Public Marriage, Private Secrets

by Helen Bianchin

  Oh, dear heaven… Unshed tears shimmered in her eyes, and this time she lost as they welled and spilled over to run in slow rivulets down each cheek.

  Emotional overload.

  A night with Raúl in her bed, very little sleep, her mind and heart in a state of turmoil, together with Teresa’s avowal of affection it was almost too much.

  ‘Am I to assume the reconciliation announcement was pre-empted by circumstance?’ Teresa posed quietly.

  There was no question in evading the truth. ‘Sierra was a guest last night.’

  ‘Ah.’ Teresa expelled a breath and linked Gianna’s arm through her own. ‘Sierra is a dangerous young woman.’

  ‘There was an…incident,’ Gianna revealed, reluctant to relay the hateful words Sierra had uttered.

  ‘Raúl chose to defend you?’

  You could say that. ‘Yes.’ The terrace came vividly to mind—how it had felt to be drawn into his arms…the kiss…dear heaven, magic. As if the past three years no longer existed. For at that moment the slate had been wiped clean. There was only passion…and the need to fulfil it.

  Did Teresa guess there had been an aftermath?

  How could she not?

  ‘Your happiness must be paramount,’ Teresa said gently. ‘There are occasions in one’s life when love is tested. Believe me when I say I will support whatever decision you choose to make.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Any minute soon she’d resort to tears again, and that would never do.

  Almost as if Teresa sensed her emotional turmoil, she impulsively caught hold of her hand. ‘Come, we will examine Miguel’s garden. He is so proud that everything is organic.’ She gave a light laugh. ‘Elena is only allowed to pick the vegetables and salad greens he permits, and then it must be beneath his eagle eye.’

  They were so caught up in the moment they were unaware that Raúl had risen from behind the desk and was unobtrusively observing the scene from the office window.

  Two women, a generation apart.

  His mother, of average height and slim, her shoulders held straight, the wig she wore so much like her own hair there was no detectable difference.

  Gianna, his wife, in direct contrast, with her petite stature, slender curves and blond hair.

  Together they shared a common unbreakable bond. Linked irrespective of their connection to him.

  Soon…far too soon…he would lose one of them. As heartbreaking as that would be, he had no intention of allowing Gianna to slip through his fingers.

  Last night…even the thought of what they’d shared through the dark hours was enough to incite arousal. Need, he accorded wryly. Rampant primitive passion for one woman…the only woman with whom he connected on every level. Mind, body, spirit. An essential part of him. As much as the air he breathed…his life force.

  Did Teresa know?

  How could she not? For it was she, more than anyone else, who had witnessed his drive to expand the power he wielded in the global market during the past few years. And he’d succeeded, even surpassing his own unrealistic goals as he’d poured all his energies into winning huge contracts, exacting takeovers, restructuring in a way that had trebled the Velez-Saldaña holdings.

  Yet in a way his hands were tied…loosely, he conceded. In the business arena he could afford to be ruthless…put an unnegotiable deal on the table and walk away if it wasn’t accepted.

  A wry smile curved his lips. This…Gianna…was personal, requiring a vastly different strategy. One he couldn’t afford to misdirect if he wanted her to share the rest of his life.

  He watched as the two women linked arms and continued along the path. He paused contemplatively until they moved out of sight, then resumed his position behind the desk, pulled up data on screen and resumed essential work.

  Choosing what to wear to lunch required thoughtful consideration, Gianna posed as she checked the selection of clothes she’d brought with her.

  Teresa possessed impeccable taste in everything, and her wardrobe consisted of exquisite wear designed for every possible occasion.

  Dress-up time, Gianna decided as she donned a beautifully tailored dress in deep aqua, added matching stilettos, then tended to her make-up, fixed her hair in a smooth twist and attached a slender gold chain and gold studs to each ear. A spritz of her favourite perfume, and she was good to go.

  Miguel delivered them to a beautiful mansion in Portals Vells, set in landscaped gardens with spectacular views of the sea.

