Читать книгу Modern Romance Collection: November 2017 Books 5 - 8 - Annie West - Страница 22

CHAPTER ELEVEN

RAUL COULDN’T COMPREHEND how alike he and Max were. There was no disputing they were brothers. It wasn’t just the dark hair, which Max wore shorter, or the piercingly dark eyes, but the way he stood. Every line in his body was poised and commanding. Raul had not only met his brother, but his match, of that he was in no doubt, but right now he was far too angry with Lydia for her deception.

Because of her he’d lost a big deal and she’d caused him and Max unnecessary embarrassment. He wanted to believe she hadn’t sold his story, that she hadn’t used their passionate affair in order to gain all the information she could about the story of his brother and his father’s double life, but it was just too coincidental. She’d gone from not wanting anything to do with him to seeking a passionate affair. He’d thought it had been desire driven, but he’d been wrong. Very wrong.

‘Was that necessary?’ his brother’s voice fired accusingly at him. ‘There was no need to be so hard on her.’

‘Don’t you dare presume that as my older brother you can tell me what I can and can’t do.’ Raul hurled the angry words back at Max. Thanks to Lydia and her indiscretion, this whole meeting had catapulted out of control. He couldn’t even think clearly at the moment, saying the first thing that came to him in such an uncontrolled way, he didn’t even recognise himself.

‘Now we get to the crux of it.’ Max strode towards him, the same purposeful strides he would use if he weren’t rooted to the spot with shock and anger at the sudden realisation that Lydia had gone. Not just left the hotel, but gone. Out of his life for good.

Focus, he demanded himself. Now was not the time to reminisce over a love affair that had ended. Now was the time to focus on his future, to move forward from the lies his father had inflicted on him—and Max. To do the one thing his father had thought him incapable of—welcoming his brother into his life.

‘That minor detail has nothing to do with it,’ he shot back at Max, instantly regretting the anger in his words.

‘Then you had better tell me what the hell it is you want from me so that you can go and sort out your love life.’ Max’s dark eyes, so like his own, pinned him to the spot and he resented his brother’s inference that he and Lydia were lovers.

‘We are not lovers.’ He glared angrily at his brother, refusing to accept that maybe he was right. Damn him, he’d been in his life all of five minutes and already he was telling him what to do.

‘That’s not how it looked to me.’ Max flicked an eyebrow up and a trickle of calm began to defuse the angry tension that arced between them like an ugly steel bridge, connecting them, connecting their past and their future, yet neither daring to cross it.

Raul sighed. ‘I didn’t ask you to come here to talk about me and Lydia—’

‘I should hate you right now,’ Max said, cutting off his words, blatantly attempting to take back control. He also echoed his own feelings exactly. He too should hate Max. Hate him for being the son his father always wanted, hate him for being given his father’s name and most of all hate him for denying him his father’s love.

But Max hadn’t had a father’s love either. He hadn’t seen his father since he was eight years old, if all Carlos had told him was true.

Raul frowned. How did Carlos know so much? ‘And do you? Hate me?’

‘No.’ Max turned and walked away. ‘Neither of us are to blame. There is only one man who can take the blame for this, and, as always, he’s too much of a coward to deal with it himself. He’s left us to deal with the aftermath. Just as he walked away from my mother and I.’

Raul knew he was scowling as he digested this nugget about his brother’s childhood. The tone of his voice, the way he referred to their father gave away so much. Was it possible he too had suffered the effects of being the son of a man incapable of love for his son?

‘Did he ever contact you again?’ Raul had to know, had to hear it for himself.

‘No—and for that I am grateful. My life was better without him.’ Max’s voice was hard. Controlled. But he spoke the truth, Raul didn’t need any convincing of that.

‘So, brother, where do we go from here?’ Raul asked, knowing that whatever he did now he had to get Max on side, had to get him to accept his share of the inheritance his father had left equally between them—especially as he’d turned Lydia out of his life so harshly and she was the only other hope of paying the debt the board wanted settled.

‘I’m not big on emotional commitment.’ Max moved closer to him, echoing his own sentiments exactly. ‘The love of a father, or even a woman, is overrated as far as I am concerned.’

