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CHAPTER FIVE

‘WE’LL CHECK THE rooms upstairs,’ Javier said, briskly moving off. ‘Although I expect there would be signs of life everywhere if my brother was here.’

‘I expect so, even without the Christmas decorations. He’s very untidy. This place is spotless.’

As they walked along the corridors the lights came on. Javier had retrieved a remote from the hallway that he used to control the lighting depending on where they were in the villa. He had also installed electronic blinds so there was no fuss to be made with cords that kept getting tangled up, like most normal people found themselves having to deal with.

Hope, despite every high minded, liberal leaning sentiment inside her that was designed to scoff at the antics and possessions of the spoiled rich, was bowled over.

They walked along past floor-to-ceiling windows that faced out towards, presumably, the ocean and huge sliding doors, beyond which she could glimpse terraces with ornate plants in pots.

The art on the walls was all abstract.

There was a notable absence of colour. She saw white, cream and pale grey everywhere—from the paint on the walls to the furniture to the cool, marble flooring.

The villa was wide and airy, with rooms flowing in and out of one another but the bedrooms were all upstairs. Javier preceded her at pace, walking swiftly up an abbreviated staircase, fashioned from rich walnut with glass panels. Each step lit up as it was stepped on, responding softly to the weight of their feet.

The landing was deep enough for little clusters of seating areas and led off towards various bedrooms, all en-suite.

The doors to the rooms were all ajar.

They dutifully checked a couple of them but it was obvious that Carlos wasn’t here and hadn’t been.

‘So, what happens now?’ Hope asked.

It was late. Exhaustion was catching up with her, breaking through all the confusing emotions and she stifled a yawn.

‘You’re tired.’

‘You must be as well.’

‘I’m never tired. If you feel you need to go to bed immediately then I’ll bring your bag up and you can have whichever room you want.’

‘I can carry my own bags,’ Hope said absently. She frowned. ‘Don’t you have your own special room?’

Javier shot her a small, amused smile then spun round on his heels to head back downstairs, throwing over his shoulder, ‘I don’t live here. Why would I have my own special room? How old do you think I am? Six?’

‘Well…’

‘I’m not a sentimental man. I come here very occasionally and when I leave, the room is cleaned and no one would guess that it had been occupied.’

‘Like a hotel.’

He stopped, turned around and looked at her with his head tilted to the side.

‘When you lose both parents at the age of fifteen in a freak accident, it’s very difficult to be sentimental again. I have no time for any of that.’

Hope inhaled sharply. He didn’t look in the least bit sad or bitter or even regretful when he said that. He looked indifferent. Maybe he’d told himself that so many times over the years that he’d become immune to any other story.

‘Are you about to tell me that you feel sorry for me? Because if you are, I wouldn’t waste your breath.’

‘I don’t care whether you’re the sentimental type or not,’ she countered. ‘I was curious about the bedroom thing because what’s the point of having your own villa if you don’t leave stuff behind that you can use whenever you happen to drop by? Or else, really, you might just as well go to a hotel if you fancy a mini break in this part of the world.’

‘No hotels here,’ Javier told her. ‘Too exclusive. I like that.’

‘You’re from a different planet,’ she said with unfiltered honesty.

‘So are you,’ Javier returned coolly. ‘I suggest we have something to eat and then you can catch up on your lost sleep.’