by Abby Green
He opened the door softly and stepped in. His eyes immediately tracked to the two small figures in their beds and he went over, finding himself pulling their covers back over their bodies from where they’d kicked them off. Something turned over in his chest at seeing them sprawled across their beds, dark lashes long on plump cheeks, hair tousled. They looked so innocent, defenceless. Once again he was overcome with a sense of protectiveness.
Then he looked up and saw another figure, curled in the armchair near the beds. Trinity. She was asleep, her head resting on her shoulder. A book lay open on her thigh and he looked at it: The A-Z of Toddlers.
For a moment he felt blindsided at this evidence of her dedication. That sense of poignancy he’d felt earlier gripped him again, and it was deeply disturbing and exposing.
Something else prickled under his skin now. If she was playing a game then it was a very elaborate one.
He recalled her coming into his office last night and her words: ‘All that stuff that Rio told you about me being a gold-digger...none of it is true.’
Cruz’s rational mind reminded him that there was evidence of her treachery. Her name on receipts. Demands she’d made. Rio’s humiliation. Maybe this was her game—she was trying to convince him she was something she wasn’t and would wriggle under his skin like she had with Rio until he too felt compelled to give her everything...
‘Cruz?’
She was awake now, blinking up at him. She sat up, looking deliciously dishevelled, compounding the myriad conflicting emotions she evoked.
His voice was gruff when he spoke. ‘Go to bed, Trinity. I’ll sit up with them.’
She looked flustered. ‘No!’ She lowered her voice. ‘You don’t have to do that. It’s fine... I think they’re okay now, anyway. Their temperatures were normal last time I checked.’
‘Go to bed. I’ll let you know if anything happens.’
She looked up at him helplessly and he offered ruefully, ‘I’m going to have to get used to doing this kind of thing. I’m their uncle, and I don’t intend to treat them like guests in my home.’
For the first time since Rio had died it struck Cruz forcibly that he hadn’t really thought about how taking responsibility for his nephews would affect him until now. And this was what it meant, he realised with a kind of belated wonder. Being concerned. Sitting up all night to watch over them if need be.
Trinity eyes were wide, and even in this light Cruz could see the smudges of fatigue under them. From this angle he could also see down her shirt to the bountiful swells of her breasts. His body reacted.
He gritted out, ‘Just go.’
She stood up jerkily, as if her muscles were protesting. ‘You’ll let me know if they wake?’ She sounded uncertain.
Cruz nodded and took her place on the chair, stretching out his long legs and picking up the book. He gestured with it for her to go.
* * *
Feeling more than a little discombobulated at having woken to find Cruz standing over her, looking exactly like the sexy fantasy she’d envisaged earlier, Trinity eventually moved towards her own room, glancing back to see Cruz tipping his head back and closing his eyes, hands linked loosely across his flat abdomen.
Her footsteps faltered, though, as she was momentarily transfixed by the fact that he had insisted on staying. Emotion expanded in her chest at the domestic scene—dangerous emotion—as she thought how incongruous he looked here, yet how right.
His willingness to forge a bond with his nephews made that emotion turn awfully poignant... She had a vision of going over to him, smoothing his hair back...of him looking up at her and reaching for her, smiling sexily as he pulled her down onto his lap...
Shock at the vividness of this fantasy made her breathless. And at how much she yearned for it. When it was only his nephews he cared about. Not her.
Without opening his eyes, Cruz said softly, ‘Go to bed, Trinity.’
And she fled before he might see any vestige of that momentary fantasy on her face.
* * *
When Trinity woke the following morning it was later than she’d ever slept since she’d started looking after the twins. And they were her first thought.
She shot out of bed and went into their room, to see that their beds were empty and their pyjamas were neatly folded on their pillows.
She washed quickly and got dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, pulling her hair back into a low ponytail as she went down to the dining room, where she found Mrs Jordan and the twins.
‘Mummy!’ they both screeched in unison when they saw her, and her heart swelled.
She went over and kissed them both. She looked at the older woman. ‘You should have woken me.’
Mrs Jordan waved a hand. ‘Cruz wouldn’t hear of it. He insisted that you sleep in and I agreed. You’ve been looking tired lately.’
Trinity’s heart skipped. She still felt raw after that moment of insanity when she’d wished for a domestic idyll that would never exist.
‘He was still there this morning?’
She sat down and helped herself to coffee, noting with relief that the boys seemed to be making up for their lack of appetite the previous day, with their mouths full of mushy cereal.
Mrs Jordan nodded and a look of unmistakable awe came over her face. ‘He was changing them when I went in this morning, and apart from putting Sancho’s nappy on back to front he didn’t do a bad job at all...’
Trinity choked on her coffee, spraying some out of her mouth inelegantly, and the boys went into paroxysms of giggles.
‘Funny, Mummy...do it again!’
She distracted them for a minute, playing aeroplanes with their spoons as she fed them, and avoided Mrs Jordan’s far too shrewd gaze. She almost felt angry with Cruz for blurring the boundaries like this and inducing disturbing fantasies. And then she felt awful—she should be happy that he was intent on connecting with his nephews in a real and meaningful way.
