The Billionaire Bundle

by Michele De Winton

  “Dio! The bloody cleaners already!” Ricardo heaved a resigned sigh with his massive shoulders. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to find it hard to concentrate properly on your exquisite little body with that racket going on.”

  Helen giggled at his irritation and pulled the sheet over her chest. “I think it’s time to give in and show our faces, don’t you?”

  “I suppose so.” He grunted, snatching up a conveniently placed robe. “But I’m not happy.”

  “But your staff will be when they actually see you. Everyone seems to adore you, Almanza, it’s not just me…”

  Ricardo looked at her quizzically for a moment and let out a small laugh. “Enough joking about, Helen. It’s time you made me breakfast. I’ve had enough of fancy restaurants and takeaway junk food.”

  “Bloody chauvinist! In that case, there’s something you really need to know.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’m a failure as a society wife.” Helen clasped her hands together and grinned. “I can’t cook, not in a socially acceptable way anyway. Sorry.”

  “I know.” He chuckled as he decided against the robe, threw it on the floor, and reached for his discarded trousers.

  “You do?”

  “I’ve seen the state of your pantry in that hole in Ibiza, remember?”

  “You’ve also been to dinner at my mum’s. We have a lot in common, her and me.”

  Ricardo grinned and leaned over the bed to give her a kiss. “Your mum is lovely, and besides, there’s more to life than food.”

  “Can any self respecting man say that?” Helen joked.

  “He can when there’s always a professional chef around, but hey, I did say your talents lay elsewhere. I don’t want you getting all hot and bothered in the kitchen when you could be doing that in bed with me. And I can make coffee at least. We’ll survive.”

  “You must buy pastries in that case.”

  “Guts.” He threw her silk gown at her. “I’ll shower later at the villa. Will you join me?”

  “Am I safe?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, it’s a date.”

  “Come on then, let’s get on shore.”

  They passed a couple of young women carrying baskets of fresh linen along the promenade deck. Large brown almond-shaped eyes, respectful yet adoring, gazed at their boss as he greeted them both by name. Helen heard their excited whispers as they scuttled away—they’d laid eyes on the new Senora Almanza!

  The morning sun was dazzling, and the arc of gold and deep, deep blue that refused to be ignored took Helen’s breath away. The bay was exquisite, rippling like molten glass, blue, green, and gold beneath the fading dawn sky. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  “Approve?”

  “And the rest! It’s like something out of a top end holiday brochure, airbrushed with a top coat of glitter.”

  “Bueno.”

  “Gorgeous…”

  “There are no designer shops, I’m afraid.”

  “Good.”

  “No British booze, either.”

  Helen paused for thought and then shot him a playful look. “I’ll live.”

  “Very patchy Internet and mobile phone reception.”

  “Oh do stop it and hurry up!” She slapped him on the shoulder with her sun hat. “You promised me a shower.”

  Chapter Eight

  A speedboat took them to an old wooden quay. The bay was far too shallow for a yacht the size of Indalo to get near to shore. Helen arrived breathless and more tangle-headed than she’d previously been, and the short bumpy sprint to shore left her exhilarated. She shouldn’t have been as overawed by this level of luxury but she was. High cliffs smothered in trees surrounded the bay, but as she craned her neck towards the clouds she could see a rooftop peeking through the foliage, a few tantalizing tiles and a round white curve of stone.

  “There’s a house,” she said and pointed as he took her hand to help her out of the boat.

  “That’s the observatory.”

  “Observatory?”

  “Yes, built by an astronomer forced to retire to sunnier climates by a very bossy wife.”

  “Fascinating!”

  Ricardo chuckled and gestured towards an open-topped Jeep attended by a slight man wearing dark glasses and Bermuda shorts. “Come on, we can walk it, but it’ll be a lot quicker if I drive.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  Ricardo took the keys from the man who nodded and left without saying a word. “You mean that?”

  “Of course not.” She laughed. “But let’s get a move on, shall we?”

  “Welcome to Dizzy Heights,” Ricardo said after driving at top speed up a steep winding road through dense pine trees that were now clearing to reveal a high-gated entrance.

