The Spanish Billionaire's Hired Bride

by Rachel Lyndhurst

  “This wasn’t really a bet after all, was it? You let me think you were a shallow, spendthrift playboy who’d made one stupid drunken bet to marry. Why didn’t you tell me the truth from the start?” Helen blinked her eyes with indignation. “Capella is a disgusting little blackmailer.”

  “I can think of more appropriate descriptions, but I wouldn’t want to defile those beautiful, innocent ears of yours,” Ricardo said with a smile. “And as for the truth about why I needed a bride, would it have made any difference to your answer? You only agreed to my conditions when you were totally desperate for the money. You walked out on me in disgust when I first made the offer in Ibiza, didn’t you? Your principles were so high, no way would you be bought, for whatever reason…”

  Helen felt her cheeks flush and she lowered her head in the hope that he wouldn’t notice. “I don’t need to listen to this—”

  “But two million easy euros was too much for you to resist, wasn’t it, darling?” Ricardo picked up her hands again and kissed the tips of her fingers one by one. “And now everyone’s happy. Capella has his cash and the satisfaction of believing I am miserably married. You have your second million in the bank as of midday, and—” He leaned back into the soft leather of the seat and slowly stroked the palm of her hand with his forefinger. “Now it’s my turn to get some reward for all this. Let me tell you, Helen Almanza, I am really, really looking forward to our honeymoon. In fact…” He took her chin firmly between his fingers and turned her face up towards him. His hovered just inches from hers. “I see no reason why we shouldn’t make a start right now.”

  Chapter Six

  “We shouldn’t … not here,” Helen said in a light, shaky voice as his fingers pulled out a hairpin at the nape of her neck. “Not in the back of a car with the driver inches away.”

  “We’re newlyweds and should do whatever we like,” he murmured before pulling her into an intense kiss.

  He silently extracted the remaining pins and she felt her hair tumble free over her jaw and shoulders as he eased her head back into the soft leather of the car seat. Helen clung to the fine fabric of his suit and quivered as his tongue entered her mouth and she matched him stroke for stroke as the kiss deepened. Their first kiss on the Condesa’s terrace hadn’t felt like this. That kiss, the one that sealed their immoral marriage deal, had felt more like a punishment, a warning, a proprietary branding. It had been hard and fierce, but she’d gone up in flames of lust for him even then. This time was different. This time she was melting. She was melting into his blistering kisses, helpless, like an ice cube on hot sand.

  Helen was more than a willing participant. She was now his wife, to have and to hold. And to kiss and to… have sex with for three months. She was lost to his touch and she wanted him to take her more than was sane. The Condesa was right. He would show her the ecstasy of his bed, fill her, empty her, and then destroy her. And she would let him, because there was no way she could resist the way he made her body feel. Her fate was decided.

  His mouth drifted to her neck and she arched with pleasure, her eyes opening as she did so. “Where are we going?” she suddenly asked, blinking to restore her vision. The street they were driving through seemed unfamiliar.

  “Our honeymoon,” Ricardo whispered against the soft skin over her collarbone and began to stroke her thigh beneath the hem of her wedding dress. “We just got married, remember?”

  Her body stiffened as his hand went higher. “But this isn’t the way we came yesterday, and all the road signs to Marbella are pointing the wrong way.”

  “Relax. We’re not going to Marbella.”

  A lance of panic sliced through her. She didn’t like being completely out of control of a situation. She was coming to her senses. “Tell me where we’re going immediately,” she replied sharply. “Or—”

  “Or you’ll scream? Call the police? Again? Honestly …” His tone was exasperated as he pulled back and stared at her. “You’ll notice that we are about to enter the harbor. The exclusive berth where my yacht is docked lies beyond that red and white barrier. Once we’re on board, you can go anywhere you like. She can go five thousand miles without refueling.”

  “Oh …”

  “Problem?”

  “Mal de mer.”

  “What?”

  Her stomach churned. “It doesn’t matter, but…” She dropped her bouquet onto the floor of the car. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “You’re joking, right?” Ricardo laughed awkwardly.

