CHAPTER TEN
MONTE CLEURE, THE tiny principality beloved of the rich and famous, was so much more than Mia had imagined. Driving through its pristine streets was a voyage of discovery on how the superrich lived. The shops and cafés and the people bustling through them, all glittering under the weight of gold and diamonds, made Bond Street look downmarket. Even the pocket-sized dogs being walked sparkled in their diamond-encrusted collars. The Mediterranean gleamed under the blazing sun, but not as brightly as the supersized yachts that filled the harbour. For such a small country, everything about it was supersized. Apart from the dogs.
A short drive through verdant countryside and then Damián murmured, ‘There it is.’
She squinted. And then her mouth dropped open.
Mostly hidden through the thick trees, her first glimpse of the villa. Having studied it so thoroughly, she’d assumed she knew what to expect. All the pictures and videos in the world could not do it justice. For something that was only thirty-odd years old, it stood like a proud Spanish castle from a bygone age.
Soon the trees thinned and huge iron gates lay before them. And a dozen paparazzo lining the road.
‘Turn to me,’ Damián murmured, squeezing her hand. Their hands had been locked the entire journey, from the moment they’d left his apartment.
She did as he said and rested her head on his shoulder, which was no hardship at all. When he wrapped his huge arm around her, she sighed and burrowed her cheek deeper into him, happily breathing in his gorgeous scent.
When he’d thought she would welcome the exposure of being seen on his arm he’d arranged for a car without tinted windows to collect them. He’d since had that replaced with a car with windows that were as dark as they could legally get away with. When the party started tomorrow they wouldn’t leave so they could return and make a grand entrance in front of the press. They would stay in the villa. The press were forbidden from passing the iron gates. She would be free from the cameras’ lenses.
Gravel crunched beneath the tyres and Mia found her eyes so glued to the villa that the vineyards and olive groves they passed barely registered.
Painted a pale yellow with a terracotta roof, the villa, which had twenty-one luxury suites, was shaped like a squared-off horseshoe with arches and pillars galore. Peeking through the dense perimeter of trees were the terracotta roofs of the adjoining buildings.
As they crawled through landscaped gardens, her heart soared at the abundance of colourful flowers, beautiful fountains and statues all melding together.
The car came to a stop.
‘Are you ready for this?’ Damián asked.
She met his gaze, swallowed and nodded, but inside she quailed. How was she supposed to pull this off, even if she was wearing an outfit that cost more than her monthly mortgage payment?
Until that moment, Damián’s wealth had been too fantastical to be real. The billions he was worth had been mere numbers. Even his apartment, which screamed money, had been just an apartment. This was a whole different ball park that no amount of poring over blueprints and watching videos could have prepared her for. This was the kind of home royalty might live in. There was no doubting that today a prince of the Delgado family had brought a peasant home with him to meet the queen.
Damián saw the fear flit over her face and squeezed her hand again. ‘You have nothing to be frightened of, mi vida,’ he promised softly. ‘My family are made of flesh and bone, just as you are.’
Her throat moved before the tightness of her features softened and a smile curved her lips. ‘You won’t leave me, will you?’
He brought her hand to his lips and grazed a kiss across the knuckles. ‘I won’t let you out of my sight.’
If Mia’s hand hadn’t been gripping his so tightly Damián would have believed her nonchalance to be real as they walked up the steps to the villa’s main entrance.
Didier, the butler who’d worked for his parents since the villa had been built, greeted them in the reception room. After introductions had been made, he said, ‘Your mother is on a call. She will join you for lunch.’
‘When will that be?’
Didier looked at his watch. ‘In one hour and sixteen minutes. It will be served by the pool.’
‘Good. That gives us time to freshen up. Is my brother here yet?’
‘He arrived an hour ago. I believe he’s in his suite.’
‘Have our cases been taken to my suite?’
‘Yes, sir. Can I get you any refreshment?’
‘A coffee would be great.’ He turned to Mia. ‘Drink?’
‘I’d love a cup of tea, thank you.’
‘Have them brought to my suite,’ Damián said.
‘Very good, sir.’
‘Oh, and Didier...?’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘It’s good to see you looking so well.’
For the briefest of moments the elderly butler’s austere façade cracked and the widest smile flashed across his face. ‘Thank you, sir. Likewise.’
‘What was that all about?’ Mia whispered as they walked across the reception room.
‘What was what about?’
‘You and the butler.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
She elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Yes, you do.’
He grinned. Considering he’d been looking forward to this weekend as much as he’d looked forward to his childhood immunisations, he could hardly believe he was smiling within minutes of his arrival. That was Mia’s doing, he recognised. Her natural exuberance and free-spirited air cut through the stiffness of his life. They’d only been lovers a few days but he felt a different man to the one he’d been before he’d met her.
‘He’s the friend you mentioned, isn’t he?’
The friend who’d obtained the external surveillance footage of Emiliano. Not in the least surprised that Mia had put two and two together so quickly, Damián nodded.
‘Then why the formality?’ she asked.
‘Because that is what is expected under this roof...’ His words—and smile—came to a sudden halt when they reached the top of the wide, cantilevered stairs and he caught a glimpse of a figure at the end of the east wing corridor.
