Page 67 of Surrender to the Ruthless Billionaire

It had been auburn for so many years but now it was what her mother called ‘mouse’.

She looked familiar, yet different. It was like meeting someone from the past, and in a way she was. ‘Mouse’ had been her father’s nickname for her, and that had been one of the reasons she had decided to dye her hair in the first place. It had been a teenager’s angry response to being forgotten—a way of standing out and mattering.

It had taken a long time, but it had worked.

Grace had been delighted with her photos of Agusto and Sofia. So delighted that she had instantly commissioned Cristina to do an interview with an award-winning madrileño actor, and to shoot the French-born striker who had just won his third Golden Boot trophy for a cover.

But despite earning herself a permanent position at the magazine, and loving spending time with Laura, she still felt listless—numb, almost.

And lonely.

Her throat tightened. All her life she had been chasing a dream. A dream of being accepted. Of belonging. But now that her dream was a reality she realised that it wasn’t enough. That there was only one person whose acceptance she craved. Only one person to whom she truly wanted to belong.

Only he wasn’t here. She had pushed him away and then walked away from him. And now she would never see Luis again.

She breathed in, consciously refusing to let her thoughts spiral down again. It was done, and she’d had no choice. Letting Luis get close to her was too big a risk to take.

All she could do now was focus on the positive—her job and her sister.

Her sister! Glancing at her phone, she swore softly.

The sister she was supposed to be meeting for lunch in fifteen minutes.

If she left now, she thought, she might just get there on time. And, snatching up her bag and room key, she ran towards the door.

*

She was hot and sticky by the time she arrived at the café.

‘Sorry,’ she said, throwing her bag down onto the spare chair and then kissing Laura on both cheeks. ‘I completely forgot the time.’

Her sister rolled her eyes. ‘It’s fine. I only just got here myself.’ Leaning back, she squinted up at the sun. ‘I thought we had long meetings at the museum, but I honestly thought the one I had this morning would never end.’

Cristina felt a pang of guilt. Following Enrique’s death, Laura had been saddled with meeting the various lawyers and bankers that her father had employed to manage his business affairs.

She frowned. ‘Can I do anything? Oh, thank you.’ She glanced up as the waiter put two bottles of water, some bread and olives on the table. ‘I know I’ve been pretty useless lately, but I want to help.’

Tearing at a piece of bread, Laura shook her head. ‘I know you do. But I’m just whining, really.’ She glanced at the menu. ‘Is there anything you particularly want? Or shall I just order for us both?’

Cristina glanced inside the café to the counter, where dark grey slates were piled up high with grilled chorizo and white asparagus wrapped in Riojan cheese.

‘No, you choose. But be quick.’ She grinned at her sister. ‘I’m starving.’

The tapas arrived before they’d finished the bread. They were hot and moreish and full of smoky flavour.

As the waiter arranged the small terracotta dishes efficiently over every available space on the small table she felt her mouth start to tingle. Despite the family atmosphere of the café, some of the tapas were so beautiful they looked like canapés at some upmarket party, or starters from a Michelin-starred restaurant.

Her fingers tightened around her fork.

Damn. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t think about Luis over lunch, but her brain had made the leap from Michelin-starred restaurant to that meal with his parents with astonishing speed.

‘Are you okay?’ Laura was looking at her anxiously. ‘Did you burn yourself?’

Cristina shook her head. ‘No, I was just thinking—’

‘About Luis.’ Her half-sister finished the sentence for her.

‘Not really—’ Catching sight of Laura’s expression of disbelief, she sighed. ‘Well, okay—yes, I was. But it has been at least three minutes,’ she joked weakly. ‘And, on the plus side, I haven’t cried at all today.’

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