For the longest time they lay together, her legs wrapped around his waist, Charley savouring the feeling of release and the weight of his body upon her.
But all too soon he shifted off her and padded to the bathroom, leaving her alone for long enough that the glowing feeling deep inside her dimmed.
This means nothing. He hates you. He thinks you’re a gold-digger. He didn’t even want to hear how you felt during your marriage, he cared only about getting you naked.
She pushed the thoughts away, refusing to acknowledge the way her heart felt as if someone had grabbed hold of it and given it a mighty squeeze.
Silently he returned, climbed back under the sheets and pulled her into his arms. He dropped a kiss to her forehead.
Her heart twisted as she listened to his deepening breaths, his hand remaining buried in her hair as he fell into sleep.
It didn’t matter what he believed or that he hadn’t listened to her. It wasn’t as if they were intending to give their marriage another go in the proper fashion.
She was here for his pleasure, nothing more. And that meant her pleasure too.
Things were already different between them. It felt different and not just because she’d been blackmailed into being here. The dynamic between them had changed. In a sick kind of way, it was better like this, more honest. She didn’t have to mask who she was any more; her fear of disappointing him was gone.
She should be celebrating. Four months of physical bliss without having to pretend to be someone she wasn’t?
In other words, exactly what their marriage should have been.
* * *
Charley was sitting at her desk in the office adjoining Raul’s, trying to read a book on finance while nibbling at a biscuit.
‘You look as if you have a headache,’ he said, walking through the open doorway to join her, two cups of coffee in his hands.
‘Just trying to get my head around it all.’ She wiped the crumbs off her blouse onto her desk, then swept them into her hand and into the bin.
Raul had been as good as his word. All week she’d been chained to his side. Monday and Tuesday had been spent in his office, Wednesday and Thursday in France where he was involved in negotiations to have a base for his air fleet in Paris. He’d been incredibly busy, in and out of meetings, most of which he’d insisted she come along to, working at a pace that made her dizzy.
Today they were back in Barcelona and, while the pace seemed no less frantic, there was an air of calm about the place, his staff more relaxed. It was probably that Friday feeling, she guessed. It had infected her too, that sense of the working week being almost over and a couple of days of relaxation to look forward to.
She hated to admit it, but the thought of a weekend alone with him sent a thrill through her.
Making love to Raul was as addictive as the packet of biscuits she’d been munching her way through. Having his throat, so strong and golden, in her eyeline right now as he took the seat opposite her...
‘This book might as well be gibberish,’ she said, closing it with a snap and pushing it over to him.
He raised a dark brow and loosened his tie. ‘The main reason your businesses went bust was because you didn’t take care of the bottom line. Unless you want the same thing to happen at Poco Rio, I suggest you pay attention carefully.’
‘But Poco Rio is different,’ she protested.
‘A business is a business. Catering for children is no different from any other business—the bottom line is still the same.’
‘Not in this case...’
Her phone went off, jumping with the vibrations from the alert. She snatched it up.
‘Who is it?’
‘My dad.’
‘What does he want?’
‘He’s replying to a message I left for him last week.’ She winced at her slip that she’d been waiting a week to hear back from him and hurriedly added, ‘I wanted to know when he’s free for lunch.’
His expression was even. ‘Are you forgetting our deal? Your place is by my side.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Not for a second. That’s why I suggested he choose a weekend.’
‘You’re still by my side at weekends.’
‘Even prisoners are allowed visitation rights.’ She took a sip of her coffee.
A pulse worked at his jaw.
‘You’re not seriously thinking you can stop me visiting my family?’ she asked. ‘Because that would make you even more hateful.’
His eyes crinkled at the edges. ‘You didn’t think I was hateful last night when I made you come with my tongue.’
‘You’re very talented,’ she responded sweetly, wishing her face didn’t flush at the memory.
‘Why don’t you sit on my lap and I’ll show you how talented I am with something other than my tongue?’ He placed his chin on his hand and held his blue eyes on her, a lascivious glimmer in them.
‘Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to distract me again? We were talking about my dad, not about having sex in your office.’ She had to admit, the thought of doing something here, in the heart of his empire, sent the most erotic charge racing through her.
He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and settled back in his chair, cradling his cup to him, that same glimmer still there in his eyes. ‘No, I wouldn’t try and stop you seeing your father, even though I could.’
Oh, yes, he could. Of that Charley had no doubts. But she wondered if he would still hold the kids of Poco Rio over her head like a weapon if he actually met them and spent time with them.
‘It concerns me to see you give up a day for something that might not happen,’ he continued. ‘Your father is hardly the most reliable of people.’
‘Your concern for my emotional well-being is touching.’
Something dark glittered across his features. ‘I know you dislike criticism of him but I spent three years watching you be disappointed by that man.’
Her hackles rose. ‘That man is my father.’
‘And if he had ever acted like a father towards you I would be more forgiving of him. Charlotte, he was an hour late for our wedding. Your mother had to walk you down the aisle.’
