Chapter Fifteen
London wanted to challenge every getting-ready montage ever created, because after what she’d just been through, she’d take home the gold. She had areas of her body waxed that she never knew existed. Though she had a permanent “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging from her most nether regions, the German lady with the wax and little wooden stick apparently couldn’t read English. Because it was gone.
All.
Gone.
She gave a little wiggle in the shower, amazed by how easily her skin slid against itself. Even the hairs of her hairs had been yanked from her body. She was so smooth her clothes would be in grave danger of slipping right off.
Maybe that would help distract Mateu from the fact she’d been playing him all along. She winced. The thought sounded so much worse than it had seemed at the time.
Regardless, her fingers were crossed.
She’d take all the help she could get.
After such a beautiful day at the orchard yesterday and at the beach today, her decision to tell him about knowing his plan and using it to have her dream vacation became more important than ever. She had only three days to finish seeing Barcelona, to be with Mateu, then on Tuesday she was on a plane back to reality. Spending time with him and his family showed her how much love there could be, and how much she wanted to be a part of that love. She couldn’t expect him to confess to her if she wasn’t willing to confess to him.
Maybe if she went first.
Maybe then they could start fresh.
Stepping out of the shower, she admired both her new pedicure and manicure. Her documentation requirements for work loomed over her head, but at least the actual analysis was completed. She’d get to the rest later. And she had a lot to say. Huntington Place went above and beyond. Even when Mateu wasn’t by her side.
A dozen lotions, creams, and balms later, she fluffed her hair, then completed the last swipe of her lip gloss. She wasn’t preparing for battle, she was preparing for victory.
At eight p.m. sharp, a knock sounded at her door.
Mateu was annoyingly punctual. Even when she tried to get to their meeting place early, she’d find him there patiently waiting. One of these days she’d beat him to the punch. If there was a one-of-these-days.
She swung open the door, and the first thing she noticed was the bright intensity of determination in his gaze. “You look stunning.” He breathed the last word out, reaching for her, but then he hesitated, letting his hand lower to his side.
Suddenly her whole plan seemed foolish and self-destructive. Especially when he wasn’t even willing to touch her. But with all her irrational hopes for a future between them fueling her momentum, she straightened her shoulders.
What she wouldn’t give for one more kiss.
One more chance to taste him, feel him, memorize him with every stroke of her tongue.
“If you keep looking at me like that, we’re going to miss our reservation,” he said.
“I’m okay with that.” The words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them, and she pressed her lips closed.
His low chuckle reverberated through her. “I would be, too, except I paid a pretty penny for the finest seats in the house. You did make me promise to give you the best Barcelona had to offer, didn’t you?”
The space between her shoulders tightened painfully, and she drew back. Maybe she should just tell him now. “Do you want to come in? I need to talk to you about something.”
“Sounds serious. But save it for dinner. You’re going to love this place.” He offered his arm as she closed the door behind them. “There are only five tables. I procured all of them. We will have the place to ourselves and can visit the kitchen to watch the chef anytime we want. It is beyond anything you’ve ever experienced before. So much so, you didn’t even know to put it on your agenda. Kind of like kissing a Catalan.”
“But I did remember to add the Spaniard,” she teased.
Something flared in his eyes. He swung her around in front of him and kissed her hard on the mouth with such thoroughness, her knees threatened to buckle. After holding back every time she wanted to touch him over the past couple of days, the feel was both a shock and a salve. She sunk into his warmth, but as soon as she did, he pulled back.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He shoved his hand through his hair, then stepped aside, leaving room for her to walk ahead to the elevator.
Her heart sunk as they made their way through the lobby. He regretted the kiss. She’d try not to read too much into it, but…
She slid into the car with a concealed sigh.
His driver took them past the Gothic Quarter with its darkly romantic architecture and atmosphere that made you want to believe in vampires. She stared out the window as they moved farther into the city, trying to remember every detail as they went. Old churches popped up out of nowhere with open green parks adjacent to each one. She could picture the children running through with ice creams after Sunday morning mass. The architecture that Gaudi introduced to the city was everywhere, even in the elegant boulevards and fountains with their sculpted lines and masculine curves. They took her breath away—as did the man sitting next to her.
