A DEAL AT THE ALTAR

by RACHL THOMAS

  Something snapped, as if chains had broken. He inhaled deeply. The noise caught her attention and she turned to look at him. Her face was pale.

  ‘I know I was a fool.’ She threw the words at him as if he was nothing more than dirt at the edge of the road. ‘I gambled and I lost.’

  He tried to make sense of her words. What was she trying to tell him?

  Not the way I love you.

  His mind replayed what she’d said moments before. Purposefully he moved towards her, and when she turned again panic tore through him. If she left now he’d never see her again. He couldn’t let her go. Not yet. He loved her; he’d just refused to admit it.

  ‘I gambled too.’

  The words hurried out and he clenched his hands, trying to keep himself from reaching for her, from preventing her from leaving.

  She spun round and faced him again, her eyes sparkling with molten gold. ‘Not with emotions, you didn’t.’

  She moved towards the door so suddenly he was taken off guard.

  ‘You gambled with your brother’s happiness, your greed. You won, Santos, and I hope you’re happy.’

  Happy? He was the furthest thing from happy. He hadn’t felt like this since the day his mother had calmly left, saying goodbye as if she was just going shopping.

  ‘Georgina.’

  He tried to form the words, tried to tell her he hadn’t gambled with Carlo’s happiness—at least not intentionally. He wanted to tell her he’d gambled his own—and hers. Something he hadn’t even realised until just a few seconds ago.

  ‘Don’t, Santos. I don’t want to hear how you’re driven by power and the need to control everything.’

  ‘That may have been true once.’ The words rushed out and for the first time in his adult life he knew he was losing.

  ‘And it still is.’ Her words were softer now, as if she’d given up fighting.

  Mutely he watched as she opened the office door and paused in the doorway.

  ‘Goodbye, Santos.’

  His reaction was so swift he didn’t have time to think. All he wanted to do was stop her from leaving, from walking out of his life for good. A life that wouldn’t be the same once she’d gone.

  He reached out and took hold of her arm, propelling her back into the room, and kicked the door shut on the enquiring glances of passing staff. She looked up at him, her brown eyes wide, darkening rapidly, her breathing hard and fast. But it was the current of pure electricity between them that told him he was doing the right thing.

  He didn’t want her to go. It wasn’t possession. It wasn’t power. It was more than that.

  It was love.

  He loved her.

  This passionate woman had unlocked his heart, healed his wounds and shown him how love could be. He’d just been too stubborn to realise.

  * * *

  Georgina stepped back as he let her go, watching the show of emotions cross his handsome face. His pain and confusion were palpable, and she wanted to reach out to him—but to do so would be her undoing. Again she stepped back, but he moved closer until she had nowhere to go, the wall against her back.

  ‘This is what you do to me.’ His voice was hoarse with emotion. ‘I can’t think around you. I can’t sleep without you by my side. I can’t let you go.’

  Her heart fluttered wildly and she dragged in a ragged breath. ‘Santos...?’ His name was barely a whisper from her lips.

  He placed his palm on the wall above her shoulder, his face coming closer to hers, bringing him irresistibly close. Too close.

  ‘I want you, Georgina,’ he said huskily as he lowered his head to kiss her.

  She moved sideways, away from temptation, but instantly he placed his other hand above her shoulder. Trapping her.

  ‘I want you with a passion so raw it almost hurts. In fact it does.’

  She looked up into his dark eyes, so close now she could see how enlarged his pupils were, see the desire swirling there.

  Say it, her mind urged him, but she refused to utter the words aloud. The blood rushed in her ears as her heart thumped and she bit her bottom lip hard. She would never beg anyone to say it. If he loved her he had to tell her.

  ‘I’ve never known this before, Georgina.’

  ‘What?’ she asked in a timid whisper, hardly daring to hear the answer.

  ‘Love.’

  Her heart sang as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lips, easing the pain where she’d bitten into them hard.

  ‘I’ve never met a woman like you. From the moment you walked in here my fate was sealed. I just didn’t know it then. I couldn’t admit it—not even to myself.’

  ‘Can you now?’ she said in a cracked whisper.

  He took her in his arms, pulled her close against him. ‘I love you, Georgina. My heart belongs to you and I never want it back.’

  Her knees weakened and his arms tightened around her as he brushed his lips over hers. She pushed against his chest so she could look into his eyes. ‘I love you, Santos.’

  With that he claimed her lips in a kiss so passionate it took all her breath away, leaving her light-headed.

  ‘Can we start again? Begin our marriage now, with honesty and love?’

  As she looked up into the handsome face of the man she loved sunbeams lit up the office, casting a glow all around them. Once again the storm was over—and this time it was for good.

  ‘Only if it means we get another wedding night,’ she teased.

  He laughed gently. ‘Now, that I can promise you, mi esposa.’

  EPILOGUE

  THE LEAVES WERE turning all shades of gold and brown as Georgina looked around the country cottage garden. Autumn sun cast its last lazy glow as it slid slowly behind the hill.

