The Secret Spanish Love-Child (7 page)

Not good
, was the first thought that came to Alex’s mind. She didn’t like the thought of Cristobel being any kind of role model for her child. Complicating the scenario came a sneaking thought: sharing Luke with Gabriel was one thing, but what if he wanted more of his son somewhere along the line? She blanched and cleared her throat.

‘And naturally my parents would want involvement as well. They live in Spain. It’s possible that there might be occasions when Cristobel would take him across for holidays…’

‘Holidays?’

‘So tell me how you see things working out…Sell it to me.’

Alex threw him a venomous, trapped look from under her lashes. ‘How do you think I feel, knowing that you would ditch the woman you love just because mistakes were made years ago and I got pregnant as a result?’

‘I know how you
should
feel.’ He had no intention of getting wrapped up in some caring, sharing, ridiculous conversation about his feelings for Cristobel. If Alex was finding it hard to appreciate the enormous generosity of his gesture
with her, then she would be at a complete loss to understand a marriage that might have been more of a suitable arrangement than a match made in heaven. ‘You
should
feel a certain amount of respect for a guy who’s willing to do the right thing. Not many would.’

Alex wondered in confusion how she had managed to turn into the
bad guy
.

‘And you should feel a certain respect for a woman who’s willing to turn down a wedding ring and an easy lifestyle because she has principles! Not many would.’

Gabriel’s steely control slipped and he was subjected to a rush of aggressive anger. Where was she coming from? What airy-fairy planet did she inhabit? But, then again, out of all the women he had ever known, she occupied a unique spot and not just because she was the mother of his child. She was feisty and her failure to be impressed by money was staggering. The harder he pushed for what he wanted, for what he considered
inevitable
, the faster she would retreat. But he
would
get his own way. He always did and he wasn’t going to break the habit now.

T
HE
first Alex knew of what was happening behind the scenes was when she opened her newspaper three days later, as usual scanning the headlines and then sitting down to relax with the gossip pages in the centre. This was her favourite time of the day. Seven-thirty. Luke safely tucked up in bed, having, as usual, cunningly contrived to keep her reading bedtime stories to him for as long as possible. Small glass of wine on the table next to her and the television turned on but with almost no volume because, whilst she liked the comforting background noise, she wasn’t too interested in what the noise was actually about.

It irked her that since everything had come out in the open with Gabriel, she had been able to think of nothing else but him. He hadn’t contacted her. On day one she had assumed that the shock of the situation had driven him into a temporary retreat, time out to consider his options and think about what he was going to do next. But now, after three days of silence, she was beginning to think that he had simply chosen to disappear.

Which, she told herself repeatedly, meant no change for her. He hadn’t been on the scene for the past five years and so the fabric of her life would remain exactly the same. She
also told herself repeatedly that it was just as well that Luke was none the wiser that the stranger who had appeared and then just as quickly disappeared had been his father.

In fact, to count even more blessings, wasn’t she glad that she had reconnected with him? Put to bed all those haunting
what if
and
if only
scenarios which had continued to jostle around in some weird Pandora’s Box in her head, clamouring for a hearing? Wasn’t it
healthy
that she had finally seen him for the person he really was? A man who had knowingly deceived her. He’d disappeared from her life because she hadn’t been good enough for him, hadn’t been like the Cristobel airhead to whom he was now engaged. He was a guy who made all the right noises when confronted with a difficult situation but then scarpered as fast as he could the minute he was through the door. In other words, a fully signed up, one hundred per cent member of the Creep Club.

The fact that he was still managing to get under her skin and give her,
yet again
, sleepless nights infuriated her.

And her low level, never-quite-gone-despite-all-efforts fury was seething just below the surface as her eyes fell on the hot gossip headlines in the tabloid which announced the end of the perfect engagement between
billionaire whizz-kid Gabriel Cruz and Cristobel Rivera, daughter of import/export magnate Geraldo Rivera
. It took Alex a few stunned seconds before she could read and then reread what was clearly being touted as the scandal of the year. She even had to switch off the television so that she could concentrate on the article, which carried on over the page, and also stare at the photograph of the tiny blonde scurrying away from the limelight wearing a pair of oversized designer sunglasses and shielding her eyes from the intrusion of, presumably, a barrage of cameras. Another photo depicted Gabriel dressed in a suit and looking unruffled at the chaos his announcement had provoked. Typical.