  Helen blinked. She saw the bright blue of a sky that could only have its feet in the sea. The light was infused with ozone and Mediterranean sparkle. She breathed in deeply as her brain registered all the color—sand and honey-colored stones on one side, smooth whitewashed walls on the other, purple bougainvillea, deep green myrtle and scarlet hibiscus.

  “This is the upper entrance,” Ricardo said as he brought the Jeep to a halt. “The lower one is for deliveries and staff use.”

  “A staff entrance?” she asked incredulously.

  “I suppose that’s what it is.” He switched off the engine.

  “Dear God, this place is huge. Another of your investment new-builds?”

  “Oh no, not this one. This is home, in a special green zone. It’s safe from new development forever.”

  “A touch ironic considering all your other properties.”

  “Yes, you could say hypocritical too if you like, and I’ll understand.”

  “Would you?”

  “You don’t think I’m not lashed by criticism on a daily basis do you? I am. People hate me for what I do.”

  “For what you do?”

  “Think about it. I’m a banker and a builder. I buy up land with my financial profits, build houses, and then lend people the money to buy them off me. It upsets people, even rich ones, especially the ones with lots and lots of land right next door.”

  “And it doesn’t bother you?”

  Ricardo shrugged. “I don’t let it. It’s business and I have no desire to be poor.” He held out a hand to help Helen out of the car. “But enough of this serious talk, we’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves.”

  The smell of wood smoke drifted towards them, and Helen noticed a blue wisp coming from a chimney towards one end of the house. “Looks like we have company already,” she said brightly, trying to hide her disappointment.

  “Lucia, my housekeeper will be making us bread and preparing a selection of meals for us should we require them later.” He ignored her gasp of surprise as he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her tightly into him as they walked. “She’ll be gone in under an hour, don’t worry.”

  “I wasn’t worried.”

  “And none of the staff will return to the main house until I tell them to. I value my privacy, that’s why I bought such a huge estate. Plenty of room for everyone. Peace and quiet.”

  “It sounds wonderful.”

  “We’ll find Lucia in the kitchen.” Ricardo guided her down a flight of steep steps down the side of the villa towards an open doorway. “Right through here.”

  A portly, middle-aged woman with salt and pepper hair neatly arranged in a bun was working furiously at a huge ball of dough on a long wooden table. She looked up with a start as Ricardo surprised her from behind with a bear hug that crushed her wrinkled cheeks into his shoulder.

  “Great to see you, Lucia.” He outstretched an arm to beckon Helen closer. “And this, my dear old friend, is my new wife, Helen.”

  The older woman looked her up and down and nodded. “So it’s true, the rumors. You finally got married. Not to one of those orange-skinned stick insects, thank God.”

  “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Helen, you say?” Lucia tur
ned to look Ricardo in the eye with a frown on her lips. “Quite a name. It means a shining light as I recall.”

  Helen felt her cheeks flush. She flashed a smile she hoped the other woman would mirror. Lucia did not oblige and Ricardo continued to grin regardless of the insult. “Pleased to meet you, Lucia.”

  “She certainly is!” Ricardo said interrupting. “Cooking isn’t one of her talents apparently.”

  Lucia harrumphed and wriggled free from under Ricardo’s shoulder and started to pound the large ball of dough again. She punched it hard, sending a puff of flour into the air. “We can only hope she is good at other things then can’t we, muchacho?”

  Ricardo laughed.“You know me too well.”

  Lucia shot him a sideways glance that had the beginnings of a wry smile, but completely ignored Helen. “Get out of my kitchen and go play like a good boy,” she grumbled. “Let me know when you want dinner.”

  “I’m really not at all hungry.” Helen crossed her arms across her chest. For the first time in her life she wished she was a bloody cordon bleu cook just to put this woman’s superior old nose out of joint. She glared at Ricardo hard until her eyeballs hurt.

