Page 56 of Surrender to the Ruthless Billionaire

Only really why should she care? When had Enrique Lastra last cared about her—if ever? She’d had her appendix out when she was nineteen, where had he been then?

‘Well, thank you for telling me,’ she said woodenly. ‘But I don’t really see what that’s got to do with me.’

There was a silence, then Laura said quietly, ‘I thought you’d want to know. He’s your father too, Cristina.’

‘Not for a long time he hasn’t been. Actually, make that never.’ She hated hearing the bitterness in her voice but it was impossible to stop it.

‘I know how you must feel—’

‘I doubt that. In fact I’m pretty damn sure you don’t.’

She knew she was being unfair. Laura was not responsible for their father’s actions any more than she was, but she couldn’t help herself.

‘You’re right. I don’t, and it was a stupid thing to say. But I really think you should see him.’

‘I’m not going to fly to America to see a man who’s barely—’

‘He’s not in America, Cristina. He’s in Spain. Just like you. In Madrid. And he’s dying.’

Dying!

Her heart felt like a lump of ice. The breath in her throat had turned to lead.

‘He can’t be…’ she whispered.

‘I’m sorry. But he is.’

Cristina could hear the ache in Laura’s voice.

‘That isn’t why I’ve been ringing you, though.’ She hesitated. ‘He wants to see you.’

Cristina covered her mouth with her hand. She had waited so long to hear those words. Played out so many scenarios inside her head. But now that it had happened she didn’t know what to say.

‘I don’t know,’ she said finally. ‘I need to think about it.’

‘But there’s not much time—’

She cut through Laura’s pleading words. ‘I can’t talk about this now. I’m working and—’

‘Surely they’d understand?’

From somewhere outside she could hear the sound of footsteps and she stood up hurriedly.

‘Look, Laura, I’m not like you. I need this job.’ She thought of her mother, and the fold-out bed she used every time she visited her. ‘I need the money. So please don’t call me again. I’ll ring you when I can.’

She hung up, and turned just as Luis stepped into the folly.

For a moment he just stared at her, his eyes dark and intent, his shoulders blocking the entrance. ‘So,’ he remarked in a voice that made a chill slip over her skin, ‘who was that on the phone?’

*

He’d been looking for her for at least half an hour.

It had been a gruelling but ultimately rewarding morning. Telling his parents had been easier and less painful than he’d imagined it would be.

Easier because he’d already confided in Cristina, and less painful because both Agusto and Sofia were so distressed by the fact that he had not only felt responsible for Bas’s death but coped with his guilt alone.

‘Of course it wasn’t your fault, Luis.’ Agusto had shaken his head. ‘Whatever you told that reporter, Baltasar was a grown man. He could have simply stopped the car. Or let the paparazzi follow him. Your brother’s death was a terrible accident, and your mother and I agreed on that a long time ago.’

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