Across the vast distance, Damián met the baleful stare of the brother he hadn’t seen since their father’s funeral and with whom he’d not exchanged a word in a decade. Then, like an apparition, Emiliano disappeared into his suite.
‘Damián?’
Loosening his clenched jaw, he returned his attention to the woman who was there to help him save his business. And then he found he didn’t need to try and loosen his features for her benefit because they loosened for themselves...apart from a certain part of his anatomy which tightened in an adolescent regression.
‘Was that Emiliano?’ she asked.
‘Si.’
She smiled. ‘That explains why you were trying to break my fingers.’
To his horror, Damián realised he’d squeezed her hand much tighter than was healthy. Hurriedly bringing it to his mouth, he kissed each precious finger. ‘I’m sorry, mi vida.’
She palmed his cheek and pressed closer him, eyes gleaming with temptation. ‘Relax, Señor Delgado,’ she murmured. ‘We are here for a weekend of fun and frolics, remember?’
‘Frolics?’ He arched a brow, releasing her hand so he could cup her bottom and pull her closer. ‘What are frolics?’
Rising to her toes, she placed her mouth to his ear. ‘Take me to your suite and I’ll show you.’
* * *
Compared to the lovemaking they’d shared over the past two days, this time was short but every bit as passionate and fulfilling. Damián had kicked the door shut behind them and then, before Mia had even had a chance to take stock of his suite, they were tearing each other’s clothes off.
Now, catching her breath while she watched her naked lover stride across the beautifully ornate marble floor to the bathroom, Mia blew him a kiss before he disappeared behind the door, then cast her gaze around.
She felt like a princess. The whole villa took her breath away. Damián’s room followed the Renaissance theme, blended with modern touches like the rest of the villa. His divan bed, which was the size of Mia’s whole bedroom, had a dark brown leather headboard and, a couple of feet from its base, a large leather sofa and a beautiful curved marble-topped table. In the far corner of the room, next to another door, sat a baby grand piano. Heavy drapes covered the three French windows across the left side. The artwork that gracefully adorned the suite was eclectic and totally fitting, the suite as elegant and masculine as the man who inhabited it.
‘Do you play the piano?’ she asked when a freshly showered Damián returned from the bathroom, disappointingly wearing a towel around his waist.
He pulled a face. ‘I had lessons at Celeste’s insistence. I think it was her first real lesson in money not being able to buy you everything—in this case, it couldn’t buy me a musical ear. I was useless at it.’
‘I can’t imagine you being useless at anything.’
He winked. ‘I assure you, the piano is the only thing I have failed to master.’
She threw a pillow at him. It landed dismally short of its target.
He picked it up and stalked over to the bed. ‘I assume you failed to master the art of throwing things?’
‘I mastered throwing tantrums, if that counts?’
The grin he flashed could have melted a glacier. Placing the pillow on the bed, he leaned over and hungrily took a nipple in his mouth.
Spent though she’d thought herself to be, his touch sent darts of need spearing through her.
His hand dragged down her belly to her pubis. Gently, he rubbed his thumb over her already swollen bud.
Moaning her pleasure, she groped wildly for his towel and tugged it off. His erection jutted huge and proud before her, but before she could reach out to touch it—he’d shown her during their long bouts of lovemaking just how he liked to be touched—he gave a mock growl and backed away.
Stretching her body as seductively as she could, she waggled a finger at him. ‘Don’t you want to come back to bed?’
His eyes darkened but his face became stern. ‘Move. We are expected for lunch in...’ he checked his watch ‘...twenty-eight minutes. It’ll take us ten minutes to get to the pool.’
Pulling a face, Mia got grudgingly off the bed and pretended to strop to the bathroom.
Damián was already dressed, wearing chinos and a grey V-neck T-shirt that covered his muscular frame like a dream when she returned from her shower, and he was waving something that looked like a mobile phone without any buttons around the room.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked, bemused.
He didn’t look at her. ‘Searching for bugs.’
‘When you say bugs...you don’t mean six-legged creatures, do you?’
He shook his head. When he finally looked at her his expression was grim. ‘I should have done it as soon as we got here.’
Damián was ready to kick himself. Of all the foolish schoolboy errors he could have made, this was up there with the worst.
But that was exactly why he’d made a schoolboy error—because he’d been thinking like an adolescent and using the brain that wasn’t in his head. He hadn’t behaved like that even when he’d been an adolescent.
Not only had he failed to check for bugs but he’d forgotten to link his laptop to the villa’s security system and now he would have to wait until after lunch to do that because there was no time. Precious hours would be wasted.
The woman who was the cause of his adolescent urges stared at him with wide eyes and tightened the towel she’d wrapped around her. ‘Has someone been listening to us?’ Horror reflected back at him. ‘Or watching us?’
‘No. The room’s clean. But I should have checked before we christened the bed.’
‘Can you trust that thing you’re using?’
‘Felipe Lorenzi, my security expert, gave it to me. All his equipment is the latest and most sophisticated technology. There is not a bug out there that this cannot detect.’
She blew out a sigh of relief but then doubt clouded her features. ‘What if there are bugs when we go searching?’
