Page 71 of Raul
The “taxi ride” referred to picking up VIP wedding guests to whom Gabriel had offered a flight on his plane and hospitality at his estate. Most of them were musicians, which always made for an interesting trip.
“Then London,” Bertrand read off the schedule. “Followed by Madrid and New York again.”
Maybe the multiple flights would distract her from the torture of her heartbreak. She could fly manual the whole way, although Bertrand would think she had lost her mind.
She sighed and shut down the engines. “Let’s go over our notes with the mechanics.” And make the discussion last as long as possible.
Luckily, she found a couple of other pilots going out for dinner after work, so she joined them at a local hangout in San Ignacio. As they were trading war stories about the trickiest airports for landing, a text from a private number pinged into her phone.
A ripple of surprise ran through her. It could be from only one person.
I owe you an apology, but I’m tied up at a dinner. Please meet me at our usual place in San Ignacio. Ten o’clock? Sorry for the late hour.
Their usual place meant hishabitación.
So many emotions ripped through her at the same time that she didn’t know which one was real. Blazing anger, raw pain…and a fizz of excitement that she couldn’t quell. She would see him again. In private.
She forced herself to wait thirty seconds before answering:I’ll be there.
The Crown Prince of Caleva was going to apologize to her. For not trusting her? She wasn’t sure she could forgive him for that.
She started when one of her dinner companions waved a hand in front of her face. “Control tower to Erica! It’s your turn to describe a crazy runway.”
Yanking her brain back to her surroundings, she managed to be coherent enough to get through the dinner before heading home to change her clothes.
It felt hauntingly familiar to drive through the private gate at Castillo Draconago. She had cut herself off from the alcohol flowing freely at dinner right after she received Raul’s text, so she was cold sober and roiling with nerves.
She got out of the car and slipped a navy blazer over her white silk blouse and gray trousers. Yes, she had dressed up for this encounter. She needed the mental armor that heels and businesslike clothing gave her. If she could have come up with asemilegitimate excuse, she would have worn her pilot’s uniform, the most effective armor she knew.
A guard she hadn’t seen before greeted her politely and escorted her through the quiet hallways. Another guard opened the door to Raul’s apartment and closed it behind her, leaving her in the empty living room. Raul had texted that he was running late due to a couple of long-winded speeches.
The lamps scattered around the room were all turned on, bathing it in a soft, welcoming glow. Nothing was out of place. Of course. Raul had been out at dinner, so the staff had neatened it up in his absence.
She wanted to read the titles of the books on his bedside table, but going into the bedroom seemed too…intrusive, despite what they had done in his bed. She checked out the built-in bookcases that framed the fireplace, expecting them to be merely decorative.
But Raul’s books were not bound in leather with gilt lettering. Paperbacks and hardcovers rubbed spines, some quite worn. One shelf held well-read copies of Calevan history. Another contained tomes on government and political science. There was a section of philosophy and one with an interesting jumble of scientific topics. And there were novels, some literary works likeDon Quixote, and some contemporary thrillers and spy novels.
The glimpse into his agile mind brought a clench of regret to her throat because she would never get to discuss these books with him. She swallowed hard against the tightness, and then the door swung open.
Raul strode in, wearing a tuxedo that was tailored to highlight his broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long legs. With his sun-streaked hair gleaming above the stark black-and-white, he knocked the air out of her lungs.
“Erica?” He scanned the room before he saw her and pivoted. “Please forgive my late arrival. Too many people like to hear themselves talk.”
He tugged off his black silk bow tie and tossed it on a chair before he flicked open the top button of his shirt.
She wanted to tell him how magnificent he looked, but their relationship wasn’t like that any longer. “No need to explain. I’ve been in a few meetings like that.”
“Thank you for coming so late. My schedule was back-to-back all day, so this was my earliest opportunity to see you.” For the first time she could remember, he seemed uncertain. “Will you sit?” He gave her a tentative smile and swept a hand toward the sofa where they had first made love.
She flinched at the memory before she took a seat where he had indicated. Then she realized something. “No crutches?”
He sat beside her, leaving a few inches between them, and grimaced. “They’re too unwieldy at social occasions. My ankle is tightly wrapped.”
“And painful,” she guessed, pulling a cushion from the corner of the couch and setting it on the table. “Here, take your shoe off and put your foot up.”
“In a minute.” He swiveled to face her, his blue eyes dark with some emotion she couldn’t read. “I behaved very badly yesterday.”
“No, you didn’t. I had a wonderful time.” In fact, she had conjured up the last orgasm in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep anyway.