The driver dropped them off on Carrer de Rossend Arús. The narrow, gray brick road was packed with people strolling along the few storefronts and graffiti-covered garage-like doors. A combination of businesses and homes flowed from stone to granite to stucco buildings without missing a beat. Large potted planters, streetlights, and bumper poles lined each side of the road, acting as a division for a sidewalk.
Mateu helped her from the car, and on an inhale, she was hit with mouthwatering aromas, a combination of sweet and savory. Her stomach grumbled. Maybe one more gourmet meal was exactly what she needed—seemed kind of fitting since it very well could be their last one together. She pressed her fingers to her temples.
Warm hands embraced her as he pulled her back against him. With his mouth close to her ear, he asked, “Are you okay? You seem a little tense.”
Turning in his arms, she slinked her fingers around his neck. “I’m fine. I’ll never forget this night.”
He dragged his hands down her sides and over her hips. His voice took on a gravelly edge. “I have the hardest time keeping my hands to myself around you. This is becoming a habit. One that will only hurt when you leave.”
A light of possibility shone out from her heart. “Is that why you’ve kept your distance since picking me up?”
“You’ve done the same,” he answered. “It hasn’t been easy, but it’s probably for the best. Right?”
Her nod was jerky with indecision. “Of course.”
Their host opened an opaque stained-glass door, and she twirled away with a little extra swing of her hips.
“You’re trying to kill me.” Mateu’s lips pulled up in a wicked grin as he fell in step beside her.
“Bienvenida,” said the host. “We’re so happy to have you this evening.”
They were led into a small space reminiscent of an art gallery with white walls that allowed for the prints and eclectic furniture to be the focal points of the room. Only five intimate tables filled the space.
The large front window was treated the same as the door, allowing a soft glowing light to enter but keeping out the activities on the streets.
“This is beautiful.” It would have been so lovely to come to this place without the weight of guilt riding on her shoulders.
The restaurant catered a very select menu that changed with the season and the whim of the chef. They watched him work in the kitchen while sipping Cava. It was like watching an artist paint. Such colors and textures were created using the ingredients of their dinner. The resulting plate seemed almost too beautiful to eat.
She breathed in. “This is too good to be true.”
The chef smiled. “Wait until you taste it.”
The host set them up at their table, lit a few candles, then stood alongside a bamboo candelabra with his arms tucked behind his back.
Mateu turned his hand over on the table and she slipped hers into it. “I’ve been waiting to see you since dropping you off this morning. But I had business, and you were all set up at the spa.”
“It was quite the experience. Thank you.”
He cleared his throat. “I’ve been wanting to speak with you. It isn’t easy for me to open up, but with you so many things seem possible.”
She had to tell him now. If he was going to confess, she needed to as well. Maybe telling each other together would ease the blow. “I feel the same way.” She gripped his hand. “Which is why I need to tell you something, too. I should go first.”
He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
Blood rushed in her head so loud, she could barely hear what he’d said.
“So, my mother’s been very sick. She has MS and had to quit her research and development lab job. Science is her passion. The day I arrived, I found out our insurance no longer covers the medication that works for her, not to mention the additional expense of a recent hospital stay, so I had to work while I was here.” She pulled in a breath, smoothing her linen napkin over her lap. Lifting her chin, she held his gaze. “I’m a hotel reviewer. Which I love, but isn’t known for high salaries. With everything going on with my mom, the money earned from the review had to go toward our bills, and that meant letting go of my whole plan for my dream vacation.”
His face showed no signs of his scheme, no knowledge of her job. He simply covered her hand with his other one, giving a gentle squeeze. “Estimata, I had no idea about your mother.”
A surge of hope pushed her to continue. Just maybe he’d understand after all. “I know we all have our struggles, but I haven’t had a single thing for myself in years, and I’ve been walking a tightrope with landing in the hospital due to stress. I needed this vacation. Needed a break.” She wanted to tell him the game she played was a reaction to finding out about his scheme, but if she did, if she broke it all out into the open instead of him confessing to her, she’d never really know if he would have told her the truth.
