The Notorious Gabriel DiazRuthless Tycoon, Inexperienced Mistress

by Cathy Williams

  Stuck inside this cottage had made him stir-crazy! The minute he got back to civilisation, he would forget the woman, climb back onto the dating bandwagon, from which he had been away for a disturbingly long time, rediscover the guy who worked hard and played hard and didn’t get involved with long, futile discussions about emotions, which frankly were best left alone.

  Hell, he hadn’t even been able to shave for nearly two days! His facial growth was now more than just designer stubble. He was beginning to look and act like a caveman.

  With any luck, the snow would disappear as quickly as it had come and he would be able to leave this God-forsaken part of the world and resume his life.

  At least, he thought, bringing all his will power to bear to eradicate her annoying, lingering image from his head, one thing was sure. She wasn’t after his brother in search of elevating her lifestyle. Whatever nuances he had sensed between them had been in his imagination. The only thing the woman was after was a knight in shining armour. She wasn’t into the finer art of subtlety. Oh, no. If she had been in any way, shape or form interested in his brother, then Fernando would have been married and en route to papahood by now!

  He decided that he would let this whole business be a salutary lesson to him—keep close to the devil you knew…the ones you didn’t were too much of an infernal headache!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JUDE LATER WONDERED how she’d managed to get through the remainder of their snowbound isolation, but two weeks later, chewing it over in her head as she had been doing ever since she’d watched him close that front door quietly behind him, she knew that he had been the one to pull it off.

  He had disappeared for his shower and, when he had returned, he had followed her heated plea to the very last letter. She had asked him to pretend that nothing had happened and he had. He had checked on his car, which had taken a long time because of the banked-up snow. In his absence, she had tidied the little sitting room and each cushion she had plumped had been one more gesture towards putting away for good the wild moments they had shared together. In under an hour, the room had been restored to its original impersonal cosiness, with the absence of the wretched throw, which she had put in the wash.

  She had even lit two scented candles because she could detect the aroma of their love-making, and she wanted no reminders.

  They had eaten in the kitchen, discussed the weather in civilised voices and retired to their separate bedrooms at the earliest possible hour.

  And every ultra-polite question he had asked, his fabulous eyes shuttered and expressionless, had been like a knife twisting inside her. At the time she had wondered how on earth he could have been so utterly detached, but now, thinking about it, she knew why. Cesar wasn’t the sort of man who was swept away on great tides of emotion. Nor had he invested any feelings in her. He had slept with her and had enjoyed it, and he probably would have carried on an affair of sorts for a while after, but that hadn’t been enough for her and he had accepted that with a casual shrug of his shoulders because he could take her or leave her. He was a man for whom emotional involvement was an unnecessary complication. He had been down that road and, whether he would ever admit it or not, had buried his ability to feel with his wife.

  Overnight the snow had begun to melt and in the morning she had awoken to find him fully dressed and ready to leave. He had already been out to try the car and had managed to get it pointing in the right direction. He had left the engine running, he said. Her interpretation of that was that the faster he could get away, the better. A running engine was the equivalent of a taxi outside blowing its horn.

  Since then she had heard nothing from him, although she had been to visit Freddy and Imogen and it seemed that the fate of the precious trust fund was assured. Cesar hadn’t fallen over himself in admiration of the bar, but nor had he demolished the idea after five seconds, which had been Freddy’s fear.

  She was busying herself with her latest project, half thinking about her drawings and half thinking about Cesar, when the phone rang. As usual, there was a heart-stopping second when she thought that it might be him, even though she had told herself that he couldn’t possibly call her because he didn’t know her number, so common sense told her that of course it wouldn’t be him.

  But nor had she expected a distraught Freddy stumbling over his words until she asked him to slow down because she couldn’t understand a word he was saying.

  ‘I am at the hospital,’ he said shakily.

