Public Marriage, Private Secrets

by Helen Bianchin

  With every passing day she became more aware of the sensuality between them…the promise of more unless she guarded her heart—and her head.

  It hurt to know how easy it would be to have sex with him. How much a part of her craved the intimacy. Just once. One night.

  Except it wouldn’t be enough…and then where would she be? Right back where she had left him three years ago. Heartbroken and bereft. Heartsick. With a need to repair the emotional damage and move on with her life…again.

  Wasn’t going to happen.

  With determined effort, she applied cleanser, wiped it off, washed her face, cleaned her teeth, then studiously worked in moisturising cream before taking the pins from her hair and confining its length in a loose tail.

  Go to bed and sleep, she bade herself silently.

  It took a while to dispense with a host of haunting images, the last of which she remembered was how it felt to be held in Raúl’s arms before she slid into blissful oblivion.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ANY hope Gianna held of Raúl returning to Madrid didn’t appear to be fulfilled, given he chose to share breakfast with Teresa before retreating into the home office to work undisturbed until lunch.

  It was on the fourth day into the first week of her two-week sojourn that Teresa announced the imminent arrival of some family members.

  ‘They’re staying with my aunt Rosita in her Palma apartment for a few days, and I’ve invited them to lunch today.’

  Family numbered five, comprising Teresa’s sister, Emilia, and her husband, Jorge, their adult children, Pablo and Cristina, and elderly Aunt Rosita. Together with Teresa and Gianna it added up to seven…eight, Gianna corrected as Raúl joined them.

  Except his presence didn’t make for relaxed enjoyment, and she could tell he knew from the faint amusement evident in his dark eyes.

  Ignoring him wasn’t possible, and she didn’t even try.

  ‘Teresa tells me you own a successful boutique,’ Emilia began politely.

  ‘Yes,’ Gianna acknowledged with a smile. ‘I stock speciality gifts. Venetian glassware, crystal, decorative bowls in various shapes and colours. Beautifully scented triple-milled soaps, exotic handmade candles…’

  ‘Situated in a tourist holiday town, I believe?’

  ‘It’s true the Gold Coast is a holiday destination,’ she acknowledged. ‘However, it’s a bustling cosmopolitan city, with a large population, multi-million-dollar homes with river and ocean frontages, beautiful beaches, shopping complexes, theme parks.’

  ‘The climate is good?’ Pablo queried. He was close to Gianna in age.

  ‘Sub-tropical,’ she relayed. ‘Long summers and short mild winters.’

  ‘You have family there?’

  ‘My brother, Ben, and his family live in Sydney.’

  ‘And your parents also?’ Raúl’s aunt questioned.

  ‘Gianna’s mother died several years ago,’ Raúl informed her. ‘Her father remarried and resides in Paris.’

  ‘I see.’

  No, she didn’t. Who could comprehend the loss of a dearly loved mother, then too soon afterwards witnessing a father remarry and move to the other side of the world? It had felt like abandonment at the time…although with hindsight that wasn’t strictly true. Their father had gifted Ben and Gianna the family home in equal shares. Ben, had already been a lawyer with excellent prospects, while she’d had steady part-time work while she studied business management.

  Together they’d shared the home for three years, until Ben had married Eloise and bought out Gianna’s half-share, whereupon she had purchased a flat and taken in a friend to help share expenses.

  The same friend who had suggested Madrid as a holiday destination…except holiday had extended into a longer stay when Gianna had been offered a temporary position by one of Ben’s associates based in Madrid.

  It was where she had met Raúl, at an event she’d attended at the request of her employer. Glitz and glamour, Gianna recalled of the night in question, where, as corny as it sounded, she’d met Raúl’s faintly hooded gaze across the crowded room and become momentarily transfixed by him, aware even then that tangling with him in any way would consign her way out of her depth, floundering in previously unchartered waters.

  He’d played it cool, engaging her attention, then dazzling her with practised charm. Putting in the groundwork, she attributed wryly. On one level the sexual chemistry had intrigued her, and she had been tempted to explore it. Yet there had also been the intrinsic knowledge that if she did she’d become totally lost in the fallout.

