The Spanish Billionaire's Hired Bride

by Rachel Lyndhurst

  “Wow! Things just get better and better.”

  “I’m glad you’re impressed,” Ricardo said as he piled up their plates. “So tell me about Ibiza. What were you doing in town before Antonella got her shiny claws into you?”

  “A short-term contract in a salt company’s office. They needed translation support done on some promotional material. I think I managed to get in because my Spanish and computer skills are passable, and I was in the right place at the right time.”

  “So you said your contract was terminated. A bad girl, were you?”

  “You wish. No. Financial problems somewhere along the line, apparently. The office needed to be relocated to the mainland, that’s all I was told. Along with adios.”

  “It happens,” Ricardo murmured as he concentrated on his food. “How many languages do you speak? Spanish, Mandarin, Russian…”

  “A bit of Italian, French and a few words of German.”

  “Quite the achiever! It sounds like your talents were wasted in the Ibiza salt mines anyway.”

  Helen flicked away an insect. “It sounds impressive, but my degree was in Spanish, French, and Agriculture. The rest are what I’ve picked up on the side, just for the fun of it. There’s very little money in it, but languages come easily to me. Mum says I must have been a parrot in a previous life.” She shrugged and opened her eyes deliberately wide. “See? I’m chattering on and boring you silly without even trying.”

  “On the contrary. I’m fascinated.”

  He shot her a suggestive look and she couldn’t be sure if he was being sarcastic or if he really meant what he’d said, but either way her mind had now melted into jelly. “So you must come to this restaurant often?”

  He smiled. “Yes, as often as I can. The food is excellent, no one is nosy or sticking a camera in my face. It’s like being Mr. Average Anonymous for once. Sometimes there are definite downsides to being rich, influential and, dare I say it, an Almanza.”

  “It must be difficult guarding your privacy.”

  Ricardo stared into his wine for a moment. “I also like to visit often to keep an eye on Pirro. Poor kid had a really tough start in life. I’ve known him since the beginning. But Antonio and Maria have brought him up well—fresh air, freedom and honest work. The odd clip around the ear too, I expect.”

  “Never did you any harm, eh?” Helen said, her composure returning.

  “Sadly not. My papa was never around long enough to deliver the discipline. He’d always be back from business with gifts and kisses. Mama used to get very angry. But of course, we adored him for all that indulgence. He was more of a grandfather figure than a dad, I suppose. It was great at the time, but—” He thoughtfully ran a finger up the stem of his glass. “I don’t think it did us much good in the long run. Having to accept the word no is one of life’s hardest lessons. I still don’t like it.”

  “I could make a sarcastic remark, but I won’t.”

  Ricardo began to laugh as Pirro arrived with their desserts. “Got a girlfriend yet?” he asked as the boy put down the glass dishes.

  Pirro giggled and a color rose on his shiny round cheeks. “Not yet, Ricardo, but…” He leant to whisper something in Ricardo’s ear while pretending to rearrange the cutlery, until Ricardo sent him packing back off to the kitchen whooping with laughter.

  Helen’s eyebrows rose questioningly.

  “He said he likes the look of my girlfriend.”

  “Serves you right.”

  “For what, exactly?”

  “For being such a dreadful man.” She took a spoonful of turrón ice cream and grinned. “Although you do seem a lot more relaxed and cheerful in Menorca. Or is that my imagination?”

  “It’s the wine, querida,” he said with a lethal grin and refilled her glass. “So let’s have some more.”

  Helen watched appreciatively as the wine bubbled into her glass, sparkling with hints of lime green in the sunshine. “Thank you.”

  “I think you’re pretty nice all the time,” he said quietly before scooping cinnamon mousse onto a sweet wafer biscuit. “Now that you’ve stopped snarling at me, that is.”

  “Have I ever done that?” Helen replied cautiously. “Snarled at you?”

  He gave her a serious look “It’s felt like it at times, considering we’re just helping each other out.”

