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

by Abby Green

  ‘No, sir, apart from two cuddly toys in the museum shop.’

  Cruz terminated the call. So Trinity hadn’t spent the day shopping in Calle de Serrano, home to the most lavish boutiques. He had to admit that the credit card had been a test, and a pretty crude one at that. But once again either she was playing a longer game than he’d given her credit for...or he had to acknowledge that she had changed. Fundamentally. And in Cruz’s experience of human nature that just wasn’t possible.

  Cruz didn’t deal in unknowns. It was one of the driving motives behind his marrying Trinity—to make sure she was kept very much within his sphere of knowns.

  Suddenly he wasn’t so sure of anything any more.

  But how could he trust her over his own brother?

  He could still see the humiliation on Rio’s face when he’d had to explain to Cruz that that his own wife had tipped him over the edge. Cruz knew that Rio’s lavish lifestyle and his first wife had undoubtedly started the process of his ultimate destruction, but Trinity had finished it off. And, worse, used his nephews to gain privileged access.

  But then he thought of her, standing between him and his nephews the other night, so adamant that they came first. And he thought of how he’d found her, curled up asleep in the chair... He shook his head angrily and turned away from the window. Merda, she was messing with his head.

  Cruz blocked out the niggles of his conscience. He would be the biggest fool on earth if he was to believe in this newly minted Trinity De Carrillo without further evidence. She was playing a game—she had to be. It was that simple. And he had no choice but to go along with it for now...

  Because eventually she would reveal her true self, and when she did Cruz would be waiting.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A COUPLE OF hours later Cruz’s mind was no less tangled. The woman beside him was drawing every single eye in the extravagantly designed and decorated open-air courtyard of the new opera house. When he’d arrived back at the apartment she’d been in her room getting ready, so he’d been showered and changed before he’d seen her, waiting for him in the living area of the apartment.

  The shock of that first glimpse of her still ran through his system, constricting his breath and pumping blood to tender places. She wore a strapless black dress that was moulded to every curve. Over one shoulder was a sliver of chiffon tied in a bow.

  She wore no jewellery apart from the engagement ring and her wedding band. Her nails were unpainted. Minimal make-up. And yet people couldn’t stop looking at her. He couldn’t stop looking at her.

  Very uncharacteristically, Cruz wanted to snarl at them all to look at their own partners. But he couldn’t, because he could see what they saw—a glowing diamond amidst the dross. She appealed to this jaded crowd because she had an unfashionable air of wonder about her as she looked around, which only reinforced the shadow of doubt in his mind...

  Just then her arm tightened in his and he looked down to see a flush on her cheeks. She was biting her lip. Irritated at the effect she had on him, he said more curtly than he’d intended, ‘What is it?’

  She sounded hesitant. ‘I shouldn’t have put my hair up like this. I look ridiculous.’

  Cruz looked at her hair, which was in a sleek high ponytail. He didn’t consider himself an expert on women’s hairstyles, but he could see that the other women had more complicated things going on. Another reason why Trinity stood out so effortlessly. She looked unfussy—simple and yet sexy as sin all at once.

  ‘Someone left a fashion magazine on the table in the café earlier and I saw pictures of models with their hair up like this. I thought it was a thing...’

  The shadow of doubt loomed larger. He thought of how she’d shrunk back from the paparazzi earlier. She certainly hadn’t been flaunting herself, looking for attention. Anything but. She’d clung to him as if terrified.

  He took her arm above the elbow and she looked up at him. He could see the uncertainty and embarrassment in her eyes. It was getting harder and harder to see her as the cold-hearted mercenary gold-digger who had willingly fleeced his brother.

  His voice was gruff. ‘Your hair is absolutely fine. They’re looking because you’re the most beautiful woman here.’

  * * *

  Trinity was disorientated by Cruz’s compliment. He’d barely said two words to her since he’d got back to the apartment and they’d left to go out again, and he’d just looked at her suspiciously when he’d asked her what she’d done for the afternoon.

