“My mother is dead.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted before she could offer a condolence.
“And my father is dead.” He handed her a glass and took a sip from his own. “I had a brother, who is also dead.” His expression was as hard as granite. “That is all there is to say about my family. Your family, your parents, are good people. I like them a lot. Let’s make it an occasion for them, yes? You never know, we might get to enjoy it too.”
Helen felt her hands, head, and sternum prickle. She suddenly felt cold and nauseous. She managed to put her glass on a side table with a clatter and then swayed towards the balcony.
“Hey!” Ricardo swiftly grabbed her elbow to support her. “I think you need to get some rest.”
“No, it’s okay, I’ll be fine,” she replied weakly, annoyed with herself for behaving like a swooning wimp, but also disturbed by her loss of physical control.
Ricardo lifted her effortlessly into his arms and began to head for the inner cool of the house. “I disagree.”
…
Half an hour later Ricardo stroked a lock of hair from Helen’s forehead as she slept. She was very endearing for such a blatant money grabber. “You don’t fool me,” he whispered. “You’re just like all the others.” She was after all she could get, but as he watched her eyelids flicker, he suddenly felt bizarrely protective. He wondered what she was dreaming about…
Guilt began to nibble at him. Was he having second thoughts because her parents were being duped? Or was it because she had been maneuvered into a marriage she didn’t want?
No. He needed to get a grip. She knew what she was doing, and it was all down to hard, cold cash. She might look above suspicion sleeping like an angel on his bed, but there was no mistaking the black diamond that masqueraded for a heart inside her.
There were distinct advantages in controlling a bank. Conveniently, the parent company of where Helen had her current account was under his majority ownership. He’d been keeping a close eye on it, and noted with interest that the million she’d asked for up front had already been transferred to another high street lender. She must certainly have debts. That wasn’t his problem, however, and her financial woes were proving to be advantageous to him. If she needed amounts of such a size and with such urgency, she wouldn’t walk out on him before the wedding ceremony. He was also looking forward to three months of pleasuring her luscious body in his bed. The prospect was more exciting than anything he could remember in a long time.
…
The doorbell rang insistently causing Helen to awake with a start. Coming slowly to her senses, she registered where she was, and then, to her horror, realized that Ricardo was smiling down on her from the other side of the bed.
“How long have you been here?” she asked sharply.
“About half an hour,” he said with a lazy smile. “You were yelling about something. Must have been some nightmare.”
“This whole situation is a nightmare,” she grumbled and pushed herself into an upright position. She had no recollection of having a bad dream. “So don’t be too upset if I snore as well. You might want to rethink the honeymoon arrangements, like separate rooms.”
“No way.” His reply was slow and deliberate. “You don’t get off the hook that easily.” The doorbell rang again. “You have to earn the balance of the two million, and you still owe me on the down payment, remember?”
Helen focused on the hollow at the base of his throat, visible above the white collar of his shirt. With the top two buttons left open, his smooth, tanned skin would tempt a saint. She quickly swallowed down a spike of desire. He would be incredible to go to bed with. How could he not to be with a body like that?
“How could I forget?” she said with a croaky voice. “But I hope you won’t be disappointed when I remind you that the answer is still no. I will not willingly sleep with you. It could be a pretty dull three months, unless you’ve planned out the divorce too? Will it be adultery? Yours?”
“Am I really that awful? You never know, being my wife might not be that bad. There are plenty of others out there who would leap at the chance. For free.”
She stared belligerently out of the tall window opposite the bed, biting down on her bottom lip. He was right and they both knew it. “You don’t need my approval. Your ego’s big enough to cope on its own.”
