Public Marriage, Private Secrets

by Helen Bianchin

  ‘There’s no place for you here.’

  Gianna deliberately applied a final sweep of gloss to her lips, then she turned towards her nemesis. ‘You have sole use of a designated guest powder room?’

  ‘You want me to spell it out for you?’

  ‘Not particularly.’

  ‘Go back to where you came from,’ Sierra directed with vengeful intent.

  Calm… She could do cool and calm. ‘If I choose not to heed your advice, what will your modus operandi be this time?’ Her eyes hardened. ‘Another surprise such as you planned in Rio?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Then I shall tell you.’ Gianna lifted a hand and began by ticking off on her fingers. ‘You were registered as a guest in the hotel hosting a high-profile fashion show three blocks from Raúl’s hotel. The booking was made by you personally, paid for via your credit card, together with other relevant charges which included breakfast for one both mornings during your stay, as well as mini-bar and telephone charges.’ She didn’t give Sierra the chance to deny it, as she continued to count off each verified item. ‘Media coverage tabled an intense round of meetings, together with photographic evidence of Raúl closing a multi-billion deal on behalf of the Velez-Saldaña conglomerate. While his hotel bill also showed room service charges for one.’ She was on a roll. ‘What’s more, he checked out a day earlier than scheduled.’

  Sierra’s eyes glittered with malevolence. ‘So how do you explain my presence in his suite?’ she posed sweetly. ‘If you recall, I answered his phone.’

  ‘Coincidentally logged at the same time Room Service delivered Raúl’s meal,’ Gianna enlightened. ‘A little too convenient, don’t you think?’

  ‘What a vivid imagination you have.’

  ‘His cellphone statement logged a call made at the same time you picked up on a logged call from me to his suite’s phone line.’ She paused momentarily and her eyes darkened. ‘Raúl threw you out, but the damage was already done.’

  Sierra’s features assumed an unattractive bitterness. ‘My goodness, you have been busy.’

  ‘Facts I should have checked three years ago.’

  ‘Except you didn’t, did you?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted evenly. A fact which had worked to Sierra’s advantage. ‘Much to my regret.’

  ‘Raúl is mine.’

  A vicious, almost obsessive statement, which raised faint warning bells to Gianna to pull back. ‘You were his lover for a few brief months,’ Gianna conceded, and saw the fashionista’s eyes flash with fury.

  ‘It should have ended in marriage.’

  ‘Except he didn’t propose,’ Gianna reminded. ‘And when he broke off the relationship you refused to accept it was over.’ She drew in a deep breath and injected her voice with deliberate intent. ‘Go focus your attention on someone other than my husband, and cease making a fool of yourself.’

  They weren’t just words. She meant every one of them. Emotionally, passionately… Trust, love, in all its facets. The forever kind.

  Dear heaven, had she ever stopped loving him?

  Perhaps, for a while. When hurt, anger and disillusion had won out. Caused, she admitted, by Sierra.

  For a moment irrational fear overtook her at the thought of losing him again, and resolve gave credence to determination. Nothing…no one…would come between them again. She’d make sure of it.

  ‘Or?’ Sierra demanded.

  ‘I’ll go public with the information I have.’

  Sierra’s eyes gleamed with malevolence. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘An interview with one of Spain’s leading magazines,’ Gianna informed her. ‘Raúl is a prominent figure. I’m sure a journalist would delight in getting an inside story on our reconciliation. What caused the marriage to break down.’ Her eyes hardened. ‘Believe I would confide all.’

  ‘I’d sue.’

  ‘Any lawyer worth his reputation would advise against it, given the proof I can supply.’

  ‘If you mention my name…’

  She aimed her final dart. ‘I won’t need to.’

  A statement which drew uncontrollable rage from Sierra, and a hefty push which sent Gianna crashing against the marble vanity, immediately followed by a punch to her solar plexus.

  ‘Bitch.’ The word was accompanied by a few other choice expletives designed to blister the ears. ‘I hope you rot in hell.’ With that Sierra whirled and exited the powder room, leaving Gianna bent over in pain and gasping for air.

