In the Name of Love (9 page)

She longed to lock herself in her bedroom and cry her eyes out, but she owed it to Zoe to pull herself together and Charlie had always been adept at putting on a brave face. She forced herself to do it now. ‘Let’s go to the beach. We’re leaving tomorrow and it’s minus-one back home. We need to make the most of the sun.’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here?’ Zoe asked, sounding surprised that Charlie was up to doing anything after the shock of Felipe dumping her so brutally.

‘I’m not going to let that man ruin my holiday,’ Charlie said defiantly. ‘Just let me get my things and I’ll come and knock for you in five minutes.’

It didn’t make sense, Charlie thought when she returned to her room. Why would Felipe assume that she would sell a story on him? Who was going to be interested in the private life of a man who ran his own web-design company? It wasn’t like he was Bill Gates! There had to be something that Felipe wasn’t telling her. She switched on her laptop and Googled Felipe Castillo. There was no hit for someone with that name, but plenty for Felipe Castillo de Rivas.

She clicked on an official website and to her growing amazement saw a picture of Felipe, dressed in white breeches and a black jacket, mounted on a magnificent
chestnut
stallion. The site was written in Spanish and English and she read that he was an international event rider, likely to be picked for the Spanish Equestrian team for the Olympics. No wonder he had made that comment about riding.

Charlie had to close her eyes briefly and take a few deep breaths, trying to avoid the feeling of nausea that any reference to riding triggered in her. She clicked through the pictures of his amazing equestrian centre in Andalusia. Saw the beautiful horses he bred, the photographs of him jumping his way to victory in one event, performing dressage in another, and looking incredible on the chestnut stallion as horse and rider moved as one …

But why had he kept his sport a secret from her? Why did he think anyone would be interested in a story about a TV presenter in the UK having a romance with him? It was only when she clicked on some other sites that she gathered Felipe must be a major heart throb and celebrity in Spain as there were fan sites dedicated to him, and from what she could just about understand, not speaking a word of Spanish beyond
hola
,
adios
,
gracias
and
dos cervezas, por favor
, he seemed to be a member of an aristocratic family too. So maybe that was the reason for his rage with her; he didn’t want Mummy and Daddy to find out he’d been getting his end away with a common English girl. Shock then amazement had now given way to anger at the fact that Felipe had been lying to her! No wonder he had looked so awkward when she’d asked him about his work. How dare he turn on
her
for being economical with the truth?

Charlie grabbed her bag and raced out of her room, determined to confront him. She slowed down when she reflected that he would doubtless say that she’d been pretending not to know who he was, then pressed on, determined to have it out with him. But when she reached the door to his suite it was ajar and two maids were hard at work inside stripping the bed.

‘Can I help you, Miss Porter?’ one of them asked, midway through pulling off a pillowcase.

‘I was looking for Felipe Castillo de Rivas.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, miss, but he has checked out of the hotel. Is there anything else we can assist you with?’

Charlie shook her head, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill at the realisation she was more than likely never going to see him again.

Charlie spent a very subdued afternoon with Zoe on the beach, trying her best to hold herself together. But it was hard. The last time she had been here it had been with Felipe, and they were making plans for his trip to the UK … Zoe insisted she should text Felipe and tell him that she really didn’t know who he was, but Charlie refused. Why would he believe her? She couldn’t deal with any further humiliation. Besides, he was the one who should be apologising to her.

‘Listen,’ she told Zoe, ‘I’ve had fun. It was a holiday fling, the sex was great, and now I’m moving on.’

Zoe looked as if she had plenty to say on that score, but seeing the determined, hurt expression on Charlie’s face, buttoned it. It didn’t help when Captain Jack
returned
from one of his boat trips and, noticing them, walked over to say hello.

‘Ah, my favourite ladies!’ he declared cheerily. ‘So has your man proposed yet? He’ll have me to answer for if he doesn’t do it very soon.’ He beamed at Charlie and she thought for a horrible moment she might burst into tears. Somehow she managed not to.

‘Actually, Captain Jack, he’s gone back to Spain and I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other again. It was just a holiday romance.’

