Claimed for the De Carrillo Twins (Wedlocked! Book #84)

by Abby Green

  That was when she’d been unable to hold her emotions in, utterly ashamed that she’d let her crush grow to such gargantuan proportions that she’d let him actually hurt her. And that was when Rio, Cruz’s half-brother, who had also been a guest that night, had found her outside, in a hidden corner of the garden, weeping pathetically.

  He’d come outside to smoke and had sat down beside her, telling her to relax when she’d tried to rush back inside, mortified. And somehow...she still wasn’t sure how...he’d managed to get her to open up, to reveal what had happened. She hadn’t told him of her burgeoning feelings for Cruz, but she probably hadn’t had to. It must have been emblazoned all over her tearstained face.

  ‘Tell me what your price is for signing away your guardianship of my nephews?’

  Trinity blinked and the painful memory faded.

  As she focused on his words she went cold all over. ‘What did you just say?’

  Cruz snapped his fingers, displeasure oozing from his tall, hard body. ‘You heard me—how much will it take, Trinity, for you to get out of my nephews’ lives, because I don’t doubt you have a price.’

  Horror curdled her insides at the thought of being removed from Mateo and Sancho. Only that morning Sancho had thrown his arms around her and said, ‘I love you, Mummy...’

  She shook her head now, something much hotter replacing the horror. ‘There is no price you could pay me to leave the boys.’

  ‘I am their blood relation.’

  ‘You’ve only met them a handful of times!’

  Cruz snorted. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you could care for them more than their own flesh and blood? You’ve just been using them as a meal ticket. And now that Rio’s left nothing behind they’re your only hope of keeping your nest feathered—presumably by extorting money out of me.’

  Trinity gasped. ‘I would never—’

  Cruz lifted a hand. ‘Spare me.’

  Trinity’s mouth closed as she struggled to process this. All her protective hackles were raised high now, at the suggestion that she would use her stepchildren for her own ends. She would never leave them at the mercy of a cold-hearted billionaire who didn’t even really know them, in spite of that flesh and blood relationship.

  Impulsively she asked, ‘What qualifications could you possibly have for taking on two toddlers? Have you ever even held a baby? Changed a nappy?’

  Cruz’s jaw clenched. ‘I do not need qualifications. I’m their uncle. I will hire the best possible staff to attend to their every need.’

  His gaze narrowed on her so intently she fought against squirming under it.

  ‘What possible qualifications could you have? When you came to work for me you’d left school after your A-levels with not much work experience.’

  His remark went right to the heart of her and stung—badly. It stung because of the way she’d longed to impress this man at one time, and had yearned to catch his attention. It stung because of the very private dreams she’d harboured to further her education. And it stung because in all the foster homes where she’d lived through her formative years she’d instinctively found herself mothering any younger foster children, as if drawn to create what she didn’t have: a family.

  She pushed down the hurt at Cruz’s sneering disdain now, cursing her naivety, and lifted her chin. ‘I’ve been caring for them since they were a year old. No one is qualified to be a parent until they become one. From the moment I married Rio I became their step-parent, and I would never turn my back on them.’

  ‘Very noble indeed. But forgive me if I don’t believe you. Now, we can continue to go around in these tiresome circles, or you can just tell me how much it’ll take.’

  He gestured to the table and she looked down to see a chequebook.

  ‘I will write a cheque for whatever you want, Trinity, so let’s stop playing games. You’ve done it. Your impressive act of caring for children that aren’t your own is over. You can get on with your life.’

  The sheer ease with which Cruz revealed his astounding cynicism angered Trinity as much as it shocked her.

  She balled her hands into fists by her sides. ‘I am not playing games. And those boys are as much mine as if I’d given birth to them myself.’ It hit her then—the enormity of the love she felt for them. She’d always known she loved them, but right now she’d lay her life down for them.

  The thought of Cruz taking the boys and washing his hands of them the way Rio had done—abdicating all responsibility to some faceless nanny—made her feel desperate. She had to try and make him believe her.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Please listen to me, Cruz. The marriage wasn’t what you think... The truth is that it was a marriage of convenience. The twins were primarily the reason I agreed to it. I wanted to protect them.’

  Trinity could feel her heart thumping. Tension snapped between them.

  Then, showing not a hint of expression, Cruz said, ‘Oh, I can imagine that it was very convenient. For you. And I have no doubt that my nephews were front and centre of your machinations. I know my brother was no saint—believe me, I’m under no illusions about that. But, based on his first choice of wife, it stretches the bounds of my credulity that he would turn around and marry a mere nanny, for convenience’s sake. He was a passionate man, Trinity. You are a beautiful woman. I can only imagine that you used every trick in the book to take it beyond an affair between boss and employee. After all, I have personal experience of your methods. But, believe me, the only “convenience” I see here is the way you so conveniently seduced your way into his bed and then into a registry office, making sure you’d be set for life.’

  Trinity ignored Cruz’s ‘you’re a beautiful woman’ because it hadn’t sounded remotely complimentary. She longed to reveal that no such affair had taken place, but she felt suddenly vulnerable under that blistering gaze, all her anger draining away to be replaced with the humiliation she’d felt after that ‘personal experience’ he’d spoken of.