  Adriana Ramirez de Arroyo greeted Teresa with fond affection and turned towards Gianna.

  ‘My dear, how lovely to see you. Do come and join the other guests in the sala.’

  The room encompassed nine guests…women whose wealth and social status rivalled that of their hostess. Three of them Gianna recalled having met at one charity function or another in Madrid.

  Introductions completed, Gianna accepted a light orange fruit spritzer in an exquisite crystal goblet, took a sip, and found it to be delicious.

  Genuine friends, mostly similar in age, with a long history together, Gianna realised as they chatted and laughed prior to moving into a beautiful formal dining room and being seated for lunch. Pleasant, charming women, content in their own skin, with no apparent need for pretence of any kind.

  No fewer than five courses were served by staff, each dish a visual and epicurean feast. Light instrumental music provided an unobtrusive accompaniment, and it proved delightful to witness Teresa’s pleasure.

  ‘Teresa adores you,’ Adriana imparted gently as they lingered over coffee. ‘It is good you are here to spend time with her.’

  ‘She’s a very special lady.’ The words came straight from Gianna’s heart.

  ‘We’ve known each other for many years,’ Adriana relayed. ‘Shared time together, watched our respective children grow, succeed and marry.’ A soft smile curved her lips. ‘Teresa will be overjoyed with news of your reconciliation with Raúl. She loves you.’

  What else could she say except, ‘Thank you…’

  ‘It has been Teresa who has accompanied Raúl to various functions in your absence.’

  Gianna hid her surprise quite well…or so she thought.

  ‘My dear, you were unaware of this?’ Adriana paused a little. ‘Then possibly you do not know Raúl has chosen to represent Velez-Saldaña alone on the occasions when Teresa’s failing health has prevented her attendance.’

  Teresa hadn’t mentioned it in any of her letters. But then Raúl’s mother possessed sufficient wisdom to accept her son was eminently capable of managing his personal life.

  Did time heal? Was it possible to find a resolution?

  Perhaps…

  Oh, for heaven’s sake…what was she thinking?

  She’d moved on. Made a new life for herself. Dammit, she enjoyed what she’d achieved. What was more, she hadn’t touched a cent of the money Raúl authorised each month into her bank account. Hadn’t she notified him via his bank to cease payment? Not that he’d taken any notice.

  Yet…last night…

  Don’t go there. It was just sex…albeit very good sex. That it had reawakened her emotions and attacked the very core of her soul was immaterial, for it didn’t change his infidelity.

  Except for the tiny core of doubt seeding in her mind.

  ‘Shall we adjourn to the sala?’

  A concerned glance was all it took to discern Teresa was beginning to tire. Gianna discreetly checked her watch. It was three-forty-five, and Miguel had instructions to collect them at four-thirty.

  The car arrived promptly, and hugs were exchanged as Adriana accompanied them to the porte-cochère, where Miguel ensured Teresa became comfortably seated while Gianna crossed to the other side and slid into the adjoining seat.

  It had been a pleasant afternoon, and Gianna said as much as the car traversed the driveway.

  Teresa reached out and took Gianna’s hand in hers. ‘Lovely,’ she agreed. ‘Thank you for accompanying me.’

  ‘The pleasure was all mine,’ s
he responded quietly.

  They shared a comfortable silence during the drive to Teresa’s villa, and once indoors Teresa acknowledged her nurse and the need to rest.

  Gianna gave her an impulsive hug, then watched as Teresa ascended the stairs to the gallery and moved towards her own suite of rooms in the west wing.

  The hours stretched ahead…hours in which she could access e-mails, check the online data Annaliese would have posted. Reading presented another option, but she felt a need to expend some restless energy, and the thought of stroking lengths in the pool held definite appeal.

  It didn’t take long to change, don a bikini, collect a towel and make her way to the smoke-tinted glass-roofed pool.

  Grateful for the solitude, she dived into the cool water and struck out, frequently changing style as she powered length after length before switching to a more leisurely pace.

  ‘Are you done?’

