And he couldn’t get her words or the pain on her face out of his head.
Al cleared his throat diffidently. “Pardon the interruption,” he began, “But I understand your ex-wife is moving to Provence.”
Salazar’s coffee cup paused mid-air as a cold panic clutched his chest. “That’s right,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “What about it?”
“Nothing special, sir. I was merely wondering if you’d been made aware.”
Salazar snorted. “Of course I knew about it.”
“Very good, sir.” Al made a slight bow and retreated to stand beside the door.
Salazar sat for some moments, staring at nothing. Provence. What the hell had been the point of the big house-warming party then? Or even the divorce, if all she wanted was to move to another country?
France isn’t that far. Not even eleven hours.
He stabbed the omelet, then stared at the quivering mass of egg on his fork. He’d never expected Ceinlys to move to another continent. And that bothered him almost as much as her decision to divorce him.
Chapter Two
Sophia walked into Salazar’s breakfast room as Al, looking like something out of a Regency drama in his three-piece suit, nodded courteously. The room hadn’t changed at all—the same expensive furniture and the scent of fresh flowers, the four walls. She almost couldn’t believe she’d been here just some months ago as a poor, distant relative desperate for his help.
Salazar was sipping coffee, although his omelet was barely touched. He had to be at least in his sixties, but the man always looked so much younger, his smile dashing and just a little bit mischievous. He had the dark hair and classic patrician profile common among the men in his family. A hint of silver glinted at his temples, and only a few lines marred the otherwise flawless skin on his face. The crisp white shirt and smooth slacks spoke of wealth and good taste. But then the Pryces were old money.
But not even the custom-tailored clothes could hide his weight loss. His cheeks were sharper now, his gaze more piercing, almost fevered. He also hadn’t been seen in public in almost a month, which wasn’t like him from what she’d heard. Sophia had read that when a man got divorced he went through a transformation—getting in shape, buying a new car. Given Salazar’s rather colorful reputation as a ladies’ man, she’d figured he’d dive back into the dating pool. She actually would’ve been relieved.
Since Dane had zero interest in checking up on his father, it fell to her to do it. And when better than today, when Dane had a meeting so early that he’d left at the crack of dawn?
Salazar saw her, got up, came around the table and gave her a quick hug and peck on the cheek. She air-kissed him and took a seat. “Good morning.”
“Hello, Sophia.”
“Sorry to drop by like this.”
“Please. You’re practically family.” His lips curved into a small smile as he retook his seat. “You look good.”
“I feel good.” And she did.
“Incredible that you would say that. You’re with my oldest.”
Her eyebrows pinched briefly at his words. He didn’t mean anything bad by it—everyone in the family seemed surprised she and Dane were together. Not because they thought she was bad for him, but rather they couldn’t believe she would stay with him. They had no idea what a great guy Dane was. It was almost shocking how little his own family knew about him.
“Breakfast?” he offered.
“I ate something already, but I wouldn’t turn down a muffin or two.”
In the corner of her eye, Al turned and vanished silently.
Salazar glanced at her dress. It was ice blue with three-quarter sleeves. “Dane’s choice?”
She nodded. “A gift.”
“But you’re still not married.” His gaze dropped to her hand. “Not even engaged.”
“I need to work something out first.” The bombshell that her father had had Huntington’s disease. After researching her family’s health history, she was certain the gene had come from her paternal grandmother, but not grandfather. The issue was whether or not Sophia had it too. The only one she loved enough to marry was Dane, but she also loved him too much to burden him with a diseased wife. Given his forceful personality, the helpless hopelessness of the situation would slowly kill him.
Salazar leaned back in his seat and regarded her thoughtfully. “You’re still upset about the accident.”
“The accident?”
“In Paris.” Regret fleeted through his eyes. He’d been one of the people who’d tried to cover it up to protect the family. “The one that kept you from the Olympics.”
Her face softened. “It’s not even a factor anymore.”
“You actually forgave him?”
“Of course. I love him too much not to.”
He peered at her, then shook his head. “You really mean it.”
“I’m not letting my past destroy the future we can have together.”
“Good god,” he breathed out. “How in the hell did he get so lucky?”
She shook her head. “It isn’t luck. It’s what we both chose to do when we decided to be together.”
“Right.” A bemused smile tugged at his mouth. “Choices. Decisions. If only everything in life were that simple.”
Al returned with a refreshment tray of tea and warm blueberry muffins. After placing it on the table, he left as discreetly as he’d appeared.
“Help yourself.” Salazar said.
“You don’t want any?”
“I prefer croissants.” He indicated the basket.
She nodded and sipped her tea, an excellent earl gray, then nibbled on one of the muffins. Salazar’s cook was an amazing baker. “The real reason I came by is to talk about Christmas.”
“What about it?”
“I heard from Vanessa that you and Ceinlys used to host family parties…?”
His lips pressed tight enough to go bloodless. He looked away. “Yes.”
“But you aren’t going to this year.”
“Ceinlys and I being divorced now, that might get a little awkward.”
Sophia nodded sympathetically. “Right. So… Dane and I thought we would host it. And I would love it if you could come.”
Salazar’s gaze swung back to her. One eyebrow was arched to the point that it looked like it would snap. “And Dane is really on board with this idea?”
“Well, yeah. He thinks it’s great.”
“Is that so? And here I thought he’d rather choke on arsenic.”
Sophia hesitated. “Would it bother you if…you know…”
“Ceinlys attended?” He shook his head. “Nah. Why would it? We had an amicable divorce.”
She doubted he was really okay with seeing his ex-wife from his mocking tone of voice, but he was also right about the divorce being amicable. Despite an ironclad prenup, he’d given his wife hundreds of millions so she could live the rest of her life in luxury and comfort. And they never raised their voices or had an ugly exchange as far as Sophia knew. As a matter of fact, everything about the divorce proceedings had been dignified.
“You should probably get going. I need to finish eating, and then there’s a stack of documents this high waiting for my review.”