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

by Abby Green

  ‘And I’m just the unlucky pawn who got in your way.’

  The bitterness in Tiffany’s voice surprised him. Anger spiked at the way his control was starting seriously to fray at the edges. ‘You put yourself in the way—by seducing my brother. By inserting yourself into my nephews’ lives so they’d come to depend on you.’

  She went pale and looked impossibly wounded. ‘I’ve told you—that’s not—’

  Before she could issue another lie Cruz’s control snapped and he acted on blind instinct and need. He reached for Trinity, clamping his hands around her waist, and pulled her towards him, vaguely registering how slender and light she felt under his hands.

  He only had a second of seeing her eyes widen with shock before his mouth crashed down onto hers, and for a long second nothing existed except this pure, spiking shard of lust, so strong that he had no option but to move his mouth and haul Trinity even closer, until he could feel every luscious curve pressed against him.

  And it was only in that moment, when their mouths were fused and he could feel her heart clamouring against his chest, that he could finally recognise the truth: he’d been aching for this since the night he’d kissed her for the first time.

  * * *

  Trinity wasn’t even sure what had happened. A minute ago she’d been blisteringly angry with Cruz and now she was drowning and burning up at the same time. The desire she’d hoped she could keep buried deep inside her was shaming her with its instant resurrection. Brought back to life by a white-hot inferno scorching along every artery and vein in her body.

  Cruz’s mouth was hot and hard, moving over hers with such precision that Trinity couldn’t deny him access, and when his tongue stroked hers with an explicitness that made heat rush between her legs her hands tightened around his arms, where they’d gone instinctively to hang on to something...anything...so she wouldn’t float away.

  His hands were still on her waist and one started moving up her torso, until it came tantalisingly close to the side of her breast, where her nipple peaked with need, stiffening against the sheer material of her underwear and her dress. She remembered what it was like to have his mouth on her there...the hot sucking heat...the excruciating pleasure of his touch.

  A voice from the past whispered through the clamour of her blood—his voice. ‘It should never have happened.’ It was like a slap across the face.

  Trinity jerked backwards away from Cruz. She was panting as if she’d just run a race. Mortification was swift and all-consuming. He’d barely had to touch her before she’d gone up in flames. Any hope of convincing him she didn’t want him was comprehensively annihilated. It wasn’t even a comfort to see that his hair was dishevelled and his cheeks were flushed.

  Those amber eyes glittered darkly. He muttered, ‘I told myself I wouldn’t touch you ever again, but I can’t not touch you.’

  She took her hands off him, but he caught them and held them tightly. The recrimination on his face was far too painfully familiar. She was angry and hurt.

  ‘So now it’s justifiable for you to kiss me, even if you still hate yourself for it? Because I’m your wife and not just a lowly maid?’

  She pulled her hands free and balled them into fists in her lap.

  Cruz frowned, ‘What the hell are you talking about—justifiable?’

  Trinity tried not to sound as emotional as she felt. ‘You rejected me that night because you couldn’t bear the thought that you’d kissed your maid. I saw the kind of women you took as lovers, and you don’t need to tell me that I was nowhere near their level—socially, economically or intellectually.’

  Cruz clamped his hands around her arms, his face flushing. He was livid. ‘You think I stopped making love to you because I was a snob? Dios Trinity, that was not the case. I had to stop because you were my employee and I had a duty of care towards you. I put you in a compromising situation where you might have felt too scared to say no.’

  His mouth twisted.

  ‘My father was renowned for his affairs—some of which were with willing and impressionable staff members at the castillo. I vowed that I would never follow his footsteps—not least because I’d seen the destruction one of his affairs cost us all. He slept with Rio’s mother, who took advantage of the situation, only to then abandon her son.’

  Trinity was speechless for a moment as she absorbed this. ‘You think,’ she framed shakily, ‘that I’m like Rio’s mother, then? That I’m no better...?’

  Cruz’s wide, sensual mouth compressed. ‘I didn’t think so at first—not that night. I hated myself for losing control like that, but I didn’t blame you. Since then...let’s just say any illusions about your innocence I may have had have been well and truly shattered.’

  An awful poignancy gripped Trinity at the thought that for a short while Cruz had seen the real her...and respected her. But even the memory of her naivety and humiliation couldn’t stop her saying bitterly, ‘It would only have ever been a mistake, though, wouldn’t it? I mean, let’s not fool ourselves that it would have developed into anything...more...’

  More. Like the kind of more that Cruz had once hoped existed until any such notion was drummed out of him by his mother and her bitter words? Since then he’d never been proved wrong—any woman he’d been with had only confirmed his cynicism. Not least this one. And yet...when he’d first laid eyes on her he’d never seen anyone who looked so untouched and innocent.

  And she was looking at him now with those huge eyes, taunting him for his flight of fancy. It was as if she was reaching inside him to touch a raw wound.

  He was unaware of his hands tightening on her arms, knew only that he needed to push her back.