  Gianna stilled at the sound of that familiar drawl, and turned to see Raúl standing with relaxed ease on the wide expanse of marble tiles surrounding the pool.

  How long had he been there? She hadn’t heard a sound, nor had she noticed his presence.

  ‘What if I say no?’

  ‘I’ll take that as an invitation to join you.’

  She cast his tall frame attired in black trousers and white shirt a sweeping glance. ‘You’re not suitably dressed.’ Undressed, she added silently, and glimpsed his faint smile.

  ‘I don’t recall it being a problem in the past.’

  No, it hadn’t been. ‘This is Teresa’s home,’ she managed with a degree of reproval, and felt her eyes widen as he unbuttoned his shirt, discarded it, then he released the zip fastening on his trousers, slipped off his shoes, socks, and disposed of all three.

  Black silk briefs separated him from total nudity, although the effect of his barely covered frame caused her pulse-rate to quicken to an alarming beat as he surfaced in the pool mere inches from where she trod water.

  Dark and dangerous, was her initial reaction, and her lips involuntarily parted as he cupped her face and smoothed a thumb over one cheek.

  ‘How was lunch?’

  ‘Fine.’

  One eyebrow lifted in silent query, and she held his gaze with equanimity.

  ‘Adriana is a wonderful hostess,’ she relayed with deliberate patience. ‘The guests proved to be delightful company. Superb food.’

  ‘Teresa?’

  She sobered a little. ‘Teresa appeared to enjoy herself immensely,’ she opined quietly. ‘Although she tired as the afternoon progressed.’

  ‘Hence her decision to have a light meal on a tray in her suite.’

  ‘You think the afternoon may have been too much for her?’

  He didn’t respond immediately. ‘I think she deserves to choose how and with whom she spends what time she has left.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ Such simple words, meant to convey so much, and his eyes darkened as a slight shiver shook her slender frame. ‘Cold?’

  It was more than that. A chill she couldn’t explain. For it was enmeshed in a host of emotions she felt unable to voice. Paramount was the need to seek solitude…for to remain here, close to him, was more than she could bear.

  ‘I need to go change,’ she managed lightly, grateful when he released her, and she swam to the side of the pool where she lifted herself in one easy movement onto the marble tiles.

  It took bare minutes to towel the moisture from her body and fix the towel sarong-style round her slender form, then she picked up a second towel and wound it turban-fashion over her hair.

  Without a backward glance she entered the adjacent cabana and made her way through to the guest wing and her suite, where she showered, washed her hair, then donned comfortable jeans, a knit top, and opened her laptop.

  If she’d had a choice she’d have opted to follow Teresa’s lead and eat a light meal here, instead of joining Raúl in the dining room. Dinner à deux didn’t exactly appeal for a number of reasons…too many to settle for any one.

  Consequently she changed into black silky evening trousers, added a black lacy top, fixed her hair, applied light blusher and lipgloss, and slid her feet into black stilettos.

  Informal, almost casual, but with a degree of style, she accorded, and made her way downstairs.

  ‘Señor Raúl will join you soon,’ Elena imparted as Gianna entered the dining room.

  So much for hoping to dine alone. Which, given the intimacy they’d shared, seemed little less than ridiculous.

  So suck it up and pretend.

  Sure, and she could do that?

  Try, a silent voice prompted.

  And she did…she really did.

  Except Raúl was there, a disturbing, disruptive presence who stirred her emotions to fever-pitch. Even to observe his hands as he ate proved a vivid reminder of just what havoc those hands could cause to her equilibrium…

  As to his mouth…she didn’t dare go there.

  ‘I may be needed in Madrid tomorrow.’ He forked the last morsel of food and pushed his plate to one side. ‘A conference call in this instance isn’t achieving a satisfactory result.’

  Gianna set her plate aside, half the contents untouched…attempting to do the food justice was out of the question.

  ‘In that case you should give whatever it is your personal attention.’

  He leaned back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully. ‘You’ve been like a kitten on hot bricks and eaten little. Care to offer a reason?’

  OK, he’d asked. Tell him. ‘Last night was a mistake.’