  ‘Hospital? Why? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?’ Jude felt a rush of panic as in the space of seconds she contemplated the worst. She swivelled her chair around and leaned forward, clutching the receiver to her ear.

  ‘It’s Imogen. She’s been rushed in.’

  ‘But the baby’s not due for another couple of months.’ She felt a fine film of perspiration gathering on her forehead.

  ‘You have to come, Jude,’ Freddy told her with rising panic in his voice. ‘She’s in theatre right now and I’m going out of my mind with worry!’

  ‘On my way.’

  ‘And you have to…to tell Cesar…’

  ‘Tell him what?’ Just the mention of his name made her nerves flutter. When she had last seen Freddy, he had told her that while Cesar had reluctantly given his blessing to the bar, he hadn’t wanted to press his luck by telling him about Imogen because who knew what eruptions might follow. Cesar, in over-protective mode with the family fortune, was an unpredictable animal. It was, he had told her, a tactical omission and not an outright lie. So now, with dismay, she had some inkling of the favour that was about to be asked.

  ‘I’m in no frame of mind to explain about Imogen,’ he said and Jude could hear the worry in his voice. Placid, good-natured, girlie Imogen was the quiet but steady rock in their relationship. Freddy, with his effervescence, had never been a candidate for winning any awards when it came to holding out in a crisis. Her heart went out to him as she imagined his panic.

  ‘I know I probably should have confessed everything the last time I saw Cesar. He was being particularly receptive but…but…’

  ‘Okay. And I’ll get to the hospital as soon as I can. You’ll have to give me your brother’s number, Freddy…’

  Fifteen minutes later and Jude was on her way to the hospital. She hadn’t bothered to change out of her dungarees, just slinging on a wooly jumper over them and wrapping a long trailing scarf around her neck. The snow had completely disappeared and after the cold snap had come a spell of unseasonably warm weather. Everywhere people were tut-tutting about global warming and complaining that they never knew what to wear when they went out.

  She had yet to phone Cesar. That was something she had decided to defer until she got to the hospital and at least made sure that Freddy and Imogen were going to be all right. Both her cell phone and the scrap of paper on which she had written Cesar’s various numbers were burning a hole in her pocket, hovering on the edge of her anxiety, just enough to make her feel queasy.

  She made it to the hospital in record time but naturally took ages to park. By the time she ran through the doors of the maternity ward, she was totally stressed out and a pressure headache was beginning to build in her temples.

  Freddy found her before she found him and he looked as frightful as she’d figured he would. The baby was fine, he told her, but had been rushed off to intensive care. It was a girl.

  His eyes filled up and he looked away quickly. ‘I’ve been told to have her christened immediately…just in case…’

  ‘Don’t do the just in case scenario, Freddy,’ she said quietly, giving him a hug and then standing back with her hands on his arms. ‘You’ll just make yourself even more worried. How’s Imogen doing?’

  ‘She’s lost a lot of blood…’

  ‘But she’s…going to be okay, right?’

  ‘They won’t say. The next few hours are important. Jude, I have to get back to her… Have you…?’

  ‘I’ll phone him in a minute. I wanted to get here first a
nd make sure that both of you were all right. All three of you,’ she amended with a reassuring smile. ‘Is Imogen awake? Will you give her my love? I’m going to stay here for a while, Freddy…’ She hoped that didn’t sound grim but he seemed relieved by that and left her a few minutes later with the unenviable task of calling his brother.

  Jude made her way to the café, her nerves stretched to breaking point. The smell of the hospital made her feel faint. In a room upstairs her closest friend was hanging on and in another room the baby she and Freddy had looked forward to having was struggling with the complications of being born prematurely. Nowhere in a hospital was it possible to feel calm. Even in the cafeteria there was the ominous feeling of people waiting for news, good or bad.

  She bought herself some coffee and retreated to the farthest corner table, out of earshot, not that anyone would be likely to pay her conversation the slightest bit of attention.