  Except her fears had been unfounded, and following a whirlwind courtship she’d agreed to move in with him.

  A leap of faith, Gianna concluded, that had begun so well…

  ‘Pablo has tickets for the opera at the Teatro Principal tonight,’ Cristina ventured. ‘Would you like to join us?’

  ‘Oh, please do,’ Teresa encouraged quickly. ‘Raúl?’

  He met Gianna’s faintly desperate glance, divined it, and challenged her. ‘Thank you. We’ll meet you there.’

  Wretch, she silently cursed him.

  Teresa clapped her hands together in delight. ‘It will be lovely for you to have an evening out together.’

  You think?

  Yet how could she deny an arrangement that appeared to give Teresa such pleasure?

  ‘We have reservations to dine first,’ Cristina added, and named a restaurant.

  Oh, joy.

  Teresa’s family had to know of their estrangement. Surely an absence of three years conveyed they were living apart? On opposite sides of the world, for heaven’s sake.

  So why this evening’s invitation? A covert attempt to bring them together?

  Some chance.

  Words which seemed to echo in her head as she put the final touches to her make-up, added jewellery and slid her feet into stilettos.

  Formal wear meant she chose a sophisticated halter-neck gown in deep aqua silk, which flowed over her slender curves and highlighted her flawless skin. A matching silk wrap completed the outfit, and she silently thanked her instinct to pack it. She left her hair loose, collected her evening purse, crossed the suite to open the door and saw Raúl in the process of exiting his suite.

  A dark evening suit shaped his form as if tailor-made for him—which it undoubtedly was.

  He was something else, she admitted reluctantly as he paused, waiting for her to join him.

  An intrusive presence who succeeded in putting her on edge. In spades, she acknowledged ruefully.

  He bore a relaxed look that was deceptive, for beneath the projected persona was the mind of an intensely shrewd man who would stop at nothing to achieve his objective.

  As long as it didn’t include her, the remaining days should pass with relative pleasantness.

  So why did she harbour the instinctive feeling that they were each on a different page?

  Crazy, she dismissed as she walked at his side to the head of the stairs and descended them to the foyer.

  ‘Pablo and Cristina have already left to drop their parents at Rosita’s apartment,’ Raúl indicated as they reached the BMW four wheel drive parked beneath the porte-cochère.

  It was a beautiful evening, with fresh sea air drifting in from the ocean as Raúl eased the powerful vehicle toward the centre of Palma.

  Traffic was beginning to build up as offices closed and staff made their way home. Soon the restaurants would begin serving those choosing to dine out, and entertainment in its various forms would attract clientele.

  The hotel where Pablo had made restaurant reservations offered valet parking, and the maître d’s recognition bordered on the obsequious as he escorted them to their table, personally ensuring they were comfortably seated while offering any service they required.

  The power of extreme wealth and social status, Gianna acknowledged wryly.

  ‘It would seem your reputation precedes you.’

  ‘Specifically?’

  ‘Why, y
our wit and charm, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ Raúl mocked with a degree of amusement.

  ‘A babe magnet,’ she offered dryly. ‘I can’t quite pin it down to any one thing. The name Velez-Saldaña, perhaps, and all that goes with it…the villas, the apartments in various cities in the world, the luxury cars.’ She tilted her head a little. ‘The private jet, luxury cruiser, your—er—generous attributes.’

  His eyes assumed a faintly wicked gleam. ‘Would you care to elaborate on that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’ve missed your refreshing honesty.’

  ‘Oh, please. There were a string of women just waiting to take my place.’

  ‘None of whom interested me.’

  She looked at him carefully. ‘You expect me to believe that?’

  ‘Your prerogative.’

  At that moment she saw Pablo and Cristina enter the restaurant, and after checking with the maître d’ they made their way to the table.

  Gianna liked Raúl’s cousins. Pablo possessed a droll sense of humour, while Cristina knew fashion—what was in, what wasn’t—and had the advantage of being able to determine even the most skilled copy from the genuine designer article.

