The Fall Of Jacob Del Garda (7 page)

Gabriella slid the key card into the penthouse suite Nico had given her to store her gear, her laptop, and a change of clothes.

Stripping off her equipment, she’d already decided to spend the night in the suite and work on the digital proofs. Her best work was done in the early hours of the morning.

Excitement skittered up her spine.

The event had gone much better than she’d expected.

A successful shoot with the Monroe family would be a huge feather in her cap.

Coco Monroe was a sweetheart, nothing like the pouting party girl the tabloids lambasted on a daily basis. She’d been easy, professional, and had seamlessly guided her reluctant-to-be-photographed fiancé through the formal portraits this afternoon. And boy, Rafael Cavendish was a hottie. There’d been a lot of laughter, good natured teasing, and steamy sexual tension.

Gabriella had told herself the sting in the region of her heart was a normal feminine reaction to a couple madly in love. Honesty made her admit there’d been plenty of envy mixed in with the emotions as well.

Sitting at her laptop, she inserted the memory cards into her reader.

She heard the snick of a key card in the lock before the door to the suite opened.

Expecting Nico Ferranti, she didn’t turn her head, but clicked through the slide show.

"Thank you for giving me the rooms, Nico. They’re perfect."

Silence.

Then the sound of the lock being latched in the door had her frown and turn.

It took her brain at least five seconds to comprehend what her eyes were seeing.

That the person who stood with his back to the door was flesh and blood and real and not a figment of her imagination.

Gabriella silently mouthed his name.

Jacob

She couldn't move.

It was as if time itself stood absolutely still and the sensation was terrifying as he simply stood there watching her with a dead on stare. All she could think was that Jacob Del Garda had always been too beautiful, too complicated, too much, for her.

And too perfect.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, and then immediately knew the answer. The bitter taste of betrayal burned on the back of her tongue. Jacob and Tobin were close since Tobin was Lucas Del Garda's business partner and best friend. "Tobin," she stated.

"
Si,
" was all he said.

One little word, and yet it held a world of hurt and hostility.

It took her two attempts to stand and even then her legs were trembling in a way that made her grasp the back of the chair.

A wave of déjà vú washed through her. The last time she’d seen him, she’d been standing just like this, clutching a chair with her heart going crazy against her ribs.

Her eyes soaked him up, soaked up the changes. And then Gabriella stood frozen, unable to breathe. Oh God, his cheeks were leaner, razor sharp. His eyes were somehow darker, more intense. That fabulous, kissable mouth was grim now, unreadable.

He gave her no words, no explanation of what he was doing here.

Gabriella stared into his eyes in wrenching confusion. Her heart was elated to see him standing before her, in the flesh. While her logical brain realised that he was going to want answers. Answers she'd too long denied him.

Answers he'd want right now.

But it was the deep grooves of suffering that ran down the sides of his mouth, fanned out from his eyes that stopped her heart. Eyes that burned with whirling emotions; need, love, lust and hate, for her.

She closed her eyes briefly, trying to shut out the awful reality of what she had done to a man who did not deserve it.

Tears stung the back of her throat for the pain and suffering she had caused.

Then she took a trembling breath, forced herself to look at him.

And stifled a sob.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

In chilling silence, he simply stared at her.

Something like panic made her speak too fast, to get it all out.

"I know I hurt you. I had no choice. I couldn't go through with it. I did the right thing... I'm sorry."

Her heart was battering against her ribs so hard she couldn't understand how he didn't hear it. His eyes remained on hers but still he spoke no words. He asked her no questions, made no demands of her.

The icy fire in his eyes, his silence, was driving her crazy.

"Jacob?" Her voice was no more than a whimper.

He said nothing, simply moved into the room, closed the door to the narrow internal hallway behind him, and locked it.

The atmosphere changed in an instant.

Shock was now replaced by a tension that wound her nerves too tightly as he slowly walked around her and the chair she gripped.

All at once thoughts entered her head that this was not how Jacob was used to seeing her.

Her hair was a mess, her face was bare of cosmetics, and the clothes she was wearing were inexpensive. But they were comfortable for moving around to get the camera angle just right.

The hot flush of mortification confused her, but she didn't have time to wonder its meaning or why she was embarrassed to be seen less than perfect by a man who had been used to seeing her naked.

These days, she was free to just be Ella Dolman, instead of the supermodel Gabriella.

These days, Ella dressed for herself, for comfort.

These days, Ella did not feel under pressure to dress formally for a man who was the son of a Spanish Duke.

He stood in front of her, right in her personal space.

She lifted her eyes to his.

What she saw there made her want to fall to her knees and weep for him and for herself.

His eyes were empty.

Dead.

Soulless.

Relentless.

Omigod.

"Jacob, don't you have anything to say to me?"

His eyes stared down at her feet, seemingly riveted by the soft leather of her running shoes.

"
Si
, I have plenty to say to you, Gabriella."

Then those dark eyes met hers and they were so very sombre, and worse, much worse, unblinkingly remote.

Jacob wondered if he was dreaming.