‘He was stuck in traffic,’ she snapped, her belly knotting at the remembrance.
‘If he’d left earlier traffic wouldn’t have been a problem.’
‘You have no right,’ she said, red-hot fury pushing through her. ‘No right at all, not when your own family is more screwed up than mine.’
‘My family is—’
‘Perfect,’ she finished for him. ‘The famous Cazorlas, practically perfect in every way, apart from the only son clearly hating the infirm father and having a strained relationship with the mother, the only daughter hiding the essence of herself when with the parents so as not to fall off the pedestal they’ve put her on, everyone putting on a front when they step out of the door because nothing’s more important than showing that perfect face.’
The tendons on Raul’s neck were straining, his jaw clenched. ‘I warn you now, Charlotte, stop.’
‘Oh, I get it—it’s okay for you to pick fault with my family but I’m not allowed to criticise yours?’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Yes, I do—I lived with you for three years, remember? The difference now is that I’m not wrapped up in my own insecurities. I can see it all clearly.’
He got to his feet and placed his hands on the desk, looming down over her, his face a mask. ‘My family is none of your business, not any more. You lost that right when you walked out on me.’
‘Then consider my family off limits too.’
His eyes bored into her, his lips now a tight line. ‘What date has your father given for you to meet?’
Her answer wa
s just as terse. ‘A week on Saturday.’
‘I will check my diary and let you know if we’re free.’
‘Thank you.’
He straightened and reached for his cup, his breathing heavy. ‘I’ve arranged for a member of the finance team to sit down with you for the afternoon and go through some accounts with you.’
‘Now?’
‘Now.’
He strode back into his adjoining office and closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER NINE
RAUL PASSED THE living room on his way outside for his daily swim and paused.
Charley was sprawled on the sofa thumbing through a Spanish magazine, dressed in a thigh-length white T-shirt, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, not a scrap of make-up on her face. She was working her way mechanically through a bar of chocolate.
Deep in concentration, she didn’t notice his presence, allowing him to gaze at her unhindered.
His guts twisted.
Walking away before she noticed him, he stepped out into the swimming-pool area, placed his towel on a sun lounger, and dived in.
As he powered his way through the water he waited for the usual calm to envelop him and empty his mind.
Today, it didn’t happen. Length after length, his mind was filled with his wife. Not the heated discussion about their families that had taken place two days ago and which had settled into a strange kind of truce, nor their lovemaking, the potency of which still showed no sign of abating, but the vision of her sitting on that sofa eating the chocolate bar, just as she’d been eating those biscuits at her desk.
It was that sense of déjà vu again, that feeling of staring at the Ghost of Wife Past.
For the first time, he properly considered if there could be any truth in her words that she had spent their marriage unhappily striving to be the person she thought he wanted.
When they’d first met she’d had an innate sunniness. Smiles and laughter had come easily. They were what had drawn him to her, along with the earthy sexiness that came off her in waves.
While the smiles and laughter were no more evident now than they had been by the end of their marriage, the earthiness had returned.
He’d assumed the casual way she’d dressed when they’d first met had been due to her lack of money, had assumed that all women wanted personal shoppers, hairdressers, beauticians and dieticians on speed-dial. His mother and sister did; all his exes had. He’d never met any woman who didn’t.
But then, he’d never met a woman like Charley before. His inner circle was insular, he acknowledged, filled with like-minded people with the same wealth and outlook on life.
Charley had embraced it all, he reminded himself, right down to the rationing of chocolate.
All he’d wanted was for her to be happy and fit into his world and, with a little help, she’d fitted in perfectly. With his help she’d never had to feel that anyone was judging her. Or so he’d believed...
To see her eating a bar of chocolate...it was such a small thing, but enough to shift his perspective even more. Enough to make him question...
Gone was the haute couture. Gone, the immaculately coiffured hair. Gone, the rigid diet. Gone too, were the rock-hard abs she’d developed during their marriage, replaced with the luscious softness he recalled from their early days.
When he’d completed his daily two hundred lengths, he hauled himself out of the pool. For once there were no hunger pangs. Everything felt tight inside him, far too tight to eat.
He grabbed his towel and rubbed it over his hair and face. As he towelled the water from his back Charley came out into the morning sunshine and walked over to him, her phone in hand.
‘Have we got anything planned for tomorrow?’ she asked, keeping a respectable distance from him although he noted with some satisfaction that her eyes lingered on his chest for longer than was respectable. All at once, the disquiet within him evaporated. He closed the distance and reached for her hips.
‘You’ll get me wet,’ she scolded but with definite half-heartedness. After a week of erotic lovemaking, he knew her resistance was nothing but a measure to prove her own self-control against him.
‘That’s the idea,’ he murmured. Unable to resist, he pulled her in for a kiss, delighting in the sweet, chocolate taste of her mouth.