  Helen looked up with panic into his incredulous face and felt indignant fury as he did absolutely nothing. “Stop the bloody car,” she gasped. “I’m going to be really ill!”

  Finally realizing that she was serious, Ricardo rapped on the glass partition to get the driver to pull over. Wrenching open the car door, Helen tumbled out and lurched towards the quayside. The sea breeze was strong as it cut across the harbor, but nothing was going to quell the urgent nausea she was experiencing. She threw up within seconds. Between acrid retches, she touched her clammy forehead with shaking fingers. She was aware that Ricardo’s large hand brushed against her, hesitantly at first, then more confidently, rubbing comforting circles between her shoulder blades. He held out a snow-white handkerchief and put it under her nose as she convulsed towards the sea again.

  “I do hope there’s no one down there,” he said lightly. “Or they’re going to get quite an unpleasant shock when your breakfast hits them.”

  “Don’t be a disgusting pig, Ricardo,” Helen said between retches. She was reminding herself of a cat with fur balls, most unladylike. This really was the ultimate indignity.

  “Care to tell me what’s going on?” Ricardo said when Helen finally managed to stand upright. “I can’t believe the thought of being my wife is that abhorrent. Or do I really kiss that badly? You seem to have a daily episode of fainting or general wimpishness lately.” He gripped her shoulders and forced her to look him in the eye. “Dios! You’ve not turned to the bottle, have you? Bellinis for breakfast?” He made a point of sniffing suspiciously at her mouth.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Helen said, shrugging her shoulders angrily out of his grip. “If you must know, I’ve not been feeling quite right since we came back from England. I keep waking up with headaches, and I’ve had quite a few episodes of feeling sickly, but none as bad as today.” She brushed a stray lock of hair from her face and inhaled the cool fresh air slowly. “It’s probably stress and the change of environment. I didn’t have much breakfast either, so it could be that.” She was quick to add, “not that Luisa didn’t do her best. She ordered up enough food for a week.”

  Ricardo took her pale face in his large brown hands. He studied her inquisitively for a moment or two. She was so tiny and delicate, like a seed pearl shining underwater, beautiful yet surprisingly resilient under pressure. He felt an unfamiliar lurch in the pit of his stomach, a twist of something he didn’t understand, and it unsettled him.

  “This is all my fault. I’ve driven you too hard, not noticed you were ill in my impatience to get today out of the way.” His expression was grim as he pulled her head to rest on the crisp white of his wedding shirt. “Let’s get you back in the car. We’ve not far to go and then you can rest. You need to be taken care of.”

  “I’m not sure taking me onto your boat is going to help matters. I was as sick as a dog for a week after my uncle took me mackerel fishing. I’ve not been on the water since.”

  “Indalo is no trawler,” he muttered. “You’ll be fine.”

  …

  Doctor Romano looked at Ricardo sternly. “I’ve left her to rest now and told her that in no circumstances must she start taking those pills again. In fact, I’ve removed the supply she was prescribed in case she’s tempted.” He tossed the foil sachets into his black case and snapped it shut. “I know how these independent career women can be about such things, trying their best to control nature and events, but in this instance the medication is making your wife ill.
It’s uncommon, but the contraceptive pill just doesn’t suit some women.”

  “I knew she should have consulted a decent private physician, not some tourist quack.”

  The doctor shrugged and picked up his bag. “Anyway, you’re married now, so it’s not something any self-respecting Almanza needs to worry about.” He regarded Ricardo mischievously over the horn rims of his spectacles. “So when the Senora is feeling better, enjoy your honeymoon, and give me a call when her period’s late.”

  As the cabin door closed quietly behind him, Ricardo’s fists clenched and his thoughts began to trip over each other in the rush. Subconsciously, the back of his hand flew to his mouth, as if to stifle a roar of anger. His lips made contact with the cool metal of his wedding band and crushing guilt smothered him.

