Chapter 13

It’s my first morning in the mansion and I wake feeling refreshed. Maybe because I’ve slept better than I have done for weeks. There’s something about a hotel that makes it feel temporary, which means I find it hard to settle. That, and it was close to the city centre where bars don’t close until the early hours of the morning—I have had a few late nights at Constantin’s bar too. But without the noises of the traffic outside my window at all hours, I’ve slept deeply.

Of course, being here is also temporary, and I’m a guest in someone else’s house, but still, it feels different. Although Estrella is very generous and gracious and said her invitation is open-ended, I don’t want to overstay any welcome. So, after some negotiation—and, boy, she may be old, but she is stubborn —we agreed I would stay for a month. I have to remember that she’s dying, but if I ask her about it, she says we’re all dying and dismisses my question. When I said I was worried about overtaxing her, she said if she needed to rest, she would and that we, myself and Florencio, could entertain ourselves. Once I had satisfied myself that I wasn’t going to be a burden—and being told I was just as stubborn as she was—I allowed myself to relax.

A month is a good period. I feel it gives me some breathing space, some more distance from my life back in England. I can decide what I really want to do now, and I will, but first I need coffee. I pull on a T-shirt and some shorts as it looks like it’s going to be a warm day. It’ll be summer soon, so I might have to get a few more pairs of shorts while I’m here.

I wander through the cool corridors towards the kitchen, where I’m greeted by an amazing smell and Florencio wearing nothing but a pair of loose linen trousers. I would only take the expression “make yourself at home” so far, not as an invitation to wander around half-naked. I stop on the threshold, unwilling to enter just yet. I watch him stir something in a pan, the source of the delicious aromas, and then head to the coffee machine. He’s not bulky, but he’s more muscled than I thought he would be, not that I’ve thought about that at all. No, not until now, when I have a view of him topless in front of me.

He catches sight of me, while I’m still leaning against the doorframe, gawking.

“Buenos dias,” he calls and I answer the same.

“Do you want some breakfast? There are croissants, toast, or I’m cooking tortillas,” he asks, reaching for a bowl, which he starts cracking eggs into.

“Um, just coffee for now.” I move towards the coffee machine .

“Did you sleep well?” he asks brightly, and I pop a pod into the coffee machine before turning and replying.

“I did, thank you. It was very peaceful.”

“Bien.” He starts whisking the eggs.

“Um, is it okay to wander around topless? What would Juana say?” I look around, expecting her to appear at any moment. Whilst I might not understand what she says, I can imagine her frown and a flow of Spanish admonishing him. She might even banish him from the kitchen.

He erupts into laughter, bringing my attention back to him.

“You’re so British.” He grins. “I didn’t realise breakfast had a dress code. Anyway, Juana likes me. Just be thankful I’m not dressed in my usual silk shorts.”

He takes the egg mixture over to the stove, giving a little wiggle on the way. Hold on, did he just wiggle his arse at me? Did he also say silk? I really don’t need those images in my head. I clearly need some coffee. I grab my cup and take a long gulp before walking over to sit at the table.

Florencio finishes making the tortilla, plates it up, and puts a portion down in front of me.

“You were going to ask for some as soon as you saw mine,” he says simply and sits next to me. He’s not wrong, it looks appetising.

I take a forkful.

“Wow, that’s really good!” I say.

“Told you.” He smirks and I eat in silence for the next few minutes, satisfying the hunger that had appeared after I had the first mouthful. When I’m done, I sit back and drink more of my coffee.

“So how come you’re so good at cooking?” I’m intrigued by him.

“We always had cooks at home, and I spent a lot of my time making sure I kept out of my father’s way. He rarely entered the kitchen, so I was pretty safe there.”

“Was it that bad?” I ask. My parents might not agree with my career choice, but I am loved nonetheless. The thought reminds me that I need to call them today and let them know I’d cancelled my flight home, And I ought to call my agent as well. I put off the dreary thought of that and turn back to Florencio.

