The Spanish Billionaire's Hired Bride

by Rachel Lyndhurst

  “You’re beautiful,” she said, eyes closed, still half asleep.

  “So are you.” He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He wanted to keep her. He wanted her to stay his wife.

  He needed a plan.

  Chapter Twelve

  Helen’s hand trailed over the side door of Ricardo’s old red Alfa Romeo Spider, feeling the wind blast through her fingers as the car sped uphill. He had a collection of cars tucked away in a huge barn on the estate and had insisted she choose which one they took out for the day. The breeze became refreshingly cool in the summer heat as they gained altitude and he negotiated the rough mountainous road.

  Helen giggled as they bumped over the ridges and potholes. “This is loads more fun than your uptight Ferrari!” she shouted over the noise of the engine and crunching of the road beneath the wheels.

  “Papa would have been delighted to hear that!” he shouted back. “He bought her in the sixties and could never bear to upgrade.” He shot her a grin as his black hair flew about in the wind. “She’s been part of the place for a long time now, part of the family.”

  The car roared up a steep incline and Helen gasped as the dusty road suddenly ended and they ground to a halt at the very top. It must have been another of the highest points of the island, a huge expanse of sea and sky as far as the eyes could see.

  “It’s like being one of the gods up here, isn’t it?” Ricardo said, opening the low car door for her to get out. “It’s got to be the nearest place to heaven I’ve ever been.”

  Helen nodded with delight as he pulled out the basket of lunch items he had packed earlier and a large rolled up blanket for them to sit on.

  “We can leave these here for a bit,” Ricardo said putting the things down on the grass. “There’s something I want to show you.” He took her hand and helped her towards the edge of a cliff where a flight of wooden steps down appeared. Helen gripped his hand tightly and he squeezed it reassuringly. The steps were very steep. The ground eventually leveled off and he guided her onto a large semi-circle carved into the rock of the cliff. There was no barrier or fence, and the wind was whipping the dark blue sea into white-capped peaks hundreds of feet below them. It didn’t feel particularly safe, and Helen’s fingers instinctively tightened around his shirtsleeve.

  “As I’m only going to be married the once,” Ricardo said, gesturing to their left, “I thought I’d better present you to the family.”

  Helen’s mouth fell open as her eyes focused upon what was unmistakably a mausoleum. “Oh…”

  “I hope you don’t think I’m weird,” Ricardo said quickly. “I always make a point of coming up here as soon as I can when I’m staying at Dizzy Heights. It’s one of the first things I do, a ritual.”

  “That’s okay,” Helen whispered and took a step forward to read the bold black lettering carved into the tomb. “We should have brought some flowers.”

  “It’s pretty enough without flowers. They’d just blow away on a day like this. Besides, I don’t think anything can compete with the view from here, do you?” Ricardo closed his eyes and breathed in the sea air. “Our parents brought us here every summer for picnics. It was their favorite place. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but Lucia says that this is where Dad proposed to our mom all those years ago.” He looked at Helen with a sudden softness in his eyes. “The Alfa’s the only car that’s ever been up here too.”

  “It’s a very special place,” Helen said, a lump forming in her throat. “You must always keep it this way.” She traced her fingers over the stonework. “Alegria Cadelaria Almanza. A beautiful name.” Ricardo nodded. “Primeiro Salbatore Almanza. Your brother?”

  Helen saw the quick movement of his Adams apple as he swallowed and looked away. “My twin brother.”

  “And Ricardo Primeiro Almanza must be your father…”

  “Yes.” Helen could sense that his mood was altering. Enough was enough. “Let’s go back now, get out of this wind,” he said and took her firmly by the hand.

  They trudged back up in silence, just the sound of their feet and breath and the whistling gale. They reached the plateau above and made their way inland towards the car through the long grass and wild flowers. The air became warmer as the breeze dropped.

  “So how do you like being Mrs. Almanza so far?” Ricardo said as he sat down beside Helen on the blanket.