  “Ah, yes,” Ricardo said, his eyes flitting from one woman to the other appearing to sense that this situation needed delicate handling. “Helen, tesoro, why don’t you take yourself up to the pool and I’ll bring you something to drink in a few minutes?”

  Helen took the hint immediately and was relieved to be leaving the domain that was clearly not intended to be hers. The pool was easy to find around the back of the house, an enormous infinity one with spectacular views over the bay below.

  Feeling in a very bad mood and also feeling annoyingly hungry, Helen lowered herself down to the pool edge, kicked off her sandals, and dipped her feet into the deep clear water. As smooth ripples lapped around her ankles, a flash reflected up from the water. It was the morning sun hitting the massive diamond on her hand. It no longer seemed ostentatious, not here. Everything about Ricardo’s life was big and expensive. The biggest and the best, even down to his lovemaking, the hum of her aching muscles was testament to that. Correction: not lovemaking, but wildly intense, consensual sex. The word love wasn’t part of their deal.

  She held the ring a little closer. It was astonishingly beautiful, large clear flawless facets. She’d never looked at it closely in daylight before. Talk about marrying in haste! The stone itself was the size of a small mosaic tile, square with its rounded edges set in gold. She twisted it around and noticed an interruption in the smooth yellow metal mount. Squinting in the sunlight she made out some engraving. A lion’s head, similar to the cufflinks Ricardo had been wearing when their worlds had first collided in the Condesa’s boudoir. Helen laughed at the memory. She had sincerely thought he was about to kill her, but then she went and married her so-called assailant!

  The lion’s head had to be an Almanza crest of some sort. It suited him. He too was ferocious, proud, and magnificent. She twisted the ring in the opposite direction expecting to see a matching cat, but there was a different shape entirely. It was a flower. Looking at the leaves and the shape of its petals, it was just like a primrose… Helen swallowed. Did they have primroses in Spain? Or was it a reference to Primrose Farm? It had to be. Ricardo must have had the ring specially made for her. But surely even the keenest paparazzi lens couldn’t pick out such an intimate detail? Why had he done such a thing?

  She was surprisingly moved by the gesture. The man had made quite an effort in the few days before their hasty wedding. He had also pointed out the clause in the pre-nup that insisted all clothes, accessories, and jewelry were hers to keep. And she would. The ring was probably worth a fortune in scrap alone, but she’d never sell it. Ricardo had given it to her, and it was special.

  Her pleasure faded quickly, however, as she remembered the precise details of when he’d given her the ring. He hadn’t gone down on one knee, said he loved her and pleaded for her hand. No, not quite. He’d chucked it at her and left the room without a backwards glance to see if she even liked it. Helen sighed sadly and closed her eyes against the bright sunshine.

  This was a business deal with the added bonus of some hot sex thrown in. Three months was enough to keep up appearances. Could a honeymoon last that long? There were so many unasked questions about this marriage.

  “Food!”

  Helen’s nose twitched as Ricardo slid a plate of warm sugar-coated pastries and a cup of coffee down beside her on a wooden tray. “I’m not sure I dare try one of those,” she murmured.

  “And why not?”

  “Because Lucia hates me. She’ll have slung some Menorcan hemlock in there.”

  Ricardo bit lavishly down into one of the sweet morsels and Helen’s mouth began to water as crispy flakes crumbled down the front of his T-shirt. “Death by cake sounds fine to me,” he said.

  Helen snatched up a round one with a glossy half moon of yellow nestling in its center. “Greedy bloody sod.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “I hope you choke,” she muttered with half a smile and closed her eyes as buttery almonds, vanilla, and peach melted like sin on her tongue.

  “If I go before you do, darling,” he said with a grin, “you’ll be a very rich woman. A merry widow who won’t have to worry about cooking for herself ever again.”

  “Rubbish. If your lawyer hasn’t covered your sudden death by cake then he should be struck off.” She accepted the fat china cup of café con leche that he handed her. “Anyway, I didn’t know you were a banker.”

  “You don’t know that much about me at all.” He helped himself to a cigar-shaped delight with a chocolate center. “This is a marriage of convenience, remember?”

