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

by Abby Green

  He realised now for the first time that the knowledge that he was his nephews’ legal guardian had soothed something inside him. Something he never could have acknowledged before, while Rio had held him at arm’s length. It was the part of him that had failed in being able to protect his brother when they were younger. He was able to do this now for his nephews in the most profound way. It made emotion rise up, and with it futile anger at Rio’s death.

  Cruz’s mind deviated then, with irritating predictability, back to his new wife. He’d expected something more from her by now—some show or hint of defiance that would reveal her irritation at having her wings clipped. But there was nothing. Just those big blue eyes, looking at him suspiciously. As if he might take a bite out of her... That thought immediately made him think of sinking his teeth into soft pale flesh.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He would not fall into that pit of fire again. She disgusted him.

  A little voice jeered at him. She disgusts you so much that your blood simmers every time she’s close?

  Cruz shut it down ruthlessly.

  Trinity would not tempt him again. This situation was all about containment and control and ensuring his nephews were in his care and safe. That was all that mattered—their legacy. As soon as she realised how limited her life would be she’d be begging for a divorce, and that day couldn’t come soon enough.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A WEEK LATER Trinity felt as if she were on a slightly more even keel. She and the boys and Mrs Jordan had finally settled, somewhat, into their palatial rooms. Decorated in light greys and soft pinks and blues, with contemporary furniture and a modern media centre, they made for a more soothing environment than the rest of the dark and brooding castillo, which was not unlike its owner.

  Mrs Jordan had an entire apartment to herself, as did Trinity, and they were both connected by the boys’ room, which was light and bright but other than that showed no indication that it was home to two small boys with more energy than a bag of long-life batteries.

  They took their meals in a large sunny dining room, not far from their rooms, that led out to a landscaped garden. Trinity and Mrs Jordan spent most of their time running after Matty and Sancho, trying to stop them pulling the very exotic-looking flowers out of the pristine beds.

  Trinity sighed now, and pushed some hair behind her ear as she contemplated the two napping toddlers who looked as exhausted as she felt. She’d have to talk to Cruz about modifying their bedroom and installing something more practical outside that would occupy their vast energy and satisfy their need to be stimulated. Otherwise the head gardener was going to be very upset, and the boys were going to grow more and more frustrated.

  The staff they’d seen so far—a taciturn housekeeper who spoke no English and a young girl who looked terrified—hardly inspired confidence in it being a happy household where she could get to know people and let the boys run free. It was very obvious that Cruz believed he had corralled them exactly where he wanted them and had now all but washed his hands of her, in spite of his decree that she be available as his social escort.

  Mrs Jordan had had the morning off, and was going to keep an eye on the boys this afternoon when they woke, so Trinity took the opportunity to go and see if Cruz had returned from his trip to Madrid yet—she’d managed to ascertain that he’d gone from the shy maid.

  She refused to give in to a growing feeling of helplessness but while making her way from their wing of the castillo, back through the pretty courtyard, she could feel her heart-rate increasing. She told herself it was not in anticipation of seeing Cruz after a few days. What was wrong with her? Was she a complete masochist?

  As she walked past the stern portraits of the ancestors she didn’t look up, not wanting to see if their eyes would be following her censoriously, judging her silently.

  Just at that moment a door opened and a tall hard body stepped out—right in front of Trinity. She found herself slamming straight into the man who so easily dominated her thoughts.

  Big hands caught her upper arms to stop her lurching backwards. All her breath seemed to have left her lungs with the impact as she stared up into those tawny eyes.

  Somehow she managed to get out the words, ‘You’re back.’

  Cruz’s hands tightened almost painfully on Trinity’s arms. ‘I got back late last night.’

  Tension was instant between them, and something else much more ambiguous and electric. She tried to move back but she couldn’t.

  Panic that he might see her reaction to him spiked. ‘You can let me go.’

  Cruz’s eyes widened a fraction, as if he’d been unaware he was holding her, and then suddenly he dropped his hands as if burnt. Trinity stepped back, feeling sick at the expression crossing his face—something between disgust and horror. She’d seen that look before, after he’d kissed her.

  She said quickly, ‘I was looking for you, actually.’

  After a silent moment Cruz stepped aside and gestured for her to go into the room he’d just left. She stepped inside, still feeling shaky after that sudden physical impact.

  Cruz closed the door and walked to his desk, turning around to face her. ‘I’ll call for some coffee—or would you prefer tea?’

  ‘Tea would be lovely, thank you.’

  So polite. As if he hadn’t just dumped her and her stepsons in his remote intimidating home and left them to their own devices. Maybe he thought she would have run screaming by now?

  When Cruz turned away to lean over his desk and pick up the phone Trinity had to consciously drag her gaze away from where his thin shirt stretched enticingly over flexed and taut muscles. She looked around the room, which was huge and obviously his home office.

  Dark wood panelling and big antique furniture gave it a serious air. Floor-to-ceiling shelves dominated one whole wall, and Trinity felt a wave of heat scorch her from the inside out as the memory of another wall of shelves flashed back, of how it had felt to have Cruz press her against it so passionately.

  ‘Do you still read?’