  ‘We must get together,’ Cristina intimated when they’d perused the menu and placed their orders. ‘I saw the most divine dress in a hotel boutique that would be perfect for you.’ Her eyes sharpened a little, assessing in a way that Gianna recognised would lead to more. ‘We’ll get a manicure, have a facial, share lunch. Catch up.’

  It was tempting, although her first priority had to be spending time with Teresa. Just as she was about to decline Raúl suggested, ‘Why not arrange to meet in the afternoon while Teresa rests?’

  ‘Done.’ Cristina reached into her purse and extracted a pocket diary, flipped the pages and had pen poised and ready. ‘When?’

  Good question. Teresa mentioned a lunch or two with friends, an evening charity event to which Velez-Saldaña leant their generous support.

  ‘Can I get back to you on that?’

  ‘You can.’ Cristina wrote down a phone number and handed Gianna the card. ‘Call me.’

  Pablo offered an expressive eye-roll. ‘Not to do so will be at your peril.’

  ‘You exaggerate,’ his sister rebuked.

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘It’s called efficiency.’

  ‘Officiousness.’

  Cristina and Pablo shared a sibling rivalry based on teasing affection, appearing to delight in verbal sallying at every opportunity. Something, Raúl had once confided, which had existed between them since childhood.

  Waitstaff presented their meal with artistic flair, and each morsel proved a delectable testament to the chef’s supreme reputation.

  Raúl was an urbane host, relaxed and at ease as he led Pablo into a discussion of Real Madrid’s chances of winning a soccer cup final, with spirited conclusions drawn by Cristina who, Pablo teased, had her eye on one of the team players.

  ‘Romantically,’ Pablo added, only to be volubly chastised by his sister. A tirade he chose to ignore. ‘They met at a party. Went on a date. He sent her flowers.’

  Given Cristina made no secret of her determination to remain dedicated to her career and single, it was impossible not to smile, and Gianna didn’t even try. ‘You’re not going to mention his name?’

  Cristina’s response was swift and fierce. ‘Not if he values his life.’

  A waiter’s presence to take their order for coffee was timely…so, too, was the need to leave for the Teatro Principal, where a stand-out performance by a cast in splendid costume captured and held the audience’s attention with breathtaking appreciation. Especially the female lead, whose clarity of voice and emotional delivery touched even the most insensitive heart.

  The timed breaks between each act allowed the audience to move into the foyer, and it was there the social elite gathered and acknowledged friends.

  ‘Raúl.’

  Gianna turned slightly to see if the husky feminine purr matched the woman to whom it belonged. It did.

  Model-slim, exquisitely gowned, beautifully jewelled, with gorgeous dark hair waved in a deceptively casual style and darkly sensuous eyes with thinly veiled intent.

  ‘Rafaela.’ His acknowledgement held polite warmth, but little more.

  ‘You should have told me you would attend the teatro tonight. I could have arranged for us to be seated together.’

  ‘We’re here as my cousins’ guests.’

  ‘We, querido?’

  Oh, please, don’t let’s play the invisible person game, Gianna dismissed mentally as she proffered a polite smile.

  ‘Gianna.’

  ‘Another cousin, querido?’

  ‘My wife.’

  Rafaela’s eyes flashed momentarily, although to give her credit she recovered quickly. ‘The marriage is over, sí?’

  ‘I have never indicated it to be.’ His voice was pure silk, like the edge of a very sharp knife grazing delicate fabric, with the threat of possible damage ever present.

  ‘But I thought…’ Rafaela trailed off delicately.

  ‘It is not something I choose to discuss.’

  Gianna bore the woman’s scrutiny well. She even managed a conciliatory smile as Rafaela graciously took her leave.

  ‘One of your many conquests?’

  ‘An acquaintance.’

  ‘Of whom there are several.’ It was a statement not a query. ‘Is that why you wear your wedding ring? To fend them off, or to provide a challenge?’

  For a moment she didn’t think he intended to answer, then he offered quietly, ‘I haven’t taken the ring off since the day you placed it there.’

