Net of Lies (13 page)

S
he leaned against the wall, then shaking sobs racked her frame as she slid down, landing on the floor. Her arms went around her knees, and she hid her wet face from the world, resting her forehead against her knees. There was no point pretending it was a bad dream she could wake up from at any given moment. Raoul had lied to her, using her and her naïveté to his own advantage. She had been nothing more than a convenient body to satisfy his sexual appetite in the absence of his fiancée. He didn’t even have the decency to face her in person, sending another man to finish his dirty work. All the while, he was with Sonia, planning his wedding.

Kate rose from the floor,
looking down at the front of her white t-shirt. She was surprised that it was still pristine white, with no red marks marring the fabric.
It should be crimson,
she thought detachedly,
from my bleeding heart.
Each breath she took was physically difficult, and she wished for nothing more than to curl up on the floor, close her eyes, and forget about everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes. She couldn’t give in to her weakness, though. Even before her brain had made the conscious decision to leave, her hands were already flying as she collected her clothes, stuffing them carelessly into her travel bag.

She didn’t really have many possessions
—living abroad was liberating that way. She quickly stashed away everything she owned into two bulging suitcases and a tourist bag. Adrenaline in her veins burning like liquid fire, she had the urge to move fast as she dialed the number to call for a cab. She’d paid her rent a month in advance, and she had a two-week notice period to terminate the contract. She dreaded it almost as much as the thought of having to cancel her next-year enrollment at the local university, which she was ecstatic about.
But things have changed,
an inner voice whispered as she double-checked the flat. What had seemed a wonderful idea only an hour ago had become unbearable. She needed to get back to England, as far as possible from the man who was the main reason she’d wanted to stay in Spain for another year. She recalled his talk about moving in together and felt hot tears burning in her throat.

The taxi arrived just in time to stop her from a complete meltdown,
then the sheer complexity of arriving at the airport and finding a last-minute flight to London distracted her momentarily from her plight. She had things to take care of. Her final paper still had to be handed in to the faculty in Granada, and the thought of returning to the place that was both heaven and hell sent shivers across her skin. She decided to worry about it later as she snuggled deeper into her window seat while watching the plane take off from the tarmac. She could try to avoid coming back. It was the age of Internet, for God’s sake. Her home university in England was surely able to accommodate her sudden wish to return home and finish her final work there. She had two weeks to try accomplishing it. She would also have to make a ton of phone calls because her sudden impulse to leave was sure to send shockwaves through her circle of friends. There was one phone call she knew she wouldn’t be making, though. Raoul Santos would never find out how much he had hurt her.

Kate and Josh
arrived in Madrid late in the evening. The Madrid Barajas airport welcomed them with a drizzly, grey sky hung with lead-colored clouds jealously guarding the view of the city as the plane descended.

Kate looked around, her lips twisting in a bitter smile as she remembered her first visit to the country of Francisco de Goya and Don Qui
xote. The weather behaved as if it could tell how she felt. She could still recall the positive energy and excitement that had accompanied her previously. This time, it wasn’t even close. The darkness and gloom outside matched her inner sadness. She cast a quick glance at the short, slim man at her side, still not quite believing she was in his company.

Josh
Lastman sat calmly, visibly engrossed in his book. He was very peaceful and had barely talked during their flight. He’d shot her a quick smile when Marc introduced them, his brown eyes wandering appreciatively over her shapely figure. When he shook her hand, his warm, firm grip was reassuring. Overall, he’d made an impression as a decent man who would know how to evoke respect and trust.

And that was exactly his strength, Kate
had realized as she’d watched him during their brief introduction. He was excellent in projecting this image to the clients, lulling them into a false sense of security that they could trust him with their art and money. It sent chills down her spine, because once again, she was reminded that appearances didn’t always go hand in hand with people’s true natures.

After dropping her off
two days before, Raoul had only made a brief appearance in Marc’s office, where he was introduced to Josh. Kate and Raoul had exchanged a few pleasantries, his dark impassive gaze betraying nothing of their common past. He had arranged for both her and Josh to stay at one of the best hotels in town, explaining the arrangements before he excused himself and disappeared, leaving his promise to get in touch in Madrid hanging in the air.

Kate
was uneasy about the idea of staying at the Ritz Hotel because of the vague idea she had of its hefty price tag. The luxury car sent to pick them up from the airport was only the beginning of a chain of events, each even more opulent and more detached from her day-to-day life than the last.

As t
hey drove past the Teatro de la Zarzuela, the large trees of the famous Retiro Park looked foreboding in the greyish twilight. She caught a peek of the Museum de Prado, bittersweet memories of walking its vast halls with Raoul assailing her with renewed force. They hadn’t stayed anywhere grand then. They’d had just a simple and uninspiring room that was within walking distance of the subway.

T
hings were different then. Raoul de Santos y Lorrena no longer needed to pretend to be someone else, let alone stoop to her living arrangements.

Hotel Ritz
, with its Belle Époque façade designed for King Alphonso XIII over a hundred years before, was definitely the chosen gathering place for the Spanish high society. Beautiful, poised, and timeless, it was situated in the golden triangle between the museums, theatres, and parks. She could imagine Raoul staying there.