  Not nice. In fact, she could add a few choice words of her own…when she got her breath back. Which at the moment seemed unlikely anytime soon.

  It took a while to regain her composure before she returned to the ballroom and the table she occupied.

  ‘My dear,’ Adriana offered with concern, ‘you’re quite pale. Are you feeling unwell?’

  Just a little physical and verbal altercation. ‘I’m fine.’ Sure you are. Coffee…hot, sweet and strong. Then she’d alert Miguel she was ready to leave.

  The fashion show was winding down, with the final segment already being paraded down the runway. Glamorous evening gowns in soft floating chiffon…floral, block colours, stark black. Each a masterpiece in creation.

  It was early evening when Gianna slid into the rear passenger seat with Miguel at the wheel. There was a sense of relief…even satisfaction…at how the afternoon had panned out.

  Well, she could have done without Sierra’s physical reaction, but at least she’d won the verbal battle. It made the painful bruising almost worthwhile.

  Teresa seemed brighter after a restful day, and Gianna changed into comfortable clothes, then joined Teresa for a light meal, together with an account of the afternoon, the fashions, the guests, the total funds raised.

  ‘I’m delighted the afternoon was such a success.’

  ‘Adriana asked me to convey her best wishes.’

  A warm smile curved Teresa’s mouth. ‘Adriana is a very kind friend.’ She glanced up as the nurse entered the room. ‘Ah, here is my fierce angel to ensure I take my medication on time.’

  ‘Fierce and angel don’t really equate.’

  Teresa stood to her feet in one easy movement. ‘Believe me, she is both.’ There was fondness apparent that belied the words as she bade Gianna goodnight.

  It wasn’t late, and Gianna felt too restless to sleep. She checked e-mails, picked up a novel only to discard it.

  A leisurely shower appealed, and she took her time, then, towelled dry, slid into bed and closed the light.

  The afternoon played over in her mind as she recalled every word both she and Sierra had uttered.

  Could she have handled it differently? Been more assertive? Perhaps. Yet she’d reiterated all the facts in sequence facts she’d elicited directly from the source, leaving Sierra no room to manoeuvre.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  GIANNA must have fallen asleep, for the next thing she remembered was being drawn into a deliciously evocative dream where her skin burgeoned into exquisite life with the erotic drift of a mouth bent on seduction.

  A soft, throaty purr escaped her throat, and she instinctively arched her body in languorous acceptance, like a moth to flame, exulting as tantalising lips sought sensitive hollows and caressed vulnerable curves.

  If this is a dream, please don’t let me wake up just yet.

  Except a small shaft of pain penetrated her subconscious, removing the veil of sleep and bringing with it an awareness of the dimly lit bedroom, the large bed…and the man sharing it with her.

  ‘Raúl.’ His name emerged from her lips as a soft sigh.

  ‘Tired, amante?’ His mouth shaped her own in a persuasive prelude as he sought the sweet moist cavern and began teasing her response. ‘I can…’

  ‘If you think I’m going to lie here…’ she trailed off huskily, angling her mouth so it took possession of his own with wicked sorcery. ‘Besides,’ she managed when she broke contact to look deep into dark eyes heavy w
ith sensual intent, ‘you’ve already done most of the prep work…’ Her mouth curved into a seductive smile. ‘Unless I was lost in a beautiful erotic dream?’

  He shifted her to sit astride him, then cradled her head and brought it down to his own. ‘What do you think?’

  Real, very real, Gianna acknowledged as he reclaimed her mouth. And she used her body to tantalise his arousal…until he groaned, positioned her to accept him, then took her. Primitive, momentous…exhilarating. And so much more as he held her gaze with smouldering intensity. Sensation spiralled high, and he caught the moment she reached the peak…held her there as he joined her, tumbling them over the brink in a glorious sensual free-fall.

  For what seemed an age she just drank him in, loving the feel of him deep inside her…the hard, fast beat of his heart against her hand, and knew it matched her own.