  “It could be a lot worse.” She flicked off a sandal and ran the inside of her foot up his calf muscle. “You feed me, don’t you?”

  He brushed an unruly windswept lock of hair out of her eyes. “Almost constantly, it seems.”

  “Like a baby cuckoo?” she said guardedly, remembering the term he’d used to describe her to the Condesa on that first day.

  Ricardo started to empty the basket’s contents onto the picnic blanket and avoided her eyes. “You have a very long memory and large ears for someone so young.”

  “Like a baby elephant, then?” Helen giggled and then noticed he was suddenly agitated, fussing over cutting them some bread. He’d just ripped a piece off and given it to her before now. “Are you okay?”

  He pinned her with a stare that gave nothing away. “Of course, why shouldn’t I be?”

  Because you’ve just visited the grave of your entire family?

  How could he hide the emotion he must be feeling? She clamped her jaw together for a moment to steady her voice. Perhaps also to hold back the words that were on the tip of her tongue, but they came out anyway. “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “How you can be so emotionally cold one minute and the Spanish superhero the next? I can’t work you out. You’re unfathomable. You say you don’t want marriage, for example, but it flies totally in the face of the way you live your life, the people who surround and love you. Marriage and family life is so traditional, respectable, solid. It doesn’t fit.”

  “Because I haven’t been able to trust anyone like that for a long time.” He said softly and looked up at her at last, his gaze tinged with pain. “Do you want to hear my experience of marriage, Helen? All the gory details? The reasons why I’d never have considered it unless I had to?”

  Helen felt nervous, but she had to hear this. “Go on.”

  “My father cheated on Mama habitually. It was part of normal life for them. He was always away on ‘business’ and he was careful to be discreet, but none of it seemed to shame him at all, breaking the vows he’d made in church, cheating on the woman that loved him. So it came as no surprise when Mama started doing the same thing. She was desperate for love and affection. She had to go outside their marriage to find it.” He snatched at the grass irritably. “Maybe I’m being too harsh, but I see the whole marriage thing as a pointless after that.”

  “It must have been hard,” Helen said quietly. “I can’t imagine my parents ever behaving that way.”

  “So there’s my parents’ dreadful marriage, but if you really want to understand what makes me so cold, think back to the family tomb down there, will you? Do you remember anything unusual about it?”

  Helen’s eyes flickered helplessly across his face for clues. She’d seen the three names, but as for anything else…

  “Let me help you. The dates.” Ricardo’s jet eyebrows rose questioningly. “Mama and Primeiro?”

  Helen shook her head in defeat.

  “They died on the same day.”

  Helen’s eyes fell to her lap and she fiddled nervously with the hem of her blouse. This had to be bad. “What happened to them?”

  Ricardo ground his jaw for a moment, and Helen didn’t think she was going to get an answer. He leaned back on one elbow. “Cold blooded murder,” he muttered. “They were both shot. Mama died instantly. She was dead when I got there. Primeiro bled to death in my arms before the services could arrive. I tried to save him, but it was a major artery and his brain was just…”

  Helens hand flew to her mouth in shock. “Who did it?”

  “His wife. She’d sworn she was off the dr
ink and drugs before they married. The perra lied. Primeiro was generous with his money and so busy with his work he never noticed a thing. God, that woman must have been born devious.”

  Helen held her hands against her hot cheeks. “That’s awful.”

  “Anyway, she got lazy in her habits and was found out. Primeiro wanted a divorce and her out of his life. He set the lawyers to work immediately. Mama went round to give him some moral support as soon as she found out. She never did like her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d only gone round to gloat and change the locks personally, if I’m honest.”

  “Sometimes mothers have a sixth sense about these things.”

  “The toxicology report said Arabella had been drinking and had taken some heroin adulterated with some household chemical. Her brain was fried, hallucinating probably. She shot them both before throwing herself off their penthouse balcony. Or that’s what they say. It was a mess.”

  Helen closed her eyes and smothered a sharp cry.

