RAMON ENTERED THE sunlit space that was his studio one week later and drew to a stop.
The temperature was the same as it had been yesterday, the blue sky visible through his glass roof just as cloudless. The floor bore evidence of his deep frustrations. And yet, the light was almost blinding. And he felt more invigorated than he had in...hell, he couldn’t remember.
Sure, there were a million other emotions bubbling beneath the surface of his skin that he didn’t want to name, never mind examine, but the energy surging through him was so overwhelming, he experienced its sizzle to the very tips of his fingers.
A father. He was going to become a father.
He’d plotted, planned and executed it. But he hadn’t allowed himself to fully embrace its possibilities. Same as he had never thought himself particularly invested in evolution or been hell-bent on leaving his mark on the Earth the way some men were obsessed with. Not until Luis had dropped the news of his lost unborn child in his lap. Not until precarious conditions on a rainy night in Mexico had caused a lorry to smash into his parents’ car, ending the lives of the three people who meant the world to him.
The dark gloom and relentless anguish that dogged his days hadn’t suddenly lifted, but for the first time in a long time Ramon was able to take a breath that wasn’t drawn from a place of complete despair.
He knew part of that stemmed from what Suki had told him. She’d wanted their child. Fate had forced her to make a different, harrowing decision. One he couldn’t fault her for. Absurdly, mourning for his lost child too now felt a little easier.
He took another deep, soul-restoring breath. He wasn’t naive to the risks involved in every pregnancy, had probably over-educated himself on the subject. But the unfamiliar sentiment he first witnessed in Suki’s face and was beginning to entertain himself—hope—had been bolstered by the requisite doctors’ tests and reassurance.
All of which had turned him into the very laughable, very unrecognisable cliché of a reborn man.
Fairly certain it was that same alien sentiment that was leading him to re-examine other ideas he’d sealed in the never again vault, he’d left a napping Suki in her suite and retreated to the studio.
He looked around him at the half-finished works that had documented his turbulent state of mind.
Pieces he’d promised to his galleries for fast-approaching exhibits lay abandoned, giant hunks of metal, stone and marble enshrouded beneath black cloth.
Ignoring them, he crossed the cavernous space to the back of the studio where untouched slabs of stone and marble were lined up on wheel brackets. Running his hands over the raw material, he settled on the smooth Carrara marble.
Wheeling it to the middle of the room, he yanked off his T-shirt, powered up his tools and started to sculpt.
Three hours later, the frame of his idea had begun to take shape. Unsettlingly, so had the idea that the parameters of the bargain he’d struck with Suki could...should be altered.
Like the master strategist the world claimed him to be, he stepped back from fully embracing it, weighing the pros and cons as the days passed.
In many ways it wasn’t a road he wanted to go down again. But there was more than himself to think about now. And his child outweighed any con that stood in his way.
So he chipped away, until the one that remained was Suki herself.
* * *
The first six weeks of pregnancy rolled by in a dizzying tumult of blinding joy, hopefulness and inevitable moments of abject fear. The urge to make plans, choose a nursery and start decorating immediately was tempered by the need to exercise brutal caution. With each day that passed, Suki counted her blessings. Hell, she even welcomed the double bout of morning sickness that plagued her this time round.
Through it all, Ramon remained a steady presence at hand to see to her general well-being. Just as he’d made it his mission to get her pregnant, he took on the role of ruthless overseer with aplomb, never straying far when she was awake, reciting bare but reassuring statistics when worry threatened to take over.
He found excuses to be in the room when she tested colour swatches on walls and supervised the staining of the new mantelpiece. He threw a casual arm over her shoulder and held her at a distance when the restorers reinserted the mosaic windows and even helped her re-plaster the priceless tiles.
The belief that he would be committed to his child was indelibly cemented into place. Between that, the doctors’ continued reassurance about her healthy pregnancy and the fact that her mother had undergone the first round of treatment and come through with flying colours should’ve placed her somewhere on cloud nine.
Except for one large hole in the fabric of her contentment.
