You shouldn’t feel this way, she reminded herself, trying to snap out of her sudden desperation. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Raoul was the one who had torn apart her soul and heart and had left her bleeding, thinking she might die of the pain. He had lied, cheated, and used her, destroying the happy, trusting person she had been before. When she had finally found out how deep and irrevocable his deceit was, he hadn’t even been there so she could throw it back into his lying face. A stranger had pushed her into that abyss of misery while Raoul was away, probably never suspecting his cover had been blown. And if not for a pure coincidence, she wouldn’t have been any the wiser for as long as he wished to keep her dangling from his line, enjoying her body and heart but never really intending to make her his. She had met him while visiting Granada, the jewel of the sun-parched Andalusia. It was her first visit to the land of olive groves, majestic mountains, and ancient buildings that had seen dynasties come and go as they slowly withered under the merciless sun.
