Читать книгу The Perfect Cazorla Wife - Мишель Смарт, Michelle Smart - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

CHARLEY FORCED A polite smile and an even politer adiós, and left the bank manager’s office. Her chest felt so tight she struggled to breathe. Swallowing in a vain attempt to open her airways, she stepped into the lobby of the enormous building that housed her bank and a dozen other institutions, and headed straight to the ladies’ room, locking herself in the nearest cubicle.

It was over.

The manager had been as good as his word. Without Raul to act as guarantor, there would be no loan.

She’d known her chances of getting the manager to change his mind had been slim but had refused to be defeated. Slim was a better chance than zero.

And now it was all over. That last glimmer of hope had died. Zero chance had become reality.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, she stifled a sob.

Despite all her efforts, Poco Rio would lose its home and close.

Those poor children. Whatever she felt was nothing in comparison to how it would affect them and their families. God alone knew they’d already suffered enough in their short lives.

She had to hold her hands up and admit defeat. There were no avenues left to explore. She’d done everything she could, even turning to Raul for help.

Another sob formed in her throat as she recalled how he’d thrown her desperate plea back in her face. She’d never have believed he could be so heartless, had had no idea he was still harbouring the fury that had underpinned the end of their marriage. Then, his fury, his loss of control, would have been frightening if her own anger hadn’t matched his.

How clearly she remembered the reasonable tone he’d always adopted when discussing her failings. ‘Cariño,’ he’d said, ‘it is time for you to accept you are not business-minded. You have tried but now it is time for us to make the family we once talked of having.’

She remembered even more clearly how her blood, her skin, her bones—every part of her—had chilled at his words.

Bring a baby into this marriage?

Up until that point, having children was something she’d looked forward to having but in the future, after she’d found her niche in life.

Her own mother had worked hard to put food in Charley’s belly. The fact she’d thrown away all her mum’s hard work in her teenage years was something she’d become deeply ashamed of and determined to rectify. When she had a child of her own, she wanted her baby to look up to her. She didn’t want her own children comparing their parents and seeing a father who was a roaring success and a mother who was a dismal failure. She wanted her husband and children to be proud of her, to see her as a successful woman in her own right.

It hadn’t been on her mind to leave him but when she’d tried to explain why this still wasn’t the right moment to have a baby, everything had turned on its head and somehow they’d been in each other’s faces, shouting words she no longer remembered in detail but remembered the meaning behind.

Gold-digger and failure were two of his choice accusations that still rang clear and still had the power to make her stomach contract with pain. Those accusations had hurt terribly. She’d tried so hard to make a success of those businesses, had been desperate to impress him with something other than her body. But she had reached too high, she could see that now. Desperation had clouded her judgement; she had reached the stage where she couldn’t see the wood for the trees. The trees had become so thick she couldn’t see a way out either.

And then he’d told her to leave.

It had been like a light bulb going off in her skull. All the things she’d been in denial about had come to the forefront and with them had come the realisation that she couldn’t do it any more. She couldn’t be the woman he’d tried to shape her into being.

By the time she’d finished packing, he’d calmed down enough to tell her, not ask her, that he wanted her to stay. But it had been too late. Raul wanted perfection and she was far from perfect. She’d known as clearly as she knew her own name that their marriage was dead.

So why did she feel so heartsick to think about him? Why did she feel not just upset that he’d thrown her pleas for help back at her but a bone-deep misery that had stopped her eating more than a slice of toast since the party two days ago?

Only when she was certain she could keep the threatening tears at bay long enough to return home did Charley leave the ladies’ room, making sure a smile lay on her lips. That was one of the things the decorum tutor Raul had employed had drilled into her: always show a pleasant demeanour whatever the circumstances. Image was everything to the Cazorlas.

Her head ached, hurting much worse than the time she’d swallowed too large a lump of ice cream and got brain-freeze. The brilliant Valencian sunshine magnified it and she shielded her eyes as she stepped outside.

Her car was parked around the corner but before she could walk to it her vision cleared and she made out the tall figure leaning against an illegally parked silver Lotus at the front of the building, arms crossed over his broad chest.