She and Ramon no longer shared a bed. Despite knowing the day was coming, his immediate and complete withdrawal following confirmation of her pregnancy had lodged a nasty little ball of anguish in her chest she hadn’t been able to destroy no matter how much she tried.
And she’d tried.
By reminding herself how her presence here came about. By summoning up Svetlana’s drop-dead gorgeous form, comparing it to her own and reiterating that she would always be found wanting.
And if that wasn’t enough, she had Ramon’s own words to remind her why she needed to find a way to deal with the silly torment of her crush.
We were engaged to be married. Of course I cared...
Except Suki couldn’t hide from the fact that this time, it was more than a crush. Her crush had been unwieldy and inconvenient. So much so she’d given in at the first true lesson in temptation in the hope of getting rid of it.
But this...
This ache grew mockingly bigger, churning more anguish with each passing day. And it stemmed from the simple knowledge that she missed him. Missed his sometimes acerbic tongue. Missed him teasing her about her love of Teresa’s cooking.
Most of all, she missed falling asleep in his arms. A fact she readily accepted was her most foolish yearning of all.
‘What’s wrong?’
She jumped at the sharp demand, her heart racing as her hand stilled from the light gloss she’d been applying to the frame of an antique painting that had once hung in the drawing room that was being restored.
Carefully she modulated her voice so her feelings wouldn’t bleed through. ‘What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.’
‘Then why were you standing there with your face contorted and your hand on your stomach?’ came the sharper query.
Realising the direction of his thoughts, she dropped the rag, set the painting against the wall, and turned. ‘Ramon, there’s nothing wrong, I prom—’ The rest of the words died in her throat at the sight of him.
He was shirtless. Again. A light sheen of sweat covered his insanely chiselled torso and dampened the trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of weathered trousers that were stained with specks of marble dust and the special oil he used on his tools when he was sculpting.
Suki wanted to blame pregnancy hormones for the way her senses went into meltdown at the sight of his half-naked form, but she knew that would be false. Her stupefying reaction to Ramon was nothing new. But it would seriously get out of hand if she wasn’t careful.
‘You were saying?’ he pressed, one hand reaching into his back pocket to pluck a towel to wipe his grimy fingers on.
The sight of those slim, capable fingers, the sweat on his skin, the earthy, sexy smell of him.
Dear God, he was too much.
‘I was saying I’m fine,’ she replied, her voice waspish. ‘And do you have to go around half naked all the time?’
One eyebrow spiked. ‘Does the sight of me offend you?’ he drawled.
She wanted to laugh. And cry. Maybe throw in a scream or two. Instead, she chose the high road paved with composure and dignity. ‘On second thought, forget it. It’s your house. You can come and go as you please, I suppose.’
‘Gracias... I think,’ he returned dryly.
With nothing more to add, and the even more urgent need to do something other than give in to the temptation to stare at his glorious half-nakedness, she picked up the painting and started walking towards the door. She’d barely taken a few steps when he intercepted her and took it from her.
‘I hired an additional team so you didn’t have to do your own carrying, Suki,’ he grumbled.
Once her morning sickness had abated, a second team of architects had arrived. With the detailed photos from the room, they’d come up with a schedule of when the restoration works would start. She’d been forbidden from any lifting so Suki set up a temporary office in one of the many bedrooms on the second floor and contented herself with choosing the antique furniture, wallpaper and drapes to finish the room with once the work was done.
‘That painting weighs less than my laptop and, besides, I need the exercise.’
His scowl was pure storm clouds. ‘Not one that involves you going up and down the stairs a dozen times a day.’
She stopped herself from pointing out that she’d only been down twice today, both times at his bidding, to share a meal with him. ‘Was there a particular reason you came looking for me? Or are you gracing me with your grumpy presence just for laughs?’
He paused at the top of the stairs and eyed her. ‘Now who’s grumpy?’
‘You haven’t answered my questions.’
He observed her pursed-lips response for a minute before he started walking down the stairs.
Following a step behind him, she couldn’t avoid staring at his gladiator-like physique, the beautiful musculature of his back and the light bounce of his slightly unruly hair as he moved in that deeply animalistic way unique to him.