  ‘I disagree.’

  He knew—of course he knew what bothered her. How could he not, when he had always been able to read her like an open book? ‘I don’t do casual sex.’

  ‘There was nothing casual about it.’

  Why had she started this? It was insane to think she could best him in any way.

  ‘It’s not going to happen again,’ she vowed firmly.

  ‘It’s a woman’s prerogative to decline.’

  And she hadn’t done that, had she? Instead she’d invited him in, urged him on…with each successive occasion.

  Why? Stupid question. She knew precisely what had motivated her…need, electrifying passion, and a compelling urgency to experience sexual chemistry at its zenith. With him…only him.

  Gianna stood to her feet. ‘If you’ll excuse me?’

  He made no attempt to stop her, other than to offer quietly, ‘Avoiding the issue won’t make it go away.’

  Perhaps not, but she didn’t have to stay and cross verbal swords with him.

  Not the most successful evening, she accorded as she entered the beautifully tiled foyer and headed for the staircase.

  If only she could turn the clock back twenty-four hours…except that wasn’t possible.

  So get over it, she chided herself as she entered her suite and discarded her clothes for cotton sleep trousers and a sleep tank before moving into the adjoining en suite bathroom.

  Minutes later she emerged and crossed to the bed, slid beneath the covers and reached for a book.

  She managed to read two pages without absorbing so much as a word, and she was about to return it to the nightstand when the bedroom door opened and Raúl entered the room.

  Gianna’s eyes widened with disbelief. ‘What are you doing?’ Words momentarily failed her. ‘I’m not having sex with you.’

  ‘Your call,’ he drawled with indolent ease, and began unbuttoning his shirt. ‘Sleeping is fine.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘IF YOU think you’re sharing my bed…’ She trailed off as her anger began to heat as he discarded his shirt, then freed the zip fastening on his trousers. ‘It’s not going to happen.’

  She escaped the bed as he slid into it, and without thought snatched up a pillow and threw it at him.

  He caught it easily, and she gritted her teeth as he returned it to its original position.

  ‘You want to play?’

  ‘No
.’

  ‘Then, unless you intend standing there indefinitely, I suggest you get into bed.’ For a long moment he regarded her in silence. ‘Sleep is the operative word.’ He waited a beat. ‘Together.’

  Gianna wanted to stamp her foot like a recalcitrant child, and hated that he knew it. ‘You’re an arrogant fiend.’ She could think of worse words to hurl at him, and almost did.

  ‘Careful, mi mujer,’ Raúl warned her softly, and glimpsed the sudden gleam of anger in those deep blue eyes a second before she snatched up the pillow and thumped him with it.

  Her forward momentum worked against her, and the next instant she lay sprawled on top of him. His hold was loose, although the expression evident in those dark eyes mere inches beneath her own was sufficient to send warning bells clamouring through her body.

  One false move would be all it would take, and while anger urged her to struggle against him the sane, rational part of her dictated commonsense.

  ‘Let me go.’

  He didn’t move or attempt to release her, and she wavered on the brink, momentarily uncertain…of him, herself and how the situation would evolve.

  ‘Please.’

  For a moment she was unsure whether he’d comply, and she gasped as he cradled her head and brought her mouth down to his in a possession that rocked her very being.

  Passion, in all its many facets…pulsing, mesmeric, intensely primitive. It took hold of her emotions and swept her to a place where there was no coherent thought…only the man, his touch and its cataclysmic effect.

  She was dying here…a wild and wanton supplicant prepared to beg.

  ‘Please.’

  It was all he needed. Restrictive nightwear became discarded as he positioned her to accept him, and she held on as he took her for the ride of her life…and his…as rapture sent them spiralling high to reach that exquisite magical place in perfect accord.

  It was almost more than she could bear, and she rested against him, too enervated to move as erotic sensation began to subside.

  She was conscious of the light trail of his fingers along the edge of her spine, soothing gently as he murmured softly in his native Spanish… A few words registered on some remote level, and his lips caressed her temple, then rested against her cheek.