Instantly Captain Jack looked pained. ‘I can’t believe it. I’m never wrong about these things. Like I told you, all the other couples I predicted would get married, have got married.’ He seemed set to want to find out all the details, but fortunately some other guests came over and wanted to book him for a trip and Zoe and Charlie were able to slip away to the beach bar.

‘Make mine a strong one,’ Charlie said gloomily, sitting down at one of the tables and feeling completely drained. But there was to be no escape, as a red-faced, sweating Greg strolled into the bar, ‘Well, hello, girls! Let me buy you both a cocktail.’ He fanned himself with his cowboy hat. ‘I think I might have had too much sun.’ That was an understatement – the man was scarlet!

‘No, you’re all right, thanks,’ Zoe said, clearly as desperate as Charlie not to have to engage with him.

But he insisted and Charlie could still see Captain Jack on the beach. Faced with the prospect of ten minutes of Greg the wanker or Captain Jack the relationship counsellor, she felt in this instance it would have to be the wanker. And what a wanker he was! After
he’d
boasted about the yacht he was buying, he told Charlie how much Aaron, aka TFB, regretted cheating on her, and how he wasn’t over her. ‘Would you see him again, Charlie?’ Greg asked hopefully, and, from Charlie’s point of view, hopelessly. ‘The boy knows he done wrong. He hasn’t been himself since you left him.’

‘Yeah, right – has he been staying single then? Pining for me? Spending every night in on his own?’

‘Er, well, not exactly …’ Greg looked guilty as hell. ‘He’s been going out a lot, to deal with the pain. He can’t be on his own – you know what he’s like. But he wants you back, I know that much.’

No doubt TFB was proving his devotion by shagging anything that moved, Charlie thought bitterly.

She was about to voice that opinion when Greg’s trophy WAG wife Sammi tottered up in heels more suited to a club than a beach. She had a full face of make-up on, a scouse brow and false lashes. Charlie had met Sammi several times before and had zilch in common with her. She was vain, lived to shop, turned a blind eye to Greg’s infidelities … all in all gave other WAG a bad name. She was also ferociously jealous of other women, especially prettier, younger women like Zoe and Charlie.

‘Hiya, how great to see you guys,’ she said insincerely, air kissing both of them and enveloping them in her exotic overpowering perfume, nearly taking Zoe’s eye out when she swished back her long black hair extensions.

‘Why don’t you join us for dinner?’ Greg suggested, ignoring the look on Sammi’s face that said
over my
dead
body
. He obviously couldn’t bear the thought of dinner for two and now Charlie remembered that there had been a story a couple of weeks ago about him cheating on Sammi
again
. This was clearly their make-up break. By the end of it Sammi would no doubt be pregnant again and pictures would have appeared in the tabloids of the pair of them cavorting in the sea like new lovers, and making everyone who saw them want to throw up.

‘Thanks,’ Charlie replied, ‘but it’s our last night. We’re leaving first thing so we just want to chill in our suite.’

‘Text me if you change your minds. And I’ll let Aaron know that I’ve seen you.’

Charlie couldn’t trust herself to reply, so shrugged as if to say,
Whatever!

‘Yuck!’ Zoe muttered once they were out of earshot. ‘That man makes me want to take a shower, he’s such a grease-ball letch. And she’s such a bitch! They’re perfect for each other. So where shall we go for dinner? The gruesome twosome are going to the beach restaurant.’

Charlie had no appetite. ‘D’you mind if we don’t go out? I don’t think I can face anything.’

‘No probs, why don’t we have room service and champagne? We can eat on the terrace.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Charlie lied. She wanted to crawl into bed and forget the day had happened. Most of all forget that she ever knew anyone called Felipe …

Chapter 6

CHARLIE LOVED HER
two-bedroomed garden flat in Chiswick. It had felt like such a massive achievement, being able to buy it. She had enjoyed gradually doing it up, carefully choosing the colour schemes; she liked bold strong colours, so the living room was painted mulberry and her bedroom was a warm garnet. But now as she opened her front door and dragged her suitcase inside she only felt that the flat seemed small and dark after the stunning space and light of the Caribbean. And that she had nothing to look forward to except work. On the flight back she had watched
Bridesmaids
and cried practically all the way through. Charlie rarely cried at sad movies, let alone one that was a comedy.