One of the restorers was coming out of a hallway as they reached the ground floor. Ramon handed over the painting with a flurry of Spanish that received several quick and agreeable nods, before he turned to her.
‘Let’s go.’
‘Go where? And what did you say to the contractor?’ she asked.
He turned in the direction of the main salon and she, with no choice, followed. ‘I suggested that perhaps they would be better off making less trips to the kitchen to take advantage of our housekeeper’s culinary skills and more manpower keeping you from having to traipse around with antiques. He was kind enough to agree.’
‘Ramon!’
He stopped, turned to face her. And she noticed that, despite his casual tone, he was highly vexed. ‘We had a deal, guapa. One that I’d hoped wouldn’t need us to have this conversation.’
‘You’re overreacting.’
He stepped closer, bringing more of that irritated, hard-packed body into her personal space. ‘Am I?’ he enquired softly, his gaze raking her face before it locked on her mouth.
‘Yes, you are,’ she said. And then because she lived with the same fear every single second, she cleared her throat. ‘But I have it on good authority, they will be done before the end of the week, so they will be out of your hair.’
His eyes didn’t move from her mouth. ‘Bene. I will not have to tear my hair out after all.’
Her gaze tracked to his full head of vibrant hair. ‘You can spare a few, I’m sure. And seeing as I’ve saved your mane, maybe you will start wearing a shirt?’ she asked, hoping her tone was less pleading and more irritated.
Green eyes flicked up to meet hers. Then a low deep laugh rumbled up from his throat. Unfettered. Sexy. Spellbinding. The sound, rarely heard and not at all recently, wrapped around her. It only lasted a handful of seconds but every cell in her body lifted, strained towards the incredible sound.
‘You agree to no more carrying heavy stuff around and I’ll think about it,’ he replied.
‘Okay, fine. I agree.’
He muttered something Spanish under his breath before resuming his stride down the hallway. When they reached the salon, he held the door open for her. The sun-drenched beauty of the room never failed to soothe her. She walked around, trailing her fingers over priceless antique furniture steeped in history.
Ramon stayed at the entrance of the salon, leaning against the door frame and studying her for a long moment. When his scrutiny got too much, she dropped her hand from the bronze bust she’d been examining. ‘Is there any reason you’re staring at me like that?’
‘I’ve started working on the first piece he made me promise to do for you,’ he said, his voice containing a solemn tone that made her heart kick.
‘He...you mean Luis?’
Ramon nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘You’re sculpting and painting again.’
His face was unreadable. ‘Sí, it seems I am.’
Suki wanted to ask how...when...why? Too scared of the answer, she ventured softly instead, ‘I...am I allowed to know what it is?’
‘It’s a sculpture. But I haven’t decided what it’ll be yet. I sketched out a few ideas. But I need a live representation. I choose you.’
Shock slayed her. ‘Me?’
‘To be the subject, sí.’
A shiver went through her. There was something viscerally exposing about what he was asking. ‘I’m not...are you—?’
‘Don’t think up excuses.’
‘I wasn’t. I was just going to ask if you were sure.’
He shrugged. ‘I have tried several inanimate objects. They’re not working. You are the most convenient living test subject.’
‘Wow, suddenly I don’t feel so special,’ she muttered.
A heavy and bleak expression fleeted through his eyes. ‘You were special to him. I should’ve considered you first and saved myself much wasted time.’
Her hurt abated a little even though she knew she would need a scalpel to dig out the precious meaning hidden in his words.
‘Will you do it?’ he rasped.
It would be a gift from her best friend from beyond the grave. One she could cherish for ever. ‘Yes, of course I will.’
He gestured her forward. ‘Good. Let’s go.’
She looked down at the white cotton, short-sleeved tunic she’d thrown on hastily this morning to meet the restorers. Beneath it, she wore the canary-yellow bikini that had fast become her favourite swimsuit. ‘Do I need to change?’
He conducted a long scrutiny from loose hair to sandalled feet. ‘No, you’re fine as you are.’