  ‘More...like what?’ he all but sneered. ‘Hearts and flowers? Tender lovemaking and declarations of undying love? I don’t do tender lovemaking, Trinity, I would have taken you until we were both sated and then moved on. I have no time for relationships—my life isn’t about that. It never was and it never will be. I have a duty of care to my nephews now, and you’re here only because I’m legally bound to have you here.’ His mouth twisted. ‘The fact that I want you is a weakness I’m apparently not capable of overcoming.’

  A veritable cavalcade of emotions crossed Trinity’s face, and then a look of almost unbelievable hurt—it had to be unbelievable—superseded them all. She shrank back, pulling herself free, and he only realised then how hard he’d been holding her. He curled his hands into fists and cursed himself. What was it about this woman that made his brain fuse and cease functioning?

  In a low voice that scraped along all of Cruz’s raw edges she said, ‘I wasn’t looking for anything more than a book that night, no matter what you choose to believe.’

  Cruz still felt volatile, and even more so now at this protestation of innocence and her stubborn refusal to reveal her true nature. He ground out, ‘Maybe if I’d taken you as I’d wanted to, there against the bookshelves, we wouldn’t be here now and Rio would still be alive.’

  Trinity had thought he couldn’t hurt her much more than he already had, but he just had—even as a lurid image blasted into her head of exactly the scenario he mentioned...his powerful body holding her captive against a wall of books while he thrust up, deep into her body.

  She held herself rigid, denying that hurt, and blasted back, ‘So you would have thrown over that elegant brunette beauty for me? Am I supposed to be flattered that you would have been happy to conduct an affair on your terms, only to discard me by the wayside when you were done with me?’

  A muscle ticked in Cruz’s jaw but he just said tersely, ‘We’re back at the castillo, we should get the ring. We’ve wasted enough time.’

  Wasted enough time.

  Trinity was still reeling as she followed Cruz’s broad tuxedoed form down stone steps to the vaults, holding her dress up in one hand. The depth of his cynicism astounded her
all over again, and she hated it that he’d hurt her so easily.

  She blamed his interaction with Matty and Sancho. It had made her lower her guard against him and he’d punished her for it, reminding her that he was not remotely someone to pin her hopes and dreams on... She scowled at herself. Since when had she ever entertained those notions herself? It wasn’t as if she’d ever been under any delusions of more.

  More existed for people who weren’t her or Cruz. Who had grown up with normal, functioning, loving families. And yet she couldn’t deny that when she’d worked for him for a brief moment she’d entertained daydreams of him noticing her...wanting her...smiling at her—

  Trinity slammed a lid on that humiliating Pandora’s box.

  She wasn’t sure what was worse—finding out that Cruz hadn’t dismissed her because she was a nobody all those years ago, or believing that if he’d taken her until they were both sated he could have averted Rio’s destruction. Right now, she hated Cruz with a passion that scared her.

  But not far under her hatred was something much more treacherous. A very illicit racing excitement at the knowledge that he still wanted her. And that he’d rejected her because he’d felt he’d taken advantage of his position, not because he’d been horrified to find himself attracted to her...

  Once in the vault, Trinity welcomed the change of scenery from the heightened and heated intensity of the back of the Jeep even as she shivered in the cold, dank air.

  She hated herself for it, but found herself instinctively moving closer to Cruz’s tall, lean form because the place gave her the creeps. She could imagine it being used as a location for the Spanish Inquisition, with its dark stone walls and shadowy cavernous corridors.

  She thought, not a little hysterically, that if they’d been back in medieval times Cruz might have just incarcerated her down here in a cell.

  He had pulled out a velvet tray of rings from a box in the wall and stood back. ‘Choose one.’

  Trinity reluctantly stepped forward. Almost immediately one ring in the centre of the tray caught her eye. It was one of the smallest rings, with an ornate gold setting and a small square ruby in the middle.

  Cruz followed her gaze and picked it up. ‘This one?’

  She nodded. He took her hand and held it up and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfunctory gesture, so it shouldn’t feel in any way momentous but it did. The ring fitted like a glove and, bizarrely, Trinity felt emotion rising when emotion had no place there—especially not after what had just passed between them.

  Swallowing the emotion with effort, Trinity was unprepared when Cruz took her chin in his thumb and forefinger, tipping it up. The look in his eyes burned.

  ‘As much as I’d like to be able to resist you, I don’t think I can.’

  Her heart thumped—hard. The thought of Cruz touching her again and seeing right through to where she was most vulnerable was anathema.

  She jerked her chin out of his hand. ‘Well, I can resist you enough for both of us.’

  He smiled urbanely and stood back, putting out a hand to let her go ahead of him up the stairs and out of the vaults. ‘We’ll see,’ he said with infuriating arrogance as she passed him, and she had to stop herself from running up the stairs, away from his silky threat.

  * * *

  This was Cruz’s first social appearance back in Seville. His return was triumphant, now he had tripled his family’s fortune and restored the reputation of the once great bank. Now no one would dare say to his face or behind his back the things they’d used to say when his father had been alive.

  And yet he could not indulge in a sense of satisfaction. He was too keyed-up after that white-hot explosion of lust in the back of the Jeep, which had proved to him that where Trinity was concerned he had no control over his desires.

