Public Marriage, Private Secrets

by Helen Bianchin

  She was a woman of the world—confident, savvy and no longer blinded by her emotions.

  ‘Why not?’ She even managed a slight smile, something which brought a gleam of amusement to his eyes before he successfully masked it.

  Chilled fresh fruit juice, aromatic black coffee, iced water and bite-size pastries were laid out on the table when they crossed through open glass doors to the terrace where Teresa was already seated.

  ‘Ah, there you are.’ The warm greeting held affection as Teresa indicated the table. ‘Come, sit down and help yourselves.’

  There was a tendency to say You look well…except that wasn’t entirely true, Gianna acknowledged. Nor did it seem appropriate to offer How do you feel? Instead she said gently, ‘It’s lovely to be here with you.’

  Teresa smiled, and her features came alive. ‘My dear, the pleasure is all mine.’

  It was impossible not to be affected by Raúl’s presence, for no matter how hard she tried he was there…a disturbing entity which caused her heartbeat to quicken and put her on edge.

  Did he know? Possibly. Although she fervently hoped not.

  ‘Tomorrow I thought we might relax and catch up in person,’ Teresa ventured. ‘And my dear friend Adriana has issued an invitation for us to join her and a few close friends for lunch later in the week.’

  ‘Whatever pleases you—providing you don’t become overtired,’ Raúl cautioned.

  ‘Please, I’d be much happier simply spending time here with you,’ Gianna added quickly.

  Teresa merely smiled. ‘And so you shall. But occasionally we will venture out a little. A change of pace, to share time with friends.’ She caught her son’s hooded gaze. ‘You have my word I will rest for a few hours each afternoon.’

  ‘We shall personally see that you do.’

  We… What did he think he was doing, coupling them together? Another thing to add to the growing list of issues she intended to take up with him when they were alone.

  Lunch was a convivial meal Elena prepared for them, followed by the siesta. Time which Gianna used to access her laptop, e-mail Ben, Annaliese and update her father as to her whereabouts.

  It was after dinner, when Teresa had retired for the evening, that Gianna questioned Elena as to where she might find Raúl.

  ‘The señor is in the office.’

  Perfect. It took her only minutes to reach it, and she knocked once as a courtesy before entering the spacious room.

  Raúl glanced up, inclined his head, indicated a chair, then continued talking on his cellphone as he keyed data into a laptop.

  It was a terse conversation in Spanish, most of which she understood. Not entirely pleasant, she perceived as he cut the connection and met her gaze with unwavering attention.

  ‘You have something on your mind?’

  ‘Yes,’ Gianna acknowledged succinctly, and glimpsed his wry smile as he eased back in his office chair and folded his hands behind his head.

  ‘Which you intend to spell out in detail?’

  ‘Put money on it.’

  His slightly arched eyebrow had her launching into speech.

  ‘What’s with coupling my name with yours?’ Her eyes flashed blue fire. ‘There is no we.’

  ‘You have a problem agreeing Teresa should conserve her energy and rest?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Therefore your objection is…?’

  She wanted to throw something at him, and she briefly weighed up a few possible items on the desk, caught the way his eyes darkened in silent warning…and refused to be intimidated.

  ‘Dammit, I don’t need you to speak on my behalf.’

  His eyes seared her own, watchful, assessing. ‘It bothers you that Teresa requested I join her in spending time with you?’

  Teresa had? ‘You could have told me.’

  His eyes didn’t move from her own. ‘To what purpose?’

  Because I could have prepared myself.

  How stupid was that?

  Nothing she did would have made a difference…not before or now.

  Raúl was a force unto himself, with the power to damage her emotional heart. And she hated him for it. What was worse, she hated herself for being so foolishly vulnerable.

  ‘Just know I’m not happy about it,’ she said at last. ‘The less time we spend in each other’s company, the better.’

  He inclined his head. ‘Anything else?’

  Whatever made her think she could verbally best him?

  ‘Not at the moment.’