‘Raul?’

For a moment she was too stunned to move or say anything else.

Seeing him in full daylight, gorgeous in a dark blue suit and light blue shirt that made the colour in his eyes gleam, threatened to knock what little stuffing she had left out of her heart.

This wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be. Over the years Raul had wined and dined all the major players of the Spanish banks. He had all the best contacts. His web covered everywhere.

He’d probably known the outcome of her meeting before she had.

Suddenly it became clear what he was here for.

She marched over to him. ‘Here to gloat, are you?’

He unfolded his arms and straightened, his pale blue eyes fixed on her without expression.

‘No, cariño.’ The faintest of smiles tugged at his sensuous lips. ‘I’m here to offer you a lifeline.’

She studied him carefully, trying to read his face.

‘What kind of lifeline?’ she asked, not hiding her wariness.

‘The kind of lifeline that will save your centre.’

Raul watched a dozen emotions flitter over her pretty face as she digested his words.

‘You’re going to help me?’

He allowed himself another smile and opened the passenger door of the Lotus. ‘Get in and we’ll discuss the matter.’

‘Tell me where to go and I’ll meet you. I’ve got my own car here.’

She could drive now? That was news to him.

‘If you want the lifeline for the centre that means so much to you, I suggest you get in. This is a one-off discussion. When I leave, the offer of my help leaves with me.’ Not waiting for a reaction, he sidled round and got into the driver’s side.

It was only when he shut his door and fastened his seat belt that Charley galvanised herself into action, jumping in beside him and shutting the passenger door with a slam.

He put his sunglasses on before turning to face her, taking stock of the designer black suit she wore and the way her hair hung loose around her shoulders. It surprised him to find her make-up-free bar a touch of eyeliner and mascara. His wife normally made her face up so artfully that not the slightest imperfection showed; at least she had after she’d been given access to his bank account and had hit the high-class department stores. When he’d first met her she’d been as fresh-faced as she was today.

His loins tightened as he caught her vanilla scent. He’d been imagining that scent since she’d gatecrashed the party.

She stared right back at him, confusion and suspicion vying in her look.

He experienced a surge of satisfaction.

He had her exactly where he wanted her.

With a half-smile on his face, he shifted the car into gear and joined the rest of the traffic on the street.

‘Are you serious about helping me?’ she asked in the throaty tone he remembered so well.

‘Why else would I be here?’

On Saturday night, his only intention had been to let her stew in the mess of her own making and get on with his life.

Charley had left him. She was nothing but a gold-digger who’d played him for a fool. She deserved nothing.

He’d dropped Jessica home after the party and returned to his own house alone, just as he’d slept alone since Charley had left him.

He’d lain awake, his mind drifting back to the nights he’d spent with his wife, remembering the curves of her body, the softness of her skin, the scent of their sex...for the first time in two years, his libido had awoken.

One short, angry conversation with his wife and his body—every part of it—had come back to life in a way it hadn’t in the whole of their two years apart.

He’d recalled their conversation in minute detail, over and over, Charley vivid behind his eyes. He couldn’t block her out.

When the sun came up he’d still been lying there, his mind still racing in a hundred different directions.

Not caring that it was a Sunday morning and that they would likely be in bed, he’d used his contacts to learn more about the finances behind her venture, including speaking to a businessman she’d pitched to.

He learned Charley only had the personal funds to pay for half the building costs. He dreaded to think what she’d blown the rest of the money he’d given her on.

Financially, her name was toxic. No investor would touch her. Her own bank wouldn’t touch her without his name as guarantor.

She’d explored all other avenues and now it was down to him and him alone to save her project.

Well, she would damn well pay the price for it, starting today.

‘You’re going to lend me the money?’

‘Better than that—I’m going to give it to you.’

He let that sink in, letting her realise in her own sweet time that he alone had what was needed to make her dream a reality.

‘Are you seriously serious?’

He almost laughed. He’d forgotten the way she had with words. ‘Yes.’

‘I’m assuming this offer comes with a catch.’