Raul smiled, accepting they were already so alike. ‘My sentiments precisely.’

‘The young lady seemed pretty certain she didn’t sell the story, but someone did.’ Was Max accusing him?

‘I lost a big deal because of it. I’d hardly do that.’

Max’s brows rose, in a way that was like looking at himself in the mirror. ‘Then I suggest we work together to find out just who has it in for us.

‘The media will be watching closely to see what happens next. There are probably bets on somewhere as to what we will do, but I’ll wager that nobody, least of all our so-called father, would expect us to leave the past exactly where it is and move forwards—together.’

Raul held out his hand to shake on the deal Max was offering. It was far more than he’d hoped for, but if Max could put aside the past, so could he. ‘Brothers.’

‘Brothers,’ Max replied and took his hand, their gazes locking. Then to Raul’s relief and shock, Max let go of his hand and slapped him on the back. ‘Brothers.’

* * *

Lydia had known exactly what she needed to do as she left Raul and his brother glaring like angry bulls at one another. She’d hailed a black cab to the station for the next train to Oxford. This time her father would face up to what he’d done. This time she was well and truly in charge. This time he’d pay. Not just for her, but for Raul—and Max.

Meeting Raul for the first time had made her grow up. Spending the weekend as his lover had given her clarity. Thinking of him spiked her heart with pain. How had she fallen in love with a man who could use her as savagely as her father had done?

She pushed the thought aside as the train pulled out of the station and a bitter December wind whistled down the platform as she wondered if she’d done the right thing.

Of course you have. He can’t get away with not paying his debt.

The short taxi ride from the station to her father’s home, one she’d hardly spent any time at recently, gave her just enough time to pull the last bit of confidence she had left and ready herself for seeing her father. Once that was done, she could go home and sleep away the pain of her broken heart, knowing she’d done all she could to make things right. Although they’d never be right for her again.

‘I wasn’t expecting you so close to Christmas.’ Her father’s voice boomed at her as he raised his head from whatever it was he was engrossed in at his desk. She heard the door being clicked shut as his maid retreated. Had she sensed the power of his daughter’s determination?

‘And I wasn’t expecting to be made a scapegoat for your so-called deals.’ She bit back a tirade she’d love to shower on him, wanting the implications of what she’d just said to sink in first. Would he defend himself or her?

‘Ah.’

‘Yes, ah.’ She walked towards the desk, looking him in the eye and not missing the startled widening of his. He might not have been expecting to see her today, but he’d certainly never thought she’d be so mutinous.

‘I thought you’d come to tell me you are about to marry the Valdez heir or, judging by the headlines today, I’d hazard a guess it’s to congratulate me on a cunning plan which has made you a very wealthy woman and saved my neck.’

‘How could you?’ Her anger erupted, mixed together with the pent-up grief of losing the man she loved, even though deep down she knew she’d never had him at all. To him their time together had been merely a diversion. All that hurt tipped out onto her father. ‘You used me. How could you? I will never forgive you.’

‘Now hang on a minute.’ He jumped up from his chair, papers sliding to the floor, his face red with anger. ‘You now have properties worth millions.’

He’d walked right into her trap. ‘Do I?’

‘I did it for you, Lyd.’ She hated it when he shortened her name and bit back the retort she’d like to hurl at him. He had to think she was softening, that she was complying with what he’d obviously planned from the outset.

‘So I can do what I want with them?’ she asked thoughtfully as he sat back down, looking relaxed again, believing he’d smoothed the rough water. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Quite sure, Lyd.’ She smarted again beneath the fake endearment. ‘Spend Christmas and New Year in the sun, then once the dust has settled you can transfer them back to me and we will have made millions. It can be our little investment.’

How devious could he get? How had she never noticed before just what he was like?

Because you have grown up.

‘I might just do that,’ she said with a smile on her face that was so hard to achieve. ‘In actual fact I think I will fly out to one of them tomorrow.’

‘That’s my girl. I knew you’d see sense.’ The condescending tone sickened her but she played her part to the end.

‘Now, if you will excuse me, I’ve got packing to do.’

