“Of course.” She got up and hugged him goodbye, feeling the bones close to the surface. He was definitely thinner, and that bothered her. He hadn’t needed to divorce Ceinlys if he hadn’t wanted to. He’d held all the cards—the prenup, the money…the family name and connections.
As she turned around, she almost bumped into Salazar’s younger sister Geraldine. The woman was a feminine, more delicate version of him, black hair swept into a fancy updo that revealed the impeccably carved bones of her face. Her haughty blue gaze skewered Sophia, and her red lips curled in disdain.
“What are you doing here?” Geraldine said, her voice chilly.
“Visiting Salazar.” Sophia kept her back straight. She knew she wasn’t Geraldine’s favorite person; Geraldine blamed Sophia’s mother for her ruined marriage. “I’m finished, if you want to join him for breakfast.”
“Don’t ever darken our doorstep again, Sophia.”
“Geraldine!” came Salazar’s sharp tone.
The woman turned to him, and Sophia took the moment to make her escape. Best to avoid a messy confrontation if possible. Geraldine was one of the very few people Dane seemed to treat with even a semblance of warmth, and Sophia didn’t want to cause any problems between them.
As she sat behind the wheel of her car, she sighed. Time to go catch up with Jane.
* * *
“That impudent…baby.”
Salazar cocked an eyebrow. What his sister really wanted to say was “that impudent bitch,” but their late mother Shirley would’ve disapproved. Geraldine was such a pet, even now. “What do you want? I have work to do.”
She waved a slim, lacquered hand, then looked at the uneaten muffins longingly. She loved sweets, but would rather die than gain an ounce of fat.
Salazar reached over, grabbed the biggest muffin from the plate and started munching on it. It tasted like sawdust—everything did these days—but he didn’t give a damn as he kept his gaze on his sister.
Geraldine sneered. “I was merely coming down to rescue you from the girl. She’s not to be trusted.”
He shoved the rest of the muffin into his mouth, losing more than a few crumbs in the process. Shirley would’ve been rolling in her grave if she were to see it. “You think so?”
“Just look at her mother. She’s on Husband Number Three.”
“Sophia isn’t like her mother.”
“Daughters are always like their mothers.”
Maybe they were. That might explain why he’d feigned ignorance when it came to his daughter Vanessa. Well. Not really his daughter. Somebody else’s daughter. But she looked just like Ceinlys a few decades back, the version he’d fallen in love with—beautiful, smart, vivacious and sharp-witted. He knew how hard his mother had tried to mold Vanessa into an “acceptable” debutante, while she had done everything in her power to rebel. He hadn’t lifted a finger to help Shirley, even though she’d demanded that he do something about his “impossible” daughter. He pursed his lips.
“What about Catherine Fairchild? A perfectly nice girl, nothing like that malignant cunt Olivia.” Geraldine opened her mouth, but Salazar went on. “And then of course there’s Elizabeth,” he said, referring to Geraldine’s supposedly saintly daughter. He didn’t believe Elizabeth was as perfect as people assumed, but Geraldine thought her daughter walked on water. “Giving, sweet, patient, charitable…”
Ugly red mottled his sister’s face. “You are such a jerk.”
“Like that’s news to you?”
“Did you know Ceinlys is leaving the States?”
The knife twisted in his gut again, but he managed to keep a faint smile on his face. “Yes. I heard.”
“Good riddance.”
“Is it? She’s going to France. I thought you liked to visit.”
Geraldine shrugged. “Paris, not Provence.”
“You never liked her.”
“What’s to like? She only married you for money.”
Ah yes. From the very beginning, Geraldine and Shirley had both insisted Ceinlys was just a crude gold digger. Only a fool would marry a woman like her. And Ceinlys had confirmed his greatest fear. The memory still felt like a throat punch, stealing his breath. The impact might never dissipate.
“Is that all?” he asked, his tone deliberately mild.
“She was never worthy of you, Salazar. Just look at her. She’s low class, trying so hard to be something she’s not. It’s ridiculous how she imitated Mother!” Geraldine huffed. “Did she think wearing expensive clothes and having proper diction would turn her into one of us?” She rolled her eyes. “For god’s sake.”
He tilted his head, dragging a fingertip along his jaw. “But you aren’t upset with your son marrying his assistant.”
“Ryder will get rid of her within a year, and they undoubtedly have a good prenup in place. He might be a playboy, but he isn’t stupid. The girl is utterly beneath him. She isn’t even that pretty.” She smiled her signature superior smile.
Indeed. Salazar studied the smug look. She ought to trademark it. No one could whip up an expression so replete with condescension the way his sister could.
“I won’t blame you if you don’t marry again,” Geraldine continued. “But if you do, please, for god’s sake, get a decent woman. Someone more like us.”
The last thing he wanted was to spend more time than he had to with someone just like his mother and sister. He suppressed a shudder. “I actually have some work to do, so why don’t you go f—entertain yourself.”
“I thought you were going to retire and enjoy life,” she said.
Without bothering to wait for her to get out, he picked up the newspaper. She’d get the hint soon enough.
The headline mentioned something about the currency markets. The dollar was apparently set to fall against the yen, and the article looked promising.
Yet…
He kept reading the same paragraph over and over. Finally he dropped the paper back on the table and rubbed his face.
I would’ve married you even if you had nothing.
Chapter Three
Jane pulled a pot roast from the oven just as Iain walked in. “Hey!” she called out from the kitchen, placing the pan on the island.
“Smells delicious.” He came over and kissed her on the neck, his breath tickling her. “But not as delicious as you.”
She giggled. “Don’t be naughty.”
“I thought you liked it naughty…” His tongue traced the curve along her neck, and she sighed.
“As much as I would like to be naughty together with you, you need to go sit down at the table.”
“Dinner can wait. We have a very nice microwave,” he whispered hotly.
“Normally yes, but not this time.”
That got him to pause for a moment. “What happened?”
“It’s my new recipe. I want you to try it and tell me what you think.” When he merely stared at her, she added, “I told you I was going to try a new recipe.”
“I see.” He took his seat at the table. In a simple t-shirt and pants, he looked so casually handsome. Some might call her biased, but she knew he was objectively the hottest man in the world, with silky dark hair and gorgeous brown eyes that never failed to make her pulse quicken.