Page 2

“Technically speaking, I was on my parents’ property, but my older sister Maha lent me her granny flat. She asked for it back, effective immediately.” Actually, she’d begged him.

“Why immediately?”

“I don’t ask my sister about her sex life.”

Maha had looked slightly desperate after Saturday night’s date with Antonio, the widowed father of two adolescents. Cas guessed, but hadn’t asked outright, that Maha and Antonio had both filed romance in the too-hard basket years ago. Now, they wanted a little alone time to explore possibilities. Jaddatee’s old flat—private entrance and hidden at the bottom of his parents’ leafy garden—worked for a romantic tryst. Cas hadn’t tested the possibilities in his six months’ residence in his sister’s home.

“It’s not the first time she’s asked. I can’t say no to her again.”

“Can’t you go back to wherever you were staying before that?”

“No.”

Cas had surrendered the lease on his rented apartment and moved the bulk of his worldly goods into storage when he’d handed every cent he could to his father. The Hariri family had found itself in the situation of being wealthy on paper and cash poor. Cas’s entire savings, and then some, went into trying to save The Hariri building, the flagship of his father’s company, from a hostile takeover.

In the end, Hunt had saved the building, but until Casildo’s father finalised the sale of some commercial property in regional towns, refinanced and returned Cas’s money, Cas’s plans for his textiles design business and a new apartment were on pause.

Soon now.

“I need my own space,” he added.

“That’s not a reason. I was here first.” She crossed her arms, and the damp fabric stuck to her midriff.

“Until we compare phone messages or can reach Hunt and Anna, we don’t know who they asked first.” Cas had been best friends with Hunter since childhood. His claim had to be stronger.

“If they asked you first, you must have said no for them to offer it to me.” She used irrefutable logic, but the tilt of her head suggested doubt.

“Didyourefuse?”

She stared at him out of stormy eyes. More chestnut than chocolate in colour, reflecting her intelligence and warmth. Beatriz’s eyes deserved intensive study, dark and light at the same time.

In all the years he’d known her, he’d never just stared into her eyes. "It’s rude to stare”—he’d absorbed that message before he was knee-high to his father. Not that it seemed to apply to the people who’d stared at his family.

Her gaze usually reflected endless serenity. “I’ve got this,” it seemed to say. Today’s mini mutiny revealed her as disarmingly human.

“Initially.” She was uncomfortable with lying, an important quality in a friend. “But Anna gave me a key.”

“Snap.” Cas clicked his fingers. “So, I can’t go back, and you should change into something dry before you do.”

“I can’t go home either.” Her arms dropped to her sides. The kaftan stopped short of the floor and her toes peeped from beneath it. Cute toes on cute feet.

Irrelevant, Cas.

But the hint of desperation in her soft contralto stopped him. “Okay. I’m guessing you want to change.”

She nodded.

“I’ll make some more hot chocolate while you do, and then we can start this conversation again.”

“Fine. But I’m not going.” She walked around him and out the door.

He registered three things. At industry functions, Cas was aware of her competence. Today, she wore some delicate floral scent that emphasised her femininity. The apartment had two bedrooms. If she’d taken Anna’s old bedroom, the second bedroom near the back of the apartment was free. And life might be about to get very interesting.

* * *

Beatriz cursed fate, Anna, Hunter, her parents, her sisters, and lastly, herself. She’d had a crush on Casildo Hariri since she’d first met him at a loud, crowded marketing industry function. A few weeks into her job, and he’d gone out of his way to make her feel welcome and included. He didn’t jostle for attention, but had an innate authority, a sense of certainty about who and what he was.

A crush she’d ruthlessly wrestled into professional camaraderie, especially after her father’s accident two years ago. Thank heavens they didn’t work for the same company. Casildo in small doses was manageable. In his old jeans, washed-out sweater and hair, longer-than-usual, brushing his shoulders, he made her mouth water. He was more attractive than in his work outfit of chinos and linen shirts, more tempting even than he’d been in his tuxedo at Anna and Hunter’s wedding.