  Cruz was staring at her now, in a way that made her heart thump unevenly. But then a low, melodic gong sounded, breaking the weird moment.

  He looked away from her and up. ‘It’s time for the banquet.’

  Breathing a sigh of relief at being released from that intensity, and not really sure what it meant, she followed Cruz into a huge ballroom that had the longest dining table she’d ever seen in her life. Opulent flowers overflowed from vases and twined all along the table in artful disarray. A thousand candles flickered, and low lights glinted off the solid gold cutlery. She sighed in pure wonder at the scene—it was like a movie set.

  And then she spotted Lexie Anderson, the famous actress, and her gorgeous husband, Cesar Da Silva, and felt as if she’d really been transported into a movie. The stunning petite blonde and her tall husband were completely engrossed in each other, and it made something poignant ache inside her.

  ‘Trinity?’

  She blushed, hating it that Cruz might have caught her staring at the other couple, and sat down in the chair he was holding out for her.

  When she was seated, Trinity saw Cruz walking away and she whispered after him. ‘Wait, where are you going?’

  He stopped. ‘I’ve been seated opposite you—beside the president of the Spanish Central Bank.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ Trinity feigned nonchalance, even though she was taking in the vast size of the table and realising he might as well be sitting in another room.

  Of course he couldn’t resist the opportunity to mock her. He came back and bent down, saying close to her ear, ‘Don’t tell me you’ll miss me, querida?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped, angry that she’d shown how gauche she was. She turned away, but hated it that her stomach lurched at the thought of being left alone to fend for herself in an environment where she’d never felt comfortable.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he walked around to the other side of the table, being stopped and adored by several people on his way. One of them was Cesar Da Silva, who got up to shake Cruz’s hand, and the two tall and ridiculously handsome men drew lots of lingering looks. He even bent down to kiss Lexie Anderson on both cheeks, and it caused a funny twisting sensation in Trinity’s stomach, seeing him bestow affection so easily on anyone but her.

  No, what he’d bestow on her was much darker and full of anger and mistrust.

  Determined not to be intimidated, Trinity tried talking to the person on her left, but he couldn’t speak English and she had no Spanish so that went nowhere. She had more luck with an attractive older gentleman on her right, who turned out to be a diplomat and did speak English, and who put her at ease as only a diplomat could.

  Finally she felt herself relax for the first time in weeks, chuckling at her companion’s funny stories of various diplomatic disasters. With Cruz on the other side of the very large and lavishly decorated table she relished a reprieve from the constant tension she felt around him, even if she fancied she could feel his golden gaze boring into her through the elaborate foliage. She resisted the urge to look in his direction. She’d already given far too much away.

  After the coffee cups had been cleared away her dinner partner’s attention was taken by the person on his other side. Trinity risked a look across the table and saw that Cruz’s seat was empty. And then she spotted him—because it would be impos
sible to miss him. He was walking towards her with that lean animal grace, eyes narrowed on her, this time oblivious to people’s attempts to get his attention.

  The tension was back instantly. Making her feel tingly and alive as much as wary. When he reached her he didn’t even have to touch her for a shiver to run through her body.

  ‘Cold?’ The tone of his voice was innocuous, but the expression on his face was hard.

  Trinity shook her head, feeling a sense of vertigo as she looked up, even though she was sitting down. ‘No, not cold.’

  ‘Enjoying yourself?’

  Now his words had definite bite in them, and she saw his eyeline shift over her head. ‘Nice to see you, Lopez,’ he drawled. ‘Thank you for keeping my wife amused.’

  The man’s smoothly cultured voice floated over Trinity’s shoulder.

  ‘The pleasure was all mine, De Carrillo. Trinity is a charming, beautiful woman. A breath of fresh air.’

  Trinity watched, fascinated, as Cruz’s face darkened and a muscle ticked in his jaw. ‘Then I’m sorry that I must deprive you of her presence. I believe the dancing has started.’