As her father’s laughter trailed after her Lydia felt numb. She had lost her father long ago, and today she’d lost the man she’d fallen in love with. But the truth was she’d never been loved by Raul.

‘Have a good time and Merry Christmas.’ The belated words trailed down the wood-panelled hallway of his latest home and briefly she longed to slip back in time, to the home she’d grown up in, before her parents had parted company and she’d gone to live with her grandmother. But just as going back to the time she’d spent with Raul was impossible, so was going back to the small window of happiness in her childhood. The only way was forwards, even if it was fraught with pain.

‘I will.’ If he only knew what she really had planned for his little investment, he wouldn’t be so happy. First she would call her solicitor and get enough of the properties transferred into Raul’s name to cover the debt that, as far as she was concerned, her father still owed. After that she would sell the rest and give it all to charity. She wanted nothing to do with them. Only then did she feel she could move on from her disastrous first taste of love.

* * *

Raul had gone straight to the bar after his brother had left and ordered a whisky. He’d needed the hot fire of the amber liquid, not because of the way things had gone with Max, but because of the way things had gone with Lydia.

As the image of her lovely face swam into his mind he remembered the envelope she’d all but thrust at him and pulled it from his pocket. He placed it on the bar and ordered a second drink. The young woman behind the bar smiled at him as she placed the drink next to the envelope, but it was a smile wasted on him now. There was only one woman’s smile he wanted to see but he had to remember what she’d done, the story she’d sold.

Unable to believe the duplicity of Carlos, the only other person who knew the secrets of the past, or his blatant admission when challenged, he and Max had come up with their own exclusive to sell to the press. The proceeds were to be split equally between their favoured charity projects of Sports for Youngsters and Community Rebuild. The fact that they both headed charities proved yet another similarity between them and highlighted just how different they both were from their father. Except that Raul shared the fatal flaw of being unable to love, to give his heart to anyone.

He reached for his second drink, then paused, his hand over the envelope. Was he ready to read its contents? What was in it that was so bad his mother had never told him? He cursed beneath his breath. Why hadn’t he ever broached the subject with her? He ignored the drink and the oblivion it lured him with and picked up the envelope.

Around him the bar became busy with Christmas shoppers and businessmen and women. The noise level rose as everyone chatted against the backdrop of traditional carols, but he didn’t hear any of it. The forthcoming festive season was the last thing on his mind as he read, first the torn pages of what must have been his mother’s journal and then a letter, written to him by his mother, dated on his tenth birthday.

Both told the story of his father’s deception, of the brother he would never know and of her family’s insistence that they remain married or she would be disinherited and his double life exposed. Now her acceptance of his father’s behaviour made sense and the realisation that her story was out there in the world of the media made talking to her essential.

He’d rather do it face to face, be able to see her expression and be there to offer comfort, but London was nearly a three-hour flight from Madrid. There was only one option, so he moved away from the bar, to a quieter corner and took out his phone, waiting whilst the call he least wanted to make connected.

Just as he wondered if he’d done the right thing his mother’s voice sounded across the miles, her Spanish words grounding him. ‘I was expecting your call.’

‘Then you will know why I am calling.’ He didn’t ask, but made it clear he was stating a fact. He had no wish to hurt his mother, to drag up what must be a painful past, but he had to know the truth and it seemed, if nothing else, Lydia had been right about one thing. His mother was the best person to ask.

‘As soon as I saw you and Lydia together I knew it was time.’ Raul frowned. Where was this leading? Whatever it was she had to tell him had nothing to do with Lydia now and he was about to say just that when his mother spoke over his thoughts. ‘I could see how much she loves you—and how much you love her.’

He should correct her, should tell her she’d got it all wrong. How could anyone have imagined there was love between them? ‘I need to know why you kept the truth of Max from me.’

‘When you were young it was to try and mend things between you and your father, to try and keep the family together—for you, not anyone or anything else.’

A noisy group of couples sat at the table next to him, full of the joys of the festive season, but he couldn’t end the call now, he had to continue. ‘There was never any love lost between me and my father and now I know why. He already had a son—and had given him his name.’