Because this woman who stood trembling before him did not resemble in any way the woman he’d been engaged to marry. Where were the manicured fingernails? The sleek and polished hair? Where were the designer clothes, the shoes? What on earth was she wearing on her feet? She appeared too thin, too fragile, but still unutterably beautiful. Her small breasts were high and firm under the inexpensive shirt. Those long legs, encased in black pants, appeared too slim.

And for some reason, she seemed smaller, somehow... less than.

Huge eyes, the colour of ripe hazelnuts, clung to his.

He read the pleading, the suffering.

Then wondered exactly what that suffering meant. And then he saw a lot more. Ah, there it was, the secrets, the guilt, the terror, and most shocking of all... desire.

How fucking
dare
she stand there and desire him?

Her breath was panting in her throat, little sounds that made his groin so hard he could barely breathe. But he refused to step back, to move away from her. He would not show weakness. If there was going to be begging done this night it sure as hell would not come from him.

At her throat he noticed the frantic beat of her pulse gone wild. Her face was bone white. Deep hazel eyes stared, shocked, into his. She was scared. And the animal inside him purred. Good. She should be fucking scared. Somewhere deep down in a primeval corner of his soul, Jacob found the notion immensely satisfying.

Then he took a breath, and her scent nearly broke him.

To steady himself, and to prove he could do it, he inhaled once, twice, and three times.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice no more than a whisper.

The question snapped him out of his trancelike state right back into the moment. Now his eyes slitted as temper whipped a stinging lash across what was left of his bloody and broken heart.

"No,
‘Are you well?’ ‘How have you been?’
Or do you not give a damn?" Before she could answer he continued, "I am running Ludlow Hall while Alexander Ludlow runs The Ortiz Prince Philippe. My father is building a partnership with Nico Ferranti."

She simply stared into his eyes.

His cell phone rang.

The growl of irritation in his throat was a primordial thing as he took the call.

"Si?"
he snapped the word. "Nico will sort it. I am dealing with a... complication and do not wish to be disturbed." He listened. Then his eyes flicked to hers. "No, it is nothing important."

So, that's what she was to him now,
nothing important
.

Just a provoking little irritation in his busy day.

The truth that Jacob had apparently moved on sank in with a pain Gabriella could hardly bear. And it snuffed out something within her, something that had flickered to life for a couple of heartbeats. Hope.

And as she stood there, barely able to breathe, Gabriella's self-loathing for what she'd done to both of them turned the shattered remains of her heart into razor-sharp crystals of bitter regret. Because the man who stood before her had absolutely no love in his eyes for her. Instead, they were icy diamonds of utter contempt.

Jacob had suffered.

She could see the traces under his eyes and around his mouth.

And she wanted to weep when she remembered the time when she'd wanted, needed, dreamed of being by his side. She'd wanted that so badly, right up until that terrible morning when she'd walked out of his life, and had simply ceased to exist.

He should hate her. He had every right to hate her.

If she'd had any idea he was here at Ludlow hall, she wouldn't have taken the contract to photograph Coco's engagement party.

She would have stayed far, far, away.

"What happened to us, Gabriella?" he asked her now.

"Does it really matter?"

"To me it does. I want to know."

He couldn't read the expression in those huge hazel eyes.

"What do you want to know?" The question was no more than a low whisper from that delectable mouth.

His hands rose to cup her face, to tilt back her head so he could look right into those fabulous eyes, those cheating eyes.

The too familiar scent of Gabriella, his Gabriella, the feel of her skin, her hectic pulse under his hands threatened to break his iron will.

For a split second Jacob knew that a quick jerk to the right and he’d snap her beautiful neck.

His hands tensed and those hazel eyes went wide with alarm.

Her hands still clung to the chair.

Well, he wasn’t having that.

"Touch me," he said.

Her whole body shuddered under his hands, and he watched the expressions cross that stunning face.

Fear, arousal, bewilderment. The emotions ran back and forth.

"Where?"

Was she serious?

"Put your hands on my waist. Hold on to me."

He waited until she did as he asked.

Her eyelids closed.

With each hectic breath those full lips trembled.

"Eyes on me, Gabriella."

Her eyes flew open, held his.

And he read the guilt... and the regret.

Too little.

Too late.

"Who was he?" he growled.

Her mouth opened to speak then closed as she shook her head.

That tight little body seemed to slump as she exhaled a deep breath.

And all the while his hands refused to let her go, if anything they went tighter.

"There was no man," she said softly.

Now his eyes narrowed into hers seeking, searching, for the truth.

He saw it, but he refused to believe it.

She was a liar, and a cheat, and a very good actress.

"Did he decide that he didn’t want you after all?"

Those hazel eyes misted.

A year ago the outward sign of her distress would have brought him to his knees.

Not now.

She shook her head, didn’t speak.

Jacob read the move as one of remorse.

And his temper flexed against the tight leash.

"For months I wondered what it was I had done to make you unhappy. Perhaps, I thought, I had taken you for granted? But no, I treated you as if you were the most precious flower. I worshipped you, adored you, and loved you with my whole heart. My soul. With every breath I took. But it was not enough for you,
cariño
. Was it?"