There was an awful lot of background information on the ditched fiancée, which only proved her eligibility for a guy like Gabriel. Moneyed background, at home in the playground of the Rich and Famous, as opposed to the playing fields of the Hard Working and Almost Always Broke. And there was wild speculation as to what could have generated the break up but, even on a fourth reading, Alex could find no mention of either herself or Luke.

The shriek of her mobile interrupted a compulsive fifth reading of the article and Alex nearly spilt the glass of wine in her shaking hand.

Even before she heard his voice, she knew that it would be Gabriel. It was as if her antennae had been put on to red alert and primed for his presence in her life.

‘Sitting down, I hope?’ he enquired in a silky voice that made her glance furtively around just in case he happened to be hidden somewhere in the vicinity and could see the reaction his voice had on her mangled nervous system.

‘I…I’ve just read…’

‘I thought you might have.’

‘You…should have warned me that…’

‘You had all the warning you needed. I told you that I would be breaking off the engagement. You must have known that it would hit the news. I’m a public figure, whether I like it or not.’

‘Yes, but…’

‘You can hold that thought. I’ll be over in forty minutes. It would probably be better if I used a back door. Is there one?’

‘Use a back door?’
Alex was fast remembering the past few days of silence, during which her entire life had been turned on its head as she tried to find ways of reconciling herself to his disappearance. She felt as though she was now destined to start the endless cycle of highs and lows all over again.
Just like that. He had walked back into her life and instead of finding her defences in place, she had discovered a gaping lack of body armour.
‘Use a back door?’
she repeated in a higher voice. ‘You’re not playing the lead in a spy thriller, Gabriel! And yes, I have a back door and you’re more than welcome to use it but you’ll still have to get to the front of the house first because it’s at the side!’

‘Are you in a mood because I haven’t been in touch for the past couple of days?’

‘I’m not in a mood.’

‘Good. Then I’ll see you shortly.’

Alex was treated to the sound of the dial tone as he rang off and she glared at the phone for a few seconds before springing into action. The constant frustrating whirlpool of nagging, unwanted thoughts about Gabriel was replaced by a frantic rush of blood to her head as she scrambled upstairs, changed out of her sloppy jogging bottoms and baggy T-shirt into a pair of halfway decent jeans and a short-sleeved checked shirt that nipped in at the waist and ran her fingers through her hair.

Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were over-bright. It shouldn’t have mattered what she wore but his disparaging remark about her house not being good enough for his son still rankled. As did the fact that she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the remark also applied to
her
. House too average for his son, and ex-girlfriend way too average for him.

She was in a fighting mood by the time the doorbell rang forty-five minutes later and she swung to open the door, making a great show of checking the road behind him.

‘Phew. Doesn’t look like you’ve been followed. Maybe you’d better sneak in, just in case.’

‘Hilarious, Alex. Just open up and let me in.’ Gabriel couldn’t help himself. His eyes darkened as they took in the
tight faded jeans and the small plaid shirt with the top two buttons undone so that just the shadowy promise of breast was visible.

The past few days had been fairly hellish but, even so, he was feeling pretty good about life in general. As he would, he had smugly acknowledged, doing the right thing as he was.

Cristobel had been a nightmare and he couldn’t blame her. She had watched her future crash and burn and he had offered nothing by way of a reasonable excuse. Time enough for the situation to be explained in its entirety. Instead, he had attempted some consolation by pointing out their fundamental differences and informing her that she would be well rid of him. He didn’t love her. She didn’t love him. When she had shrieked that
there was more to marriage than love
, his mouth had tightened, even though she was preaching to the converted. After all, wasn’t he the prime proponent of that theory?

He had left her apartment with the peculiar feeling that he had been given a reprieve. What would this woman, perfect on paper, have been like as a wife? She had grown from a rich, indulged girl to a rich, indulged woman and it wouldn’t have been long before she became a spoiled, dissatisfied spouse, intolerant of anyone outside her gilded social circle. How was it that he had never seen that promise before?

Surprisingly, his parents had taken the news well, although it had been hard to tell from the other side of the Atlantic and on a phone link. He would fly over very shortly, he had told his mother. Speak with them face to face. But certainly, at the moment, he realised that he had allowed a situation to develop that would not have been right in the long-term.

‘Your mother would probably agree with you, son,’ his father had said in a low voice. ‘Although this is between us men. She always had her reservations about Cristobel. Nice
girl, I am sure, and of course it certainly would have made for a powerful merger, but, let me put it this way, do not feel as though you are disappointing us…’

Gabriel had not known whether to believe that statement or if it had just been his father putting a brave face on things. But now, he at least felt as though he was starting with a clean slate.