  She found the words to inform him that Rio hadn’t been remotely interested in her lodging in her throat. The reality was that one brother had rejected her and another had used her for his own ends. And the fact that she was letting this get to her now was even more galling. She should be thinking of Mateo and Sancho, not her own deep insecurities.

  She stood tall against the biggest threat she’d ever faced. ‘I’m not going anywhere. I am their legal guardian.’

  Cruz folded his arms. ‘I won’t hesitate to take you to court to fight for their custody if I have to. Do you really want that to happen? Who do you think the courts will favour? Their flesh-and-blood uncle, who has nothing but their best interests at heart and the means to set them up for life, or their opportunistic stepmother who systematically spent her way through her husband’s wealth? Needless to say if you force this route then you will receive nothing.’

  Trinity felt her blood rush south so quickly that she swayed on her feet, but she sucked in a quick breath to regain her composure before he could see it. ‘You can’t threaten me like this,’ she said, as firmly as she could. ‘I’m their legal guardian, as per Rio’s wishes.’

  Cruz bit out, ‘I told you before—I’m not interested in playing games.’

  ‘Neither am I!’ Trinity almost wailed. ‘But I’m not letting you bully me into handing over custody of Matty and Sancho.’

  Cruz looked disgusted. ‘Matty? What on earth is that?’

  Trinity put her hands on her hips. ‘It’s what Sancho has called him ever since he started talking.’

  Cruz waved a hand dismissively. ‘It’s a ridiculous name for an heir to the De Carrillo fortune.’

  Trinity went still. ‘What do you mean, heir? Surely any children you have will be the heirs...’

  * * *

  Cruz was close to reaching boiling point—which wasn’t helped by
the fact that his libido seemed to be reaching boiling point too. He was uncomfortably aware of how Trinity’s breasts pushed against the fabric of her seemingly demure silk shirt. It was buttoned to her neck, but it was the most provocative thing he’d ever seen. It made him want to push aside the desk and rip it open so he could feast his gaze on those firm swells...

  Which was an unwelcome reminder of how he’d reacted that night when he’d found her in his study—supposedly looking for a book—testing the very limits of his control in not much more than a vest and sleep shorts, with a flimsy robe belted around her tiny waist.

  It had broken the limits of his control, proving that he wasn’t so far removed from his father after all, in spite of his best efforts.

  Cruz had had her backed up against the wall of shelves, grinding his achingly hard arousal into her quivering body, his fingers buried deep in slick heat and his mouth latched around a hard nipple, before he’d come to his senses...

  Cursing her silently, and reining in his thundering arousal, Cruz said, with a coolness that belied the heat under the surface, ‘Mateo and Sancho will be my heirs, as I have no intention of having any children.’

  Trinity shook her head. ‘Why would you say such a thing?’

  Already aware that he’d said too much, Cruz clamped down on the curious urge to explain that as soon as he’d heard Rio was having children he’d felt a weight lift off his shoulders, not having been really aware until then that he’d never relished the burden of producing an heir for the sake of the family business.

  He’d learnt from a young age what it was to have to stand by helplessly and watch his own half-brother being treated as nothing just because he was the result of an affair. He’d experienced the way parents—the people who were meant to love you the most—sometimes had scant regard for their offspring. Cruz might have been the privileged legitimate heir, but he’d been treated more like an employee than a loved son.

  He’d never felt that he had the necessary skills to be a father, and he’d never felt a desire to test that assertion. However, his nephews had changed things. And the fact that Rio was no longer alive really changed things now. And the fact that this woman believed she could control their fate was abominable.

  Cruz was aware that he barely knew his nephews—every time he saw them they hid behind Trinity’s legs, or their nanny’s skirts. And until Rio had died he hadn’t felt any great desire to connect with them...not knowing how to, in all honesty. But now an overwhelming instinct to protect them rose up in him and surprised him with its force. It reminded him of when he’d felt so protective of Rio when he’d been much smaller, and the reminder was poignant. And pertinent. He hadn’t been able to protect Rio, but he could protect his nephews.

  Perhaps Trinity thought she’d get more out of him like this. He rued the day she’d ever appeared in his life.

  Curtly he said, ‘I’ll give you tonight to think it over. Tomorrow, midday, I’ll come to the house—and trust me when I say that if you don’t have your price ready by then, you’ll have to prepare yourself for a legal battle after which you’ll wish that you’d taken what I’m offering.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ON THE BUS back to Rio’s house near Regent’s Park—Trinity had never considered it hers—she was still reeling. She felt as if someone had physically punched her. Cruz had...except without using fists...and the reminder that she’d once fancied herself almost in love with him was utterly mortifying now.

  The full enormity of his distrust in her was shocking—as was his threat that he would take her to court to get the boys if he had to.

  She didn’t need Cruz to tell her that she wouldn’t fare well up against one of the world’s wealthiest and most powerful men. As soon as his lawyers looked into her background and saw that she’d grown up in foster homes, with no family stability to her name, she’d be out of Matty and Sancho’s lives.