  ‘Are you sure about that, querida?’ he taunted softly, and watched faint pink colour her cheeks as she looked at him in stark disbelief.

  ‘If you think…’ Words temporarily failed her. ‘Are you mad?’

  Yet the thought of his mouth on her own…his hands shaping her body… Oh, God, she had to get out of here.

  ‘Go to hell.’ She hated that her voice sounded shaky as she turned and walked from the room.

  Damn him. The curse pounded silently in her mind as she crossed the hallway and entered her suite. She was so impossibly angry…with him, herself.

  The temptation to pack a bag, call a taxi and take the first flight to Madrid, then home was almost impossible to ignore.

  Yet how could she leave when she’d committed to spend time with Teresa? The analogy caught between a rock and a hard place seemed incredibly apt.

  So simmer down—do a few calisthenics to work off the anger, shower, then retire to bed with a book.

  It was a feasible plan and she went through the motions, donned sleep trousers, tank top, and slid into bed to read until the words blurred.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IT WAS a beautiful morning, Gianna noted as she checked the scene from her bedroom window. Lush green lawns provided a lovely background to the meticulously shaped shrubs which stood like miniature rounded sentinels in perfect symmetry.

  She opened the window and heard soft cascading water from the fountain, felt the slight breeze whispering in from the sea with its faint salty tang.

  Heaven.

  Almost, she qualified, if it wasn’t for Raúl’s presence at the villa. He bothered her in a way she was loath to examine in any depth.

  From a distance of several thousand kilometres, on the other side of the world, she’d been able to convince herself she was over him and had moved on.

  Up close and personal, such convictions were proved totally erroneous. Something that was becoming more glaringly apparent with every passing day…and there were still twelve to go.

  Teresa and Raúl were already seated out on the terrace when Gianna joined them, and although Teresa’s smile was bright she looked tired and quite pale.

  Not such a good day, Gianna surmised as she leant forward to bestow a light kiss to the older woman’s cheek.

  ‘Coffee?’ It was Raúl who posed the query, and who moved to fill her cup with the steaming aromatic brew.

  His close presence stirred her senses, and for an instant she was transported back to a time when it had seemed a natural gesture to lift her face to receive the teasing brush of his lips on her own, the intimate smile in acknowledgement of the night spent in each other’s arms…her body still vibrantly alive from his possession.

  Now there was only politeness, as a courtesy to Teresa’s presence. And Gianna had no sensible reason for wishing it to be otherwise…only knew that there was a kernel of sadness deep inside she was unable to dispense.

  Crazy, she acknowledged silently, as she added sugar and sipped the delicious coffee.

  ‘I trust you slept well?’

  ‘Fine, thank you,’ she responded with a smile, and crossed her fingers beneath the table to excuse the fabrication.

  ‘I have broached tonight’s scheduled charity function with Raúl,’ Teresa began. ‘Its purpose is to raise funds for terminally ill children. It’s a cause close to my heart, and one my late husband and I founded early in our marriage. Unfortunately I’m not feeling up to an evening out.’

>   Gianna felt the nerves in her stomach stir as Teresa turned towards her, and uttered a silent prayer…only to have it unanswered.

  ‘I would consider it a favour to me if you’d agree to act as Raúl’s partner for the evening.’

  To refuse would not only be churlish, but unkind, so she didn’t even consider it, merely qualifying, ‘It will be a pleasure, unless Raúl has any objection.’ Such as another woman waiting in the wings… Sierra, or his current lover.

  ‘Why would I object?’ Raúl queried with an indolent drawl, and Teresa’s face brightened with delight.

  ‘Thank you.’ She named a luxury hotel in Palma, then turned towards Gianna and offered a conspiratorial smile. ‘It’ll provide an opportunity for you to go shopping.’

  Gianna did a quick mental search of the clothes she’d brought with her…and failed to come up with anything suitable to wear.

  ‘We’ll drive into Palma after breakfast,’ Raúl stated.

  We will?

  ‘I can easily take a taxi,’ she offered sweetly.