  She barely had time to get a word out to say goodbye to the other man before Cruz was all but hauling her out of her chair and onto the dance floor, where a band was playing slow, sexy jazz songs. His arm was like steel around her back and her other hand was clasped in his, high against his chest.

  He moved around the floor with such effortless expertise that Trinity didn’t have time to worry about her two left feet. To her horror, though, she felt absurdly vulnerable, reminded of how lonely she’d felt during the day even while she’d appreciated the beautiful majesty of Madrid.

  She’d missed Matty and Sancho and she’d felt a very rare surge of self-pity, wondering if this would be her life now—forever on the periphery of Cruz’s antipathy.

  It was a long time since she’d indulged in such a weak emotion and it made her voice sharp. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  Cruz’s mouth was a thin line. ‘I’m not sure. Maybe you want to tell me? Sebastian Lopez is a millionaire and renowned for his penchant for beautiful young women—maybe you knew that and saw an opportunity to seek a more benevolent benefactor?’

  Trinity fought to control her breathing and her temper, and hated it that she was so aware of every inch of her body, which seemed to be welded against his.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she hissed. ‘He’s old enough to be my father and there was nothing remotely flirtatious about our conversation.’ She tilted her head back as much as she could so she could look Cruz dead in the eye. ‘But do you know what? It was nice to talk to someone who doesn’t think I’m one step above a common thief.’

  Terrified that Cruz would see emotion she shouldn’t be feeling, she managed to pull herself out of his embrace and stalked off the dance floor, apologising as she bumped into another couple. She walked blindly, half expecting a heavy hand on her shoulder at any moment, but of course Cruz wouldn’t appreciate that public display of discord.

  She made it out to the marbled foyer area, where a few people milled around, and walked out to the entrance. She sucked in a breath to try and steady her heart. Night was enfolding Madrid in a glorious velvet glow but it couldn’t soothe her ragged nerves.

  It wasn’t long before she felt Cruz’s presence. The little hairs all over her body seemed to stand up and quiver in his direction. She refused to feel foolish for storming off. He’d insulted her.

  He came to stand beside her, but said nothing as his car arrived at the front of the building with a soft sleek purr. Trinity cursed the fact that she hadn’t been quicker to call a cab. Cruz held open the back door and she avoided his eye as she got in, not wanting to see the undoubtedly volcanic expression on his face.

  As the driver pulled into the light evening traffic Trinity said frigidly, ‘You don’t have to leave. You should stay. Your brother soon learned that it made more sense to let me leave early.’

  * * *

  Cruz was in the act of yanking at his bow tie and opening his top button, wanting to feel less constricted. But now his hand stilled and the red haze of anger that had descended over his vision during the course of the evening as he’d watched Trinity talking and laughing with that man finally started to dissipate.

  ‘What did you just say?’ he asked.

  Trinity was staring straight ahead, her profile perfect. But she was tense—her full lips pursed, jaw rigid.

  It slammed into him then—the truth he’d been trying to deny. He was insanely jealous. He’d been jealous since the day she’d walked out of his house and got into Rio’s car to go and work for him.

  At that moment she looked at him, and he could feel himself tipping over the edge of an abyss. Those huge blue eyes were full of such...injury.

  Her voice was tight. ‘I said that your brother soon learned that I don’t fit into those events well. I’m not from that world, and I don’t know what to do or say.’

  She clamped her mouth shut then, as if she’d said enough already.

  Cruz reeled. His impression had been that Rio had taken her everywhere and that she’d loved it and milked it, but something in the tightness of her voice told him she wasn’t lying, and that revelation only added to the doubts clamouring for attention in his head.

  He tried and failed to block out the fact that when she’d pulled free of his arms on the dance floor and stalked away he’d thought he’d seen the glitter of tears in her eyes.