‘It must be PMT,’ she had told Zoe.

‘You’re allowed to be upset about Felipe,’ her friend replied.

‘Why? Do you think he gives a flying fuck about me? I refuse to be upset about him.’ Bold words, but she felt wretched inside.

Now she shivered as she walked into the living room; the heating wasn’t on and the flat was cold. She had picked up her post from the entrance hall, but couldn’t be bothered to go through it now and slung it on the coffee table where she noticed the red light on the answerphone was flashing. For a fleeting second before she pressed Play she wondered if there would be a message from Felipe, a ridiculous thing to think as he didn’t have her landline number and she wanted to forget all about him, but she couldn’t help it. Stupid, stupid Charlie …

The messages turned out to be from her mum. Charlie hesitated before calling her back; she needed to sound upbeat otherwise her mum would instantly know that something was wrong, and Charlie didn’t want to tell her the sorry story of Felipe. She left it until she’d had a shower and put on a pair of PJs, a big sweater and her UGGs, and had a glass of wine in her hand.

‘Hiya, it’s me,’ she said as brightly as she could when Lori answered the phone.

‘Well, hiya, how was the holiday? We Googled the resort and it looked amazing!’ Her mum sounded so happy for her that Charlie could feel tears pricking her eyes. If only she knew how it had all ended … No! Charlie was not going to cry again. She took a deep breath and launched into a rundown of the week, omitting any mention of Felipe and ending with, ‘I’ll post my pictures on Facebook later and then you’ll be able to see for yourself.’

‘Ah, Charlie, I’m so glad you had such a good time.
You
deserved it, sweetheart. And we can’t wait to see you tomorrow.’

Charlie usually told her parents pretty much everything, but she had found the experience with Felipe so intense and then so humiliating that she needed to keep it to herself, at least for the time being. It wouldn’t be easy as she was going up to Manchester the following day to see them and her brother, but she would try her hardest.

After the call she couldn’t stop herself from clicking through the holiday photos on her camera. There were so many that she wouldn’t be able to put on Facebook – shots of her and Felipe, arms round each other at dinner, walking hand in hand on the beach, lying side by side on sun loungers deep in conversation, the two of them swimming with turtles, kissing in the swimming pool under the waterfall … Zoe had taken it on herself to be the official photographer of their romance.

Charlie paused at a photograph of Felipe gazing at her while she smiled at something Luis had said. How could he have looked at her with such longing – and then rejected her? She selected delete, all set permanently to erase the photo, but then couldn’t go through with it.

She knew that even if she deleted every single one of the photos the images were burned into her consciousness, ready to be gone through again and again. And then, because she couldn’t stop herself, even though she knew it would hurt, she switched on her laptop and looked up images of Felipe – Felipe urging his horse over an almighty jump in a cross-country
competition,
triumphantly holding a trophy over his head, leaning against the door of his stables and looking broodingly handsome in jeans, at some red-carpet event holding hands with a stunning woman called Paloma … Until seeing his handsome, unobtainable face became unbearable and Charlie slammed the lid shut.

It was just a holiday romance, she tried to tell herself. But if it had been, why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

Felipe picked up his phone and selected Charlie’s name; he had not been able to forget about her. Fuck! What was he doing? He pressed Cancel and flung his phone on the sofa in frustration. This was not the first time he had come close to calling her, but he had to stop. She was a journalist and had lied to him; he couldn’t possibly trust her or see her again. In a week or so she would have sold her story to
Marca
or one of the other Spanish tabloids and he would be pursued by reporters wanting to feast on the juicy details of his private life, distracting him from his all-important training. Other women had sold stories on him and he had never cared – or rather he had cared about the consequences of the story, but from the women themselves he’d felt detached. Thinking of Charlie writing up their romance cut him like the worst kind of betrayal. He had really felt something for her. At first it had been an intense physical attraction, but the moment she had broken down in tears about the accident, it had blossomed into something more. She had got to him, got under his skin. He didn’t think any woman had ever had that
effect
on him. She consumed his thoughts when he wasn’t riding and distracted him, which was precisely why this Saturday night he was going to be late for dinner with Luis and Mariana.