Wed for the Spaniard's Redemption

by Chantelle Shaw

  Juliet stared at him. ‘Why would anyone do that?’

  ‘It could have been a competitor, hoping to damage the company’s reputation, or more likely someone who wanted to blacken my name and convince my grandfather that I would not be a responsible CEO.’

  ‘Do you have any idea who?’

  ‘In all probability it was someone on the Casillas Group’s board who does not support my claim to be Hector’s successor, or one of my relatives for the same reason.’

  ‘How awful that someone in your own family might have betrayed you,’ Juliet murmured. ‘Families are supposed to support one another.’

  Rafael stared at her broodingly. ‘The pursuit of power is a ruthless game, with no place for weakness or emotions,’ he said harshly.

  While he served their main course of chicken cooked in a creamy sauce Juliet played his words over in her mind and felt a little shiver run through her. She had no doubt that Rafael was ruthless, and he must be utterly determined to become CEO if he was prepared to pay such an incredible amount of money for a wife.

  Could she do it? His proposition had seemed crazy at first, but now she understood that his grandfather was forcing Rafael to marry. What he was suggesting was a business deal, she told herself.

  The chicken was delicious, and a welcome change from the cheap, microwavable ready meals she tended to live on because fresh, good-quality produce was so expensive. She concentrated on eating her dinner, glad of the distraction.

  Rafael got up to throw another log on the fire. The flames crackled and an evocative scent of applewood filled the room. The wine, the food and the general ambience of the room was helping Juliet to relax, and she gave a soft sigh.

  ‘Can you honestly tell me that you’re not tempted?’

  Rafael’s seductive voice curled around her. She took another sip of her wine.

  ‘Of course I’m tempted. To be honest I can’t even imagine having five million pounds. It’s an unbelievable sum of money and it would certainly transform my life. But I have to consider what is best for Poppy. I’m worried that she might become attached to you while we’re married and be upset when we divorce and you’re no longer around.’

  Rafael frowned. ‘I think that scenario is extremely unlikely. Immediately after our marriage you and Poppy will accompany me to Spain to attend my grandfather’s eightieth birthday party. I will present you as my new wife to Hector and he will announce me as his successor. The transition of power will take a little while—maybe a month or two—and we will need to attend a few social engagements together to show the Casillas board members and shareholders that I have reformed my playboy lifestyle since my marriage,’ he said sardonically. ‘After a suitable period of time you and your daughter will be able to return here to Ferndown House—we’ll make the excuse that you prefer her to attend a nursery school in England. It will be necessary for me to spend much of my time at the Casillas Group’s headquarters in Valencia, and the truth is that I won’t come to England very often.’

  ‘How romantic.’

  Juliet told herself it was stupid to feel disappointed that Rafael had made it clear he would avoid her as much as possible.

  ‘I am not offering you romance,’ he said in a hard voice. ‘I want you to be my wife for no other reason than to fulfil my grandfather’s command that I must marry before he will make me CEO.’

  He stood up and walked over to the sideboard, returning to lay some papers on the table.

  ‘We are required to give twenty-eight days’ notice of our intention to marry at the register office. My lawyers have prepared a contract stating that five million pounds will be transferred into your bank account when I succeed my grandfather as head of the Casillas Group. All you have to do is sign your name. I will take care of all the arrangements for our wedding, and for you and your daughter to move from your current home into Ferndown House.’

  Juliet stared at the document in front of her and imagined Poppy running around the garden and playing with the dolls’ house in the nursery.

  She swallowed. ‘It seems too easy.’

  ‘It is easy. Everything will be as I have explained to you. There are no catches.’

  Rafael’s voice was like warm honey sliding over her. Tempting her. She wished her dad was around so that she could ask his advice—although she knew in her heart that he would advise her against marrying for money.

  But five million pounds! Her heart was thudding so hard she was surprised it wasn’t audible in the silent room. If she accepted Rafael’s proposition her money worries would be over, but would she be selling her soul to the devil?