  Freddy had given her a handful of numbers, but in fact the first number she dialled—his mobile number—was answered within a couple of rings.

  Down the line, the reception so clear that he could have been sitting next to her, came that rich, low, velvety voice that had reduced her to jelly. She hadn’t thought, especially with everything going on and her head in a whirl, that it would have the same effect now, but it did.

  ‘Cesar, it’s me. Jude,’ she clarified, just in case he had forgotten her existence.

  Miles away, in his London office and with his secretary sitting opposite him, Cesar felt himself freeze. He gestured to his secretary to vacate the room and she did, closing the door behind her.

  To his intense frustration, the past two weeks had been hellish. His formidably controlled mind had refused to obey orders and the memory of her had seeped in through all sorts of cracks and crevices which he hadn’t known existed. He had found himself losing concentration during meetings, an unheard-of occurrence, and at the least convenient moments his imagination would steal in like a silent thief to capture his thoughts and he would have to physically rouse himself away from the temptation to gaze out of his window and just think. Of her. The smell of her and the feel of her, which lingered in his head like a fever he couldn’t shake.

  Now, hearing her voice on the line brought all his rage at his weakness rushing to the surface.

  ‘And to what do I owe the honour?’ he asked coldly.

  ‘Look, I know you’re probably surprised to hear from me…’

  ‘How did you get my number?’

  ‘That’s not important. Cesar, something’s happened…’

  He detected the urgency in her voice and he restlessly sprang to his feet and walked across to the impressive floor-to-ceiling windows of his plush office, which overlooked the hustle and bustle of the financial district. Somewhere inside him a knife twisted.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ he demanded, his breathing uneven. ‘Where the hell are you?’

  ‘I’m…I’m at the hospital…’ There was no point explaining anything down a telephone. The minute Freddy had asked her to call his brother, Jude had realised that she would have no option but to see him again, even if seeing him was the last thing she wanted to do. ‘Would you…would you be able to get here? I’ll explain everything when I see you. I’m sorry if I caught you on the hop…’

  ‘Name.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘The name of the hospital. What is it?’

  He scribbled it down on a piece of paper and shoved the paper into his pocket. He had several meetings lined up for later in the afternoon and was scheduled to leave the country later that evening. None of it mattered.

  ‘Tell me what this is about,’ he said in an attempt to regain his self-control. ‘I am a busy man.’

  ‘I know and I’m sorry but I’d rather not say on the telephone, Cesar. But it’s important.’

  ‘I’ll be there in half an hour.’

  That brought a reluctant smile to Jude’s lips. ‘How are you intending to do that? Fly?’ She had an image of him swooping through the clouds like Superman. He might be able to do most things but that one was definitely out of his reach.

  ‘Correct.’ Cesar was already calculating how long it would take to get there on his private helicopter. Not long. ‘Where will I meet you?’

  Jude was about to ask him what he meant when it clicked that he would probably own a fleet of helicopters and private jets. He was, as he had said, a busy man and busy men didn’t waste time dealing with the vagaries of public transport if they could possibly avoid it. ‘I’ll be in the cafeteria,’ was all she said and, with all the necessary information imparted, she was treated to the abrupt silence of disconnection. He had asked relatively few questions and had given no indication of curiosity, for which she was thankful. Of course, he must suspect that Freddy was involved and, whilst she felt for him having to make a journey with maybe some pretty dark thoughts in his mind, she also knew that what she had to say would, at least, be more bearable than what he possibly suspected.

  Only when she was on her second cup of coffee, which was surprisingly good and surprisingly cheap, and after she had once more visited the ward for an update, of which there was none, did she begin to feel the pounding of nerves.

  She aimed for distraction by reading one of the tabloids provided on a table by the cash tills, but she couldn’t resist the temptation to glance up every five seconds, it seemed, and search the doors to the cafeteria for him.