Ricardo let out an irritated sigh. “Have it your way. I don’t want to make your life any more unpleasant than it has to be, or mine for that matter. And by the way, are you sure you wouldn’t like to consult my doctor? I had a chat with him yesterday, on behalf of a ‘friend,’ and he said an implant’s a safe method—”
“You don’t own me! How about you take some responsibility? I’ve complied with the terms of your contract and it’s dealt with. My choice. A method I can stop using the minute our ‘arrangement’ ends, or even sooner with any luck. I even made sure your lawyers got a certificate proving I’ve done as you asked. God, you must have a low opinion of me, trapping a man with an unplanned baby is something I would never do under any circumstances.”
He was silent, but raised a sardonic eyebrow.
“What would I gain anyway? Your lawyer’s got every possible event covered in the pre-nuptial agreement.” She shot him a look of venom. “Or do you think I might want a permanent reminder of my lovely time as your wife? An image of the great and gorgeous Ricardo Almanza. I don’t want anything from you.”
“You want my money.”
Helen dared not look him in the eye. She could already picture the dark scowl that her last outburst would have caused, and she had no defense. She did want his money. She needed it.
“So about this wedding,” Ricardo said. “I assume you want the works? Tons of white silk, champagne, flowers, confetti. Am I right?”
Helen studied her nails and assumed the most superior tone she could manage. “Who’s coming from your side?”
“Is it important?”
“I am vaguely interested, as it happens, yes.”
“That’s entirely up to you, querida. I’m not bothered.”
Helen turned her head to meet his amber gaze. “What I’d really like is a quiet, quick affair with the least fuss possible.”
Ricardo looked at her as if she was mad. “Seriously?”
“Completely.” She looked him coldly in the eye. “It’s not as if any of this is real, is it?”
“No. I suppose not.” Ricardo shrugged. “Obviously, I have to invite the guy who I have the bet with, Jerardo Capella, and then there has to be at least one more witness.”
“The Condesa?”
Ricardo snorted. “Maybe not. She still isn’t speaking to me after I stole her best girl. And, anyway, I hate her almost as much as Capella.”
“You said it has to be authentic, though .It seems a shame that you had to meet my parents and go through that charade to risk having your secret uncovered at the last minute.”
“No risk. Quick private ceremonies are becoming increasingly popular with those who value their privacy and don’t need the cash from glossy gossip magazines to pay for it all. Especially when the bride is already pregnant.”
Helen gasped with horror. “You wouldn’t…”
“No need to, darling. We just decline to comment, smile sweetly, and let the gossip mongers make up their own minds. They will come up with outrageous conclusions, don’t you worry.” He then looked at her thoughtfully. “Are you sure a quiet wedding is what you want?”
“This is just a big game, remember? I’d feel a lot happier if I didn’t have to witness my mother’s tears of joy.”
“So you do have a conscience? But what will you tell her?”
“I’ll think of something.” Helen winced as the doorbell and the telephone started to ring simultaneously. “But please tell all these people to go away, will you? I can’t stand it!”
Ricardo leapt to his feet with a large grin. “You have no idea how happy that would make me.”
<
br /> “It’ll save you a few quid as well.”
“This is for you,” he said, tossing a blue velvet box onto the bed before strolling towards the door. He turned to see Helen’s nimble fingers flip it open, revealing an enormous diamond and platinum engagement ring inside.
He couldn’t decide if her shocked gasp was joy or dismay, and as the doorbell rang again, he didn’t really care. It was only money.
…
Helen padded barefoot into a blaze of early morning sunshine. On the villa’s terrace, Ricardo’s broad shoulders dominated the back of a cane chair and the white cotton robe he wore did nothing to soften his masculine angles. His jet-black hair was still wet from showering, and trembled like short reeds in the light morning breeze. Helen was rooted to the spot for a moment as the cool marble floor seeped into the warmth of her soles and she took in the sight of him. She watched as he reached for a coffee cup, long dexterous fingers wrapping themselves around the curve of the porcelain, threading themselves sinuously through the handle. She remembered how he’d done the same with her hair on the Condesa’s terrace when she’d sold her soul to him. The memory was still fresh. The way he had kissed her. She shivered in spite of the heat.
“I missed you last night, Helen.” His dark head turned slowly as she approached. “I had hoped you’d visit me under cover of darkness, put me out of my misery.”