A
s they walked inside, Josh’s visible reverence told her that he wasn’t immune to the power of the high-class surroundings. With irritation, she remembered that Marc wasn’t paying for this stay. She had hoped for Marc’s reassurance before the trip, but was bitterly disappointed. To her utter bewilderment, he had suggested that they keep their distance until the whole operation was over. She could only stare at him openmouthed as he awkwardly explained that he didn’t want to distract her in any way from her new position. She translated this as meaning that he didn’t want to disappoint Raoul, whose infatuation with her served Marc’s purpose perfectly. The fact that Marc welcomed Raoul’s interest in her was absolutely clear at that point. Marc’s suggestion to keep things casual between them for a week or two only reinforced her suspicion that Raoul was absolutely right about the man she had considered to be her boyfriend. It didn’t hurt though, not in the slightest. They had been together for not more than two months, her emotional investment into this relationship a very cautious one, at best. Still, it smarted to find herself used as bait.

‘
Señorita Reeves and Señor Lastman, if you would please follow me, I will show you to your rooms.’ A polite clerk in an immaculate hotel uniform smiled at her with warmth she would have believed to be reserved for a family member. But then again, Raoul was known here, she could tell. And his paying for the trip had upgraded both her and Josh. She followed the man to her room, noticing out of the corner of her eye Josh’s speculative glance as he surveyed the understated elegance of the foyer. She was looking forward to escaping his company and was relieved when they reached the double-paneled door with a brass number. Josh might have looked trustworthy and friendly, but she had a good idea about his true nature. After all, he wasn’t one of Marc’s best agents for nothing.

Their
rooms weren’t adjacent, she noticed with even more relief. His was at least six doors down. Her door opened with the tiniest click, reminding her once more about the excellence of the hotel. Everything was perfect. The eight-foot walls were covered with the muted cream and gold tones of antique wallpaper; the ceiling was painted with a scene she recognized as Zeus visiting Leda in a shape of a swan. The furniture was sparse, yet opulent, and the carpet was plush. She was delighted by the flowers, which were naturally beautiful without the addition of man-made materials. The delicate fragrance of the English roses infused the air, and she stepped closer, unable to stop herself from burying her face in the fragrant petals and inhaling deeply.

Maybe if I keep my
eyes shut long enough, I can pretend to be somewhere else
. A wave of hopelessness washed over her with renewed strength. Not only was she back in Spain—the one and only country she had vowed to never set foot in again—but she was practically in Raoul’s hands, depending on him in a way that she detested.

She walked over to the window an
d studied the tops of the trees in the nearby park. There wasn’t much to see really; the greyish skies of twilight had reduced them to black silhouettes against the slate sky. The lights of the business district below her were only a stone’s throw away.
It must be great to be young, independent and set to conquer the world,
she thought enviously as she watched groups of young, professionally dressed people clustering on the street in cheerful groups. Dark suits and jackets dominated the scene splashed with color from the women who hurried along. The thick glass windows prevented her from eavesdropping on their conversation, but she could imagine what they would be talking about as she pressed her hot forehead against the cool glass.

The scene below
blurred as the first drops of rain smudged the windowpanes. It was Friday evening, and, knowing the life in Spain as she did after her stay here, she guessed everyone was hurrying to some bar or restaurant, not letting the miserable weather spoil the evening. Up until a few days ago, before Raoul had reappeared in her life, she had almost reached that sort of satisfaction, too. She had been missing this place for the last two years, but the hole in her heart had slowly closed up as the days passed. She had been doing better, she thought rebelliously, the familiar feeling of anger stirring in her once again. Granted, she wasn’t completely happy, and she had things to work on, but she would have made it. But then Raoul had returned and destroyed everything she’d been working toward with one sweep of his hand. Back at square one, she was left feeling just as bruised and breathless as she had been on the first day after his deceit.

The knock on the door woke her from her stupor.
She guessed it was Josh, eager to discuss their meeting with Raoul’s aunt. She had to pull herself together if she wanted to seem professional and reliable. There was no point in brooding over the past or Raoul. Both were better left alone as she finished this project and made her decisions regarding her professional future. There was no way she could stay in Marc’s gallery, not even if she managed to cover up the fact that she was the one helping to bring him down. The last few days had taught her a very valuable lesson about her relationship with Marc Stevenson.
Or rather the lack of such,
she added as she walked toward the ornate door, then turned the doorknob. Ready to face the world, she stretched her lips into a polite smile as the door opened.

Only it wasn’t Josh. Dark, tall
, and silent, Raoul’s frame filled out the doorway as their eyes met. Kate found herself unable to speak for a second, her surprised eyes greedily taking in his magnificent features and superb body. She finally managed to hide her surprise and ask him huskily, ‘What are you doing here? I thought the plan was to meet tomorrow after Josh and I see your aunt? Is something wrong?’

‘
Not really.’ He didn’t move from the spot, his dark eyes going over her simple cream-colored blouse and dark pencil skirt with amusement. It could have been pity, though. She imagined that surely the women he must have been dating ever since their split didn’t have to wear anything that wasn’t obviously from a high-end designer. Her efficient and rather prim outfit must have been jarringly different from that. She doubted advantages such as wrinkle-free and stain-repellent material were of any importance in his circles. His women probably never had to wash, let alone iron, their outfits.

‘Are you going to let me in, or do you want to conduct the rest of the hearing out here, with Josh ready to come and join us at any given moment?’

She hesitated briefly, and his lips pressed together in an annoyed gesture.
Raoul de Santos y Lorrena isn’t used to waiting for someone else to make a decision,
she thought, stepping aside and letting him in.

‘
Thank you, Kate.’ His words dripped with sarcasm. He followed her into the sitting area, only the mere flicker of his eyebrow betraying that he’d noticed the large bed occupying most of the suite.

‘I ha
d forgotten what kind of elephant-sized sleeping arrangements they have here.’ He was grinning, confusing her into silence with his sudden mood change.