The Spanish Billionaire's Hired Bride (13 page)

After a few minutes, Ricardo sauntered back towards Helen carrying coffee and briefly looked back over his shoulder. Maria and three young women were peering around the white stone doorway and giggled as they waved in Helen’s direction. Turning his attention back to her, his smile widened.

“I told them. I hope you don’t mind, I just couldn’t help myself,” he whispered.

“Told them what?”

Ricardo leaned across the table and covered Helen’s tiny hand with his. “That we got married.”

Helen winced. “Ah, that. They didn’t know? Are they angry with you? I’ll bet they
hate
me!”

“Not a bit of it. They had no idea about us, no interest in celebrity gossip outside the village, but they’re ecstatic. Maria wants to bake us a special cake.”

“I hope you didn’t tell her I could cook.”

“The subject never arose. They’re all just happy I’ve finally found someone.”

Helen felt herself being drawn into the amber fire of his eyes, and her heart skittered dramatically for a few seconds as his words sank in. She
was
married to this incredibly attractive, totally masculine, virile male. He was perfect husband material on the surface—older, wiser, stronger, and unapologetically dominant. She knew she should will away the sudden and irrational longing for their marriage to be real. She’d felt that way before, and knew it was dangerous.

Her voice sounded husky. “Finally found someone? Someone like me?”

“Why not? In another time, another place and in different circumstances it might have happened anyway.”

“
It
?”

He smiled and looked down into his coffee cup as it swirled around a silver spoon. “Us.”

“Highly unlikely, we live in different worlds. And, besides, you said the last thing you ever wanted to do was to get married.”

“So did you.”

A burst of sadness made her feel weak. The cold truth had intruded on their intimacy. The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them, an attempt to build a wall around her heart. “And I still feel the same.”

“Are you sure?”

I’m sure I want to go straight home, back into bed with you. Sure, I want to feel the hot weight of your body on mine. Sure, I’d have your babies if you wanted me to because…I’m falling in love with you.

She pasted on a false smile. “Of course I’m sure.”

She was shocked at the way her mind had rambled into forbidden territory. It had to be the wine, the sultry atmosphere…or just Ricardo and the lust he invoked. Torturous heat intensified between her tightly clamped thighs. He could suggest anything to her at that moment, and she would agree. She wanted him so badly again it hurt.

Ricardo had never needed to pay her the extra million. He was destined to have her anyway. From that very first moment, as he stared down at her spread-eagled on the Condesa’s bed. The flashing citrine and jet of his eyes had made her heart stall. The sensuous curve of his lips, the angry flare of his nostrils, and the intense power of his hands at her throat were instantly thrilling. She’d been ready to submit to him there and then, within a minute of their worlds colliding. Facing up to the naked truth about how she felt about this man was deeply disturbing.

She realized she was under his spell.

Chapter Eleven

“Do you remember the day we met?” Helen asked later, as they stood on the balcony of his bedroom, watching the sunset after another perfect honeymoon day.

“How could I possibly forget?” he murmured into her hair, his arms winding around her slim waist as he stood behind her. “You were like a trapped animal in that room. An animal with a very attractive behind.”

“Even in my horrible work pants?”

“I’ve ripped them off in my fantasies many times, don’t you worry”

“You’ve had fantasies about me?”

His hand slid up from her waist and began to stroke her breast through the fine silk of her bathrobe. “Of course I have. I still do when you’re not here to indulge me for real.”

The thought of him fantasizing about her was an instant turn on. An image flashed through her mind of him lying naked on his bed, his hand resting on his flat stomach and then… Her voice was suddenly low and sexy. She liked the sound of that too. “I remember the feel of your knees on the back of mine as you pushed me down. I thought you were going to—”

“Murder you?”

“Possibly, or…
have
me.”

“You weren’t particularly receptive that day. You almost crippled me in that department.”

She heard him take a long, slow breath and reach for her other breast. She pictured him closing his eyes as he felt her, as he cupped her curves and molded them against his large hands. She loved that he wanted to enjoy her. “In your fantasy, do you take me there on the bed? From behind?”

His fingers grew still and she could feel his heartbeat between her shoulder blades. “Sometimes.”

“Is it…is it primitive? Rough?” His hands began to move lightly across her breasts again. He must be able to feel the way her heartbeat had increased with excitement.

“No, it’s exquisite because you beg me to do it to you.”

Helen gripped the cold stone shelf of the balcony as she felt his growing erection pressing through the sheer material covering her bottom. His own robe was never going to restrain him, that part of him was too powerful for Chinese silk. “And do you? Do you do it to me when I beg you?”

“Always.” Ricardo trailed one hand up the length of her thigh, twisting her robe in his hand and lifting it up and around her waist to expose her naked lower half. “You’re always ready for me, very eager, very wet, and I’m always prepared…”

Helen heard him tear open a condom wrapper with his teeth and instinctively leaned her weight forward against the stone balustrade. He was going to… and she wanted him to so badly. The hard, cold balcony pushed against her rib cage beneath her breasts and she roughly pulled the edges of the robe apart to intensify the sensation, letting it slide off her shoulders, his penis was hot and rigid as it slid between her parted thighs and the cool night breeze tightened her nipples. He nudged along her vulva with his length, back and forth until she began to groan. “Yes… please. Now.”

She heard him adjust his footing as her robe slid to the floor and she felt the immediate pressure of him pushing upwards and into her. His thickness stretching her wide, the weight of him against her back and buttocks pressing, back and forth in tiny movements until one long thrust secured him deep inside. His voice was low and hoarse. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long.”