  She turned her head away again and he saw the column of her throat working. His gaze took in an expanse of pale skin, slim shoulders, delicate clavicle, the enticing curve of her breasts under the material of the dress, and heat engulfed him along with something much more nebulous: an urge to comfort, which was as bewildering as it was impossible to resist.

  He reached across and touched Trinity’s chin, turning her face towards him again. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You didn’t deserve that. The truth is that I didn’t like seeing you with that man.’

  The shock on her face might have insulted Cruz if he hadn’t been so distracted by those huge eyes.

  Her mouth opened and the tense line of her jaw relaxed slightly. ‘I...okay. Apology accepted.’

  That simple. Another woman would have made the most of Cruz’s uncharacteristic apology.

  His thumb moved back and forth across Trinity’s jaw, the softness of her delicate skin an enticement to touch and keep touching.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  He dragged his gaze up over high cheekbones, perfect bone structure. ‘I can’t not touch you.’ The admission seemed to fall out of him before he could stop it.

  Trinity put a hand up over his. The car came to a smooth stop. Cruz knew that he had to keep touching her or die. And he assured himself that it had nothing to do with the emotion that had clouded his judgement and his vision as he’d watched her at ease with another man, and everything to do with pure, unadulterated lust.

  * * *

  Trinity was locked into Cruz’s eyes and the intensity of his gaze. One minute she’d been hurt and angry, and then he’d apologised...once again demonstrating a level of humility that she just wouldn’t have expected from him. And now... Now she was burning up under his explicit look that told her that whatever they’d just been talking about was forgotten, that things had taken a far more carnal turn.

  She felt a breeze touch her back. She blinked and looked around to see the driver standing at the door, waiting for her to get out. They’d arrived back at the apartment building and she hadn’t even noticed.

  She scrambled out inelegantly, feeling seriously jittery. It was as if some kind of silent communication had passed between them, and she wasn’t sure what she’d agreed to.

  The journey up to the apartment passed in a blur. The lift doors opened a
nd they stepped into the hushed interior of Cruz’s apartment. He threw off his jacket and Trinity’s mouth dried as she watched the play of muscles under the thin silk of his shirt.

  He glanced back at her over his shoulder. ‘I know you don’t really drink, but would you like something?’

  Trinity was about to refuse, but something in the air made her feel uncharacteristically reckless. She moved forward. ‘Okay.’

  ‘What would you like?’

  She stopped, her mind a blank. Embarrassment engulfed her—she was no sophisticate.

  Cruz looked at her. ‘I’ve got all the spirits. What do you like?’

  Trinity shrugged one shoulder. ‘I’m not sure...’

  He looked at her for a long moment and then turned back to the drinks table, doing something she couldn’t see. Then he turned and came towards her with two glasses. One was large and bulbous, filled with what looked like brandy or whisky. The other glass was smaller, with an orange liquid over a couple of ice cubes.

  He handed her the second glass. ‘Try this—see what you think.’

  After a moment’s hesitation she reached for the glass and bent her head, taking a sniff. Cruz was waiting for her reaction, so she took a sip of the cool liquid and it slid down her throat, leaving a sweet aftertaste. She wrinkled her nose, because she’d been expecting something tart or strong.

  She looked at him. ‘It’s sweet. I like it—what is it?’

  A small smile played around the corner of Cruz’s mouth. ‘It’s Pacharán—a Spanish liqueur from Navarre. Very distinctive. It tastes sweet, but it packs quite the alcoholic punch. Hence the small amount.’

  Before he could suck her under and scramble her brain cells with just a look Trinity went and sat down at the end of one couch, bemused by this very fragile cessation in hostilities. Cruz sat too, choosing the end of a couch at right angles to hers. He effortlessly filled the space with his muscled bulk, long legs stretched out, almost touching hers.

  Trinity felt unaccountably nervous, and a little bewildered. She was so used to Cruz coming at her with his judgement and mistrust that she wasn’t sure how to navigate these waters. He sat forward, hands loose around his glass, drawing her attention to long fingers.