  Trinity’s head snapped back to Cruz. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d finished the call. She was mortified, and crushed the memory, hoping her cheeks weren’t flaming.

  She shook her head, saying with a slightly strangled voice, ‘I haven’t had much time lately.’ She was usually so exhausted when she went to bed now that her love of reading was a thing of the past. A rare luxury.

  ‘Well? You said you were looking for me?’

  He was looking at her expectantly, one hip resting on his desk, arms folded. Formidable. Remote. Her ex-employer, now her husband, but a stranger. It struck her then that even though they’d shared that brief intimacy, and she’d had a glimpse of what lay under the surface, he was still a total enigma.

  She shoved down her trepidation. ‘Yes. I wanted to talk to you about the boys.’

  A light knock came on the door, and he called for whoever it was to come in as he frowned and said, ‘What’s wrong? Are they okay?’

  The maid, Julia, appeared with a tray of tea and coffee, distracting Trinity. She noticed how the girl blushed when Cruz bestowed a polite smile on her and said thank you. Trinity felt humiliation curl inside her. She’d used to blush like that when she’d worked for him. It felt like a lifetime ago.

  When the girl had left Cruz was still looking at Trinity, waiting for her answer. Feeling exposed under that laser-like intensity, she said, ‘Nothing is wrong with them—they’re fine. Settling in better than I’d expected, actually.’

  Some of the tension left Cruz’s shoulders and she felt a dart of unexpected emotion—what if he really did care about the boys?

  He deftly poured tea for her and coffee for him and handed her a cup. ‘Sit down.’

  She chose a chair near the desk and cradled her cup, watching warily as he took a seat on the oth
er side of his desk. He took a sip of his coffee and arched one dark golden brow, clearly waiting for her to elaborate.

  She put the cup down on the table in front of her and sat up straight. ‘The rooms...our rooms...are lovely. And very comfortable. But the boys’ room isn’t exactly tailored for children their age. It could do with brightening up, being made more cheerful—somewhere they can play and where they’ll want to go to sleep. Also, they’ve been playing in the gardens—which they love—but again it’s not exactly suitable for them. Your head gardener has already had to replant some of his flowerbeds.’

  * * *

  Cruz’s conscience pricked as he acknowledged that he’d not even had the courtesy to stick around for one day and make sure that Trinity and his nephews and their nanny were comfortable.

  He knew that the castillo was dated in parts, but the rooms he’d given to them had been those used by his mother before her death, so they were the most up-to-date. But evidently not up-to-date enough.

  It hadn’t even occurred to him to make the space child-friendly, and that stung now. What also stung was the fact that he had to acknowledge that his trip to Madrid had been less about business and more about putting some space between him and this new domestic world he’d brought back to Spain with him.

  He was distracted by Trinity’s very earthy clean-faced appeal. A look he had thought she’d eschewed as soon as she’d married Rio. Certainly any pictures he’d seen of them together had shown her to have morphed into someone who favoured heavy make-up and skimpy clothes.

  And yet where was the evidence of that now? Her hair was pulled back into a low, messy bun. She was wearing soft jeans and a loose shirt, with a stain that looked suspiciously like dried food on her shoulder—as unalluring as any woman who had ever appeared in front of him, and yet it didn’t matter. Cruz’s blood sizzled over a low-banked fire of lust.

  ‘So, what are you suggesting?’ he asked, irritated at this reminder of how much she affected him.

  Trinity swallowed, making Cruz notice the long slim column of her throat. Even that had an effect on him. Damn it.

  ‘I’d like to make the boy’s room more colourful and fun. And with regards to the garden... I’m not saying that that’s not enough for them—your grounds are stunning—but they’re bright, inquisitive boys and they’re already becoming frustrated with being told they can’t roam freely and touch what they want. Perhaps if they had something that would occupy their energy, like swings... They loved the children’s playground in Regent’s Park.’

  All of what she’d just said was eminently reasonable, yet Cruz felt a tide of tension rising up through his body.

  ‘Anything else?’

  As if she could sense his tension, something flashed in her eyes. Fire. It sent a jolt of adrenalin through Cruz. She certainly wasn’t the shy girl who’d come for that job interview a couple of years ago. More evidence of her duality, if he’d needed it.

  She lifted her chin. ‘Yes, actually. I don’t know how the school systems work here, but if it’s anything like in the UK I’ll—’ She stopped herself and flushed slightly. ‘That is, we’ll have to think about enrolling them in a local school. Also, I’d like to investigate playschools in the area—they should be around other children their own age. Surely you weren’t expecting to them to never go beyond the castillo gates?’

  He’d never been allowed beyond the castillo gates until he’d gone to boarding school in England.

  He reacted testily to the fact that she was showing a level of consideration for his nephews that he’d never expected to see. ‘Are you sure you’re not just looking for opportunities to spread your own wings beyond these walls? You’re not a prisoner, Trinity, you can leave any time you want. But if you do the boys remain here.’

  She paled dramatically, any bravado gone, but seconds later a wash of bright pink came into her cheeks. Cruz was momentarily mesmerised by this display of emotion—he was used to people disguising their natural reactions around him. It had intrigued him before and he was surprised that she still had the ability.