She gasped with excitement as he reached around and slid his fingers between her legs, stroking, exploring until he found her swollen nub and began to tease her senseless with his fingertips. Tiny circles that made her bones melt and a sharp flick to heighten the pleasure as he thrust hard into her. “Ricardo…yes… more…”

She heard his breathing grow harsh as she pushed back against him, begging him with her body to go further and faster. She felt his hands slide to her hips and grip her firmly in place, his lips and body hair rasping against her bareback. “Can you feel it,
querida
? Can you feel how much I want you?”

He was huge inside her and she felt wilder and more sensual than she ever had before. He was irresistible. “I want it all,” she moaned. Her feet lifted slightly from the cold tiled floor as she spread her legs as wide as possible and she felt his fingertips dig into the soft flesh on her hips.

“On your knees then,” he whispered harshly against her neck and pressed against her until her nipples were flattened against the stone balcony. “On the lounger.”

Helen looked to her left and knew exactly what he had in mind. It was perfect, deep and wide cream cushions just inches away. He turned her around, his thick shaft still inside her and the twisting sensation it caused in her vagina made her shiver. She was already close to the edge. He eased her forward against the lounger so that her knees touched the fabric and her words seemed to come from nowhere. “Push me down
.
” The breath left her body and she twisted her face to the side as his weight came slowly down. Blind lust ripped through her as her breasts were crushed against the coarse cotton fabric, stiff nipples inverting with the pressure and buzzing with intense arousal. “Now
have
me.”

“Lift up for me,” Ricardo muttered as the fingers of one hand found her clitoris again. “So I can go really deep, make you come really hard.”

Every muscle in her body was tight with anticipation as she curved her back and offered herself up to him as far as she could. His fingers circled her hot flesh as he began to move, each sliding movement pushing her breasts upwards and into the rough fibers of the cushion until his other hand slid beneath her and sought out a hard nipple. He nipped it firmly and repeatedly between his fingers until her hips bucked in reflex, then she cried out as he gently pinched her clitoris at the same time. “Oh God…”

“That’s it,” his voice trembled slightly as his pace increased. Long powerful thrusts that brought his balls in tightly so their pubic hair meshed and increased the friction between their bodies.

Within seconds she began to tumble helplessly into orgasm, delirious with black hot sensation as his penis took control of her entire body. Plunging, panting, her fingers clawed the cushion and she didn’t care who heard her scream as she started to climax.

Ricardo groaned loudly as his own release became imminent and his rhythm changed. Drops of his sweat felt cold as they landed on the hot skin of her back and shoulders. What he was doing to her felt savage and she welcomed it, she wanted it. She ached for him to totally possess her in that moment of heat and musk and feral need. She heard him curse in Catalan, dark sentences that included her name and then a brief moment of breathless silence as his body went into spasm and she felt him start to come. His body shuddered his release into her, long and slow, and he made a low noise that sounded almost like he was in pain. She felt her vagina close around him, convulse, twist and squeeze until she too tipped over the edge into her own swirling abyss of orgasm.

He had her.

There was no going back. Body, soul, and heart, she was his.

…

Ricardo awoke with a start. She was there with him, in his bed, soft and warm. He looked down and saw she was still out for the count with her nose pressed against his chest. It was a cute nose. He listened to her breathing, slow and regular and wondered if he really
did
snore. Nobody had ever mentioned it before.

He rubbed his eyes with the hand that wasn’t pinned to the bed by the woman and realized that he hadn’t slept with many of his consorts. He’d had sex with plenty, but he usually found a way to avoid seeing them in the morning. There was something about “morning” that was far too intimate for his liking, far too much like the beginning of something meaningful.

He should get up, extricate himself quietly and shower. He should…Ricardo closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, the sweet herbs of her shampoo still lingered and his pillow felt more comfortable than he could ever remember. He’d been sleeping a lot more soundly since Helen had been sharing his bed and knew he shouldn’t get used to it, but still he couldn’t bear to get up and leave her there sleeping. He felt safe there.

His thoughts drifted to her parents in their ramshackle farmhouse full of cobwebs and kittens. They had very little in a material sense, but they had each other and that seemed to be enough for them. He supposed they’d say they loved each other as husband and wife should. Maybe it was possible to find happiness within a marriage. Maybe some marriages did last. Maybe some lucky people really did go on to find a
“
Happy Ever After,
”
but that didn’t mean he’d started to believe in love.

The simple comfort of their marriage bed and having time to lie there and think was beginning to lull him into exploring dangerous ideas, like ideas about families, the stuff normal people did. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad…

He looked down at her again, at his wife, and felt a pang of anxiety. She was there because she loved money, not because she had any feelings for him, and he shouldn’t forget that. But then again, if that was her only fault he could deal with it. He had more than enough money to keep a small country running, and, quite frankly, most women wanted rich husbands, didn’t they? It was biological, an instinct to find the best mate to father their offspring. He wouldn’t want to become suddenly penniless, either, if he was honest, and what were the chances of him ever finding a woman who wasn’t interested in his wealth? Zero.

“Ricardo?” she murmured, and he felt her begin to stir.

“I’m here, honey, go back to sleep.” He tried not to panic at the way his stomach had flipped at the sound of her voice. His heart was already beginning to race as he felt her fingers trace sleepy circles on his chest. He swallowed hard when he realized he’d just made a huge life-changing decision without hesitation.

“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 drink 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 un
f
a
ze
d 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.”