‘I knew about the baby, but not the name,’ she carried on, her voice beginning to waver, and he wished there weren’t so many miles between them for this conversation. ‘I only found that out when his double life was exposed and you were so young and not getting on with your father, I couldn’t give you more reasons to fall out with him.’

‘You must have known it would come out?’ Raul snapped, ignoring the curious glance from the party next to him, turning his back on them and their happiness. He picked up his glass of whisky, about to take a long swig, when his mother answered.

‘That’s why I waited until you had the support of a woman who loves you.’

He cursed loudly in Spanish. ‘Lydia and I are not in love. We were forced into marriage because of a clause in the damn will. Her father’s debts and my father’s need to drag up the past forced us into an engagement.’

He heard his mother gasp. ‘He did that to you?’

‘Unless I found Max and shared the inheritance. Yes, he did that.’ Raul’s voice was granite hard and he tightened his grip around the glass so much he thought he might actually break it. ‘With help from Carlos.’

‘Carlos? I can’t believe he would stoop so low, but your father, yes.’

‘There will be no wedding, Mother. Lydia found Max, thanks to the information you gave her, and unlocked the funds Father had set aside as a reward for acknowledging Max as my older brother. He gambled on the fact that her father wouldn’t repay the debt and that I’d rather track down his firstborn son than get married.’

It angered Raul to think that his father had known him so well, played him to the very end, but in taking up that challenge he’d hurt others. His mother for one, but the fact that he’d hurt Lydia enough to make her hate him was too much.

‘He’d engineered it all, knowing he wouldn’t have long left?’ The shock in his mother’s voice was so clear he could imagine her sitting in her favourite chair and the expression on her face.

‘Every last detail.’

‘None of that changes the fact that Lydia loves you. Don’t lose her, Raul, don’t throw away your happiness.’ His mother pleaded with him and now he was glad he wasn’t standing before her. How long would she keep up this particular argument?

‘I am not in love with Lydia.’ He snapped the words in rapid Spanish, again causing others to look his way.

‘Then maybe you are more like your father than you imagine.’

Raul gritted his teeth. He wasn’t having this conversation. Not now. Not here like this. Not when he’d just sent Lydia out of his life for good. ‘I can’t talk any more.’

‘Talk to her, Raul—for me.’

He cut the call without giving his mother any further opportunity to increase the pain that raged inside him like a wild animal, pain from the deceit of the past as well as the deceit of the present.

He downed the whisky in one go and then slammed the glass down on the table. Lydia loved him? Not possible. She was as cold and calculating as he was—and also now financially very well off with her new property portfolio. Did that mean they were well matched? Or was she hiding the real Lydia as much as he kept his true emotions hidden?

He thought back to their time together in Madrid and ultimately to that passionate weekend. He had been happy then, even forgetting the need to find Max as he’d lived the lie of being Lydia’s lover. But had it been a lie? Was the elusive emotion of love the reason he’d been so happy in Madrid, so like a completely different version of himself?

As Christmas carols began to fill the bar again, jingling with merriment, he finally had the nerve to question himself, question just what it was that had sparked into life between him and Lydia from their very first meeting here in London. He thought back to the hard and cruel words he’d hurled at her just moments before she’d run out of his life. He could still hear the feral growl in his voice, as if it were being played alongside the bright and cheery carols.

An angry curse slipped from him and he strode to the bar, ordering another whisky and swigging it back in one. He glared at his reflection in the mirrored wall of the bar, distorted by the array of optics. He’d been a fool to think Lydia would betray him. He knew she would never willingly drag herself through the mire of the press and was as much a victim as he and Max. He also knew now that the passion they had shared, one so strong and powerful, like nothing he’d ever known, was not born out of lust—but love.

The unthinkable had happened. He’d fallen in love.

Lydia Carter-Wilson, his fake fiancée, was the woman he wanted to marry, the woman he wanted to have children with—and he’d sent her away.

Raul left the bar, the cold wind whipping at his coat as he crossed the busy street, dashing in front of black cabs. It wasn’t the whisky that had dulled his senses, making him careless, but the loss of the woman he loved.