  She tried hard not to let his admission touch her…and failed miserably. She wanted to offer a flippant response, but somehow the words didn’t find voice, and then it was too late as an announcement signified the conclusion of the intermission, and urged patrons to return to their seats.

  Watching the remaining acts required concentration, something Gianna found difficult to summon, and it was something of a relief when the evening concluded.

  It was only when she was alone in the car after they’d dropped Cristina and Pablo at their elderly aunt’s apartment that she sought to take Raúl to task.

  ‘Please explain why you’re choosing to imply to people that our marriage is still valid.’

  He spared her a dark look as the car traversed the distance to Teresa’s villa. ‘It isn’t?’

  ‘You know exactly what I mean.’

  ‘It’s a situation I have no inclination to change.’

  But I do, she attested silently.

  ‘Nothing to say, Gianna?’ The words were a silky taunt.

  ‘Not at this moment, no.’

  They covered the remaining distance in silence, and on entering the villa, Gianna trod the staircase without offering a word until she reached the door of her suite.

  ‘Goodnight.’ Extremely polite, she pushed the door open, entered, then quietly closed the door behind her…only to sag against its rear for several long minutes before she crossed to the bed, where she dispensed with her clothes, removed her make-up and slid between the sheets.

  It was a very warm day, Gianna determined as she slid out from the car and told Miguel she’d call him when she was ready for him to collect her.

  The cool air-conditioned hotel lobby was pleasant as she crossed to the lounge, where Christina rose from a deep-cushioned chair to offer an effusive greeting.

  Elegant in slim-line linen, stilettos, her make-up impeccable, she looked gorgeous, and Gianna offered a genuine compliment as they became seated.

  ‘We’ll order coffee,’ Cristina began, ‘then go shopping.’

  ‘We don’t need to shop.’

  ‘Yes, we do. I’ve already checked out the boutique and they still have the gown in your size.’

  ‘Give me one good reason why I need another gown?’

  ‘Who cares about a reason?’


  Logic in the face of Cristina’s determination simply didn’t equate. ‘OK, so we check out the gown. On the condition we also look at something for you.’

  Cristina offered a chuckle in amusement. ‘Oh, no, you don’t.’

  ‘Hey. A deal’s a deal.’

  A waiter appeared, took their order, and Gianna sank back in her chair. It felt as if the last three years had disappeared like nothing as they resumed a friendship they’d previously shared whilst she had lived in Madrid.

  ‘What’s the situation between you and Raúl?’

  This was Cristina, shooting straight from the hip, no preliminaries.

  ‘I imagined business would keep him in Madrid.’

  ‘While you’re here in Mallorca? Are you mad?’

  ‘You say this…because?

  Christina viewed her carefully. ‘You mean, you haven’t figured it out yet?’

  ‘I’m here because Teresa asked me to visit.’

  ‘Tia Teresa’s illness is very sad,’ Christina agreed. ‘It has touched us all.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘It is also opportune with time and distance to review the circumstances which prompted you to leave.’

  There didn’t seem any point in avoiding the issue. ‘It won’t change anything,’ she stated, only to have Cristina’s eyes sharpen.

  ‘You do know Raúl filed stalking charges against Sierra?’ One look seemed to convince her otherwise. ‘No, I guess not.’ She pursed her lips. ‘He adores you. Always has.’ She paused as she appeared to come to a decision. ‘What the two of you share is special.’

  Was, Gianna amended, only to have Cristina shake her head.

  ‘Do yourself a favour and go seek the real truth.’

  As if she could do that. The question was did she want to?

  ‘OK, I’m done,’ Cristina said smoothly. ‘We have some serious shopping to do.’ She offered a faintly wicked smile. ‘Let’s go flash some plastic.’

  They did. The gown Cristina recommended was sheer perfection, in lilac chiffon, with tiny crystals beading a fitted bodice, thin spaghetti straps, and a softly flowing full-length skirt that showcased Gianna’s slender form to attractive advantage. A matching wrap added a finishing touch.