  ‘Happy anniversary,’ Santos said softly as he came to stand behind her.

  He wrapped his arms around her. She leant back against him, happier than she’d ever been.

  ‘You’ve brought me to the country for our anniversary weekend?’ She hadn’t doubted he’d remember their first anniversary—she just hadn’t expected him to help her realise one of her dreams, even if it was only for a weekend. It would be a wonderful place to give him her gift.

  ‘I’ve done more than that, Georgie.’ He nuzzled her hair and then kissed her head. ‘I’ve bought you this piece of the English countryside. This place is yours.’

  Georgina swivelled round in his arms and looked up at him, excitement almost exploding inside her. ‘This place? You’ve bought it?’

  ‘I most certainly have, and now is your chance to show me just what is so wonderful about living in the countryside.’

  ‘Oh, Santos, it’s perfect.’

  She couldn’t believe that this cottage, with roses rambling around the front door, was all hers. He opened the door and led her inside. It had been furnished and decorated to the highest standard, just as she would have expected from Santos, but it still maintained that country charm she’d always longed for.

  ‘In fact it’s more than perfect.’

  ‘There’s more, mi esposa.’

  ‘What more could there be than this?’

  ‘Emma and Carlo will be joining us.’

  ‘They will?’

  ‘It’s their anniversary too, and I thought it would be nice to be together, but we still have a few hours before they arrive. Carlo has become a workaholic since he opened his own hotel, and he wouldn’t leave until he’d sorted everything out for the weekend.’

  Georgina laughed at the image of her brother-in-law putting the business before a weekend with Emma. ‘Perhaps there is more of you in him than you realise?’ she teased, and reached up to brush a kiss on his lips.

  ‘Well, you should know what we Ramirez men are like by now.’

  He kissed her and passion sparked to life, zipping between them.

  She pulled back from him and looked into his eyes, which were darkening by the second. ‘I have a gift for you too.’

  He put her at arm’s length and smiled. ‘Ca
n you beat this?’ he asked as he took her into the living room, which looked cosy and inviting.

  ‘You’re going to be a father.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ He looked deep into her eyes, studying her reaction.

  She nodded, unable say anything. After years of telling herself she’d be the worst mother a child could have, she was still apprehensive.

  ‘When?’ His words seemed choked and hard to come by.

  ‘You’re impatient, aren’t you?’ she teased gently.

  ‘Not impatient. Overjoyed. And very much in love with you.’ He kissed her softly and with so much love she fought back the tears of happiness that threatened.

  ‘April,’ she said as his lips left hers. ‘Our baby will be born in April.’

  ‘That,’ he said huskily as he smiled down at her, ‘is a cause for celebration.’

  She laughed and snuggled against him, relishing the strength of his arms around her. ‘I love you so much, Santos,’ she said as she heard his heartbeat.

  He swept her off her feet and, looking down at her, smiled. ‘I’m the happiest man alive and it’s all thanks to you. How did I ever manage to exist before you arrived in my life?’

  He edged his way out of the living room towards the stairs, a stream of Spanish rushing from his lips as he looked at the narrow staircase.

  Georgina laughed.

  ‘Put me down.’ She placed her hand on his cheek and kissed him briefly. ‘This is one flight of stairs you won’t be able to carry me up.’

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from RIVAL’S CHALLENGE by Abby Green.

  Ten years ago one devastating night changed everything for Austin, Hunter and Alex. Now they must each play their part in the revenge against the one man who ruined it all.

  Austin Treffen has the plan… Hunter has the money… Alex has the power!

  Read each of their stories in the captivating Fifth Avenue trilogy,

  only from Harlequin Presents:

  Avenge Me by Maisey Yates (June 2014)

  Scandalize Me by Caitlin Crews (July 2014)

  Expose Me by Kate Hewitt (August 2014)

  And don’t miss the Fifth Avenue prequel that started it all, Take Me, by Maisey Yates!

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  CHAPTER ONE

  ANTONIO CHATSFIELD SENT silent not interested vibes to the lustrous dark-haired beauty sitting at the bar with her breasts displayed to prominent advantage in her low-cut dress, her kohl-enhanced eyes firmly on him.

  Everything about her jangled at his sensitive nerve ends. She was too obvious. Too smooth. Too polished. This whole place was too polished. He cast a jaundiced glance around the dark and sensual bar space of his family’s London flagship hotel. For the past decade he’d been used to surroundings that were more likely to be made of rubble and scented with the stench of chaos, death and panic. But he pushed those thoughts aside. Not now.

  He’d chosen to come here for the dark corners and dim lighting as opposed to drinking himself into a stupor in the hotel suite which he currently called home. He smiled grimly to himself: at least he could appreciate the functionality of wanting to numb himself while in the presence of other humans. His therapist would undoubtedly approve.

  That functionality had been hard fought for but even now the familiar feeling of skin-prickling clamminess was never too far away for him to forget completely—the stomach-churning terror that used to grip him at random moments, sparked by something as minor as a dog barking or a loud noise, wrenching him out of the present and back to the cataclysmic past.