  She told herself that this was a meeting of necessity and that if Cesar threw a fit because his brother had chosen to keep Imogen’s existence quiet, then she would be the one in the firing line. Didn’t they say that the messenger was always the one to be shot?

  As luck would have it, she had finally been distracted by the gossip page when she became aware of Cesar’s presence by the shadow thrown over the table. She looked up slowly, giving herself time to fix her expression and harness her composure, but it didn’t work because the very minute their eyes met, she felt all her self-control give way to a sickening attack of nerves.

  She had hoped that in the interim her lively imagination had exaggerated his powerful, brooding beauty and the ferocious impact it had on her nervous system. It hadn’t. If anything, in his dark tailored trousers and crisp white shirt, with his jacket hooked carelessly over one shoulder, he looked even more dangerous and magnificent. And utterly cold.

  She half rose and then sat back down with a tight smile. Hell, he had been so civilised the last time they had been in the same space together that the very least she could do would be to return the favour with a little sangfroid of her own.

  ‘Would you like some coffee?’ she blurted out, only belatedly realising that it was a pathetic attempt at a greeting since she was neither a waitress nor a hostess.

  ‘What I want,’ Cesar grated, ‘is to be told why I am here.’

  He pulled out the uncomfortable plastic chair and sat down. He had spent the entire trip in a state of heightened anxiety and was ridiculously relieved to see her looking fit and well, if haggard. There were shadows under her eyes and her short hair was tousled, as though she had been running her fingers through it. His eyes skimmed over her outfit, which appeared to be some kind of workman’s overalls.

  ‘It’s a long story, Cesar…’

  ‘Is my brother all right? Just answer me that.’

  ‘Freddy’s…fine.’

  ‘And…you…?’ He felt himself struggle with the question.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks for asking.’

  ‘Then what the hell is going on?’

  Jude tried hard not to react to the imperious tone of his voice. Of course he was going to demand an explanation! Cesar being Cesar, he wouldn’t ask polite questions or tiptoe around with pleasantries!

  ‘I’m going to tell you! If you’d just stop snarling.’

  ‘I don’t have the time or the inclination to sit here while you try and get your thoughts in order.’

  ‘It’s…it’s about your brother, Cesar.
’

  ‘You said that he was fine.’ For some reason, he had assumed that there was nothing wrong with his brother, had assumed that, because she had made the call, then whatever the situation, it concerned her. Now, with the muted sounds of people shuffling in the cafeteria and the depressing smell of antiseptic cleaners mixed in with unappetising food, Cesar contemplated the possibility that his ferocious anxiety had been misplaced.

  In a split second it dawned on him that there had been many opportunities in the past to try and heal the distance between Fernando and himself but that maybe his time had run out for second chances. He clung to the fact that she had told him that his brother was fine, even though they were sitting in a hospital so clearly he wasn’t quite as fine as she said.

  ‘He is. Sort of.’

  ‘Fine. Sort of. Get to the point, Jude!’

  ‘It’s not that easy!’ And particularly so when he was glaring at her as if she had mutated into something unsavoury that had crawled out from beneath a rock. She guessed that he had had no choice but to be polite to her when he had been holed up under her roof, but now he had options and he had chosen the option of showing his full-blown aggression. She had dragged him away from his precious work, was blathering and dithering instead of telling him why she had done so and he wasn’t about to exert any patience with her because time was money and she had cut into his time.

  But how on earth was she supposed to explain about Imogen in a few brief sentences? She had vaguely thought about what she was going to say. Now she wished that she had jotted it all down on some paper so that she could just hand it to him to have a read and then ask questions. A bit like a comprehension exam.

  ‘Do you remember asking me…why Freddy seemed so keen on sorting out the matter of his trust fund as quickly as possible? When he had always been happy to go with the flow and let you settle all his bills?’

  ‘Go on.’ This wasn’t what he had been expecting by way of an explanation, but then he might have guessed that anything to do with her would defy all his laws of predictability.