Chapter Fourteen
T hanking the owner of the saloon, a middle-aged woman who had taken good care of Raquel, Alexandre led her to the exit door at the back, where a nondescript black car stood idling in the employee parking lot.
“Why’re we leaving from the back?” Raquel enquired curiously as she got into the vehicle and Alexandre slid in beside her.
“I don’t want the press to catch us.” Nodding at the driver, who immediately swung the car out onto the main road, he turned to her. “I don’t want them to publish anything about us that I don’t approve of.”
She frowned. Is this how her new life was going to be—dodging the press every time she went out? “Will they always follow us?”
He shook his head. “Not always,” he assured her. “But our news is still fresh, so they will try to milk it as much as they can.”
“But how did they get to know about the baby?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. But I will find out.”
The steel in his voice unsettled her and she looked out of the tinted window, not seeing the beautiful tropical landscape dotted with palm trees and majestic spires of the many churches they drove past as panic bubbled inside her.
An introvert by nature, she shied away from people and was the most comfortable in her own company. But lately she’d begun to realize that she did like having people around her—especially Alexandre.
Nevertheless, she wasn’t equipped to handle attention. She didn’t like being in the spotlight and would rather stand in a corner—unseen—than have a million eyes on her, speculating—judging her.
The newspaper article brought home the startling fact that Alexandre was a very public figure, while she was, until then, an obscure person who had burst into his life.
No wonder it had sparked people’s interest.
But did it mean she would become a goldfish trapped in a bowl unable to escape the glare of the people inhabiting her fiancée’s circle?
“What is it?” Alexandre touched her arm, and she turned to him, anxious and petrified.
“Will it always be like this? Will I never be able to walk freely again?”
“No,” he quickly clarified. “This is because of that damned article. The furor will die down in a few weeks.”
“How?”
His eyes glinted with purpose. “We’ll set the narrative. Once we are married, that will be the end of mindless speculation and things will go back to normal.”
****
H is words stayed with her through the drive to Alexandre’s home.
Raquel was too lost in her thoughts to notice that they’d left the town behind and were traversing a road running parallel to the sea.
The road became narrower, and the number of buildings dotting the landscape dwindled as they drove onto a private road before arriving at a huge two-storied building.
Raquel looked out of the window before turning to Alexandre. “Where are we?” she asked, uncertain why he’d brought her to what looked like an expensive resort.
“My house,” he said proudly. “Now yours, too.”
Her eyes flew back to the stunning building that was to be her new home.
Raquel lived with her mother and two sisters in a huge bungalow herself.
Though she’d done nothing to deserve a grand home like the Casa DaCosta, she did love having her own room which was far removed from the dingy bedroom of her childhood.
But her family home was nothing compared to the behemoth of a house in front of her, she thought exiting the car.
In the waning light of the day, the house was a vision. Beautiful and elegant, a tasteful combination of white and brown. The doors, windows, and balcony railings were all a natural brown and stood out starkly against the white painted walls.
An ornate metal gate opened. Alexandre took her hand, leading her to her new home.
Raquel knew her lower jaw hung open, but she couldn’t close her mouth. It was as though she’d stepped into the garden of Eden because the lush flora around them was simply exquisite.
The house stood majestic and proud in the middle of a garden of bright bougainvillea, dainty frangipani, towering coconut and date palms, and brilliant orchids that sat perched on the trunks of the palms. Pots hung from the eaves, of Pothos, Wandering jewel, Burro’s tail, and various kinds of ivy.
Fat pots of brilliantly colored petunia lined the stone path which led to the house.
Her gaze wandered over to the main house.
“Like it?”
He let out an amused chuckle when Raquel turned to him, her eyes wide with awe.
“Like it? It’s so beautiful I fear I won’t be able to live in it.”
He guffawed. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he nudged her toward the front door. Opening the door with a key, he gestured to her to precede him.
As he showed her around the eight-bedroom, nine-bathroom house, Raquel comprehended just how far out of her league Alexandre was. Really who was this man who owned a yacht and this luxurious villa? What did he do to afford such an extravagant lifestyle?
On the heels of that came the terrifying thought: What did she know about this man she was marrying?
Seeing how utterly still she’d become, Alexandre asked her, “Is everything alright?”
“No!” she cried, suddenly feeling uncertain and panicky about her future.
“What is it?” Immediately his arms were around her, but she pushed out of his embrace, putting distance between them.
“We can’t rush into marriage without knowing anything about each other.
” Confused brown eyes searched his face, begging him to understand her turmoil.
“I know next to nothing about you. I don’t know your favorite foods, your.
.. your favorite color, even... even what you do for a living!
How... how will this marriage work between us when I live in the south of Goa and you are here.
.. where is this place, anyway?” Aware that she was unravelling around the edges, her self-control fragmenting, Raquel stumbled to the nearest sofa where she sat down with a thump, looking up at him—anxious. “Who are you really?”
“It’s a little too late to ask that question, isn’t it?”