  But the drink wasn’t having much of an effect this evening. It was as if the acerbity inside him was diluting the effects. Even the woman lost interest now, turning her attention to another man who had just arrived at the other end of the bar. Antonio saw them exchange glances and saw the man indicate for the bartender to order her another drink.

  Mentally he saluted them. He’d had enough encounters like that in his time. He just wasn’t in the mood for one right now. Something spiked in his gut; he hadn’t been in the mood for longer than he cared to admit, preferring to bury himself in work to avoid the gaping chasm inside him that he used to fill with meaningless encounters and high-octane danger.

  He’d only been back in London for a couple of months, after years in exile, albeit punctuated by trips home. He was back because his family was in a state of crisis. His father had installed Christos Giatrakos as CEO to take charge of the family business—a worldwide string of eponymous luxury hotels that had been the byword in glamour and luxury since the 1920s.

  The crisis was one of reputation and potential damage to the exclusive Chatsfield brand. Antonio’s younger siblings, with the exception of his sister Lucilla, who had begged him to come and help, were all seemingly hell-bent on various forms of self-destruction amidst screaming headlines and lurid paparazzi shots. God knew, Antonio had indulged in his fair share of self-destruction along the way. He’d also left home when a lot of them were on the cusp of adulthood, so he could hardly judge them now.

  Antonio had turned his back on his inheritance a long time ago and had had no intention of taking up the reins again, especially not when the autocratic Greek CEO wanted him to utilise his military and business expertise under the position of head of strategy to orchestrate the resurrection and expansion of the Chatsfield brand.

  But his closest sibling, Lucilla, had begged him to reconsider, indicating that it would be the perfect position from which to help her topple the CEO. Apparently Giatrakos didn’t know better than to let the enemy in through the front gate. And Lucilla’s entreaties had called to that part of Antonio that still wanted to make things better. He felt that he’d left it too long to step in and offer to help his other brothers and sister, who were all fully fledged adults by now, but Lucilla had expressly asked him to help her. She wanted to prove to Giatrakos that they could restore the somewhat tarnished Chatsfield name by covertly taking over a rival hotel business, the Kennedy Group, before the shareholders’ meeting in August, demonstrating that they had no need of an outsider. And if that meant coming back to a place he’d have preferred never to see again, then so be it.

  A familiar ache grew in Antonio’s chest to think of his siblings and how none of them, including himself, had ever really had a chance, let down by their parents long ago. He’d done his best for a while, but it hadn’t been enough.

  The old wounds of the blazing row he’d had with his father more than ten years ago were still vivid. That was when he’d realised how futile his efforts were and that perhaps the best thing he could do for his family was to walk away and let them get on with it. As his father had reminded him all too succinctly, Antonio wasn’t his brothers’ and sisters’ father and never would be, so he might as well give up trying.

  A mirthless smile touched Antonio’s mouth. His sister Lucilla knew him well. She sensed the guilt he felt for having left his family when he had, even though she’d been the one t
o urge him to go. She also sensed his restlessness, his rootlessness. But perhaps most of all she was counting on his well-ingrained sense of responsibility still being partly intact. They’d been united in a heavy burden the day their mother had left their home, never to be seen from that day to this.

  Antonio, despite all of the other mental images he’d accrued over the past decade, each one more horrific than the last, would never be able to erase the image of teenaged Lucilla holding their newborn baby sister in her arms, tears running down her cheeks. Antonio, she’s gone...just left us here. Alone.

  Antonio had been too angry and overwhelmed and scared to say anything, so he’d just pulled Lucilla and their baby sister into his arms, vowing to himself that he wouldn’t let the family fall apart. Whatever it took. He was fifteen at the time.

  Disgusted to find his thoughts deviating down that unwelcome path, Antonio downed his drink, telling himself he’d be better off in his suite after all and not infecting the clientele with his surly presence. After all, he was trying to help his sister....

  But just when he was about to make a move from the stool, the door opened and a woman walked in and Antonio’s head blanked of any intention except to stay where he was.

  He wasn’t sure what it was about her that arrested him so powerfully. Maybe it was that she immediately stood out with her paler than pale colouring, made even more noticeable against the stark black of her dress. Maybe it was her long, slim, shapely bare legs and the classic black high heels. Whatever it was, Antonio couldn’t move, his eyes tracking her graceful movements with a precision that had come from years of practice tracking targets that were far more lethal.

  She came to the middle of the bar and waited patiently for the bartender to attend her. She had vibrant bright red hair, caught up in a high bun, showing off her delicate neck. A heavy blunt fringe was swept a little to one side; her eyes looked blue, but dark. Her dress was all at once discreet and sexy. It was silk and draped her from neck to mid-thigh, cinched in at the waist.

  She had slender arms and delicate wrists. Short functional nails painted with clear polish. A black clutch bag. Diamond stud earrings and no other jewellery. Antonio realised that she wasn’t as tall as he’d imagined—he’d guess about five foot four without the heels. Petite.