They left the villa by way of a little-used hallway at the back of the villa. Like everywhere in the villa and on the grounds, the winding stone path dissecting the back garden and leading to Ramon’s brick and glass studio was immaculately kept. He punched in a code and the sturdy double doors sprang ajar.
Her preconceived idea of what Ramon’s artist’s studio would look like was smashed to smithereens the second she walked in. He’d cleaned up the carnage, obviously, but still, expecting the stereotypical, paint-splattered chaos of a passionate artist’s creative space, she froze to a halt at what confronted her.
On either side of the whitewashed walls, rows of tall and short objects were covered with black cloth. And on the long bench that held dozens of pots of paint and brushes, each one was laid out at a precise angle.
The floor beneath her feet had been painted a pristine white too, the light pouring in from the windows giving the space an almost other-worldly dimension.
A dimension where everything was set in its place. Almost chastely so.
Everything except the raised platform at the end of the space and the single black armchair that served as an observation point for the platform. On the floor next to the chair, a half-empty bottle of dark rum stood next to a crystal tumbler containing dregs of amber liquid.
As if that weren’t awe-inspiring enough, her gaze rose higher, her eyes widening as she walked further forward to better see the untouched slab of solid black granite suspended from the ceiling.
Against the white walls and floor, the platform and the piece that would form a stunning sculpture one day was wildly hypnotic, commanding and receiving attention. Suki stopped behind the chair, unable to take her eyes off it.
The mental vision of Ramon watching that piece of stone, sketching, viscerally connecting with his subject...his muse...breathing life into the piece was so visually mesmerising, she didn’t hear him speak above the growing buzzing in her blood.
‘Suki?’
She snatched a quick, restorative breath and faced him. ‘Yes?’
‘Are you okay?’
She nodded quickly, dragging her gaze from the spectacle before her. ‘I’m fine. Umm...why is everything covered?’ she asked, hoping to cover her flustered senses.
‘I don’t like distractions when I work.’
Distractions or reminders?
Unbidden, the memory of how Ramon and Svetlana had met rose to her mind. According to Luis, he’d seen her on a catwalk in Milan and had been so struck with her, he’d asked to paint her. Within days they were lovers. Before their first month was over, he’d asked her to marry him.
Emotion she recognised as naked jealousy spiked through her blood. ‘Do you have other studios?’ she blurted before she could stop herself.
The unexpected question drew a frown. ‘No, this is my only one. Why?’
So he’d brought Svetlana here. Painted and sculpted her here. Suki shook her head, swallowing down the sick feeling that surged high. ‘I’m just...curious.’
He continued to stare at her for probing seconds. Unable to stand it, she turned around, walked closer to the steps leading up to the platform. This time the noise in her ears was the creaky churning of her heart. And again she didn’t hear him when he addressed her.
‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’
He prowled to the edge of the platform, stared down at her with narrowed eyes. ‘I said, take off your dress.’
Her heart skidded, then jumped into her throat as heat engulfed her. ‘I...what?
‘The dress, Suki. Take it off. Then lie down on there.’ He indicated behind her with his chin.
Turning, she saw that the slab had somehow been lowered to hip level. From where she stood it looked like a narrow bed. A bed from which would be hewn a magnificent piece of art from Ramon’s hands. The same hands that had thrilled her so thoroughly when they’d made love.
Sizzling heat flowed over her body, singeing the apex of her thighs and tightening her nipples in remembered torment. Crossing her arms in front of her to hide her body’s weakness, she slipped off her thongs and climbed up the three shallow steps of the platform. Behind her, Ramon tracked her movements, towering over her as she slowly reached out to touch the stone.
There was no give in the chains holding it in place.
‘Don’t be concerned—it will hold your weight.’
She wanted to say that wasn’t her concern. She wanted to say she didn’t want to lie down because she was afraid of what she would reveal from being this close to something so powerful. Of what he’d see when she was exposed to him.
And she would be. Ramon had been right when he recounted Luis’s imitation of her the one time they visited Piedra Galleries in London. Every single one of Ramon’s pieces of work had held her in thrall. Touching his pieces had been like touching the man himself.
