He walked through the door of the receiving room, wondering who his unexpected guest could be. She stood with her back to him, looking out the window towards his orchard. She had masses of shiny black hair pulled into a typical severe bun, and a lush, curvy figure.
“Señora?”
She turned and Vidal found himself looking directly into the black eyes of Carmen Flores Medrano.
“Vidal. ¿Cómo estás?”
He gulped. This isn’t good. “Muy bien, gracias. ¿Y usted?”
“Why so formal, my dear? You don’t need to be that way with me. Remember, we used to be betrothed.” She trailed one finger across her plump lower lip as though in thought, but he could see the practiced manner of the movement and could tell immediately it was a manipulation.
Suddenly, she no longer looked beautiful to him, not with the m