  He was a beast. His pride and lust had cajoled her into a situation she didn’t want. He had behaved in a disgusting manner and was now feeling wretched with self-loathing. He could imagine the contempt Doctor Romano would have for him if he knew it was his big, clever idea to persuade Helen to go on the pill or similar, to satisfy his urgent physical longing for the woman without risk of repercussion. He shuddered as he imagined the old family physician’s reaction. You simply didn’t treat a woman like that.

  But she’d gone along with the marriage, hadn’t she? She had agreed to that in exchange for his money? So, okay, maybe he shouldn’t feel bad about that side of things. But the sex? She had made it quite clear that she wasn’t going into his bed because she wanted to and that was something he could fix. The last thing he really wanted, apart from marriage, was to force himself on an unwilling woman. That was the sort of thing Jerardo would do, and he really was disgusting. Why on earth hadn’t he realized how he’d been behaving before now? If his brother Primeiro had been around he would have spoken his mind, told him to get a grip and treat the woman with some respect. Dios! He missed his brother…

  …

  Helen awoke and was alarmed to see Ricardo tiptoeing into her room with a tray. “How long have I been asleep?” she asked, propping herself up on one elbow.

  “Shh!” He took her hand firmly in his and kissed it affectionately. “You needed to rest.”

  “How sweet.” Helen was taken aback by his sudden concern and gentleness. “You bringing me tea is very kind.”

  “The least I could do.”

  Helen took a sip, then put the cup thoughtfully back down into its saucer and summoned the courage to tell him what the doctor had said earlier. “Listen, Ricardo. I have to speak to you about what the doctor said—”

  Ricardo silenced her with a finger pad to her lips. “It’s fine, I know all about it.” He sighed apologetically. “I’m afraid there’s no such thing as patient confidentiality when you’re married to an Almanza. But here.” He took a bundle of papers from the bedside table. “I have something for you. A wedding gift.”

  “Oh no! Not more agreements to sign!” Helen’s voice rose in anguish. No wonder he was being so sweet, he was going in for the kill again! “I know things aren’t going quite like you planned, but I’m sure we can straighten them out, seek a second opinion or something!”

  “Basta! Enough.” Ricardo blasted with agitation and then appeared to regret it as Helen shrank away from him. He coughed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. These are the documents we signed originally, and there is something I feel you should be aware of.” He spoke more softly now. “I’m sure you didn’t read them all through, and not having a lawyer’s understanding of matters it may not have made much difference if you had. What I’m trying to tell you is that nowhere in this mass of paper does it mention any marital duties.”

  “It doesn’t? But—”

  “It would probably be breaking the law to make such a contract, anyway. That part of the deal was just between you and me.” He placed the papers back on the table and walked slowly towards the door. “So, I’m releasing you from that side of the bargain. The money is yours to keep and you are under no legal or moral obligation to sleep with me. I do hope you like your wedding present, Helen.” He looked thoughtfully out towards the sound of crashing waves outside. “And in no time I’ll give you your name back too.”

  As the cabin door shut behind him, Helen suppressed the urge to yell “don’t I have any say in any of this?” but the words dried in her mouth as she struggled to absorb what had happened since they’d boarded the yacht. She was off the pill and Ricardo? Ricardo was suddenly off her! She had been unceremoniously dumped from his bedroom plans. So did this mean he’d now be straight off to some high-class bordello to satisfy his marital needs? He’d have to “protect” himself there presumably. Or maybe not. She had no idea how these things worked, but she was suddenly feeling a lot healthier. She was suddenly feeling extremely angry too.

  “Now you come back here!” she yelled, storming out on deck with just a silk robe over her underwear. “We still have things to talk about, Ricardo Almanza. Don’t you dare dismiss me.”

  Ricardo leaned against the glass balcony overlooking the ocean, and his bronze eyes widened in astonishment. “Please don’t let me stop you in full flow,” he said politely and gestured for her to sit on one of the luxurious sun loungers laid out for them. “Talk away.”

  “Well,” Helen said, the thunder having been well and truly stolen from her. “I want to know what happens from here. Do I sit around and play the dutiful wife for three months while you cavort with the nearest supermodel? Part of our convenient marriage vows did deal with the subject of fidelity, as you may recall. I know the whole thing is as sham, but I don’t think I could stand being totally humiliated.”

