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She winced. “It’s not simple, and it’s not easy, but it’s my only current, viable option.”

He’d told himself the same thing after he’d handed his father his savings. He’d gone home.

Do you love me?

He wasn’t brave enough to ask, but he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, and sure as hell couldn’t see his life anymore without her in it.

“What about now?” he said.

“I don’t want us to part in anger, Casildo. You said we’d always be friends.” She sounded wistful, and sad with it.

“You might not get all you want.”

He couldn’t stay and not touch her. He’d come to confirm that truth. He loved her, and he believed her.

“Why didn’t you tell me at the beginning?” It seemed so out of character for the Beatriz he knew. Not a direct lie, but a consequential omission that was hurting them both.

“I don’t tell anyone,” she cried. “I was dating someone—we’d got a bit past dating—when Papá had his accident. Fernando resented the time I spent at the hospital. I was supposed to put his needs, his demands, his requirements—he used that word—before everyone else. He insisted I was his woman.”

“He didn’t know you.”

“He’d acted a bit strangely when another guy chatted to me at a party. I didn’t take him seriously. More fool me.”

“He was the idiot,” Cas said, hurt anew by the realisation Beatriz didn’t have a mean or avaricious bone in her body. He loved her, and she was leaving him.

“But jealous of my family? Papá? Papá nearly died.” She hiccupped. “I haven’t dated anyone since. Mamá and Papá need to stop work.”

“Are you asking me for money?” Cas forced the words out.

She recoiled, her shoulders arching, her body contorting in pain. “No, I’m not bloody asking you for money.”

“You were waiting until I’d got the contracts lined up and the money in the bank before telling me, weren’t you? Why?” The contracts were sitting unsigned on his desk.

She looked like a floodlit hibernating bear, simultaneously irritated and disoriented. “Because you’ve waited years for your dream, Casildo. Your time’s now.”

“You know I can’t stay here.”

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. She made no attempt to brush them away. “I understand.”

He left before he took the words back, before he touched her. If he touched her, he’d crawl beneath the sheets and make love to her as he had every morning for the past fortnight. He loved her, but that meant nothing unless he could solve her problems and seize his dream.

* * *

Bea dragged herselfaround the apartment after Casildo left, unable to sleep, to concentrate, unable even to decide whether to get dressed or not. When the phone signalled an incoming message, she lunged for it, then stifled a sob when it wasn’t Casildo.

She blinked, then stared at the text. A summons to meet her boss. One day she’d taken off, but she hadn’t taken a day off in five years without giving advance warning. Was she about to lose her job as well as lose Casildo? Get sacked for making false complaints about Jackson? Great.

At least Martin had scheduled the meeting for eight o’clock. Before the bulk of the staff arrived. She might be in and out before anyone knew.

She applied more makeup than usual. No one needed to know that she’d spent the last few days crying. For Casildo. Jackson was a lying cheat and would be caught out sooner or later. He wasn’t worth her tears. She slipped in through the back entrance, studied the lobby until she knew she’d be alone in the elevator. The corridor leading to Martin’s office was oddly quiet—and endless. Sucking in a deep breath, she exhaled and knocked on the door.

“Come in, Beatriz.” Martin pulled his door wide.

Spotting the other people in the room, Bea stopped dead.

“Jackson and Emily Carlsson are joining us as well. You know Jackson, but I don’t believe either of you have met Emily. Emily, perhaps you can introduce yourself.”

“Hej.I’m the cyber tracker TBR has started using to improve data protection.” The woman sounded Swedish.