  ‘My dear,’ Teresa intervened gently, ‘Raúl would never permit it.’

  The steady look he cast Gianna challenged her to argue. ‘We’ll aim to leave at nine.’

  And that, it appeared, put an end to the subject…at least in Teresa’s presence. But not, Gianna determined, until the moment she’d inform him she intended to conduct her shopping expedition solo.

  Something which occurred in the hallway of their shared guest wing as she prepared to leave a written note to that effect in his office.

  ‘Hoping to get away undetected?’

  It seemed as if he’d appeared out of nowhere. How did he do that?

  She tilted her chin, and her eyes sparked dark chips. ‘There’s absolutely no need for you to accompany me.’

  ‘I disagree.’ His drawl held a tinge of wry amusement.

  ‘Please don’t give me any of that macho hyperbole about a woman alone.’

  One eyebrow arched in silent query. ‘You want to be prey to skilled pickpockets? Suffer the indignity of having your wallet filched beneath the guile of a supposedly accidental jolt while you’re momentarily distracted? Find your cellphone has somehow disappeared, and you need to find a police station in order to call the villa for help?’

  ‘And you’re prepared to save me from any of this by walking at my side? Really? You, of course, are exempt from any nefarious miscreants?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Naturally,’ she concurred sweetly. ‘One look from you, and any mis-intentioned pickpocket will run in the opposite direction.’

  ‘You doubt it?’

  No. But she wouldn’t own to it for all the tea in China. Instead she directed him a dark glare, then turned and moved swiftly towards the head of the staircase…only to discover he’d deliberately kept pace with her.

  ‘I’ll call a taxi.’ It was a last-ditch effort for independence, which merely incurred a swift brooding look more effective than any words could be.

  ‘You really are the most annoying, incredibly arrogant man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet,’ Gianna flung at him when they reached the spacious garage, and she stood in defiant silence as he used a remote to unlock the Mercedes.

  ‘Get in, Gianna.’

  His voice was dangerously quiet, and there was something apparent in his dark eyes that warned retribution if she chose to argue further.

  In the name of heaven, why was she behaving like a recalcitrant child? She had never thrown a tantrum in her life, or given in to a hissy fit…even in the most dire of circumstances.

  So why now?

  Because every moment she spent in Raúl’s presence highlighted what they’d both shared, and her anger was merely a mechanism to shore up the protective barriers she’d erected against him.

  Because she was desperately afraid he might break those barriers down…and, worse, dispense with them.

  And then where would she be?

  Right back where she’d been three years ago…a heartbroken mess.

  A bitter laugh rose and died in her throat.

  Self-preservation.

  OK, so she’d do this.

  Without a further word she slid into the front passenger seat, fastened the seat belt, and sat in silence as Raúl sent the powerful car out through the gates.

  Where were they heading? El Corte Inglés at the Avenidas in Palma? Or would he seek a boutique in any one of several luxury hotels?

  A hotel boutique, she determined as he sought valet parking, then ushered her into a boutique where the vendeuse greeted him by name and almost genuflected with enthusiasm at a promised sale.

  Raúl Velez-Saldaña happened to be a well-known identity whose photograph often graced the media. Recognition didn’t necessarily mean he’d purchased gowns or high-end designer shoes here for other women.

  And why should it concern her if he had?

  Because it does… Which hardly made any sense. She no longer loved him. Hell, she didn’t even like him.

  Liar.

  Why else had she become a restless sleeper, knowing he slept in a suite only metres from her own?

  Each time she saw him, she was conscious of an elevated nervous tension. He had only to touch her and her heart pulsed to a faster beat.

  What was that if it wasn’t the existence of sensual awareness?

  The sane, sensible part of her warned that she didn’t need it…most certainly didn’t want it in her life. Not with him…not with any man.

  No longer would she toy with the idea of divorce. As soon as she returned to Australia she’d consult her lawyer and have him file the necessary papers.

  ‘This one, I think.’