After the boys had finished their breakfast, and Mrs Jordan had taken them outside to play, Trinity sipped her coffee, recalling again how dangerously intimate it had felt to share that space with Cruz last night. And how seductive.
Just then a sound made her look up and her heart stopped at the sight of the object of her thoughts standing in the doorway, dressed in a three-piece suit, looking so gorgeous it hurt.
He came in and Trinity still felt a little raw, unprepared to see him. It made her voice stiff. ‘Thank you for watching the boys last night.’
Cruz poured himself a cup of coffee and took a seat opposite her. He shook his head minutely. ‘Like I said, I’m going to be in their lives in a meaningful way.’
Feeling absurdly shy, she said, ‘Mrs Jordan told me you changed them.’
Cruz’s eyes gleamed with wry humour and it took Trinity’s breath away. ‘I won’t ever again underestimate the ability of a two-and-a-half-year-old to create a toxic smell to rival the effluent of a chemical plant. Or the skill it takes to change one of those things.’
Cruz took a sip of his coffee and put down the cup. ‘I’ve arranged for some potential nannies to come later today, for you and Mrs Jordan to interview.’
‘Do you really think that’s necessary?’
‘Yes.’ The wry gleam was gone from his eyes now. ‘I’ve been invited to an event at the newly refurbished opera house in Madrid this Friday night, and I have meetings to attend in the afternoon. Barring any unforeseen events, I am asking you to attend the function with me in Madrid. We’ll be gone until Saturday. It’ll be a good opportunity for the new nanny to start and get used to the boys under Mrs Jordan’s supervision.’
Two things were bombarding Trinity at once. Namely he fact that he was asking her, even if it was slightly mocking, and that she’d be away for a whole night with Cruz.
‘But I’ve n
ever left the boys for that long before.’
His tone was dry. ‘I think they’ll survive less than twenty-four hours without you, and with two nannies in attendance. I spoke with Mrs Jordan about it earlier—she’s fine.’
Of course she was, thought Trinity churlishly. Mrs Jordan was his number one fan.
‘Tell me, Trinity,’ Cruz asked silkily, ‘is the reason you’re reluctant because you fear maintaining the lie that you don’t want me? Are you afraid that you won’t be able to control your urges if we’re alone? I don’t think it’s out of concern for the boys at all—I think it’s much more personal.’
She felt shamed. He was right. She was scared—scared of her reactions around this man. Scared of what might happen if he touched her again. Scared to have him see underneath to where her real vulnerabilities lay. Scared of what he would do if he were faced with the ultimate truth of just how deeply Rio had loathed him. Her guts twisted at the thought in a way that told her she was far more invested in this man than she liked to admit.
But as Cruz looked at her, waiting for her response, she knew she couldn’t keep running. She could resist him. She had to.
Coolly she ignored what he’d said and replied, ‘Friday should be fine. What time do we leave?’
* * *
A few days later Trinity risked looking at Cruz from where she sat in the back of the chauffeur-driven limousine that had picked them up at Madrid airport, but he was engrossed in his palm tablet on the other side of the car, seemingly oblivious to her. She’d just had a conversation on her mobile phone with Mrs Jordan, to check on her and the boys and the new nanny, who were all fine.
As if reading her mind, Cruz put down his tablet and looked at her, that golden amber gaze sweeping down her body and taking in the very elegant and classic sheath dress and matching jacket she’d put on that day in a bid to look presentable.
His gaze narrowed on her assessingly, and she had to fight not to squirm self-consciously. ‘What is it?’
She was half raising a hand to check her hair when Cruz answered simply, ‘You’re a good mother to them.’
If there’d been a grudging tone in his voice Trinity would have hated him, but there hadn’t. He’d sounded...reluctantly impressed. She desperately tried to ignore the rush of warmth inside her that signified how much she wanted his approval.
‘I love them, Cruz, even though they’re not mine.’ Impulsively she asked, ‘Why is that so hard for you to believe? Is it because of your upbringing?’
He smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. ‘You could say that. Rio wasn’t the only one neglected in the castillo. Once she’d had me, my mother considered her maternal duty taken care of. She didn’t love me, and she didn’t love my father either. Their marriage was a purely strategic one, bringing two powerful families together as was the tradition in my family for centuries.’
Cruz’s eyeline shifted over Trinity’s shoulder just as the car came to a smooth halt on a wide tree-lined street.
‘We’re here,’ he said, leaving Trinity’s brain buzzing with what he’d just shared.
She looked out of the window on her side, saw a scrum of men with cameras waiting for them and instantly felt nervous. She’d always hated the way Rio had wanted to court as much media attention as possible.
Cruz said tersely, ‘Wait in the car. I’ll come round to get you.’
Trinity would have been quite happy if the car had turned around and taken them straight back to the airport.
When Cruz appeared outside the car the scrum had become a sea of flashing lights and shouting. Her door was opened and his hand reached in for her. She took it like a lifeline. He hustled her into the foyer of the gleaming building and within seconds they were in the elevator and ascending with a soft whoosh.