She sighed into him, slipping her tongue into his mouth and sliding her arms around his neck, before her hands balled into fists and she stepped away. A dark, wet stain now marked her top.
‘Tomorrow?’ she reminded him.
‘You will be with me.’
‘Doing what though? Anything important or am I going to be stuck in my office again?’
‘Doing whatever I require.’
‘Seve’s just messaged me.’ Her speech came in a rush. ‘Two of the staff at Poco Rio have caught a sickness bug.’
‘And that involves you how?’
‘They’re going to be short-staffed.’
‘No.’
‘I haven’t asked for anything yet,’ she protested.
‘Do I have to remind you that our deal is for you to stay by my side?’
‘No, but if they don’t have the staff, the centre won’t be able to open and the children...’
He did not want to hear a single word about children, not from her lips.
Every time she uttered the word he was reminded of her treachery.
‘I’m not prepared to debate the matter. We have already agreed that your day-to-day work at the centre is over.’
Her face darkened, her eyes ringing with obvious contempt. ‘But—’
‘Shh.’ He placed a finger to her lips. ‘It’s a beautiful day with no work or anything else to worry about. Let’s not waste it by arguing about things we have already agreed on.’
Gently he moved his finger off her mouth and traced it down her neck.
He could see her thinking, her eyes moving as she deliberated his words. When his fingers found the band holding her hair back and carefully tugged it out, to let her hair fall down across her shoulders, her breath hitched. When his lips reclaimed hers, there was no more protest. Only willingness. Followed by ecstasy.
* * *
After a day spent making love and a night spent doing the same all over again, Raul awoke on Monday morning to an empty bed and the distant sound of a helicopter flying close by.
He stretched and looked at his watch, surprised to see he’d overslept by a good hour. He could have sworn he’d set his alarm.
Wondering where Charley had got to, he showered and dressed quickly. He had a meeting with the MD of his air fleet at ten a.m. and if there was one thing Raul did not appreciate, it was tardiness, either from others or himself.
The scent of fresh coffee and newly baked bollos—sweet rolls—pervaded the air: morning aromas that never failed to lift his spirits. The household staff worked at their chores with their customary zeal. The dining table had been set...
Set for one.
On the placemat sat a folded letter.
Eyes wide with disbelief, he read it.
Gone to the centre. Back some time this evening.
Charley.
PS: Have borrowed the helicopter.
Of all the reactions provoked by the note, the one that came to the forefront the quickest was laughter.
He could scarcely credit her nerve.
That feeling of witnessing the Ghost of Wife Past consumed him again. The Charley he’d first met had been impulsive, living for the moment...
But surely she must know what the consequences would be?
The laughter died as quickly as it had come. By the time his café con leche and bollos were brought through to him, all amusement had gone.
Did she seriously think she could take o
ff to the centre in direct contravention of his wishes?
Was she seriously serious, as she herself would have put it?
Did she think that now she was back in his bed she could do as she pleased and he would be as forgiving as he had always been?
It was time his wife learned a lesson. If she refused to learn it then he would cancel their agreement and to hell with the day care centre. It meant nothing to him anyway.
* * *
Raul parked the Lotus next to the minibus Charley had been driving the week before and stared at the institutional-looking building with the same distaste as when he’d first been there.
When he’d called his helicopter back to Barcelona, his pilot had been full of contrition.
It hadn’t taken Raul long to put the pieces together. Charley had got the pilot’s number from the household directory and said she wanted to go to Valencia. The pilot hadn’t thought twice about the instruction. He would think twice if Charley tried the same stunt again.
Raul assumed she’d turned his alarm clock off at some point during the night in the snatches of sleep he’d managed between bouts of lovemaking.
He had to press his thumb on a buzzer at the door and wait for someone to approve his admittance before he could enter. When he was finally granted entry, his initial reaction was that he’d walked into a clinic.
To his mind, day care centres were supposed to be bright and colourful places full of squealing children. The exterior might have an institutional feel to it, but he’d expected the interior to be more fitting, not grey and lifeless.
The man he recognised as Seve greeted him at the door of a large room that looked more as he’d imagined, filled with colourful drawings and bright furniture. He could smell food cooking and the aroma was not at all unpleasant.
Seve shook his hand enthusiastically, treating Raul as if Elvis himself had walked into the building. ‘It is an honour to meet you. We are all so grateful for what you have done for the children here. It is an amazing thing.’
As Seve droned on Raul took stock of what surrounded him. The harder he looked, the harder his heart pumped and the lighter his head felt.
Of the dozen or so children in the room at least half were in wheelchairs. All of them sat in a horseshoe around a woman dressed in a bright yellow all-in-one outfit, bright red curly wig and a round red nose. The woman was juggling soft balls, while standing on a plank of wood atop a football. Her balance looked precarious, her juggling atrocious—she dropped more balls than she caught—but it made no difference to the children, all of whom watched with rapt attention, some of them squealing their laughter loudly.
The Perfect Cazorla Wife Page 10