‘I told you before, I have jamming equipment, but I don’t expect there to be bugs anywhere in the villa. I know it must look a palace to your eyes but it’s a home. Why would Celeste spy on herself?’
‘How would I know? She’s your mother, not mine.’ She tugged at her damp hair. ‘I should get dressed. What should I wear?’
‘Something casual. Your stuff’s been unpacked in the dressing room.’
She went through the door he directed her to, leaving Damián a few minutes alone to compose himself.
So much for making love to Mia getting his crazy hunger for her out of his system.
Damn it, if he hadn’t succumbed to her succulent temptation, his focus would have been as clear and crisp as it always was.
At least he wouldn’t have to fake his passion for her when they were with his family. They’d been lovers for only two days and already he couldn’t keep his hands off her.
* * *
Mia held tightly onto Damian’s hand as they stepped onto the most pristine, ornate, sprawling terrace she’d ever seen. A huge rectangular swimming pool beckoned. Laid around it at regular intervals were dozens of sunbeds, each with its own parasol. To the left of the pool and up some wide steps was the outdoor dining area. Six people were sitting around a table. All of them turned their faces as they approached.
An elegant slender woman of indeterminate age with white-blonde hair scraped in a tight bun and whose facially delicate bone structure reminded Mia of a bird, rose to her feet. She was wearing a flowing dark blue sarong dress, her feet bare.
‘Mijito,’ she purred in greeting. Her face curved into something Mia supposed was meant to be a smile and then she said something in rapid-fire Spanish that she didn’t understand but which made Damián’s features tighten as he fired something back before pausing, exchanging air-kisses and then taking back hold of Mia’s hand and switching to English.
‘Celeste, I would like you to meet Mia.’
Obsidian eyes, the only physical resemblance to Celeste’s youngest son, fixed on Mia. Something reflecting in them made a shiver run down her spine. It wasn’t quite coldness she detected, but a definite coolness. Scrutinising.
Whatever was going on behind the almost beautiful bird-like head, Celeste bestowed her with a smile far friendlier than the one she’d given her son and wafted over to place a kiss on each of Mia’s cheeks. Her gracious welcome was only marred by her failure to allow a millimetre of their skin to make contact.
‘Delighted to meet you,’ she said. Her English was as impeccable as Damián’s. ‘Let me introduce you to everyone.’
One by one, those seated—Celeste’s sister, brother-in-law, two nieces and older son—got to their feet to place dutiful air kisses against Mia’s cheeks. The only person whose lips made contact with her skin was Emiliano. As lean and wiry as his brother was broad and muscular, his colouring was a touch lighter, his hair a few shades lighter on the spectrum and his eyes lighter too, although they had Damián’s sharp intensity.
‘So you’re the mystery woman,’ he murmured, his voice a lazy drawl. ‘Let’s hope Damián treats you better than he does the other people he’s supposed to love.’
Mia caught Damián’s eye. The clenching of his jaw told her his brother’s jibe had hit exactly where intended.
‘Emiliano, do something about these dogs,’ Celeste suddenly snapped.
Until that moment, Mia hadn’t noticed the beautiful golden retriever and another smaller dog t
hat looked like it was a variety of breeds. The smaller dog had its teeth in Celeste’s sarong and was tugging hard at it, growling.
Emiliano strolled back to his seat, nonchalantly sat back down, winked at Mia, and then finally whistled through his teeth. The dog immediately dropped the sarong and trotted obediently back to its master.
To give Celeste her due, she recovered admirably. She retook her seat and patted the chair beside her, beckoning Mia.
She dropped into it as obediently as the dog had obeyed Emiliano.
Celeste smiled her approval. ‘What would you like to drink?’
‘Do you have tea?’
A tinkle of laughter. ‘Surely a glass of champagne is in order?’ She indicated for one of the staff hovering a discreet distance away to open the bottle that was sitting on ice beside her. ‘It has been many years since my son has introduced us to one of his lady friends.’
Smiling widely, Mia said, ‘Champagne sounds lovely, but I think I’ll be better off sticking to soft drinks.’
The clever dark eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’
‘No!’ Her denial came out like a bark before she could hold it back and modulate it. For some reason, the beaky lips twitched, which in turn made Mia giggle. ‘I’m sorry. No, I’m definitely not pregnant. I just find that drinking alcohol during the day makes me sleepy.’
Celeste waved a dismissive hand. ‘So it makes you sleepy? So what? Treat your weekend here as a mini-break. Did Damián tell you I have a spa?’
Mia had studied the villa’s blueprints and internal videos so thoroughly she knew exactly where the spa and adjoining beauty rooms were located. ‘I think he mentioned it.’
‘You must use it,’ she urged. ‘I employ a full-time masseuse. She is the best. I have a beautician and hairdresser too, so do make use of them.’ Her nose wrinkled, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial level. ‘I will tell Gaynor to do something with your hair for tomorrow’s party.’
Quite certain she’d been insulted, Mia fought back another giggle. At least Damián had warned her of his mother’s bitchy tendencies. ‘That sounds wonderful, thank you.’
The Billionaire's Cinderella Contract Page 11