  “Then I apologize.”

  “No need. I probably deserved it anyway.” He wiped his fingers on a napkin and then scraped back his chair. “I’ll get these back to the kitchen and see how my other favorite ladies are getting on. I won’t be long.”

  She watched as he walked back towards the house, dishes in hand, his dark head held high. Every movement he made sent bolts of awareness shooting through her. She shivered with the delicious sensation. No man had a right to be so damn attractive.

  She saw a gray-haired woman in the shadows of the main building entrance, presumably Maria, wipe her hands on a blue-and-white-striped apron. Ricardo bent down to kiss the top of her head and her short, shaky forearms reached up to cup his face. He submitted totally as the old lady fussed over his clothes, his hair, and if Helen wasn’t mistaken, she could hear Maria berate him for being too skinny and in need of a decent wife to feed him up.

  After a few minutes, Ricardo sauntered back towards Helen carrying coffee and briefly looked back over his shoulder. Maria and three young women were peering around the white stone doorway and giggled as they waved in Helen’s direction. Turning his attention back to her, his smile widened.

  “I told them. I hope you don’t mind, I just couldn’t help myself,” he whispered.

  “Told them what?”

  Ricardo leaned across the table and covered Helen’s tiny hand with his. “That we got married.”

  Helen winced. “Ah, that. They didn’t know? Are they angry with you? I’ll bet they hate me!”

  “Not a bit of it. They had no idea about us, no interest in celebrity gossip outside the village, but they’re ecstatic. Maria wants to bake us a special cake.”

  “I hope you didn’t tell her I could cook.”

  “The subject never arose. They’re all just happy I’ve finally found someone.”

  Helen felt herself being drawn into the amber fire of his eyes, and her heart skittered dramatically for a few seconds as his words sank in. She was married to this incredibly attractive, totally masculine, virile male. He was perfect husband material on the surface—older, wiser, stronger, and unapologetically dominant. She knew she should will away the sudden and irrational longing for their marriage to be real. She’d felt that way before, and knew it was dangerous.

  Her voice sounded husky. “Finally found someone? Someone like me?”

  “Why not? In another time, another place and in different circumstances it might have happened anyway.”

  “It?”

  He smiled and looked down into his coffee cup as it swirled around a silver spoon. “Us.”

  “Highly unlikely, we live in different worlds. And, besides, you said the last thing you ever wanted to do was to get married.”

  “So did you.”

  A burst of sadness made her feel weak. The cold truth had intruded on their intimacy. The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them, an attempt to build a wall around her heart. “And I still feel the same.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I’m sure I want to go straight home, back into bed with you. Sure, I want to feel the hot weight of your body on mine. Sure, I’d have your babies if you wanted me to because…I’m falling in love with you.

  She pasted on a false smile. “Of course I’m sure.”

  She was shocked at the way her mind had rambled into forbidden territory. It had to be the wine, the sultry atmosphere…or just Ricardo and the lust he invoked. Torturous heat intensified between her tightly clamped thighs. He could suggest anything to her at that moment, and she would agree. She wanted him so badly again it hurt.

  Ricardo had never needed to pay her the ext
ra million. He was destined to have her anyway. From that very first moment, as he stared down at her spread-eagled on the Condesa’s bed. The flashing citrine and jet of his eyes had made her heart stall. The sensuous curve of his lips, the angry flare of his nostrils, and the intense power of his hands at her throat were instantly thrilling. She’d been ready to submit to him there and then, within a minute of their worlds colliding. Facing up to the naked truth about how she felt about this man was deeply disturbing.

  She realized she was under his spell.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Do you remember the day we met?” Helen asked later, as they stood on the balcony of his bedroom, watching the sunset after another perfect honeymoon day.

  “How could I possibly forget?” he murmured into her hair, his arms winding around her slim waist as he stood behind her. “You were like a trapped animal in that room. An animal with a very attractive behind.”

  “Even in my horrible work pants?”