‘You
could
have told me what to expect.’ Alex stood back from him and folded her arms, thereby providing some much needed protection against the brutal power of his presence.

‘Is Luke asleep?’

‘Of course he is. I have very strict guidelines about his bed times.’ This just in case he got it into his head that she was a bad mother.

‘Stop playing the injured party.’ Gabriel swept past her, divesting himself of his jacket in the process and slinging it over the banister. He went straight to the kitchen, opened the fridge and proceeded to help himself to a glass of wine while Alex trailed behind him and gaped at the high-handed way he had just
made himself at home
.

‘Why didn’t you get in touch?’

He looked at her over the rim of his glass and a slow smile curved his mouth. ‘You sound like a nagging wife. Why? Did you miss me?’

‘Like a severe case of flu!’

Gabriel threw back his head and laughed. ‘I had forgotten your quirky sense of humour.’

Alex watched him with seething resentment. ‘I’m glad you find this situation such a bundle of laughs, Gabriel.’

‘Let’s get one thing straight right here and now…’ He deposited his glass on the small pine table and leaned against the kitchen counter and looked at her grimly. ‘This is the least amusing situation I have ever found myself in and if you think you can stand there, fuming and behaving as though you’re
due the sympathy card, then think again.
I
am the one whose life has come to a grinding halt!
I
am the one now faced with a series of decisions which will affect the lives of more than just myself!
You
behaving like a brat isn’t going to help matters! Am I making myself understood loud and clear?’

Alex stared down stubbornly at her feet, acknowledging that there was more than an element of truth in what he was saying but still resenting his tone of voice.

‘I never asked you to change your life for me,’ she mumbled indistinctly.

When she raised her eyes, it was to find that he had pushed himself away from the counter and was towering above her. She wished she had worn heels instead of a pair of socks. At least, with the benefit of heels, she would have been more or less on eye level with him.

‘I’m not changing my life for
you
,’ Gabriel ground out. ‘I’m changing my life for my son.’

You mean nothing to me.
That was the implied, unspoken rider to his statement, Alex thought. He intended to do the right thing for his son and in the process she would be dragged along, whether she liked it or not. He couldn’t have reminded her more forcibly of his take on events than if he had printed a sign saying
you’re someone I happen to be stuck with
and shoved it in her face.

She took a deep breath. ‘Maybe we should talk in the sitting room. I…I haven’t eaten dinner yet. There’s a casserole in the oven. It could just about stretch to two.’

It was an olive branch of sorts and Gabriel knew better than to snap it in two. But her stubbornness did things to his normally cool head that he wouldn’t have thought possible.

‘I thought you hated cooking.’ She had worked in a hotel to practise her Spanish but she had once confessed that kitchens made her dizzy. All those items of food and ingredients in bottles baffled her. He wanted to smile at the memory.

‘I’ve learnt…to…I prefer to give Luke home-cooked food,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I can manage a casserole but anything fancier than that is out of the question.’

‘So he’s yet to sample a soufflé…’

Alex dipped past him towards the sitting room at the front of the house. She knew that this polite banter was his way of making the best of a bad situation and she would have to go along for the ride or else make life a constant battleground for them both, and inevitably for Luke. She couldn’t do that. But dredging up memories of their brief shared past was more than she felt she could handle. Yet where was the common ground between them now? They were operating in an unreal space, where the normal rules of social engagement were suspended.

‘What happens now?’ she asked abruptly, as soon as they were sitting. Gabriel on the sofa, she on the comfy chair by the fireplace. Her half finished glass of wine was still there and she took a sip but it had gone warm.

‘I didn’t see any mention of Luke in that article…’ she carried on, drawing up her long legs and then resting her chin on her knee.

‘Because I didn’t mention him. There was no point getting into the nitty-gritty and, besides, I have little respect for reporters. The world will find out about you both when I’m good and ready.’

‘You mean you haven’t told your fiancée
the truth
?’

‘
Ex
-fiancée. And no. Time enough for that.’

‘What on earth did you tell her?’

Gabriel shrugged. ‘I told her that ours was not a relationship that was destined to last the course and, as such, we should break it off before we both made a mistake.’

‘That little speech should have come easy to you, Gabriel. You must have had years to practise it.’

Gabriel looked at her broodingly. There would be no profit in taking up this futile conversational thread. His mission was to get her on board and the only way he could do that was via dialogue. ‘Cristobel will have no trouble in finding my replacement.’