  She stood up. ‘I’m well aware that I am here because I have little or no choice—not if I want to see my stepsons flourish and be secure—but I will never walk away from them. Not while they need me. I will do whatever it takes to ensure their happiness and wellbeing.’

  Her blue eyes blazed. Dios, but she was stunning.

  ‘So if you’re hoping to see the back of me it won’t be any time soon, I can assure you.’

  With that, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, the heavy door closing with a solid thunk behind her. Cruz cursed volubly and stood up, muscles poised to go after her. But then he stopped.

  He turned to face the window, which took in the breathtaking vista of the expanse of his estate. He couldn’t allow Trinity to distract him by fooling him into thinking she’d changed. Because the moment he dropped his guard she’d have won.

  * * *

  ‘What on earth did you say to him?’

  Trinity was too shocked to respond to Mrs Jordan’s question as she took in the scene before her. Building was underway on a playground for the boys...an exact replica of the playground in Regent’s Park.

  At that moment the atmosphere became charged with a kind of awareness that only happened around one person. Cruz.

  Mrs Jordan reacted to his presence before Trinity did. ‘Mr De Carrillo, this really is spectacular—the boys will love it.’

  He came to stand beside Trinity and his scent tickled her nostrils, earthy and masculine. Her belly tightened and she flushed. Superstitiously she didn’t want to look at him, as if that might make his impact less.

  He answered smoothly, ‘Please, Mrs Jordan, call me Cruz... Trinity was right—the boys need somewhere they can expend their energy safely.’

  Matty and Sancho were currently playing with big toy building bricks in an area that had been cordoned off for them by the builders. They were wearing small hard hats and jeans and T-shirts and they looked adorable, faces intent, trying to keep up with the real builders just a few feet away.

  Mrs Jordan turned to Cruz more directly and said, with an innocent tone in her voice, ‘We were just about to bring the boys in for lunch—won’t you join us?’

  Trinity glanced at the woman, aghast, but Mrs Jordan was ignoring her. Fully expecting Cruz to refuse, she couldn’t believe it when, after a long moment, he said consideringly, ‘Thank you. That would be lovely.’

  Mrs Jordan smiled. ‘I’ll ask Julia to add another place.’

  She disappeared with a suspicious twinkle in her eye before Trinity could say anything. She supposed she couldn’t really blame the woman for taking the opportunity to meddle gently when it arose.

  When Trinity glanced up at Cruz she almost expected him to look irritated at the thought of spending lunch with them, but he was staring at the boys with an enigmatic expression on his face. Uncertainty?

  Then, as if he sensed her watching him, the expression was gone and he looked down at her. ‘You haven’t said anything—are the plans all right?’

  Against her best intentions to remain impervious to this man’s pull, something inside her melted a little at his thoughtfulness. She forced a smile. ‘They’re perfect. I didn’t expect you to take my words so literally.’

  He frowned. ‘But you said they loved that playground, so naturally I would try to recreate it for them.’

  Trinity desisted from pointing out that only a billionaire would think along such lavish lines and just said dryly, ‘It’s extremely generous, and they will love it. Thank you.’

  Cruz looked away from her to the boys and another curious expression crossed his face. She’d seen it before when he looked at them: something between fear and longing. Trinity cursed herself for not reading it properly till now. This man scrambled her brain cells too easily
.

  She said, ‘They won’t bite, you know. They’re as curious about you as you are about them.’

  Without taking his eyes off them Cruz said gruffly, ‘They always seem to look at me as if they don’t know what I am.’

  Trinity felt something weaken inside her at this evidence of rare vulnerability. ‘They don’t really know you yet, that’s all. Once they become more used to you they’ll relax. Why don’t you help me get them in for lunch?’

  She moved forward before he could see how easily he affected her.

  ‘Matty! Sancho!’ she called out when she came near to where they were playing so happily. ‘Time to go in for lunch.’

  Two identical faces looked up with predictable mulishness—and then they spied Cruz and immediately put down what they were playing with to come to Trinity. She bent down to their level and took their hats off, ruffling their heads, feeling the heat from their small, sturdy bodies. Even though they were in the shade the Spanish spring was getting warmer every day.

  Cruz was towering over them in one of his trademark pristine suits. No wonder he intimidated the boys. He intimidated her. Softly she said, ‘It might help if you come down to their level.’

  He squatted down beside her and the movement made her uncomfortably aware of his very potent masculinity. She closed her eyes for a second. What was wrong with her? Until she’d shared that incendiary moment with him in his study she’d had no great interest in sex. And yet a couple of days in Cruz’s company again and all her hormones seemed to have come back to life.

  She focused her attention on her boys, who were huddled close, brown eyes huge. ‘Matty, Sancho...you know this is your Uncle Cruz’s house, where we’re going to live from now on?’ She ignored the pang inside her when she said that, and the thought of a life stretching ahead of her as a wife of inconvenience.

  ‘Man. The big man,’ Matty observed.

  Trinity bit back a smile at the innocent nickname. ‘Yes, sweetie—but he’s also your uncle and he wants to get to know you better.’