  “I’ve ripped them off in my fantasies many times, don’t you worry”

  “You’ve had fantasies about me?”

  His hand slid up from her waist and began to stroke her breast through the fine silk of her bathrobe. “Of course I have. I still do when you’re not here to indulge me for real.”

  The thought of him fantasizing about her was an instant turn on. An image flashed through her mind of him lying naked on his bed, his hand resting on his flat stomach and then… Her voice was suddenly low and sexy. She liked the sound of that too. “I remember the feel of your knees on the back of mine as you pushed me down. I thought you were going to—”

  “Murder you?”

  “Possibly, or…have me.”

  “You weren’t particularly receptive that day. You almost crippled me in that department.”

  She heard him take a long, slow breath and reach for her other breast. She pictured him closing his eyes as he felt her, as he cupped her curves and molded them against his large hands. She loved that he wanted to enjoy her. “In your fantasy, do you take me there on the bed? From behind?”

  His fingers grew still and she could feel his heartbeat between her shoulder blades. “Sometimes.”

  “Is it…is it primitive? Rough?” His hands began to move lightly across her breasts again. He must be able to feel the way her heartbeat had increased with excitement.

  “No, it’s exquisite because you beg me to do it to you.”

  Helen gripped the cold stone shelf of the balcony as she felt his growing erection pressing through the sheer material covering her bottom. His own robe was never going to restrain him, that part of him was too powerful for Chinese silk. “And do you? Do you do it to me when I beg you?”

  “Always.” Ricardo trailed one hand up the length of her thigh, twisting her robe in his hand and lifting it up and around her waist to expose her naked lower half. “You’re always ready for me, very eager, very wet, and I’m always prepared…”

  Helen heard him tear open a condom wrapper with his teeth and instinctively leaned her weight forward against the stone balustrade. He was going to… and she wanted him to so badly. The hard, cold balcony pushed against her rib cage beneath her breasts and she roughly pulled the edges of the robe apart to intensify the sensation, letting it slide off her shoulders, his penis was hot and rigid as it slid between her parted thighs and the cool night breeze tightened her nipples. He nudged along her vulva with his length, back and forth until she began to groan. “Yes… please. Now.”

  She heard him adjust his footing as her robe slid to the floor and she felt the immediate pressure of him pushing upwards and into her. His thickness stretching her wide, the weight of him against her back and buttocks pressing, back and forth in tiny movements until one long thrust secured him deep inside. His voice was low and hoarse. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long.”

  She gasped with excitement as he reached around and slid his fingers between her legs, stroking, exploring until he found her swollen nub and began to tease her senseless with his fingertips. Tiny circles that made her bones melt and a sharp flick to heighten the pleasure as he thrust hard into her. “Ricardo…yes… more…”

  She heard his breathing grow harsh as she pushed back against him, begging him with her body to go further and faster. She felt his hands slide to her hips and grip her firmly in place, his lips and body hair rasping against her bareback. “Can you feel it, querida? Can you feel how much I want you?”

  He was huge inside her and she felt wilder and more sensual than she ever had before. He was irresistible. “I want it all,” she moaned. Her feet lifted slightly from the cold tiled floor as she spread her legs as wide as possible and she felt his fingertips dig into the soft flesh on her hips.

  “On your knees then,” he whispered harshly against her neck and pressed against her until her nipples were flattened against the stone balcony. “On the lounger.”

  Helen looked to her left and knew exactly what he had in mind. It was perfect, deep and wide cream cushions just inches away. He turned her around, his thick shaft still inside her and the twisting sensation it caused in her vagina made her shiver. She was already close to the edge. He eased her forward against the lounger so that her knees touched the fabric and her words seemed to come from nowhere. “Push me down.” The breath left her body and she twisted her face to the side as his weight came slowly down. Blind lust ripped through her as her breasts were crushed against the coarse cotton fabric, stiff nipples inverting with the pressure and buzzing with intense arousal. “Now have me.”