‘Nothing in life comes free, cariño.’ He felt her bristle at the use of his old name for her. Good. By the end of the day she would be doing a lot more than bristling beside him. By the time the sun went down she would be back in his bed beneath him.

Celibacy had not been a conscious decision. It was only as he’d lain in his bed thinking about her that he’d realised why he’d not found another bedmate.

How could he be with another woman when his wife still lived in his blood?

Charley hadn’t just gatecrashed the party, she’d gatecrashed her way straight back under his skin. And he knew just the way to exorcise her once and for all.

‘What’s your catch?’

‘We will discuss the terms when we get home.’

‘You’re taking me to Barcelona?’

‘Sí. And when we get to my home we will share a civilised lunch and discuss the terms of the deal in detail. For now, you can rest your mind knowing that if you agree to my terms, the building you want to buy will be a done deal.’

Charley bit into her bottom lip and balled her hands into fists, digging her nails into the palms of her hands. If her nails were as long as she’d kept them when she’d been with Raul, she would have inflicted pain upon herself. Now they were short and practical and produced only the dullest of aches. Nowhere near enough to distract from the turmoil playing in her belly.

‘Can you at least tell me why you changed your mind about helping me?’

‘We will discuss everything when we get home.’

She wanted to demand answers but forced herself to think rationally. Right now he was being cordial towards her, his attitude a marked improvement to the loathing he hadn’t bothered to hide at the party. He was here and, if he was as good as his word, prepared to help her. At that moment, that was all that mattered. Anything else she could worry about later. Antagonising him would accomplish nothing.

If she had to suffer his company then for the children’s sake she would gladly accept it.

Her head might term it as suffering, but her body had a different word for the reaction provoked by being in the close confines of the car with him. It was familiar torture: her lungs tight, her pulse loose, her skin alive with awareness.

She breathed out slowly and peeked at him from the corner of her eye. Her heart swelled to see his sleeves rolled up, his tanned left arm resting on the ledge of the open window. Unlike most people with his wealth, Raul preferred to drive himself unless he was drinking. The first of his birthdays that they’d celebrated together, she’d bought him a day’s racing at a racetrack. He’d been too well-bred to tell her he’d already raced on it a dozen times, happy that she’d bought something that actually meant something to him.

They’d been happy then. She’d been happy then.

She blinked the memories away and fixed her gaze on the road ahead.

A few minutes later they were at the heliport where his pilot awaited them, ready to take them back to Barcelona.

* * *

Charley stared up at Raul’s home with a definite sense of awe and trepidation.

‘When did you move in here?’ she asked.

‘A year ago,’ came the curt reply.

In direct contrast to the old villa, which had been set in a private enclave by the beach, Raul’s new villa was located in the exclusive neighbourhood of Avenida Tibidabo. Surrounded by high-security gates that in turn were lined with palm trees, the villa was three-storey, with cream outer walls and turrets, all topped with terracotta roofs.

Intuition told her she was walking into a trap, although she couldn’t fathom what it could be. Once she knew exactly what he wanted from her she’d deal with it. It was the not knowing that made her feel so tense, that and being back in the company of the man whose masculinity she’d always found so very potent. It shamed her that even now, after so much water had passed beneath the bridge, her body was as alert to him as it had always been.

The villa’s differences internally were as marked as the location. The home they’d shared by the beach, although just as grand, had been modern. This villa was steeped in splendour, with mosaicked floors and high, arched frescoed ceilings, a sense of history breathing through the whitewashed walls.

Here was the evidence, if she hadn’t already guessed it by his two years of silence, that Raul had moved on.

She swallowed the acrid taste that had formed in the back of her throat. ‘Where are the staff?’ At this time of day the house should be teeming with activity, especially on a Monday.

‘I told the household staff to take the day off.’ Raul’s eyes gleamed with something she couldn’t interpret. ‘I thought it best for us to be alone.’

Low, down in the juncture of her thighs, heat pulsed and licked through her veins.

How could she still react to him like that, as if the past two years had never happened?

She rubbed her arms, her trepidation growing with each passing second. ‘What are the terms you want to talk about? Only, I’m working at the centre tomorrow and want to get back to Valencia before it gets late.’

‘We can talk while we eat.’

