The Notorious Gabriel DiazRuthless Tycoon, Inexperienced Mistress

by Cathy Williams

  ‘Look, I came here to have a serious talk with Fernando about his future. Instead, I find myself in a bar, surrounded by people I have no desire to meet and now treated to some mysterious nonsense about a project Fernando hasn’t mentioned to me. What work, exactly, are you doing on this so-called project?’

  ‘I’m not sure I like your tone of voice!’

  ‘And I’m not sure I like whatever game it is you’re playing. How long have you known Fernando?’

  ‘Nearly a year.’

  ‘Nearly a year. And how close have you become in that time?’

  ‘Where are you going with this?’

  ‘Let’s just say that I may not see a great deal of my brother, but I know the way he operates and long-standing platonic friendships with the opposite sex have never been high on his agenda. He’s always liked his women willing, able and bedded. He’s also always been predictable in his preferences. Blonde, busty, leggy and lightweight in the brains department. So where do you fit in?’

  Jude felt outraged colour seep into her cheeks and she took a few deep breaths to gather herself. In the silence, Cesar continued remorselessly, ‘If he’s spoken to you about me, then you are clearly more than just a business acquaintance…’ He invested that with thinly veiled scepticism. ‘So what exactly are you, then?’

  Saved by the bell. Or rather, saved by Freddy, who appeared with drinks on a tray. Cesar watched her expression of relief. He was taking in everything, from that quick look that passed between them to the way his brother leaned towards her and whispered something in her ear, something to which she shook her head and removed herself just as soon as she feasibly could. He lazily watched her departing back, allowing his eyes to rest briefly on the movement of her rear. She might look like a boy but there was something unconsciously sexy and graceful about the way she walked. He’d get back to her later. Something was going on. He could feel it, and he wasn’t going to let up until he got to the bottom of it. But, for the moment, he would bide his time.

  Watch and wait. A very good motto, he had always maintained and he stuck to it as the predictable round of introductions began and he was treated to a suspiciously normal group of people. Where were the bimbos? The pampered young men with their idle, vapid conversation and roving eyes? Disconcertingly, everyone here this evening seemed intent on discussing investments with him.

  By the end of the evening he found that he was almost enjoying the mystery.

  Outside, the snow was now falling much harder. Amidst the throng of people dashing out to their cars, which were parked in a designated area at the back of the building, unlike his which was skewed at an angle at the front, Cesar spotted Jude wrapping a long scarf around her neck and stuffing her hands into her pockets. The lights had been turned on in the foyer and he could see her properly now. Her short hair was streaked with auburn and her face was not at all boyish. The opposite. Long, dark lashes fringed widely spaced brown eyes and her mouth was full and lush, at odds with the gamine appearance.

  Fernando may have always had a soft spot for the obvious but who was to say how a gold-digger could be packaged? The more subtle, in a way, could be all the more deadly.

  And there she was again, talking in a fast, low undertone to his brother. Talking about what?

  ‘I hadn’t planned on staying the night,’ Cesar said to his brother, barging in on their conversation, which came to an abrupt halt. He wasn’t looking at her but he could feel her eyes on him and mentally he flexed his muscles, intrigued at whatever was stirring beneath the surface.

  ‘Ah.’ Freddy smiled apologetically. ‘There’s an excellent hotel in the city…’

  Cesar frowned. ‘Don’t you have a house locally?’

  ‘Well. Apartment, in actual fact. Pretty small…’

  Cesar glanced across at Jude, whose eyes were studiously averted, and his mouth tightened a fraction.

  ‘It’s snowing pretty heavily,’ Cesar said bluntly, ‘and I have no intention of driving around in circles looking for somewhere to stay. What’s the name of the hotel?’

  ‘Name of the hotel…’ Freddy glanced quickly at Jude, who sighed in resignation.

  ‘I have a phone book at my place,’ she said grudgingly. ‘If you drop me home, I can reserve a room for you.’

  ‘Drop you home? How did you get here?’