  Helen laughed in spite of herself. “Fair enough, I deserved that.”

  “Lucia doesn’t hate you, for what it’s worth.”

  “I’d never have guessed.”

  “You should have a chat with her newest daughter-in-law. Believe me, you have no idea how protective Menorcan mamas can be. Anyway, you can relax, she just went home.”

  “Does she ever smile?”

  “After and during cider she does.”

  Helen snorted. “Blimey, I’d like to see that!”

  “Stick around until the next family celebration and you just might, along with her husband’s famous spit roast pork. It’s the only time she doesn’t cook, because she’s too…happy.” His eyebrows lifted at the sound of a telephone ringing inside the house. “Who the hell is that? I don’t think that phone’s rung in about three years!”

  Helen watched as he marched quickly through an arch on the terrace and waited silently until the sound of ringing stopped. She wondered if she would be around when the next family celebration occurred. Part of her hoped there would be one within the next three months.

  Ricardo’s harsh voice behind her made her jump. “I need you to swallow that mouthful and be very brave.” His expression was serious. “I’m sorry to have to ask, but I think I might need your help.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “Lucia’s son, her eldest, his house is on fire. His wife and kids are inside and he’s trying to get to them, but the staircase has collapsed. The emergency services are on their way, but we’re nearer—”

  Helen leaped to her feet and snatched up her bag. “Come on, let’s go.”

  …

  Perhaps he should have left her behind.

  He had no idea what would be waiting for them when they arrived at Tino’s farm. It could be unpleasant. Distressing. Traumatic. But it was too late now. They were in the middle of nowhere and about five minutes away from a burning building with no civilization in between.

  He had to break the silence. “Are you okay?”

  Helen turned to face him, her hair whipping across her face as the Jeep lurched forward over the rough road surface. “I’m the last person you should be worrying about!” she shouted over the noise of flying grit and a hot engine.

  “That’
s good to hear.” He hoped she was right as his heart skipped a beat at what lay ahead. She stared in front of her and he could see a muscle working in her jaw. “There’s the smoke. We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

  The Jeep skidded to a halt in a shower of grit a few yards from the burning farmhouse. “No flames this side!” Ricardo shouted as he leaped out of the driver’s seat and began to run towards the building. “Must be round the back. Tino!”

  He didn’t hear Helen reply as his feet pounded the rock hard mud drive, but this was no time for social niceties. He wasn’t panicking, but his heart was full of dread at the prospect of what was around the corner. Why did things like this always seem to happen to the nice people?

  Ricardo saw Tino standing with his arms raised to the sky on the back terrace.

  “Senor Almanza! Gracias a Dios! Thank God!”

  Blood trickled down the man’s face, a scarlet trail through grey ash and red soil. His breath came in short bursts. “I’ve tried to get up there by the ladder, but it slips on the terrace. The marble—”

  “Where are they?”

  Tino pointed to an open window two floors up. “Estrella is in the bathroom, with the children, safer there. She wouldn’t throw the baby down, she couldn’t do it. She said she was going to soak towels in water, but I keep shouting for her and she’s stopped calling back.” Tino’s voice cracked. “I’m so scared, senor.”

  “How long since she spoke?”

  “A few minutes. Just before I heard your car.”

  “Quickly, the ladder!” Ricardo shouted as he dragged it up off the ground and propped it up against the wall underneath the bathroom window. “Wedge your feet against the bottom and hold it steady so it doesn’t slip again. I’ll go up.”

  “No, senor, it is too dangerous. Let me.”

  Ricardo had been the first to find dead bodies once before. He wasn’t going to let another human being go through that. “I’m taller and stronger than you, Tino. And you’re bleeding everywhere. You’ll frighten them all. Just hold the ladder.” He shot him a stern look and ignored the nausea he was feeling. “Now!”

  The wooden ladder wobbled as he climbed it as quickly and safely as possible, blocking out the sensation of heat he could feel emanating from the building. He thanked God that the old building didn’t have modern tiny inaccessible bathroom windows. He’d be able to climb inside reasonably easily.