Right, Papá?”
“You are my very own princess,
niñita
. Now, remember what we talked about, and be a good girl. I will ask Miss Alvarez for a full report later tonight.”
“
Sí, Papá
. I will be good. I love you.”
“And I love you. Have fun.” He looked up at Summer. “The limo will take you wherever you wish to go. I’m also sending a bodyguard. I am careful to keep Marisol out of the press, but I’d rather not take the chance that someone will recognize her.”
“But, Gabe, I was going to take the limo to do some shopping. And how will you get to your rehearsal?”