“You did? Sorry to disappoint.”
“I took a cold shower.” Ricardo pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit down. “Did you sleep well?”
“Very well, thank you,” she lied, and poured herself a glass of orange juice. She shot him a tight smile. “But poor you, obviously.” She held his gaze for a second or two as he considered her over the rim of his coffee cup, and then lowered her eyes. His sexual pull was so powerful. The fire in his eyes would make the coldest ice maiden sizzle. She wondered if he suspected that she’d been thinking about him all night too, wondering how she would be strong enough to send him packing if he came to her room. In spite of everything she’d said to him, she knew in her heart that she’d have given herself to him without much persuasion. Her treacherous body burned from wanting him and it was becoming difficult for her to ignore.
“I’ve been thinking,” Ricardo said as he tore a fresh bread roll between his fingers. “As it’s our last day of freedom, I’d like to take you out for the day. Or do you need more time to prepare for the wedding?”
Her wedding day. Helen swallowed her rising anxiety about the coming event. She had chosen a dress and accessories from the selection the designer had offered, and the wedding planner had taken care of all the practicalities. The legal paperwork was in order, and her parents had been very understanding about their wish for a quick, quiet wedding. The Marshalls had no desire to be spread all over the European gossip magazines. All Helen needed to do was ensure she arrived at the town hall by eleven on the day. So what more was there to do?
“I don’t see why not,” she said with a shrug. “Is it going to turn into some hack photo opportunity?”
“Not until dinner time. Until then we’ll take a car with blacked out windows, so you don’t even need to put any make up on if you can’t be bothered.”
She pursed her lips and tried not to feel self-conscious about her bare skin and distinctly mascara free eyes. “I’ll do my face in a minute, don’t worry. My bag’s inside.”
“We’re only going for a drive up into the mountains to have a quiet lunch and some good air. To settle your nerves, hopefully. I want you to see the view, all the way to Gibraltar and the coast of Morocco if we’re lucky.” He took another sip of coffee and stared hard at her. “Believe me when I say you’re beautiful as you are. Leave the make up off if you want to. You don’t need it.”
Helen felt peculiar all over again at his silky words, and her skin tingled under the fine silk of her bathrobe. She followed the direction of his eyes as her nipples grew hard and formed sharp peaks through the delicate fabric. Her voice was husky as she sensed he knew exactly what she was feeling. “Yes, good idea. I think we really should get out of the house for the day.”
.
The centre of Marbella was a bustling frenzy that evening. As Helen watched the spectacle, a flutter of red silk and a smooth, tanned female thigh on the back of a moped caught her attention. She wondered if the man the young Spanish woman was clinging to was her fiancé. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling as her face pressed in against his shoulder blades. They weren’t well off. His faded polo top and battered trainers bore testimony to that, but they still looked happy and carefree. Were they in love? How would the senorita in the red dress have reacted if she’d been presented with a huge, ostentatious diamond in the last twenty-four hours? Most likely she would be on Planet Delirium, showing it off to anyone who would look, kissing, hugging, and ruffling her coltish lover’s dark hair.
So why did she, Helen Marshall, Ricardo Almanza’s new fiancée, feel so flat? She knew why, it was obvious, and a small part of her was disgusted that she should have any feelings about the situation at all. She felt horrible because none of this was real. She was no more than a business arrangement to Ricardo—a chattel—a playing card. She twirled the heavy band on her ring finger as she watched the battered moped weave through the orange trees and disappear in the crowds. The metal was smooth and cold, the stone as hard as Ricardo’s heart.
“Not hungry?” Ricardo said pushing the remains of his fritura Malaguena aside.
The air between them hung as thick and heavy as cold honey. Helen shook her head. “I’m still full after that huge lunch you made me eat.”
“You only had a lobster salad. You should eat more.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
Ricardo shrugged and took a sip of wine. “Anyway, I’ve seen at least two photographers catch us out in the last ten minutes, so our mission is accomplished. We can head back.”