“He was never cruel. Well, not physically, but psychologically . . . it hurt. I could never do anything right. I never lived up to his expectations. A constant source of disappointment. At school I was interested in the arts, not maths and business. I have an older brother and sister who love that sort of stuff and they’re both top executives in the family business. One of them, and my money is on my sister, will take over from him one day. I’m five years younger than my sister, an afterthought, possibly even a mistake. I’m so unlike my father that I’m pretty sure he might have even questioned my parentage.”

“Is there a question about it?” I blurt, then grimace as I realise I’ve been insensitive. I was so wrapped up in his story, I didn’t think.

He laughs. “No, my parents are good together, and I’m more like him than he cares to notice—or admit. I’m stubborn and pretty relentless when I want my own way. Asking for dancing lessons was a battle of wills.”

“Did you win?”

“No. I didn’t actually take any proper lessons until I was eighteen and decided I wanted to teach it myself. But I loved to dance and asked the cook and the maids to teach me that as well. Another activity that could be done in the safety of the kitchen and away from my father. So before I was ten, I could dance the tango and make a very credible dulce de leche. ”

It’s an amazing story and I’m stunned at how dedicated he is to following the path he wants to, even given the obstacles in his way.

He stretches slightly. “So now you’re here, what would you like to do?” he asks with a smile, resting his head on his hand. His brown eyes are soft as he looks at me. I feel like he’s genuinely interested in what I might say. It catches me off guard for a minute.

“I have to tell my parents I’m staying here for a while, and my agent too, but then I thought I’d like to read for a while.”

“I’m going to spend some time this morning with my aunt, let Juana have some time to herself, but we’re going to the bar later. Yes?”

“Of course.” We’d agreed that we were going to see Constantin later.

“ Bien . I think you’re ready to dance in public,” he says. “That is, if you want to be seen dancing with me in public, of course.” His mouth is smiling, but his eyes darken, throwing down a challenge. I wonder if this is one of the times he’s like his father. I know what he meant, though, referencing when I refused him the first time. But I’m no bigot, and I have no problem being seen dancing with him.

“I’ll gladly dance with you,” I reply, and this time, his smile reaches the corners of his eyes, making them crinkle slightly.

“A month!” The shriek pulses down the phone, and I hold it away from my ear slightly. I knew Helen would not be happy, but I didn’t expect it at that volume. She launches into a tirade about me not taking my job seriously when she’s working hard to get me a contract. Right now, I couldn’t really care. I know I have to face it at some point, but I need this month to consider my options, not a reminder of what they aren’t. I only half listen, letting her run her course. But a name snags on my consciousness, and I become fully alert. Sloan Thorpe. By the time she mentioned him the third time, this time asking why I’m not more like him, I’ve had enough. I thought Sloan had an agent, but something about her words puts my hackles up.

“Did you take Sloan on? Are you his agent now?”

Silence greets me at the other end of the line. Then, after what feels like a full minute, she replies.

“Well, you’re not doing much at the moment. I have bills too . . .” It’s bullshit. I know she has lots of successful authors she agents for. She just wants to ride on his coattails as he becomes the darling of Deatons.

“Don’t call me again,” I grind out and cut the call. I throw the phone down on my bed and follow it a second later, lying face down and groaning.

“Am I going to be plagued by that guy all my life?”

I allow myself exactly two minutes of time wallowing in despair before calling my parents. I don’t know if I can trust Helen not to, and I don’t want them to hear from her that I’ve extended my stay in Spain.

Luckily, she hasn’t, but that fact does nothing to redeem her right now. They take it very well, better than expected, actually. I might have bent the truth a little and said I was working on some new ideas. It might be true by the end of the month, so I don’t feel too bad about that. They even surprise me by saying that they might come to Barcelona for a visit. Maybe take in some European cities. That they deserved a holiday and hadn’t been away for a while. I’m not sure what they’d think of my current living arrangements. I’ve been economical with that information as well. But that they can still surprise me after twenty-eight years puts me in a better humour.

I find my way downstairs and find a spot in the shade to read. But first I download a phrasebook and an app. If I’m going to be here for a month, I really want to learn some of the language.