  ‘I need time to think about it,’ she whispered.

  ‘I don’t have the luxury of time. I have to be married by my grandfather’s eightieth birthday, which is six weeks from now, or he will appoint my half-brother as his successor.’ Rafael picked up a pen from the table and held it out to her. ‘I am offering you a chance to give your daughter a better life. If you walk away now you will have thrown away that chance. I won’t make the offer again and I will find another bride.’

  The clock on the wall ticked loudly.

  Do it. Do it.

  Juliet snatched the pen from Rafael and signed her name where he showed her. It was for Poppy, she tried to reassure herself. A better future for her daughter.

  ‘Bueno!’ Rafael did not try to disguise the satisfaction in his voice. He picked up their wine glasses and handed Juliet hers. ‘Let us drink a toast, chiquita, to the shortest marriage on record.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  A MONTH HAD never passed so quickly—or so it seemed to Juliet.

  For the first couple of weeks after she had agreed to Rafael’s marriage proposition she had been busy winding down her sandwich business. Mel had found a buyer for the bakery shop and it had been an emotional moment as they’d closed the door for the last time.

  ‘I’m intrigued to know more about your new business opportunity in Spain,’ Mel had said. ‘Why are you being so secretive?’

  ‘I’ll tell you more if it happens.’

  Juliet hadn’t revealed to her friend the true reason why she would be going to Spain. She was sure Mel would think she was mad if she explained that she had agreed to marry a man she did not know for money.

  As the date of the wedding had drawn closer her doubts had multiplied. But Rafael had promised that there was no catch to their business deal.

  Deciding what to tell Agata had been more difficult. Juliet was fond of the Polish woman who had helped her and Poppy so much, and after some soul-searching she’d told Agata the white lie that she was marrying Rafael after a whirlwind courtship.

  Today, packing her’s and Poppy’s belongings hadn’t taken long, and a member of Rafael’s staff had come and taken the few cardboard boxes down to an SUV.

  Juliet strapped Poppy into the child seat and as the car drove away from the estate on its way to Ferndown House she felt a mixture of relief, apprehension and excitement that refused to be quashed at the prospect of seeing Rafael again.

  She had spoken to him once on the phone, when he’d called her to check some details he needed in order to complete the paperwork for their wedding. His gravelly voice with its sexy accent had made her feel hot all over, and she’d closed her eyes and pictured his devastatingly handsome face.

  Remembering his disdainful expression when he’d seen her wearing her cleaning overalls, she had taken a bit of time over her appearance today. The pink jumper that Agata had given her at Christmas lent some colour to her washed-out complexion, and the old tube of mascara she’d found at the back of the bathroom cabinet had still had enough in it to darken her pale eyelashes.

  But when they arrived at Ferndown House Alice the housekeeper greeted Juliet and explained that Rafael had left the previous day for a business trip to America.

  ‘He is not sure when he will be back b
ut he asked me to give you his PA’s phone number. Miss Foxton will answer any queries you might have.’ Alice smiled at Poppy. ‘I’ve made some cookies. Would you like one?’

  Juliet tried to shrug off her disappointment at Rafael’s absence. There was no reason for them to spend any time together. Their marriage would be a formality which would allow Rafael to become CEO of his family’s company and he was paying her an astounding amount of money to be his temporary wife, she reminded herself.

  And sitting alone in the elegant dining room at Ferndown House, enjoying one of the delicious meals that the housekeeper had prepared, was a lot nicer than sitting in her flat with a microwaveable meal after Poppy had gone to bed—although she felt just as lonely.

  Rafael finally phoned her the evening before they were due to marry the following day. ‘My plane has just touched down in London and I’m going straight to the office,’ he told her.

  His gravelly voice had its usual effect of bringing Juliet’s skin out in goosebumps.