“Mission?”
“The whole object of sitting in La Plaza de los Naranjos in the middle of Marbella, in front of one of the world’s best restaurants was to get us seen.” Ricardo rose from his chair and proffered his arm. “Why do you think that hulking great rock on your finger is so enormous? It can be seen from fifty meters and is unmistakably an engagement ring. That’s why I didn’t let you choose one. I’d bet my life you’d never agree to something quite so vulgar.”
“It sums our whole arrangement up quite well,” she said with a glance at her left hand. “Vulgar. I’m surprised you haven’t forced me into some inappropriately tight dresses as well.”
“Soccer player’s wives are not my style, Miss Marshall,” he said abruptly, and pulled her by the hand into the crowd outside the restaurant.
“We haven’t paid the bill!” Helen shouted over the noise of the street as Ricardo dragged her reluctantly along behind him.
He stopped walking and looked at her in surprise. “You don’t need to worry about things like that now.” He suddenly pulled her tightly into his chest, his arms trapping her by the waist and he lowered his mouth to her ear. “Judging by how much money you had to ask for when all this began, paying your bills is something you’re not that accustomed to anyway.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“As my future wife, it is my business, but just to reassure you, I never pay in Juanito’s. We go back a long way and we have…an understanding. Besides, money is a man’s responsibility. A woman’s role is to seduce it out of him.” He brushed a lock of golden hair from her shoulder and lowered his mouth softly to brush her lips with his own. “And right now, Helen Marshall, you’re doing a very, very thorough job.”
“You’re an abysmal chauvinist,” Helen whispered crossly, as he pulled her even more tightly into him, crushing her breasts against his chest.
“And if I wasn’t so rich, you’d absolutely hate me?”
“I do hate you.”
“I can tell.” He slid the tip of his tongue under her receptive top lip. “You’re m
aking it so obvious.”
Helen felt dangerous heat pooling between her thighs. “I should slap you for this.”
His voice was a husky whisper. “Then slap me hard, because right now I don’t think I can wait until our wedding night.”
“You must. Otherwise, it’s a breach of contract.” Helen shivered as his hand slid beneath her top. “If you don’t I’ll have to put the price up again.”
Her knees were like jelly and the breathlessness of her voice did little to hide the effect he was having upon her. His lightest touch sent her up in flames. “It’s just as well the wedding will be sooner than later, then,” he whispered against her trembling lips.
“What do you mean sooner?” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear the answer or not.
A smile creased Ricardo’s face as he stroked the bare skin of her back, feathering light strokes around the clasp of her bra. “I’ve pulled out all the stops on this one. The civil ceremony in Gibraltar is booked and paid for. We will be husband and wife the day after tomorrow.”
Chapter Five
“Prisa! Hurry up! Senorita Marshall!” Luisa, the wedding planner, panted anxiously. “Senor Almanza does not like to be kept waiting. Not even on his wedding day!”
“Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” Helen said as the middle-aged woman fiddled with the exotic flower she was fixing onto her hair. She’d felt quite numb all morning, oblivious to the luxurious surroundings of the five star Gibraltar hotel she had been booked into the previous night. She hadn’t realized how much she would want her mother there to help her get ready. Since waking early, her feelings of isolation had been acute. Even though she’d been fussed over, fed and preened by the ecstatically excited Luisa for three hours now, it wasn’t the same.
Luisa left her to check on the cars. Helen stared at her reflection in a full-length mirror and she thought back to the evening she’d spent with Ricardo in Marbella. The memory of him stroking the palm of her hand in the warmth of the night made her shiver. She was as scared, yet excited, about her wedding night as a real bride would be, which was beginning to worry her. Did Ricardo feel the same way? It was unlikely. This wasn’t a real marriage. It was a cold, hard business deal. Helen crushed her teeth together until her jaw hurt.
The Spanish Billionaire's Hired Bride Page 5