  “Lift up for me,” Ricardo muttered as the fingers of one hand found her clitoris again. “So I can go really deep, make you come really hard.”

  Every muscle in her body was tight with anticipation as she curved her back and offered herself up to him as far as she could. His fingers circled her hot flesh as he began to move, each sliding movement pushing her breasts upwards and into the rough fibers of the cushion until his other hand slid beneath her and sought out a hard nipple. He nipped it firmly and repeatedly between his fingers until her hips bucked in reflex, then she cried out as he gently pinched her clitoris at the same time. “Oh God…”

  “That’s it,” his voice trembled slightly as his pace increased. Long powerful thrusts that brought his balls in tightly so their pubic hair meshed and increased the friction between their bodies.

  Within seconds she began to tumble helplessly into orgasm, delirious with black hot sensation as his penis took control of her entire body. Plunging, panting, her fingers clawed the cushion and she didn’t care who heard her scream as she started to climax.

  Ricardo groaned loudly as his own release became imminent and his rhythm changed. Drops of his sweat felt cold as they landed on the hot skin of her back and shoulders. What he was doing to her felt savage and she welcomed it, she wanted it. She ached for him to totally possess her in that moment of heat and musk and feral need. She heard him curse in Catalan, dark sentences that included her name and then a brief moment of breathless silence as his body went into spasm and she felt him start to come. His body shuddered his release into her, long and slow, and he made a low noise that sounded almost like he was in pain. She felt her vagina close around him, convulse, twist and squeeze until she too tipped over the edge into her own swirling abyss of orgasm.

  He had her.

  There was no going back. Body, soul, and heart, she was his.

  …

  Ricardo awoke with a start. She was there with him, in his bed, soft and warm. He looked down and saw she was still out for the count with her nose pressed against his chest. It was a cute nose. He listened to her breathing, slow and regular and wondered if he really did snore. Nobody had ever mentioned it before.

  He rubbed his eyes with the hand that wasn’t pinned to the bed by the woman and realized that he hadn’t slept with many of his consorts. He’d had sex with plenty, but he usually found a way to avoid seeing them in the morning. There was something about “morning” that
was far too intimate for his liking, far too much like the beginning of something meaningful.

  He should get up, extricate himself quietly and shower. He should…Ricardo closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, the sweet herbs of her shampoo still lingered and his pillow felt more comfortable than he could ever remember. He’d been sleeping a lot more soundly since Helen had been sharing his bed and knew he shouldn’t get used to it, but still he couldn’t bear to get up and leave her there sleeping. He felt safe there.

  His thoughts drifted to her parents in their ramshackle farmhouse full of cobwebs and kittens. They had very little in a material sense, but they had each other and that seemed to be enough for them. He supposed they’d say they loved each other as husband and wife should. Maybe it was possible to find happiness within a marriage. Maybe some marriages did last. Maybe some lucky people really did go on to find a “Happy Ever After,” but that didn’t mean he’d started to believe in love.

  The simple comfort of their marriage bed and having time to lie there and think was beginning to lull him into exploring dangerous ideas, like ideas about families, the stuff normal people did. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad…

  He looked down at her again, at his wife, and felt a pang of anxiety. She was there because she loved money, not because she had any feelings for him, and he shouldn’t forget that. But then again, if that was her only fault he could deal with it. He had more than enough money to keep a small country running, and, quite frankly, most women wanted rich husbands, didn’t they? It was biological, an instinct to find the best mate to father their offspring. He wouldn’t want to become suddenly penniless, either, if he was honest, and what were the chances of him ever finding a woman who wasn’t interested in his wealth? Zero.

  “Ricardo?” she murmured, and he felt her begin to stir.

  “I’m here, honey, go back to sleep.” He tried not to panic at the way his stomach had flipped at the sound of her voice. His heart was already beginning to race as he felt her fingers trace sleepy circles on his chest. He swallowed hard when he realized he’d just made a huge life-changing decision without hesitation.