  ‘I don’t know what time I’ll get back to the house. Make sure you’re ready to leave for the register office at ten-thirty tomorrow morning.’

  On her way up to bed she wondered if he really was going to the office so late, or if he planned to spend the night with a mistress. Perhaps he wanted to enjoy his last night as a bachelor before he was forced into a marriage that he patently didn’t want.

  It was none of her business what he did, Juliet reminded herself.

  There was no logical explanation for her dismal mood. In a few months’ time she would have five million pounds in the bank—more than enough to buy a cottage by the sea and for her to establish her own dance school.

  It was after midnight when she heard a car pull up outside the house, and when she hopped out of bed and ran across to the window her heart skipped a beat as she saw Rafael’s tall frame unfold from his Lamborghini. The moonlight danced across his face, highlighting his chiselled jaw and sharp cheekbones.

  Tomorrow he would be her husband.

  Butterflies leapt in her stomach—nerves, she supposed. But around dawn she woke feeling horribly sick. Frequent trips to the bathroom followed, and the severe bouts of vomiting left her feeling drained.

  She certainly did not look like a blushing bride, Juliet thought as she stared at her ashen face and lank hair in the mirror. It was ten o’clock and she needed to hurry up and get ready.

  Choosing what to wear did not take her long. She lived in jeans or a denim skirt, and the only vaguely smart item of clothing she owned was a mustard-coloured dress she’d bought in a sale years ago when she had first moved to Australia and needed something to wear to job interviews. The colour hadn’t looked so bad in the Australian sunshine, but on a grey spring day in England it made her pale skin look sallow.

  She would have liked to buy something pretty to wear on her wedding day, but since her sandwich business had closed down and she’d given up her cleaning job she hadn’t had an income. Living at Ferndown House meant that she hadn’t had to pay for food, but she’d spent the last of her money on new shoes for Poppy.

  Juliet had no time to worry about her appearance when another bout of sickness sent her rushing into the bathroom, and she emerged feeling shivery and hot at the same time. Then she spent ten minutes searching for Poppy’s favourite teddy, knowing that her daughter would not sleep at night without Mr Bear. Finally they were ready.

  Was she doing the right thing?

  It was too late for second thoughts now, she told herself. She had already given up her flat and her job. If she did not marry Rafael she would be homeless.

  As Juliet walked down the stairs a wave of dizziness swept over her. She clung to the banister rail with one hand and held on to Poppy with the other.

  Rafael strolled into the hall and an expression of horror flickered across his face as he studied her appearance, before he quickly schooled his features and gave her a cool smile. He looked utterly gorgeous in a grey three-piece suit that emphasised his broad shoulders and athletic build. His black hair was swept back from his brow and the designer stubble on his jaw gave him an edgy sex appeal that was irresistible.

  ‘I couldn’t afford to buy a new outfit for the wedding,’ Juliet told him stiffly.

  She wished the ground would open up beneath her feet when she caught sight of herself in the hall mirror. She hadn’t had the energy to do anything fancy with her hair and it hung in a heavy braid down her back.

  ‘You look fine,’ Rafael assured her smoothly.

  It was a blatant lie, she thought.

  She wished she wasn’t so agonisingly aware of him. Her breath snagged in her throat when he lifted his hand and lightly touched her face.

  ‘Although I’m guessing from the dark circles beneath your eyes that you did not sleep well last night, he murmured. ‘You will do very well,’ he added, in a satisfied tone that puzzled her.

  But then he hurried her out to the car and she was too busy strapping Poppy into the child seat to think about Rafael’s odd statement.

  From then on everything about the day had an air of unreality. The wedding ceremony took place in an unremarkable room at the council offices, and the two witnesses were Rafael’s PA and his chauffeur.

  Juliet had asked Agata to come to the register office to look after Poppy during the ceremony, and Poppy’s joy when she saw Agata brought tears to Juliet’s eyes. Her parents would have loved their little granddaughter as much as Poppy would have loved to have grandparents.