It was the hushed silence after the cacophony of sound that registered first, and then Trinity became burningly aware that she was pressed from thigh to breast into Cruz’s body. His free arm was around her shoulder and her other hand was still in his, held over his taut belly.
She couldn’t be any closer to him if she climbed into his very skin.
She scrambled apart from him, dislodging his arm and taking her hand from his. She couldn’t look at him. For a split second before she’d come to her senses she’d loved the sensation of his strength surrounding her, and for someone who’d long ago learnt to depend on herself it was scary how easy it had felt just to...give in.
Thankfully the lift doors opened at that moment, and the sight that greeted Trinity took her breath away. She stepped out into a huge open space dominated on all sides by massive glass windows which showcased the breathtaking view of one of Europe’s most beautiful and stately cities.
She walked over to one of the windows and could see a huge cathedral soaring into the blue sky.
‘That’s the Almudena Cathedral, infamous for taking five hundred years to complete.’
Cruz’s voice was far too close, but Trinity fought the urge to move away and instead turned around to take in the penthouse apartment. It was unmistakably a bachelor pad, every inch of every surface gleaming and pristine. But it was also cultured—low tables held massive coffee table books on photography and art. Bookshelves lined one entire interior wall. Huge modern art canvases sat in the centre of the few walls not showcasing the view.
‘Let me show you around.’
Trinity followed Cruz as he guided her through a stunning modern kitchen that led into a formal dining room, and then to where a series of rooms off a long corridor revealed themselves to be sumptuous en-suite bedrooms and an office.
When they were back in the main open-plan living and dining area, she felt a little dazed. ‘Your apartment is stunning.’
‘But not exactly toddler-proof.’
She looked at Cruz, surprised that he’d articulated the very thing she’d just been thinking in her head: it was beautiful apartment but a potential death trap for small energetic boys.
He glanced at her and she quickly closed her open mouth, looking around again. ‘No. Not exactly.’
‘I will ensure this place is made child-friendly for when the boys come to visit. I intend on my nephews becoming familiar with their capital city. This is where the seat of the main De Carrillo bank has been since the Middle Ages. This is where their legacy resides, as much as it does in Seville.’
Their capital city. It had been said with such effortless arrogance. But the truth was that Cruz was right—he was undoubtedly a titan of this city. Probably owned a huge swathe of it. And the twins would one day inherit all this.
It was mind-boggling to contemplate, and for the first time Trinity felt a sense of fear for the boys and this huge responsibility they’d have one day.
She rounded on Cruz. ‘What happens if Matty and Sancho don’t want any of this?’
His gaze narrowed on her and something flashed across his face before she could decipher it. Something almost pained.
‘Believe me, I will do what’s best for my nephews. They will not be forced to take on anything they can’t handle or don’t want. I won’t let that happen to them.’
Trinity’s anger deflated. She’d heard the emotion in Cruz’s voice. Almost as if he was referring to someone who had taken on something they couldn’t handle. Was he thinking of Rio and the irresponsible and lavish way he’d lived?
Cruz looked at his watch. ‘I have to go to meetings now, but I’ll be back to get ready for the function this evening. We’ll leave at six p.m.’
Before he left he took something out of his inner pocket. He handed her a black credit card.
She took it warily. ‘What is this? A test?’
His face was unreadable, but she wasn’t fooled. She knew he’d be assessing her every reaction.
‘You’ll need access to funds. Do what you want for the afternoon—a dr
iver will be at your disposal downstairs.’
He left then, and for a long minute Trinity found herself wondering if he had been talking about Rio not being able to handle things...
Then, disgusted with herself for obsessing like this, she threw the credit card down on a nearby table and paced over to a window. When she looked down to the street far below she could see Cruz disappearing into the back of another sleek Jeep.
It pulled into the flow of traffic and she shivered slightly, as if he could somehow still see her. He was so all-encompassing that it was hard to believe he wasn’t omnipresent.
She sighed and leaned forward, placing her hot forehead against the cool glass. It felt as if every time they took a step forward they then took three backwards. Clearly the credit card was some kind of a test, and he expected her to revert to type when given half a chance.
* * *
Cruz was standing with his back to the recently emptied boardroom on the top floor of the De Carrillo bank, loosening his tie and opening a top button on his shirt. Madrid was laid out before him, with the lowering sun leaving long shadows over the streets below where people were leaving their offices.
He hated himself for it, but as soon as the last person had left the room he’d pulled out his phone to make a call, too impatient to wait.
‘Where did she go?’ he asked incredulously, his hand dropping from his shirt.
His driver answered. ‘She went to the Plaza Mayor, where she had a coffee, and then she spent the afternoon in the Museo Del Prado. She’s just returned to the apartment.’
‘And she walked,’ Cruz repeated flatly, not liking the way the thought of her sightseeing around Madrid on her own made him feel a twinge of conscience. As if he’d neglected her. ‘No shopping?’