  “Not even for all that money?” Ricardo said quietly, his forefinger pressed against his temple.

  “No. I do have some self-respect.” Helen squeezed her lips together in a desperate attempt to stop the angry irrational tears she could feel welling up.

  Ricardo sighed and rubbed his eyes laboriously with the heels of his hands. “Dios! I thought I was making things easier for you. Why aren’t you happy now?”

  “Because—because…” She searched for a plausible reason. “You said you wanted me.”

  Ricardo let out a shaky laugh and lightly scratched the darkening shadow that was beginning to appear on his square jaw. “That hasn’t changed.”

  “Then I don’t understand. What has changed since we got back here?”

  “I’ve had time to think in the last twenty-four hours. I came to the conclusion that this is exactly the sort of situation where I have to accept the word no. I should have done so in the very beginning. Our marriage is a legitimate contract between us and is valid in the eyes of the law. However, the other matter, the physical side of our deal, well, that’s something that should never be taken or paid for.” He formed a tent shape with his fingers and balanced his chin on it lightly. “It should always be a gift, and for that I’m sorry.” He shrugged and averted his eyes for a second. “I wanted you in my bed so much that I got carried away, forgot that this was all about my family honor in the first place. Too much testosterone. Too much temptation within my reach.”

  “Like with the car?”

  Ricardo leaned back and clasped his hands behind his neck, ignorant to the astonishing display his biceps were giving by doing so. “Should I compare thee to a red Ferrari?”

  Helen felt her face crack into an involuntary smile. “You are such a smooth, spoiled git, Almanza …”

  He gestured a silent ‘of course’ with his a flourish of his long hands and gave her a smile so devastating in its sexual pull that she had to take a sharp intake of breath.

  “So what next?” Ricardo said slowly.

  “I don’t know,” she said, thinking that this now sounded a bit like discussing a restaurant menu. “What do you suggest?”

  “We have a fully-stocked yacht, staff, and a quarter of a million dollar’s worth of fuel on board. I have land and property just about everywhere in the Mediterranean and North Africa. There’s a helic
opter and a speedboat tucked away somewhere on this vessel.” He teased her with a long pause. “So we could always throw caution to the wind and enjoy our honeymoon.”

  “Our honeymoon…”

  He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “No strings. No expectations. Just a holiday. But we have to be realistic. It’s only a matter of time before the paparazzi get wind of where we are every time we make land. Our wedding and honeymoon pictures will be changing hands for a lot of money until another big story comes along. Malaga and Ibiza will be a nightmare, but they’ll have trouble getting to us in Menorca. We can get some peace there.” He leaned back against the balcony railing, his face easing into one of those smiles again. “So what do you think of this idea? We cooperate with the press, give the pack some good shots of us together in Ibiza, some quotes even, on the understanding they give us some privacy afterwards.”

  “Do you think they will?”

  “No. But if the payoff for exclusive shots drops we won’t be quite a tempting mark. ”

  “It does seem like a good idea.”

  “And I expect you’re missing the party scene already.”

  “Well, not exactly.”

  He shot her a disbelieving look. “So all we need to decide now is how quickly we get there. If we stay cruising at this speed we should make Ibiza by morning. Alternatively, we can take the helicopter to Malaga right now, transfer to my private jet, and it will take us less than three hours.”

  Helen did her best not to let her eyes grow as large as saucers. “We’d be there in time for dinner.”

  He smiled. “We’d be there before the clubs in San Antonio even wake up.”

  “Money is bloody useful sometimes.”

  “It is.”

  She despised herself for the way looking at him made her feel. His dark hair lifted and fell in the breeze, and the way he could stare at her for moments at a time without flinching set her blood on fire. Helen wished the distance between them wasn’t so wide so she could feel his breath on her skin. She wished he would roll down the crisp white silk of his shirt to hide the corded muscles of his tanned forearms. She wished she could stop her heart dancing the tarantella in her chest.