  The sound of Raúl’s voice followed by the vendeuse’s concurring approval caught Gianna’s attention, and her eyes widened at the sight of a deep sapphire-blue exquisitely cut gown in silk chiffon with a ruched bodice, slender spaghetti straps, and a slender layered skirt.

  As much as she hated to admit it…it was perfect.

  ‘Fortunately it’s the young lady’s size.’

  ‘My wife,’ Raúl corrected with calm indolence, and Gianna’s mouth opened to deny it, only to have him press light fingers to her lips. ‘You can thank me later, querida.’

  Darling? Lover? Whatever interpretation you chose to apply, neither held true…at least not anymore.

  She was so tempted to bite him, it almost hurt to resist. And he knew.

  ‘Shoes,’ he said calmly. ‘And an evening purse.’

  If she could, she’d tell him exactly what he could do with both items. The only thing that stopped her was an adherence to polite good manners.

  Yet when she stepped into the gown, slid her feet into the stiletto heeled evening sandals and checked the mirrored effect, she had to concede both Raúl and the vendeuse had nailed it.

  There was no way she could top it, and her pleased smile said it all. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Your husband has a good eye,’ the vendeuse complimented as she clapped her hands and tilted her head to one side. ‘Your hair, señora… Might I suggest you style it up? You have such a slender neck it is a pity not to display it. Diamond ear-studs,’ she enthused. ‘A slim matching bracelet and perhaps a diamond pendant. Not too much to take away from the gown, comprende?’ She moved to stand behind Gianna and freed the zip fastening. ‘I will package the items while you change, sí?’

  It took only minutes to pull on tailored trousers, add her blouse, then slip her feet into her footwear.

  She emerged from the fitting room to discover Raúl in the process of using his credit card, and she crossed quickly to the sales counter.

  ‘I’ll pay for the purchases.’

  The vendeuse paused and cast him an enquiring glance. ‘Señor?’

  ‘My wife’s independence is laudable,’ he opined smoothly. ‘However, in this instance you will disregard it.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  ‘I would prefer…’ Gianna faltered as Raúl cupped her
face and covered her mouth with his own in a soft kiss that tore the breath from her throat.

  ‘No.’ A gentle remonstrance, but effective, and her eyes widened at the sensual gleam apparent in those dark eyes as he released her.

  The atmosphere between them suddenly became highly charged, and for several heart-stopping seconds she was oblivious to everything in the room as she stood in a state of mesmerised inaction.

  ‘Your packages, señor.’

  The sound of the vendeuse’s voice acted as a catalyst that brought her back to reality, and she shook her head in a gesture that indicated acquiescence. ‘Men,’ she confided with a faintly wry smile. ‘Generous to a fault.’

  ‘Ah, but señora,’ the vendeuse chided gently. ‘What woman would not value such a man?’

  Gianna merely offered a winsome smile, and waited until they exited the boutique and were out of earshot before venting quietly, ‘What on earth were you thinking?’

  ‘To what do you refer?’

  ‘Don’t toy with me. You know perfectly well what I mean.’

  ‘You are angry because I bought you a gown?’

  She shot him a baleful glare. ‘Try again.’

  ‘You object because I kissed you?’

  ‘That,’ she allowed through gritted teeth, ‘and referring to me as your wife.’

  ‘Querida,’ he reminded her gently. ‘You are my wife.’

  Not for much longer. Words she almost said aloud…only for them to remain unuttered, and for the life of her she failed to understand why.

  ‘Shall we share coffee?’ Raúl suggested, indicating the hotel lounge. ‘Practice,’ he drawled with a touch of indolent humour, ‘for the evening ahead.’

  Fun. But not the kind she looked forward to experiencing.

  Yet you’ve been there before, remember? The social occasions, some of which had required attendance by the wealthy elite, and she’d excelled first as Raúl’s partner, then as his wife.

  A strange ache settled deep in her heart and became a tangible pain. They’d been so happy, so very much in tune…until it all went wrong.