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Chapter 20
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2021-07-31 22:53:41Chapter 20
Feels so good to be back. Those were probably the words a person would say when she had just come home after six months of absence.
But not me. I told myself silently as I stared blankly at the magnificent view of the beach. Spain just held many bitter memories for me. But I have no choice.
Yes. You have a choice, Cameron. You can get away from here after you secured your baby’s condition. Remember, you have no room in his life before. He brings you to his beach house and not to the palace because you are not part of his life now. Remember that.
I exhaled the breath that I never know that I was holding. I already expected that Alejandro would never bring me back to his palace located at the top of the mountain. But my heart was stupid and hoped, and now I felt disappointed—what a shame. I do need to get away from here really soon.
I am now standing inside the magnificent white and cream-colored three-floored lux
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Carrying The Conde's Heir 88
I squashed the flash of sympathy I felt for him. It might explain why, but it did not begin to excuse the way he had used me. “It is in the cards, though uncertain as yet. You sound surprise to me?” “I am.” Not as surprised as I had been when I had learned that the couple who had seemed a perfect match on every level were breaking up. Until the moment that the divorce had been announced, I had expected a dramatic reconciliation, but the Sancho divorce, like the break-up. Had been low key and bizarrely amicable based on what they called a mutual decision. But had that mutual, civilized, still-good-friend
Carrying The Conde's Heir 87
Preston’s I am not following this instinct that had taken an enormous chunk of my willpower, but the effort had faded into irrelevance beside the will power I had needed to tap into just to stop myself from taking Beatrice in my arms to comfort her. Just the sight of her standing there, white-faced and shaking, looking so vulnerable and fragile, had awoken every protective instinct I had and some new ones. While she had struggled not to cry, I had struggled to keep my distance. I hadn’t allowed myself to even touch her. I just couldn’t. if I had known it wouldn’t have stopped at comforting her. I
Carrying The Conde's Heir 86
My brows lifted. “What are you talking about now? Cheated…?” I asked irritably. “You are not making any sense.” Her face scrunched in an effort to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. She lifted her chin and blinked hard. “Well, so sorry,” she drawled, “if I’ve lost my edge of clinical objectively, but I’ve never been in this situation before.” “And you think I have?” “Yes, I get it. You don’t need to spell it out.” She had been slow, but the penny had finally dropped. She knew why I was acting this way. “You th
Carrying The Conde's Heir 85
“Was I drunk?” My simmering hostility in my manner as much as abrupt question made Beatrice blink numerous times. “What?” My eyes flashed. “Was I forcing myself on you? Por Dios, no, I was not!” “But, I never—” “So, at what point did I become a bad guy?” I demanded, cutting across her. “I never—” “The fact is, you were lucky enough that I was there, but you are too stubborn to admit it! You ar
Carrying The Conde's Heir Chapter 84
But having it spelled out to me by Brian was a different matter. “I will never tie my hair back again,” I declared, striving for ironic mockery and delivering instead something a lot closer to frenzied panic, possibly because of the husky addition of, “because I live to please you,” and that statement was uncomfortably close to the truth. “Are you going to tell me now what I’ve done to upset you?” The quiet words sent a fresh flash of anger through me. “Let me think…” I said, adopting a mystified expression as I pressed a finger to the suggestion of a cleft in my firm, rounded chin. “Could it be something to do with the fact I don’t much like being used? How do you think would I feel having my br
Carrying The Conde's Heir Chapter 83
Preston’s I had just filled the second champagne flute and was preparing to carry them into the bathroom with me when I heard the door open. I turned, glasses in hand, as Beatrice walked into the room, phone pressed to her ear. I noticed that she was not smiling. A man did not have to be particularly intuitive to see that Beatrice was not happy. I wondered what had occurred in the few minutes that we had been apart to account for her change of mood, but only in passing—my attention was focused on admiring how sinfully sexy she looked in a pink bra and a minuscule pair of matching silk sorts trimmed with lace. My throat was dry, my body hardened in lustful appreciation. I watched her advance. Each angry step makes her breast jiggle gently u
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