And that was even before she’d shared his bed, taken him into her body. Been impregnated with his child. Now the sensation was ten times more potent. Because all those feelings were beginning to take a certain shape, make a terrifying kind of sense.
Sensing her prevarication, he stepped closer.
‘Now, Suki,’ he commanded huskily from behind her.
She wanted to refuse. But, of course, she didn’t. Because the slavish compulsion to give him what he wanted also made a terrifying kind of sense.
She caught the hem of her tunic, her hands efficiently tugging the flimsy material over her head.
His harsh exhalation echoed through the space as he caught the dress from her weak fingers and flung it away.
‘Now the rest,’ he instructed thickly.
Her breath strangled in her lungs but refusal never crossed her mind. Fingers shaking, she tugged the strings of the bikini top and bottom free until they fell away, until she stood naked, her head bowed, her tumbling hair flowing over her shoulders.
Slowly, she sensed him circling her, tracking her every shiver, her every breath.
When he stopped directly in front of her, she raised her head, met his gaze straight on.
Saw for herself that he too was affected.
Hectic colour tinged taut cheekbones, his bare chest rising and falling in ragged breathing. Both hands came up and wrapped around the chains securing the slab, his knuckles showing white as his red-hot gaze flew over her body.
‘Lie down, Suki.’ Again the instruction was thick, his voice barely discernible.
Two short steps brought her to the raw ingredient that would form his masterpiece. Reaching out, she touched it, familiarised herself with its texture. Lowering herself onto it, she stretched out on her back. The heat of her body meeting the cold drew a shiver and a gasp from her.
Ramon stared down at her, her feet a scant inch from his powerful thighs and the potent reaction to her that currently bulged behind his zipper. Suki wasn’t sure whether it was the fire from his gaze or the blaze from her body that soon warmed the stone beneath her.
Ferocious need clamouring through her, she couldn’t stop the sinuous movement of her body or the hand that slid over her midriff to rest on her belly.
Although she’d gained weight in the last several weeks, her stomach had remained flat. And yet she felt different, her not-yet-visible pregnancy powering a change she felt from head to toe.
Now, as Ramon’s eyes lingered at the place where their child grew, a tumult of emotions wove over his face.
‘Dios mio,’ he breathed as his gaze raked over her, absorbed the subtle changes in her body.
After a long minute, he lurched away from the slab. Going to the long workbench, he grabbed a large sketchpad and a thin wedge of grey charcoal. Returning, he threw himself into the chair, poured a finger of rum and knocked it back.
Then his hand began to fly over the surface of the pad.
Time sped up. Or slowed to a crawl. She lost the ability to judge as she was caught up in a singularly transcendental experience.
When Ramon instructed her, she turned this way and that, making sure not to jar her body. Finally, he set the pad down and poured himself another drink.
Eyes gone almost black with unfathomable emotions regarded her as he rolled the tumbler between his palms.
Had she not lived through his effortless rejection of her these past few weeks, or known that everything he did was in pursuit of his heir, Suki’s heart would’ve soared high.
But the knowledge was inescapable. And with it came an agony that drew a rough sound from her throat. Probing eyes that saw way too much shifted from where they were stalled on the rise and fall of her stomach to snag her own.
Tossing the drink back, he stood and came up the platform, caught her hand and helped her upright. ‘Are you okay?’ he rasped.
Attempting to speak past the sensation clogging her throat was hard, but she barely managed. ‘Did you get what you needed?’
For some reason the question made him tense.
One by one, the emotions disappeared from his face and he brought himself under rigid, effortless control. Resolutely, he stepped back and left the platform, once again rejecting her. ‘Yes. You can get dressed now.’
As Suki slid off the slab, retied her bikini and pulled on her tunic, her heart finally accepted the truth and tumbled into deep mourning. But even the monumental knowledge of what had happened didn’t stop her from caressing the granite one last time.
Because whether or not Ramon used the sketches he’d made of her, she would associate this studio, this platform, this piece of stone with the moment she’d accepted that her stupid crush had turned into something much, much bigger for ever.