Free Net of Lies by Ellen Wolf

wasn’t enough to see eye to eye. She glanced at the tall, somber man whose smooth, lithe stride reminded her of a wild cat, sinuous and predatory. His Italian suit complemented his long, lean legs and broad shoulders.
    She recalled reading about the hotel and its mysterious Royal Suite, a hidden private two -bedroom suite tucked away somewhere in the hotel; its location was known only to a few select employees. It came with a private butler and was reserved for the most discriminate and influential guests. Peeking at Raoul, she thought that he fit nicely into this picture, his effortless elegance and obviously aristocratic background enough to provide him a stay in the lap of luxury.
    She was surprised, therefore, when they arrived at the door at the end of the corridor, because the lavish, yet generic room was nothing unusual.
    Raoul’s beautiful mouth stretched into a cynical smile as he let her go ahead, then inquired, ‘Disappointed, Kate? Did you expect me to be staying in more than a room, maybe?’ As in olden days, Raoul seemed to be able to read her thoughts.
    ‘I don’t care where you stay, Raoul. I thought we had already established that fact.’ Keeping her poker face was difficult in the gorgeous surroundings. She tried to ignore the elegantly dressed windows, the beautiful silk-covered sofas, and the art that gave the room an ambience of timeless charm.
    ‘My family has been staying here for generations ,’ he provided, ignoring her acidic response. ‘To be honest, that’s the only reason we’re here right now. It is not my style, never has been.’
    She could believe it . The opulence of the room weighed down on her like a beautiful, yet unbearable stone.
    ‘So what is this thing we need to talk about, Raoul?’ She was eager to get their conversation over with and leave. She was bothered that the staff might think she was his date; their judgmental, if discreet glances cast her way made it obvious that they thought exactly that.
    ‘Sit down, Kate .’ He gestured to the sofa. He walked over to the hutch, where a silver tray held bottles and cut-crystal glasses. As she sat at the edge of the sofa, she watched his long fingers pick a bottle, then he poured himself a generous helping of amber-colored liquid that sparkled like liquid gold in his glass. He turned to her, her hands folded primly in her lap, everything in her pose screaming impatience and readiness to leave. He smiled briefly and pointed to the bottles, his dark eyebrows raised questioningly.
    ‘Anything you fancy? I strongly suggest you have something .’
    If he was trying to bully her with his dark innuendos, she intended to disappoint him. She shook her head resentfully in refusal.
    He sighed in resignation and moved toward the sitting area, where he folded his long frame into an armchair. The light-blue and cream stripes of the silky upholstery made his dark suit and somber expression even more austere, reminding her of famous works by El Greco, his countryman by choice and a fabulous artist. Dark, elegant, and haunting, the characters who populated his paintings had an inexplicable element. It was beauty and darkness, strength and pride, all merged to bring forward exquisite features and the inner light.
    Raoul de Santos y Lorrena carried himself with the same deep pride, his hooded eyes never wavering during a conflict. Tall, dark, and virile, he sat motionless, the deceptive calm of his perfect body never fooling her.
    ‘How well do you know Mar c Stevenson?’
    H is calm inquiry brought blood to Kate’s cheeks. ‘It’s none of your business, Raoul.’ She lifted her chin in a defiant gesture. ‘My private life has nothing to do with you. Not anymore.’
    ‘I agree.’ His calm nod sent shivers of unease down her spine.
    She felt something dangerous hanging over her head. An absurd desire to get up and run before he had the chance to ruin her life yet again almost forced her to her feet. She remained seated, some fatalistic