Page 50 of Cinderella's One-Night Baby

In his loathing of the toxic nature of their marriage, he’d missed the love that underpinned it and was their marriage’s foundation.

Sophia had been raised in the same household. She hadn’t replicated their marriage. Sophia was happy.

Gazing into the eyes of the bravest, fiercest, sexiest woman in the world, eyes containing an ocean of emotions directed athim, his own future suddenly became clear.

‘When will we see Andrés again?’ Lucas asked as she went to switch his light off.

‘Soon.’

‘Can we go for another sleepover at his house?’

‘I’m sure that can be arranged.’

‘Will Raul be there?’

‘I don’t know. We can ask. Now go to sleep.’

After another kiss to his forehead, she trundled back to the living area of her apartment that, after the glorious weekend in Seville, felt claustrophobic.

Or maybe it was her thoughts making her feel that way.

No sooner had she curled on her sofa than her phone rang.

She closed her eyes before answering it. Andrés had the uncanny ability to know exactly when the right time to call was.

Before Seville, she’d lived for his calls. In the three days since he’d dropped her home, she’d come to dread them, dreaded the direction the conversation would take. His business must be keeping him extra busy because so far he’d failed to mention the home she’d more or less promised to move into with him once he’d won Lucas over. But he would. Soon. She could feel it in her bones.

The quicksand was fastening around her. She’d felt its weight in Seville when she’d wanted to cry when he’d left her bed, felt it tighten as the miracle they’d been waiting for of Lucas accepting Andrés had come into being, and then start to pull her down with the words of Sophia continually floating in her ear.

You had the potential to be perfect for him.

Being without him after those wonderful days in Seville...

She needed to end things now, before she found herself stuck in the quicksand for ever.

Before she had her heart broken in the way she’d seen a broken heart destroy those she loved so dear.

‘Gabrielle,ma belle,’ he sang once she’d answered. ‘How has your day been?’

Trying to inject life into her voice, she filled him in.

Once he’d given the potted highlights of his own day, to which she tried valiantly to make appropriate responses, he said, ‘I will be flying back late tomorrow afternoon. Come to the apartment? I’ll do dinner. There’s much we need to talk about.’

The thump of dread that banged into her chest winded her.

‘Bring Lucas with you,’ he added. ‘I’ll get the spare room made up for him.’ Loud voices echoed in the background. He muttered a curse before saying, ‘I’m sorry but I need to go. I’ll have my driver collect you for seven. Goodnight,ma belle. Think of me.’

The line disconnected.

Sleep took a long time to come that night.

Andrés entered the London skyscraper that had once been considered an architectural marvel but now looked sad and pathetic in comparison to the Gherkin, the Shard and the like crowding it out of existence, and was escorted to the elevator and up to the fifteenth floor. The elevator too, had seen better days. He briefly wondered if his antipathy to the building was in part caused by his antipathy to its owner.

His escort took him into a large reception room and announced him to one of the receptionists, who made the call.

A door opened and Gregory Jameson appeared, striding towards him with his hand outstretched.

Smiling with his teeth, Andrés shook the hand vigorously and followed him into the office, signing to his bodyguard, who’d spent the past two weeks twiddling his thumbs, to stay in the reception room.

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