  Rafael had told her that he had a large extended family and that several of his relatives, including his mother, lived at the Casillas family mansion in Valencia. Perhaps his mother would enjoy having a child around and would make a fuss of Poppy? Juliet hoped so.

  She must have made all the right responses to the registrar, and even managed to smile—although she felt numb and her voice sounded strangely disembodied. Rafael slid a gold band onto her finger and she tensed when he lowered his face towards hers. She realised with a jolt of shock that he was going to kiss her. She had secretly longed to feel his lips on hers, but not like this—not to seal their farce of a marriage.

  His mouth was centimetres from hers, and she quickly turned her head so that he kissed her cheek. He frowned, and she guessed that no woman had ever rejected him before. But then the registrar was presenting them with the marriage certificate and Juliet felt as brittle as glass as she stepped into the corridor, hardly able to believe that she was now Mrs Mendoza-Casillas.

  ‘I hope you know what you are doing,’ Agata said when Juliet hugged her outside the register office. ‘You told me that you fell in love with your husband at the first sight, but I do not see love between you.’

  Somehow Juliet dredged up a smile. ‘I’m very happy.’ She tried to sound convincing. ‘I’ll bring Poppy to visit you soon.’

  Rafael was uncommunicative in the limousine that took them to the airport, and once they had boarded his private jet he opened his laptop, saying that he needed to work.

  Juliet devoted herself to keeping Poppy entertained during the flight, and by the time the plane had landed in Valencia and they were in a car on the way to his family home she had a thumping headache—although thankfully the sickness seemed to be over. Poppy was tired and fretful, and Juliet felt frazzled, and she was relieved when the car turned onto a long driveway.

  ‘You didn’t tell me you lived in a palace,’ she said to Rafael in an awed voice as the Casillas mansion came into view.

  Built over four storeys, the villa had white walls and tall windows gleaming in the bright afternoon sunshine. The car drove past manicured lawns and a huge ornamental pool and fountain before coming to a halt by the imposing front entrance which was framed by elegant colonnades.

  Juliet knew, of course, that Rafael was wealthy, but travelling on his private jet and seeing his family’s palatial home had made her realise
that she’d entered a world of incredible luxury and opulence which was a million miles away from her tower block in one of London’s most deprived boroughs, and from her life as a single mother.

  They climbed out of the car and her tension escalated as she lifted Poppy out of the child seat and attempted to set her down on her feet. Tears ensued until she picked the little girl up again.

  ‘Poppy is tired from travelling,’ she told a grim-faced Rafael. ‘I’d like to get her settled and give her something to eat.’

  ‘You will be able to do that soon, but first I will introduce you to my family. My grandfather has arranged a reception to celebrate our marriage.’

  Was it her imagination or did Rafael sound as tense as she felt?

  She bit her lip as he strode up the steps leading to the front door of the villa, leaving her to trail behind him with Poppy balanced on her hip.

  On the top step, he turned to her and frowned. ‘Let me take the child. She is too heavy for you to carry.’

  Juliet felt beads of sweat running down her face—which was strange, because she was shivering even though the sun was warm. Poppy clung to her like a limpet and shrank away from Rafael when he tried to take her into his arms.

  A man whom she guessed was the butler opened the door and ushered them into the villa. Juliet’s stunned gaze took in a vast entrance hall with pink marble walls and floor. Rafael placed his hand between her shoulder blades and propelled her forward as the butler flung open a set of double doors into another enormous room that seemed to be filled with people.

  The hum of voices became quiet and silence pressed on Juliet’s ears. An elderly man stepped out of the crowd and came to greet them—but the smile of welcome on his face faded and his eyes narrowed.

  ‘Rafael, I understood that you would be bringing your new wife with you.’ The man spoke in Spanish and his harsh tone sent a shiver through Juliet.

  ‘Abuelo...’ Rafael drawled. ‘I would like you to meet my bride.’