  ‘Beautiful,’ Raúl said gently as he drew her down to rest against him, and she felt the light drift of his fingers as they traced her spine.

  It was this post-coital aftermath that caused every bone in her body to melt…a special time where the true meaning of intimacy held them bound together in sensual thrall, too enervated to move, yet so in tune with each other they were one…mind, body, and soul.

  With care, he framed her face and took her mouth in a lingering kiss, then he nestled her head beneath his chin. ‘Sleep, querida.’

  Gianna murmured something indistinct as she closed a hand over his shoulder and slid into blissful oblivion.

  The early-morning sun edged towards the horizon, turning the night’s darkness to a shade of grey where shadows loomed and there was little definition in the landscape.

  Gianna stirred, contemplated going back to sleep, only to discard the notion as she slid naked from the bed and crossed to the en suite bathroom, where she activated the shower and stood beneath the hot pulsing water.

  Delicate rose-scented soap filled the air as she distributed it over her skin, and she winced a little as she encountered the swelling at the rear of her pelvis where Sierra had slammed her against the marble vanity.

  Any day soon she’d be sporting a sizable bruise there.

  Not to mention the midriff area, where she’d taken a killer punch from the vicious out-of-control woman.

  Would Sierra retreat now, or would she scheme to instigate another ploy? Who could know?

  Gianna was about to rinse off when the glass door slid open and Raúl stepped in. It was easy to smile, for she adored his early-morning look of rumpled hair, unshaven and dangerous.

  Unclothed, he was something else. Broad shoulders, honed musculature chiselled to perfection. It was his arresting facial features, the wide-set dark eyes, wide cheekbones, and the faint grooves slashing each cheek that deepened when he smiled, laughed.

  Tight butt, she added…and met the amused gleam in his slumbrous eyes.

  ‘Are you done?’

  Looking at him? She wanted to laugh, go to him and wind her arms up around his neck, then tease… Just admiring the merchandise. And invite his kiss, as she had many times.

  Except this was now…not then, and she felt a degree of reservation, which was crazy given the intimacy they’d recently shared.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Calm words that belied the way her insides began to curl at the lazy appreciation evident in his gaze.

  ‘Stay.’ He scooped up the soap and began smoothing it over her shoulders with gentle strokes, despite her faint protest. ‘You’d deny me this?’

  No. It felt so good, so incredibly intimate, she almost closed her eyes as her body swayed slightly beneath his touch.

  He cupped her breast, shaped it, then skimmed his knuckles over the tender peak…and felt the faint tremor skim her body.

  He moved to her midriff, saw her flinch, and his hand stilled. ‘You’re hurt?’ When she didn’t answer, he caught hold of her chin between thumb and forefinger and tilted it so she had to look at him. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I bumped into something. It’s nothing.’

  His eyes narrowed slightly and became dark. ‘Who, Gianna?’ When she didn’t answer, his voice assumed a silky drawl. ‘Or shall I make a calculated guess?’

  ‘Sierra was among the guests at the fashion show for charity I attended on Teresa’s behalf yesterday afternoon,’ she admitted, and glimpsed a muscle clench at the edge of his jaw.

  ‘And?’

  ‘We had a verbal altercation.’

  She became conscious of the steady water flow as it beat down on their bodies. The delicate rose scent…

  ‘Sierra hit you?’

  Punched me, actually. ‘Sort of.’

  ‘What else?’ Raúl dispensed with the soap and ran his hands over her ribs, stomach then he moved to her back, caught her indrawn breath as he touched her hip and uttered a vicious oath as he examined the slightly swollen area beginning to show the first tinges of a nasty bruise. ‘Gianna?’

  ‘I came into contact with a vanity unit in the powder room.’

  His eyes hardened.

  ‘She didn’t like what I had to say.’

  ‘And that was?’

  Gianna gave him a condensed version, watching as his expression assumed pitiless disregard for the woman who’d sought to destroy his marriage.

  ‘You would have carried through with your threat?’