  It didn’t even occur to her to consider Cruz’s offer—the thought of leaving the twins in his cold and autocratic care was anathema to her.

  Being in such close proximity to him again had left her feeling on edge and jittery. Too aware of her body. Sometimes the memory of that cataclysmic night in Cruz’s study came back like a taunt. And, no matter how much she tried to resist it, it was too powerful for her to push down. It was as vivid as if it had just happened. The scene of her spectacular humiliation.

  The fact that Cruz obviously hated himself for what had happened was like the lash of a whip every time she saw him. As if she needed to be reminded of his disgust! As if he needed another reason to hate her now! Because that much was crystal-clear. He’d judged her and condemned her—he hadn’t even wanted to hear her defence.

  Trinity tried to resist thinking about the past, but the rain beating relentlessly against the bus windows didn’t help. She felt as if she was in a cocoon...

  She’d been working as Cruz’s housemaid for approximately six months, and one night, unable to sleep, she’d gone down to the study to find a new book. Cruz had told her to feel welcome to read his books after he’d found her curled up in a chair reading one day.

  Trinity had been very aware that she was developing a monumentally pathetic crush on her enigmatic boss—she’d even read about him in one of his discarded copies of the Financial Times.

  She’d loved to read the papers, even though she hadn’t understood half of what they talked about, and it had been her ambition to understand it all some day. She’d finally felt as if she was breaking away from her past, and that she could possibly prove that she didn’t have to be limited by the fact that her own parents had abandoned her.

  Cruz had epitomised success and keen intelligence, and Trinity had been helplessly impressed and inspired. Needless to say he was the kind of man who would never notice someone like her in a million years, no matter how polite to her he was. Except sometimes she’d look up and find him watching her with a curious expression on his face, and it would make her feel hot and flustered. Self-conscious...

  When she’d entered the study that night, she’d done so cautiously, even though she’d known Cruz was out at a function. She’d turned on a dim light and gone straight to the bookshelves, and had spent a happy few minutes looking for something to read among the very broad range he had. She’d been intrigued by the fact that alongside serious tomes on economics there were battered copies of John Le Carré and Agatha Christie. They humanised a very intimidating man.

  She’d almost jumped out of her skin when a deep voice had said, with a touch of humour, ‘Good to know it’s not a burglar rifling through my desk.’

  Trinity had immediately dropped the book she was looking at and turned to see Cruz in the doorway, breath-takingly gorgeous in a classic tuxedo, his bow tie rakishly undone. And her brain had just...melted.

  Eventually, when her wits had returned, she’d bent down to pick up the book, acutely aware of her state of undress, and started gabbling. ‘I’m sorry... I just wanted to get a book...couldn’t sleep...’

  She’d held the book in front of her like a shield. As if it might hide her braless breasts, covered only by the flimsiest material. But something in Cruz’s lazy stance changed as his eyes had raked over her, and the air had suddenly been charged. Electric.

  Her eyes had widened as he’d closed the distance between them. She’d been mesmerised. Glued to the spot. Glued to his face as it was revealed in the shadows of the room, all stark lines and angles. He’d taken the book she was holding out of her hand and looked at it, before putting it back on the shelf. He’d been so close she’d been able to smell his scent, and had wanted to close her eyes to breathe it in even deeper. She’d felt dizzy.

  Then he’d reached out and touched her hair, taking a strand between two fingers and letting it run between them. The fact that he’d come so close...was touching her...had been so unlikely that she hadn’t been able to
move.

  Her lower body had tightened with a kind of need she’d never felt before. She’d cursed her inexperience in that moment—cursed the fact that living in foster homes all her life had made her put up high walls of defence because she’d never been settled anywhere long enough to forge any kind of meaningful relationship.

  She’d known she should have moved...that this was ridiculous. That the longer she stood there, in thrall to her gorgeous boss, the sooner he’d step back and she’d be totally exposed. She’d never let anyone affect her like this before, but somehow, without even trying, he’d just slipped under her skin...

  But then he’d looked at her with a molten light in his eyes and said, ‘I want you, Trinity Adams. I know I shouldn’t, but I do.’

  He’d let her hair go.

  His words had shocked her so much that even though she’d known that was the moment to turn and walk out, her bare feet had stayed glued to the floor.

  A reckless desire had rushed through her, heady and dangerous, borne out of the impossible reality that Cruz De Carrillo was looking at her like this...saying he wanted her. She was a nobody. She came from nothing. And yet at that moment she’d felt seen in a way she’d never experienced before.

  It had come out of her, unbidden, from the deepest part of her. One word. ‘Please...’

  Cruz had looked at her for a long moment, and then he’d muttered something in Spanish as he’d taken her arms in his hands and walked her backwards until she’d hit the bookshelves with a soft thunk.

  And then he’d kissed her.

  But it had been more like a beautifully brutal awakening than a kiss. She’d gone on fire in seconds, and discovered that she was capable of sudden voracious desires and needs.

  His kiss had drugged her, taking her deep into herself and a world of new and amazing sensations. The feel of his rough tongue stroking hers had been so intimate and wicked, and yet more addictive than anything she’d ever known. She’d understood it in that moment—what the power of a drug might be.