The Playboy's Touch (Book 2)

Chapter 2

Enrique

It has been almost a year since I hadn’t seen my sister. And most importantly, since I hadn’t seen my nephew. I tried spending as much time as I could with them in London but I also had responsibilities back home in Spain. Father had to come back home shortly after Celeste and Arthur’s wedding, and then went back when it was around the time Celeste was going to give birth. After that, he realized that traveling so much wasn’t doing any good to his health. So he told us both that he would be staying in Spain for longer periods of time.

Celeste was upset for a while, but she loved father so much and wanted to see him as much as possible. But she also wanted him to be healthy so she agreed to visit him when she could. But most importantly, when Mario was old enough and ready to make such a long trip.

I was coming back from a night out with friends when I passed father’s office. His office was on the second floor of our three story house. Celeste and I always knew he was in his office when we smelled the smoke of both cigarettes and the fireplace. It was both comforting and saddening because we knew that he was busy at work and we probably wouldn’t see much of him for a couple of days.

I walked over and looked through the small crack between the door and the lock. He usually left the door a little open so that he could hear when I was home. I was a grown man and he still made sure that I got home safely. I knocked on the door softly and he looked up and smiled.

“Come in son, I was just finishing looking some things over.” He said waving me in.

I stepped inside his office and my eyes went straight to the painting behind him. It didn’t matter that I had seen this painting over 1000 times since I was a kid. It still caught my attention whenever I entered the room.

It was a grand painting of father and mother when they were young.

Father was standing next to mother in a dark red jacket and black pants. His jet black hair was slicked back, his black eyes were intense and his mustache and beard were neatly trimmed- that had never changed. He was still the large, strong, intimidating yet loving man I had always known. I looked up to father in every single way. As a man, Viscount and father.

However, it was my mother next to him that captivated me the most. Everyone always told us that Celeste was a replica of mother. And I could see that. Mother also had the large, wild, dark brown curls that Celeste carried. She also had the large brown eyes and beauty mark on her cheek. They were almost identical, but there was something about my mother that stood out. It wasn’t what she wore, which was a large dark red dress and wore small pearls around her neck and her ears, or the fact that she had a large dazzling smile. It wasn’t any of that, even though I admired those aspects of her as well. It was her presence, it was soothing. It was the type of presence that made you feel warm and comfortable and loved. You didn’t have to know her and you already knew that she cared about you. I had felt that many times as a kid.

My sister was amazing, truly one of the bravest and most loving women I knew. But she was also a free spirit that couldn’t be contained. And she was capable of intense anger if driven to that. But for some reason, mother seemed to be the person who never got angry, or didn’t stay angry for long. I didn’t know her long but I didn’t remember her ever being deeply upset.

“She’s quite beautiful isn’t she? Your mother?” Father said admiring the painting as well. “She stood out in any room she walked into. There could be thousands of women in a room but she was like a rose in a large field of grass.”

“I wish I remembered more of her- it’s all small flashes. Sometimes I feel like they are dreams or my imagination.”

“I doubt that. I’m sure what you remember and see are all true.” He smiled to himself and then turned to me. “I’m actually glad you brought your mother up, I have something to talk to you about.”

I took a deep breath, I knew exactly where this conversation was going. It was the same conversation we had almost every month for the past 10 years.

“Father… please, not this again.”

“Enrique, you are the Viscount now. You are 35 years old and have not found a wife. You are a great man, and you manage our estate and people with grace and understanding. If you can do all of that why can you not find a wife?”

I closed my eyes. It was always the same question and I always had the same answer.

“I just don’t want one right now father- it’s not who I am.”

Father looked at me with sad eyes. “How can you be so sure? You haven’t even let yourself get close enough to a woman to find out. All you do is flirt with them, bed them and walk away.”

“They are all willing and well aware of the situation. I have never promised a woman more, I have never led anyone on.”

“Even then son, you cannot continue to live your life like this. Your sister is married! Your sister found happiness and has a child. When are you going to do it?”

I took a deep breath, I was beginning to get irritated. “ I am not Celeste father. And if it is grandchildren that you are worried about, then I am sure Arthur and Celeste would be happy to provide you with another one.”

Father, who was also beginning to get irritated with me, shook his head. “It’s not about me wanting grandchildren Enrique. It is about you continuing our family line, you are a Viscount. What is going to happen when you pass away?” He looked at me with his intense black eyes. “ Mario will not inherent this title. He will inherit the title of being the Earl of the Harris estate. I know because Charles has confided in me that he will not be able to provide an heir. So that responsibility falls on my grandson. But what about you? Does our family line, our family legacy end with you? Are you really still so childish and immature to let this happen?”

His words pierced me like needles. I knew that I would have to provide an heir at some point, I knew that I had to continue the family line. I was well aware of all of this, but I had no desire of marrying anyone.

When neither of us said anything, he just sighed and walked over to the fireplace. He looked at the flames for a couple of minutes before speaking up. “You can go now-we’ll talk some other time.”

I made my way to my room, feeling a bit numb after our conversation. My entire life I only wanted to make my father proud. And I had. I had become a great Viscount, an amazing brother and leader. I was respected and envied by other men for the title and power I carried.

But as I got ready for bed, I admitted to myself that despite the power and respect, I was terrified of one thing.

Commitment.

I was terrified of committing to someone, committing to a woman who could leave me at any moment. I wasn’t worried about her leaving me to be with someone else, and I wasn’t worried about her needing to find pleasure with another man. I was known among many women to be extremely skilled in bed. I had a talent for learning and studying a woman’s body to know exactly how to please her.

Women were unique and each one desired and required a different type of care in bed. So it was not a concern regarding marital relationships. My concern lied in the fear of living through what the father did. I had seen him raise us with so much love and patience, but I had also seen the pain that he felt every single day without my mother there. I saw how he looked at her portrait, how he still had her jewelry out and set a place for her at the dinner table even though it had been over 20 years since she passed away.

I would not condemn myself to a life of pain like that. And if I hadn’t found the woman I was supposed to fall in love with it by now, then I wasn’t going to find her anytime soon.

If it was an heir and a marriage that my father wanted, then I would give it to him. I would marry someone and have a kid. I would provide a son that would learn from me and continue our family line, but other than that, I was going to stay away from any woman who claimed to love me.

I needed a wife, a s****l partner. I just needed someone who did not mind marrying me and providing me with a child, she would be free to live her life as long as we still turned to each other for s*x.

All that I needed to do now, was find her.

Which shouldn’t be that hard.