  “It was up to me to tell Dad,” Ricardo said quietly. He was in prison when it happened. He never forgave himself for not being there for them. As if he could have prevented it anyway. That’s what finished him off, I think, a broken heart and shattered pride. I’ll never forget the look on his face when I finally managed to get the words out. It still sickens me. Three days later he had a massive heart attack and died. So, I brought them all here. It seemed right. An unsullied place…”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Helen reached out a hand to touch him.

  “That’s why Jerardo wanted to force me to marry, to do something I had no respect for as revenge for what my father took from him. He tapped into the fact that I must be a total misogynist. Perhaps he’s right. My mother was a cheat, my sister-in-law was a liar and a murderer, both of them unfazed by the holy state of matrimony. I’ve even had girlfriends who went through my wallet and helped themselves when I wasn’t looking, you know. They didn’t need to. If they’d only asked…”

  “Not every woman’s like that,” Helen whispered, suddenly realizing that she must be on the end of a very long list of avaricious females.

  “There are some good women in my life, you’ve met them. Even Antonella has her moments. She’s vacuous, selfish, and spoiled, but to her credit she never cheated on my dad. She’s even quite nice to me at times.” He shrugged and threw a blade of grass into the air, watching as it twisted and sailed off in the breeze. “Or perhaps it’s because I’m a trustee of her future funds.”

  “Really?”

  “My father stipulated she could have whatever the Almanza fund deemed necessary for a civilized life on condition that she never remarried or brought shame on the Almanza name. It’s up to me and his old friend Antonio to decide what is necessary for her. She has lovers, I know that. They sneak in when the rest of the staff have been dismissed. And she sleeps with the staff when the house is quiet sometimes as well, but she’s discreet, so I turn a blind eye. My father is dead and the poor cow’s only human.”

  Helen was relieved that Ricardo knew what his stepmother got up to. She was wondering whether to tell him. “It really is complicated, isn’t it?”

  “And you say I’m cold? I’m not. I’ve had to become this way.” His amber eyes searched hers and seemed to be pleading silently for something. “My father insisted that real men never cried. He never did and he expected the same of me, so I do my very best.”

  Helen fell silent. Her heart ached for Ricardo and his tragic loss and a large part of her now understood why he could be so unforgiving on the subject of love, marriage, and womankind. He was alone in the world, orphaned, save for the few trusted family friends she had met, beyond that it was a whirl of users, business associates and hangers on. No wonder he loved the honest simplicity and solitude of this island retreat and the mountains. They seemed to be the only places he was really at peace with himself.

  “You told me you weren’t into marriage either,” Ricardo said suddenly. “But do you ever think about children? You women have a built in biological clock, don’t you?”

  Helen swallowed uncomfortably with surprise at this dramatic change of subject. Ricardo did seem to be in a peculiar mood. “Not that often. I have a decade or two left to worry about it. I’m not that old!”

  “No, of course you’re not,” he said and passed her a bottle of fruit juice. “In principle, I mean, theoretically, in the future. One day.”

  “I don’t suppose I’d want to die childless in the end, if that’s what you mean.” She screwed the lid off the bottle and took a swig before continuing. “Isn’t that what it’s all about? Why we’re all here? To leave something behind us, something good?”

  Ricardo nodded and looked out to sea, now twiddling a picked daisy between his fingers, the bread discarded and forgotten. “It’s the natural course of things, I guess, the expected route to immortality.”

  What was he up to? Why these strange questions? She wasn’t going to let it go now. “So what about you? You talk about getting the family property back for future generations, that’s got to require an heir at some stage.” Helen held her breath as she waited for his answer. Could it possibly be that he was going to suggest that she, that they, that together they might …

  “Not at all. There already is one.”

  “There is?” Helen heard her breath catch as a chill ripped through her.

  Ricardo’s expression darkened and he looked away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Forget I said anything.”

  “I can’t. Tell me about him. Or is it a her?”

  “I can’t talk about that, I wanted to talk about—”

  “Don’t you dare brush me off like that! I insist you tell me.”