  Her eyes never wavered from his own. ‘Not without informing you of my intention. But, yes,’ she indicated firmly. ‘Sierra’s lies and manipulative behaviour have caused enough damage.’

  So they had. Damage he’d attempted to repair, with little success.

  To believe Gianna had sought to discover the truth for herself and confronted Sierra with a litany of fact almost undid him.

  To have gone to such lengths meant she cared, and with care there was the hope he’d regain her trust.

  Relief lightened his heart as he closed the water dial, picked up a towel and dried the moisture from her body before tending to his own.

  He removed two towelling robes, helped her into one before selecting another for himself.

  With considerable care he took hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips, his eyes dark and unfathomable. ‘You should never have allowed yourself to be alone with her.’

  ‘Sierra is an adult, not a child who throws a tantrum because she can’t have what she wants. What were her parents thinking, indulging her by allowing such behaviour?’

  ‘I imagine she fooled them as successfully as she managed to fool me.’

  A hard act to maintain for three months, Gianna admitted, only to reveal her true nature when the idealistic bubble burst. She could imagine how it had gone down…the tears, the pleading, the machinations.

  There was never going to be a better time to reach him.

  ‘I owe you an apology.’

  His eyes sharpened and became incredibly dark. ‘For?’

  ‘Not believing in you,’ she said simply.

  For a long moment he simply looked at her, seeing the shadows, the ethereal quality she strove to hide beneath the surface…and his heart twisted a little at the pain she’d suffered as a result of one woman’s vindictive psychosis.

  Without a word he swept an arm beneath her knees and carried her into the bedroom, where he sank down into a comfortable chair and settled her on his lap.

  ‘Sierra played her cards a little too well by initiating a game she could never win. At least not with me.’ He captured her face and his eyes seared her own. ‘I failed to see through the façade she presented until she mentioned she should move in with me. It didn’t go down well when I chose to end the relationship. Polite refusals to take her calls resulted in a false claim of pregnancy which I personally ensured was negative by insisting on independent testing. When I threatened legal action, she promised she’d never contact me again.’

  Facts Gianna hadn’t known. But then why should she have? It had happened before she’d met Raúl, and formed part of his past.

  ‘Except Sierra turned up at the same
events,’ Gianna said quietly, and felt his hand smooth gently over her head.

  ‘Yes. It was awkward in that her father is a colleague and mixes in the same social circles.’

  How could she forget the number of times Sierra had accompanied her widowed father, always perfectly groomed, a new designer gown shaping her slender curves, showcasing her generous cleavage? There, a visible personage designed to silently taunt the one man she coveted…a man who had, in her eyes, wilfully discarded her.

  ‘Sierra saw a chink in your armour when you miscarried, and she sought to drive a wedge between us in the only way she knew how…by contriving a situation that would attack you at your most vulnerable.’

  And she’d succeeded.

  ‘You think it didn’t hurt me to lie next to you each night and know you wept silent tears and couldn’t sleep?’

  Pain was evident, and regret. ‘It killed me,’ he revealed quietly, ‘to witness your miscarriage. To know there was nothing I could do to help other than be there. And after you left, nothing I could say would ease the hurt Sierra had inflicted. I was unable to reach you on any level, and you shunned any comfort I offered. You even refused to believe the truth.’

  She had failed, she reflected, caught up in her own grief, wanting so much to confide, to believe, but unable to summon the right words. So she’d chosen silence, attempting to adopt a normal façade at a time when life itself had been the antithesis of normal.

  Would the tragedy have righted itself, given time?

  Perhaps, she admitted silently. If it hadn’t been for Sierra’s meddling. If her belief in Raúl’s fidelity hadn’t been shaken.

  Instead she’d allowed doubt and confusion to reign, influenced by what? The innuendo and lies of a bitterly disappointed woman who hadn’t won what she considered to be the prize: Raúl Velez-Saldaña.

  A shiver shook Gianna’s slender frame. The fact Sierra had almost succeeded acted as a fist crashing into her heart.