Read Online Her Latin Lover (Contemporary Romance) by Katheryn Lane - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Katheryn Lane
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happened?”
“Javier and Carlos were out exercising the horses. Javier was riding Santos when a car drove past and tried to run him down. Both of the horse’s front legs were broken. We couldn’t save him.”
“But who would want to kill your friend, Javier?” Mary had a feeling that she knew the answer before she even finished her question.
“El Leon, or rather one of his men. They weren’t trying to kill Javier; they were after Santos, the horse. El Leon knows he’s my finest stallion and one of the best horses in the country. It’s a terrible thing to have to shoot a horse like that.”
“El Leon wanted to kill your horse! Why? Was he scared that your horse would beat one of his horses in a race?”
“No, it was nothing like that. He did it because I took you away from him, so now he has taken something away from me.”
“But I wasn’t his in the first place!” The idea that she belonged to anyone was ridiculous, much less the idea that she belonged to some sick, murderous mafia boss.
“It is not what you, Mary, personally believe or know that counts, but rather what this man perceives to be true.” His phone rang again. Paulo looked at the number. “I’m sorry, I must take this. Did Isabella bring you some dinner?”
Mary nodded. She was just about to ask him who Isabella was and when she was going to meet his wife, when Paulo wished her good night and started talking into his phone with his back turned to her. Mary took the hint and left.
The next morning, she was woken up by Isabella knocking on her door again, this time with a tray full of breakfast things and strong, black coffee. Mary thanked her and began to eat the food that Isabella had set down in her room. She wondered why Isabella was bringing all her meals to her room. Was Paulo trying to avoid seeing her, or was it his wife? She couldn’t complain about the way she was being treated, as staying in Paulo’s hacienda was certainly better than having to stay at the dirty hotel in Corazon with the creepy Señor Marcos, but it was hardly the wild romantic escape that she had secretly hoped for. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more annoyed she became about the fact that not only had she hardly seen Paulo since she arrived the day before, but also she had been treated almost like a prisoner in her room. If he was married, she could hardly expect him to sweep her off her feet, but at least he could share mealtimes with her and introduce her to his wife. By the time Mary had finished breakfast, showered and dressed, she had decided that if Paulo wasn’t going to introduce Mary to his wife, she would do it herself. This time she would look through the entire house until she found the woman who looked so much like her.
However, the entire house appeared to be empty. Through one of the windows, Mary could see Javier and Carlos hanging around outside with a couple of rifles slung across their backs, but indoors it was as quite as a church. Mary opened up doors upstairs and searched through the rooms downstairs. Each one was empty except for the heavy, old-fashioned furniture, rugs and paintings. In the main hallway, the candles had been removed from underneath the painting of Paulo’s elusive wife and a vase of freshly-cut, white roses put in their place. Mary tried looking in the study where she found Paulo the night before. It too was empty; just row after row of books on the shelves. Mary browsed through the worn leather spines. All of the books appeared to be in Spanish. She looked over at the large wooden desk, where Paulo’s computer sat, strangely out of place amongst the other objects.
Mary went back to the study door and checked if anyone was coming. There was no one in sight. The house was silent. She shut the door, walked over to the desk and turned the monitor on. The computer quickly whirred into life. She wasn’t trying to hack into Paulo’s system; whatever he was trying to hide from her last night was his
“Javier and Carlos were out exercising the horses. Javier was riding Santos when a car drove past and tried to run him down. Both of the horse’s front legs were broken. We couldn’t save him.”
“But who would want to kill your friend, Javier?” Mary had a feeling that she knew the answer before she even finished her question.
“El Leon, or rather one of his men. They weren’t trying to kill Javier; they were after Santos, the horse. El Leon knows he’s my finest stallion and one of the best horses in the country. It’s a terrible thing to have to shoot a horse like that.”
“El Leon wanted to kill your horse! Why? Was he scared that your horse would beat one of his horses in a race?”
“No, it was nothing like that. He did it because I took you away from him, so now he has taken something away from me.”
“But I wasn’t his in the first place!” The idea that she belonged to anyone was ridiculous, much less the idea that she belonged to some sick, murderous mafia boss.
“It is not what you, Mary, personally believe or know that counts, but rather what this man perceives to be true.” His phone rang again. Paulo looked at the number. “I’m sorry, I must take this. Did Isabella bring you some dinner?”
Mary nodded. She was just about to ask him who Isabella was and when she was going to meet his wife, when Paulo wished her good night and started talking into his phone with his back turned to her. Mary took the hint and left.
The next morning, she was woken up by Isabella knocking on her door again, this time with a tray full of breakfast things and strong, black coffee. Mary thanked her and began to eat the food that Isabella had set down in her room. She wondered why Isabella was bringing all her meals to her room. Was Paulo trying to avoid seeing her, or was it his wife? She couldn’t complain about the way she was being treated, as staying in Paulo’s hacienda was certainly better than having to stay at the dirty hotel in Corazon with the creepy Señor Marcos, but it was hardly the wild romantic escape that she had secretly hoped for. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more annoyed she became about the fact that not only had she hardly seen Paulo since she arrived the day before, but also she had been treated almost like a prisoner in her room. If he was married, she could hardly expect him to sweep her off her feet, but at least he could share mealtimes with her and introduce her to his wife. By the time Mary had finished breakfast, showered and dressed, she had decided that if Paulo wasn’t going to introduce Mary to his wife, she would do it herself. This time she would look through the entire house until she found the woman who looked so much like her.
However, the entire house appeared to be empty. Through one of the windows, Mary could see Javier and Carlos hanging around outside with a couple of rifles slung across their backs, but indoors it was as quite as a church. Mary opened up doors upstairs and searched through the rooms downstairs. Each one was empty except for the heavy, old-fashioned furniture, rugs and paintings. In the main hallway, the candles had been removed from underneath the painting of Paulo’s elusive wife and a vase of freshly-cut, white roses put in their place. Mary tried looking in the study where she found Paulo the night before. It too was empty; just row after row of books on the shelves. Mary browsed through the worn leather spines. All of the books appeared to be in Spanish. She looked over at the large wooden desk, where Paulo’s computer sat, strangely out of place amongst the other objects.
Mary went back to the study door and checked if anyone was coming. There was no one in sight. The house was silent. She shut the door, walked over to the desk and turned the monitor on. The computer quickly whirred into life. She wasn’t trying to hack into Paulo’s system; whatever he was trying to hide from her last night was his
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