  “It has to be a secret until he’s eighteen. There are other people involved. It’s complicated.”

  “I’ll bet it is!” Helen was dismayed to hear a tremor in her voice. She couldn’t hide the emotion rising within her. “I can keep another bloody secret, Ricardo. I’m good at that remember? Nobody’s discovered I’m a sham wife yet.”

  “You must tell no one.”

  “I promise.”

  “Pirro, the boy at the restaurant.”

  “Pirro? But why is he in the middle of nowhere with Antonio? You said he was adopted.”

  “He is,” he said digging a heel roughly into the grass. “It had to be done in the circumstances. I couldn’t look after a small baby. No more questions now, I don’t want to discuss it. I’ve already said too much.”

  Helen felt queasy with shock and galled with disappointment. Ricardo had a secret child. It was starting to make sense as she recalled their visit to Antonio’s place. Ricardo’s affection for the boy, his interest in school and sport…Oh God and the resemblance! How could she not have noticed that? They both had the same long limbs, dark features, hair, the smile.

  “And his mother?” Helen’s throat hurt as she forced the words out, unable to look at him.

  “His mother was a crazy bitch and she’s gone for good.” He stared blankly out to sea before adding, “that’s already more than you should know.”

  Helen’s head was spinning as she tried to make sense of what she had been told. “Does Pirro know?”

  Ricardo shook his head. “He was told his parents died in tragic circumstances and that they loved him very much. He will discover his true inheritance when he turns eighteen and has had a normal, loving childhood out of the limelight.” He rubbed the back of his neck and closed his eyes. “It really is for the best.”

  Helen’s scalp prickled with outrage for Pirro and disgust for Ricardo’s lack of concern. Not to mention the lies. “Don’t you think he’ll be shocked when he finds out?”

  “Probably. But he’ll cope.”

  “Don’t be surprised if he hates you.” How on earth could she have deluded herself into thinking Ricardo might want to have a child with her? She’d completely lost her mind in this place. He had no intention of prolonging their arrangement beyond t
he three months. It was time to snap out of this lunacy once and for all. But anger made her keep going. “Didn’t you ever consider having him live with you?”

  “A child needs two parents. Antonella tried for a while and I did what I could, but neither of us knew what we were doing. And then when Papa died, she made it quite clear that it could only be a temporary measure. It was kinder to let him go with Antonio and Maria. We knew they could be trusted to give him a good life.”

  “I guess that’s what you would describe as tough love,” Helen replied bitterly. “So thoughtful of you.”

  Helen felt crushed. He walked away from his son. If he could coldly hand over his own flesh and blood, what hope did she ever have of finding a niche in his heart? Why did she ever think for one second that Ricardo would see her in an exceptional light? He must consider her the ultimate gold digger, the one who asked for more. The harpy who callously took him for millions! He would never view her with anything more than contempt, a perra, a bitch, just like his sister-in-law and Pirro’s mother.

  “Christ, it’s just as well this marriage isn’t real because I’d be having serious doubts about it already.” Helen abruptly stood up, ignoring the look of surprise on Ricardo’s face. Her voice shook as she stood on one leg to put on her sandals. “I’d like to go back now, Ricardo. I need to phone my Mum.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ricardo cursed under his breath and kicked at Lucia’s old pine chair outside the kitchen door. He felt a stab of shame as it tumbled backwards onto the stone floor, snapping a few tender herbs from a planter as it went. He was experiencing acute frustration since Helen had stormed in from the car and said she would be a while on the phone.

  He’d had it all planned out—the romantic picnic, his family skeletons brought out into the open, and then the surprise proposal that they remain married. He’d been honest and exposed his inner self in a way he had never dared, and then he’d completely screwed it up. That’s what you got for trying to be honest. He knew exactly when the mood had changed. Helen had been sweet at the tomb, which he had been worried about taking her to. Not exactly a hot date. He’d broached the subject of children and then he’d mentioned Pirro…