She’d never be able to trust him.
“It sounds like a vacation is just what you needed.”
“It was, until I got the call from my mother. It had been like having a bombshell dropped on me. All of my plans up in smoke.” She glanced away from the concern in his eyes. “You and I had such a nice ride to the hotel, and you seemed so willing to show me your city. So I let you.”
The stillness in his body and the hollow look in his eyes finally registered. She squeezed his hand. “Mateu.”
Slowly, he released her, then slid back from the table.
“You were purposefully using me to fund your vacation.” His statement was spoken in a flat, cold tone.
“Yes, but I found out you were—” Panic clawed up her spine as he slammed his fist to the table, cutting her off.
Surely he’d see that with his own actions, letting the hotel fund her excursions was completely justified.
A look settled on his face that she had never seen before. He pushed up from his chair, and his tone was one of barely controlled rage. “You used me for my money? Even after I told you about my ex-fiancée, after I took you to my home? Why am I surprised? Why would I think one woman would be any different than another?”
The waiter stepped forward, but Mateu stopped him with a look before he could speak.
She reached for him with her heart splitting in two. “Mateu.”
He pulled away. “No, don’t touch me. You know what? It doesn’t matter, anyway; it was all part of the plan. You are the one who got played, Miss Montgomery. What better way to guarantee a high review from a top hotel inspector than by knowing exactly who L.M. Cipriano really is. And I know, better than anyone. Don’t I?”
She flinched at the implication in his tone. He’d finally admitted to his part in the deceit, and he didn’t seem to care. Her hopes for the healing properties of honesty crashed around her like dry timber in a forest fire. She wanted to cry, to make him listen, but the cold, furious look in his eyes was one she didn’t recognize.
Taking his wallet from his suit jacket pocket, he opened it and withdrew fifty-euro notes one by one.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
The euro notes fell to the surface like confetti around their glasses of Cava, but this wasn’t a celebration, it was devastation. “Isn’t this what you want? My money? Well, here you go, London. Take it. Take all of it.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, her lungs burned, and her throat ached, as she watched the man she’d foolishly fallen in love with toss their future aside like garbage. “Mateu, stop. Let’s talk about this. Please. I was angry, and—”
With a look of complete betrayal, he opened his mouth to speak, but then his face hardened. He stilled, glancing at the waiter and chef standing mutely by the kitchen door. Slowly, he found her eyes again, then pushed his chair in with slow, measured movements.
“Don’t worry, caryino,” he said, coating the endearment in quiet sarcasm. “The night is all paid for. Every expense taken care of just as you’d planned all along.” He pointed at her. “Why would you wait to tell me until now? Why wouldn’t you have told me at the hotel where we could have found some privacy, instead of being reality-show-level entertainment during one of the most expensive dining experiences in Barcelona?” He jerked his chin toward the restaurant staff.
“I could ask you the same question.” She held the edge of the table for balance. Why was he acting like he’d been the only one hurt? “I don’t understand. You—”
“Well, by all means, let me make it easy for you. I am leaving,” he said, keeping his voice low and glancing back at the waiter. “Have a safe trip back to the States.” Then, with a stiff dip of his chin, he walked out of the restaurant.
London stood frozen. Reality returned with a snap, and she hurried through the front door, looking up and down the road for Mateu. His car was there, but he was nowhere to be seen.
And all her hopes disappeared with him.
She’d been a fool to think he’d cared for her beyond a little fun and sex. That she’d ever meant anything more to him than a five-star rating.
She made her way back inside to the table and lowered into the chair, using every ounce of self-control she possessed to hold back the waterfall of tears threatening. She didn’t need to add abject humiliation to her Barcelona agenda.
“Señorita?”
With a small shake of her head, the host retreated to his position.
The remains of her dinner mocked her with its beauty. She’d never eaten anything so beautiful, but now the idea of it in her stomach made it turn.
Mateu had refused to admit that the bigger deceit was his.
She should have stuck with kissing a Spaniard.
In the end, she’d been nothing but a job.