Page 186 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

‘Only a few, but we can go in any shop that takes your fancy. I don’t mind. Trust me, I will enjoy buying you whatever you like.’

He’d bought her so many clothes and jewels when they’d first married. He’d showered her with designer gowns, and diamond necklaces she hadn’t worn, but in hindsight Santos realised he hadn’t actually had her choose any of it. Such a notion hadn’t even occurred to him. He’d simply ordered everything in her size from the most elite and expensive designers and had them delivered to the estate.

She must have worn some of those clothes at the formal dinners his mother still insisted on, he acknowledged—five interminable courses, eaten mostly in silence—yet he found he couldn’t picture her in one. All he could remember, he realised with a pang, was the look of strain on her pale face as she’d studied the five rows of cutlery on either side of her plate. Knowing now what he did about her upbringing, he realised just how strange and overwhelming coming to the Aguila estate must have been for her...and he hadn’t made it any easier.

He let out a startled, ‘Oof!’ as Mia poked him in the ribs. ‘You’ve gone quiet,’ she told him with a small smile. ‘Andyou’re scowling. What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ he said quickly, more unsettled by that memory and all it could signify than he wanted to be. ‘I’m just looking forward to seeing you try on all these clothes.’ He allowed himself a wolfish smile. ‘Maybe you’ll need help with some of the zips.’

To his delight, Mia blushed. ‘Maybe I will,’ she murmured, looking away, her cheeks still washed with colour.

The first boutique they went to on the Passeig de Gràcia was one of those insufferable places with bony, sharp-faced women swarming them as soon as they crossed the threshold, all face lifts and haute couture.

‘Señor Aguila,’ one of them purred. ‘Always a pleasure to do business with your esteemed family. How is your dear mother?’ Her gaze flicked to Mia, with the most cursory glance, and back again. ‘And who is this? A...friend?’

‘Mywife,’ Santos replied rather tersely, seeing how stricken Mia looked by the whole, awful experience.

Like a flock of crows flapping their wings, the women immediately gave him their congratulations, and assured them both they would like nothing better than to dress the new Señora Aguila.

Santos glanced again at Mia, who still looked pale and a bit sick, and found himself shaking his head. ‘I believe we’ll go elsewhere,’ he stated firmly and, taking Mia by the arm, he exited the shop without a word.

Mia let out a trembling laugh as they emerged onto the pavement flanking the wide, tree-lined boulevard.

‘What was that all about?’ she asked. ‘Why did you leave?’

‘I didn’t like them—sanctimonious, snobbish busybodies.’ He was surprised by how much he meant it. He didn’t think he would ever have noticed such things before, or maybe even cared, but he’d felt acutely conscious of it today. He hated the way they’d looked at Mia, as if dismissing her, before he’d told them who she was.

Mia glanced at him, wide-eyed but also sceptical. ‘You don’t need to do that just for my sake, Santos. I mean, I appreciate it, but I should be able to handle this world. I’ll have to learn, anyway, if you want me to be part of it.’

‘MaybeIdon’t want to be part of it,’ Santos countered.

Her eyes widened further. ‘The world that’s in your blood?’ she returned. ‘That’s so much a part of you? You can’t mean that.’

‘It’s not all of a piece,’ he argued. ‘The Aguila estate is in my blood, yes—oranges and olives and history—but that doesn’t mean some skinny, supercilious clothes horse in Barcelona has to be.’

To his surprise and delight, she let out a laugh of such genuine amusement—that open, easy sound of joy he remembered—that several passers by turned their heads, curious and charmed. He liked making her laugh, he realised. He liked the fact that he was starting to understand her more than he ever had before, when he’d first been so fascinated. Already their relationship felt deeper, more important andreal, and he was glad.

‘Fair enough,’ she conceded, smiling wider still, her eyes sparkling. She looked so much like she used to back when he’d first met her that he had the urge to catch her up in his arms and kiss her senseless. ‘Fair enough,’ she said again, and then, still smiling up at him, she slipped her arm through his as they walked to the next boutique.

Fortunately, the sales associates of that establishment were far more amenable, seeming genuinely friendly, and whisking Mia away to a dressing room to try on various outfits while Santos made himself comfortable on a velvet sofa outside the curtain. He slid his phone out of his pocket, intending to check his messages, realising he hadn’t so much as looked at them in over twenty-four hours, something that was incredibly unlike him.

He started scrolling through them, glimpsing several from his mother as well as his estate manager, along with a few from other business interests. He texted a quick message to his estate manager, and another to the manager of the head office in Madrid, asking them both to handle anything pressing. He found himself swiping to close the messaging app, and then put his phone back in his pocket with something like relief. He didn’t want to deal with all that now; he didn’t want it to interfere with what was developing between Mia and him.

‘Anything I’m allowed to see?’ he called out, and a moment later Mia pulled back the curtain, smiling at him shyly. She was wearing a gown and, oh, what a gown. It was the aquamarine of her eyes, with twisted, Grecian-style straps and a plunging neckline that somehow still managed to seem modest yet so very intoxicating. The dress clung to her hips and then fell in a swirl of shimmering fabric to below her ankles.

‘I don’t know that I’ll ever have an occasion to wear something like this,’ she told him, ‘But the sales assistants both insisted. They said it matched my eyes.’

‘It does and we’ll take it,’ Santos replied immediately. His blood felt as if it were on fire; it took all his strength simply to sit there on the sofa rather than sweep Mia into his arms and slip the straps from her shoulders. ‘As for an occasion to wear it, you already do. Tonight, for dinner with me.’ And later, he very much hoped he’d have the occasion to take itoffher.

Mia must have seen something of that in his eyes, for her smile faltered for a second before returning in force, curling slowly as her gaze swept over him, lingering in a way that made his blood heat all the more. His palms positively itched to touch her and caress her.

‘I guess it’s a winner, then,’ she said and, with that smile promising all sorts of wonderful things, she slowly drew the curtain closed again.

Santos leaned back against the sofa, his breath coming out in a rush as he shifted where he sat to ease the undeniable ache in his groin. He was very much looking forward to dinner, he decided, and, more importantly,afterwards.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MIAWASUNDENIABLYOVERDRESSED, even for dinner in the Michelin-starred restaurant Santos had chosen for their evening meal, but she didn’t care because she felt beautiful and, more importantly, desirable. Together it was a very potent and heady mix. Hours later, she was still tingling from the heated look Santos had given her in the boutique when she’d come out of the dressing room wearing this gown. It was a look that had seemed to sizzle the air between them and remind her of just how good they’d been together.

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