  ‘I came with Freddy.’

  ‘Did you now…’ Cesar murmured. He smiled and inclined his head to one side. ‘Well, that sounds like an offer I’m in no position to refuse… And tomorrow, Fernando…we need to have a little chat…’

  ‘Of course, big brother!’ He slapped him warmly on the back and gave him a semblance of a hug, which came naturally to neither of them.

  Cesar, accustomed as he was to a stilted relationship with his brother, nevertheless felt a twinge of genuine regret at the lack of real warmth between them. The loss of their parents when he had only just been out of his teens should have brought them closer together. Instead, it had done the opposite. With the mantle of the family’s empire resting heavily on his shoulders, Cesar wondered if he had failed in his main duty as a brother—to love him. He had had to don his responsibilities quickly and he had been impatient with

  Freddy’s lack of ambition which he had seen as weakness. He shoved aside the irksome thoughts—he’d worked hard to provide a stable and secure life for his brother. He’d done his best.

  ‘My car’s out at the front.’

  ‘Why didn’t you use the car park at the rear?’

  ‘Because, believe it or not, I was inclined to think I had arrived at the wrong address when I got here. I never suspected that the place was functional or that there was a parking area at the back.’

  Freddy beamed. ‘Clever, isn’t it? We can discuss all of that tomorrow.’ He was already backing away and Jude eyed Cesar warily. The last thing she wanted was to be cooped up in a car with him, go back to her house with him, but she had no choice. Freddy couldn’t possibly take him back to the apartment—not with Imogen there.

  Just thinking of that little secret by omission made her flush guiltily. Imogen should have been at the little party tonight. She was, after all, the key player in the game, but Freddy had insisted that she be kept out of sight. At least for the moment. Having met Cesar, Jude could understand why, because Cesar was a man in whom suspicion was deeply embedded. She could sense it in his conversation, which had been a thin cover-up for a cross-examination. One look at Imogen, her long blonde hair, her big blue eyes and her legs that went on for ever, and Freddy’s trust fund would have been written off for good. The fact that she was nearly seven months pregnant with Freddy’s baby would have brought on cardiac arrest.

  ‘We could just drive into the city,’ Jude said once inside the car, which was as comfortable as any of those wildly overpriced sofas Freddy had insisted on buying for the club. She glanced worriedly at the snow, which was falling thickly white. ‘I don’t live a million miles from here but my place is down some narrow country lanes and this car might not make it.’

  ‘This car,’ Cesar informed her, reversing and swinging the car in the right direction, ‘is equipped to cope with anything.’

  ‘Anything except snow in Kent in the middle of January. For that, you really need something a bit more robust. These sorts of fashion cars might be all right for London but they’re rubbish out in the country.’

  Cesar gave her a look of pure incredulity but she was frowning out of the window, busily trying to work out how fast he could reasonably travel without ending up in a ditch.

  She directed him out to the main street which, at a little past one in the morning with the snow pelting down, was deserted. It took a ridiculously long time to clear the city, then came a series of winding country lanes, each one more treacherous than the last.

  ‘How the hell do you make out in these sorts of conditions?’ Cesar muttered under his breath, every ounce of concentration focused on getting them to her house in one piece.

  ‘I have
a four-wheel drive,’ Jude admitted. ‘It’s old but it’s pretty reliable and it can get through just about anything.’

  ‘As opposed to this fashion statement I drive.’ He glanced over at her, then back at the road.

  ‘I could never afford a car like this in a million years. Not that I’d ever want one. I don’t see the point of them.’

  ‘It’s called comfort.’ Cesar realised that he didn’t know the first thing about her. What job did she have? Aside from helping his brother on some so-called project, which could be anything from doing his accounts to colour coordinating his wardrobe. He would need to find out more about her to ascertain what her motives were. For the moment, however, he was too preoccupied with controlling his car in these conditions for too much detailed questioning and, as he rounded a corner at a snail’s pace, he began to wonder how he was going to find his way back into the civilised roads of the city and the comfort of a hotel room.