She followed him through to a dining room with huge windows that looked out onto the villa’s gardens. The sun shone down, beaming on the manicured lawn and the abundance of flowers and shrubs.

A long dark wood table had been set for two. Raul pulled a chair out for her. ‘Lunch has been prepared for us. Make yourself at home.’

Home? She gagged at the thought. This would never be her home. In a few weeks they would be officially divorced. She was almost counting the days.

She sat gingerly, running her fingers over the silver cutlery in silent contemplation.

Any moment now and his real motive for bringing her here would be revealed. She doubted it was to do with the money. Unlike Charley, who’d proven herself to be a spectacular failure in business, her husband had a habit of turning whatever he touched into gold. Much as she tried to avoid reading media reports on him, it was like telling a child not to touch the nice shiny toy in the corner. Already worth hundreds of millions, he’d sold the technology firm he’d founded and run before his father’s stroke had forced him to take over the running of the Cazorla luxury hotel chain. The sale had earned him a reported two and a half billion euros. Since taking over the family firm he’d added a fleet of aeroplanes and half a dozen brand spanking new cruise liners to the stable.

Simply speaking, her husband was worth more than entire countries.

If she’d taken her lawyer’s advice she could have taken a good slice of his wealth, far exceeding the ten million he’d transferred into her account without consulting her. She hadn’t wanted to take even that, had left it untouched for months. It was Raul’s money, not hers. She’d contributed nothing to it so why should she have a claim to it?

She’d spent enough of his money during their marriage as it was.

He came back into the dining room carrying a platter of antipasto: deli meats, marinated vegetables, roasted peppers and sundried tomatoes, olives, cheese, rustic breads...all her favourite bites. And to think this was only the first course...

He poured her a glass of the red wine that had been left to breathe on the table, then raised his glass in a toast before swallowing half his wine and taking the seat beside her.

Charley couldn’t bear it a moment longer. ‘This all looks delicious and I thank you, but I can’t eat anything until you tell me what your terms are.’

Helping himself to a little of everything before them, Raul took a bite of some bread then fixed his eyes on her as he ate. Once he’d swallowed and taken another drink of his wine, he answered. ‘I am prepared to give you the money you need to buy the building and for all the renovations that will be needed to make the day care centre fit for purpose.’

She returned his stare, waiting for the catch that was surely coming.

‘When do you have to get the renovations done by?’ he asked. ‘Four months, was it?’

‘Yes. The new owners agreed to give us six months to relocate.’ She watched him with caution. ‘Two of those months have already gone.’

The owner of the building that housed Poco Rio had died unexpectedly, leaving the team who worked there rudderless. Worse still, his family had not shared his sentimentality and opted to sell to a developer, only telling the staff about it when it was a done deal.

‘Four months to complete the purchase and the renovations?’

‘It sounds like a long time but it isn’t. We need to make it as safe and as suitable for the children’s needs as it can possibly be. Walls need to be knocked down, doorways need to be extended...’

Raul made a dismissive motion with his hand. ‘All of that can be discussed when we have reached an agreement.’

‘But what is it you want me to agree to?’ she asked in bewilderment. ‘The centre receives sufficient funds to repay any loan.’

His lips curved upwards. It was like looking at a sensuous shark. ‘As I said earlier, I will not be giving you a loan. With your track record, who knows when I will get it back?’

Her ire, already simmering at his mocking attitude, rose. ‘I already told you...’

‘You have the business acumen of a child. I trust your figures as much as I trust your judgement.’

‘My judgement must have been seriously off when I married you.’

She regretted her hotly spat words before they’d left her tongue. So much for not antagonising him until the deal was done.

Raul’s smile remained but his eyes had turned to ice. ‘It is a shame you feel that way but it’s not a sentiment I happen to share.

‘When I say giving I do not mean it in the literal sense. I will require a form of payment but not one of monetary value.’

She’d known it. From the minute she’d got into his car she’d known there was a catch involved.

‘My condition for giving you the money and for giving your project all the skills and expertise at my disposal is modest. I want you back in my bed and living with me as my wife until the work on the new building is complete.’