  His body still throbbed with sexual frustration. And he was distracted by their exchange, and how it had felt to see her with that ring on her finger down in the vaults. It had affected him in a place he hadn’t welcomed. As if it was somehow right that she should wear one of his family’s heirlooms.

  Down in that vault it had suddenly been very clear to him that he couldn’t fight his desire for her—so why should he? He might not like himself for his weakness but she was his wife, and the prospect of trying to resist her for the duration of their marriage was patently ridiculous.

  But something niggled at him—why wasn’t she using his desire for her as a means to negotiate or manipulate? Instead she’d looked almost haunted when she’d fled up the steps from the vault. She was still pale now, her eyes huge. Irritation prickled across Cruz’s skin. Maybe now that she knew he wanted her she was going to play him in a different way, drive him mad...

  ‘What is it?’ he asked abruptly. ‘You look paler than a wraith.’

  She swallowed, the movement drawing Cruz’s gaze to that long, slender column. Delicate. Vulnerable. Damn her. She was just playing him. He was giving in to his base desires again and—

  ‘I’m fine. I just... Events like this are intimidating. I never get used to it. I don’t know what to say to these people.’

  Cruz’s recriminations stopped dead. If she was acting then she was worthy of an award. He had a vivid flashback to seeing her standing alone in the crowd at that party in his house, the night of the accident, her stunning body barely decent in that scrap of a dress.

  Cruz had been too distracted by the rush of blood to his extremities to notice properly. He’d hated her for making him feel as if he was betraying his brother by still feeling attracted to her. But the memory jarred now. Not sitting so well with what he knew of her.

  Almost without registering the urge, Cruz took his hand off her elbow and snaked it around her waist, tugging her into his side. It had the effect of muting his desire to a dull roar. She looked up at him, tense under his arm. Something feral within him longed for her to admit to this attraction between them.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘We’re married, querida, we need to look it. Just follow my lead. most of the people here are committed egotists, so once you satisfy their urge to talk about themselves they’re happy.’

  ‘You don’t count yourself in that category?’

  Her quick comeback caused Cruz’s mouth to tip up. Suddenly the dry, sterile event wasn’t so...boring. And she had a flush in her face now, which aroused him as much as it sent a tendril of relief to somewhere she shouldn’t be affecting him.

  He replied dryly, ‘I find it far more fruitful to allow others to run their mouths off.’

  Cruz’s hand rested low on Trinity’s hip and he squeezed it gently.

  She tensed again, as someone approached them, and he said, ‘Relax.’

  * * *

  Relax...

  It had been the easiest thing and the hardest thing in the world to melt into his side, as if she was meant to be there. It was a cruel irony that she seemed to fit there so well, her softer body curving into his harder form as if especially made for that purpose.

  Cruz hadn’t let her out of his orbit all night. Even when she’d gone to the bathroom as soon as she’d walked back in to the function room his eyes had been the first thing she’d seen, compelling her back to his side like burning beacons.

  It had been both disconcerting and exhilarating. In social situations before she’d invariably been left to fend for herself, Rio being done with her once their initial entrance had been made.

  Trinity sighed now and finished tucking Matty and Sancho into their beds—she’d come straight here upon their return from the function, all but running away from Cruz, who had been lazily undoing his bow tie and looking utterly sinful.

  The boys were spreadeagled, covers askew, pyjamas twisted around their bodies. Overcome with tenderness for these two small orphaned boys, she smoothed back a lock of Sancho’s hair and s
at on the side of Matty’s bed, careful not to disturb him. Resolve filled her anew not to bow under Cruz’s increasingly down-and-dirty methods to disturb her—that incendiary kiss in the back of his Jeep, his words of silky promise in the vault...

  After this evening things had changed. Cruz had obviously given himself licence to seduce her. And she knew if he touched her again her ability to resist would be shamefully weak.

  She looked at the ring on her finger—heavy, golden. A brand. And an unwelcome reminder of the emotion she’d felt when Cruz had pushed it onto her finger.

  She hated it that he believed whatever lies Rio had told him about her so easily. She wasn’t remotely mercenary or avaricious. She had remonstrated with Rio countless times over the amounts of money he was spending on her. But he hadn’t wanted to know. He’d told her that they had a certain standard to maintain, and that she needed to educate herself about fashion, art, et cetera.

  The prospect of a future in which Cruz refused to listen to her and wore down her defences until he found out about her innocence in the most exposing way possible filled Trinity with horror.

  She stood up and left the room decisively. She had to at least try to make Cruz see that she wasn’t who he thought she was. She would appeal to him rationally, without emotion and physical desire blurring the lines between them.

  Above all, she had to make him see that the twins were and always had been her priority.

  It was time to talk to her husband and make him listen to her.

  * * *

  ‘Come in.’

  Trinity nearly lost her nerve at the sound of that deeply authoritative voice, but she refused to give in to it and pushed the door open. Cruz was sitting behind his desk, jacket off, shirtsleeves rolled up and the top of his shirt undone. There was a glass of something in his hand. He epitomised louche masculine sensuality.

  He looked up from the papers he’d been perusing and immediately sat up straight and frowned when he saw it was her. ‘What’s wrong? Is it the boys?’