  ‘I would choose practicality over comfort any day of the week.’

  ‘I gathered as much from your choice of clothing tonight.’

  ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘Meaning—is your house going to be coming into view any time soon because, if I go any slower, we might just as well get out of the car and walk the remainder of the way.’

  ‘It’s just up ahead.’ She pointed to a dim light, barely visible through the downfall, but she was mentally chewing over what he had said about her clothing. Yes, she had worn her jeans because they were comfortable and it hadn’t been a fussy affair. She hadn’t been the only one there wearing jeans. So maybe most of the women had worn something slightly more formal, but she had looked presentable enough!

  She glanced down at her thick black duffel coat and her black boots, which were perfect winter garb although they did seem a little incongruous against the cream luxury leather of his car. Then she slid her eyes across to where he was frowning in concentration at what was trying to pass for a road.

  He might be the rudest man she had ever met, but there was no denying that he was frighteningly good-looking. In a scary way, she amended. Not her type at all. He made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

  As the car tackled the last lap of the trip, she heard the squeal of tyres and then…nothing.

  Cesar swore under his breath and glared at her.

  ‘It’s not my fault!’ she protested immediately.

  ‘How the hell would you have made your way back here? On foot?’

  ‘I would have…’ she stopped in the nick of time from telling him that she would have stayed at Freddy’s apartment, which would have involved no narrow snow-ridden country lanes, as it was in the city centre—if he couldn’t accommodate his own brother, then how could he have possibly accommodated her? ‘…stayed at Sophie’s place,’ she said quickly, thinking on her feet.

  ‘Damn car!’ He scowled and flung open his car door to a sheet of white. ‘We’ll have to walk the rest of the way.’

  ‘You can’t just leave your car here!’

  ‘And you suggest…?’

  ‘I suppose we could try pushing it.’

  ‘Are you completely mad?’ He began walking in the direction of the light and Jude half ran to keep up with him. ‘I’ll have to return for it as soon as the weather shows some sign of clearing.’

  ‘But that might not be for hours yet!’ It was occurring to her what that meant and she didn’t like it. ‘You’ve got to get to a hotel!’

  ‘Well, why don’t you wave a magic wand and maybe the weather will oblige us both by stopping…this!’ In retrospect, he should have insisted on Fernando travelling to London to see him. In retrospect, he should have stopped at the first sign of snow because he could not afford the luxury of being snowbound anywhere. Even on a Saturday, he had vital conference calls to make and meetings to arrange via email with people on the other side of the world. Fernando might be able to lie in when the weather looked a little challenging, but not so for Cesar! He ground his teeth in frustration and raked his fingers through his hair which, in the brief amount of time it had taken them to reach her front door, was already dripping from the snow.

  At least the house was warm. Or rather cottage because, from what he could discern in the inky blackness, it was small, white and with a picture-postcard picket fence. Inside was as quaintly pretty, with old wooden floors and a feeling of age and comfort. In short, it was a million miles away from his marvel of pale marble, pale leather and abstract paintings—investments which had cost an arm and a leg.

  ‘Phone book…phone book…’ Jude was muttering to herself as she looked under tables and behind chairs. ‘Ah. Here we go. Right. Hotel. Any in particular?’

  ‘Forget it.’

  ‘What do you mean, forget it?’

  ‘Look outside.’ He nodded in the direction of the window and Jude followed his gaze with a sinking heart. This was turning into a blizzard. He would need a snowplough to clear the roads for his car and a tractor to transport him to the city centre. Other than that, it was madness to even think about leaving the house.

  ‘But you can’t stay here!’

  ‘Why not?’ Cesar looked at her narrowly, weighing up whether to pursue his line of thought or leave it until the following morning considering the lateness of the hour. ‘Would Fernando object?’

  ‘Freddy? Object? Why on earth would he object?’ They were both in the small hallway and she felt as though her breath was being sucked out of her. He was so tall! He was also removing his coat and she gave a little squeal of horror. Chatting pleasantly to the man for half an hour and singing Freddy’s praises was all well and good but enforced overnight companionship was a completely different matter. ‘You can borrow my car to get into town!’ Pure genius. ‘The comfort level’s a bit low but you’ll make it there in one piece, at any rate, and a hotel would be a lot more comfortable than the floor here…’

  ‘Floor?’

  ‘I know. Appalling.’ He was now hanging his coat on the banister and she wanted to fling it back at him, demand that he put it on and send him firmly on his way. ‘Small house.’ She pointedly kept her duffel coat on so that he would get the message.

  ‘Forget about trying to shove me outside, Jude. I’ll leave in the morning and if I have to sleep on the floor, then so be it. I’m certainly not going to risk my life in your clapped-out car in this weather.’

  ‘Oh, very well,’ she snapped, edging back a few inches as he stepped towards her.

  ‘So why don’t you take your coat off and show me which particular part of the floor you want to designate to me?’

  ‘There’s a guest bedroom,’ Jude admitted grudgingly, ‘but it’s very small and very cluttered. You’d find it a very challenging space to sleep in.’

  Cesar strolled past her towards the general area of the kitchen, inspecting the surroundings as he went. No signs of his brother in the house, at any rate. At least no photos, no bits of male paraphernalia which, in his brother’s case, would probably have been hugely expensive, garishly coloured jumpers or any one of those ridiculous hats which he collected. In fact, no signs of any male occupancy at all.

  ‘Would you like a guided tour?’ Jude asked acidly, arms folded. ‘Or are you happy just nosing around on your own?’

  Cesar turned to her and gave her a long, leisurely appraisal. Not only was she not his brother’s usual trademark busty blonde, she was also not the usual trademark giggly airhead. He really would have to work on finding out just what her job was and how it involved his brother. Maybe the weather could work to his advantage, he thought. Trapped in the confines of her own house, she could hardly disappear if the questions got tough. He smiled slowly, relishing the prospect of asserting his authority and letting her know, in no uncertain terms, that he was not a man to be messed with.

  ‘No,’ he said lazily, eyes back on her mutinous, flushed face. ‘The guided tour won’t be necessary. At least not at this hour of the morning.’

  ‘Fine. Then, if you follow me, I�
�ll show you where you can spend the night.’ Up the stairs, which creaked protestingly under his weight, and to the left, pausing only so that Jude could yank a sheet and a blanket from the airing cupboard. ‘I’m sure you know how to make a bed,’ she told him, handing over the linen. She was pretty sure he didn’t. Like Fernando, he would have been spared the necessity of doing any menial tasks thanks to a background that had seen him raised with all the help that money could buy. It was only after he had met Imogen that he had discovered that fast food wasn’t just a pre-theatre dinner. She was reliably informed by her friend that he could complete most household tasks now but with record slowness and only dubious success.

  She would have liked to have witnessed his botched attempts at bed-making, but she let him get on with it while she swept aside all her stuff and, by the time she looked around, the bed was perfectly made and he was looking at her with an amused smile.

  ‘Up to your standards?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows, and she had the grace to blush.

  ‘The bathroom’s next door and we share it, so if I’m in it then you’ll just have to wait your turn.’ She was suddenly flustered as he reached for the top button of his shirt. ‘I’ll make sure that there’s a towel for you.’ She backed towards the door as a sliver of hard, muscled, bronzed torso was revealed.

  ‘What’s with all the drawings?’

  Her mouth went dry as he reached the final button and began to undo his cuffs.

  ‘Are you an artist?’ He walked across to the pile of sketches which she had dumped on the ancient pine table, which had begun life as a dressing table but was now used as a surface on which any and everything found its way.

  Jude snatched her drawing from his hand and returned it to its place. ‘I’m a designer, actually.’ Thank God she kept all her work in her architect’s chest downstairs or he would be rifling through those, as well. ‘I just do a bit of sketching now and again as a hobby.’

  ‘Well, well, well. A designer. Interesting.’