‘I am always prepared for all eventualities.’
Why did that sound so threatening? She looked up at him, his dark eyes piercing into hers, and not a trace of anything other than seriousness was on his handsome face, nothing to soften the severity of his hard expression.
For the briefest of moments, she considered walking out. This was her father’s mess and he could sort it. But she knew he never would and when it all went wrong Raul would be back, only then she would have nothing to bargain with. Not if he’d already found his brother. On top of that she could almost hear her grandmother, urging her to be strong, to get through this, as she’d always done when the fear of boarding school had been her only worry in life.
It was now or not at all and she’d do it for her grandmother’s sake. Not Raul’s, not hers and most definitely not her father’s.
‘I don’t doubt that at all.’ She lifted her chin defiantly, pulling herself up as a new inner strength surged through her. She’d sort this and get this man out of her life. ‘But why did your father set this up?’
‘To force me to accept his other son or do the one thing I have always said I wouldn’t do—get married.’
‘Would he really do that?’
‘He would. So what is it to be, Lydia? Do we have a deal?’
She wanted to ask him how he could talk of marriage in such a detached way, but instead she took his lead and walked over to the desk, picked up the pen, and with one last angry and defiant look at him she signed the paper. ‘We have a deal, Mr Valdez. I will be your fake fiancée—but only for one month.’
LYDIA SAT AT her desk, her gaze fixed on the view of Madrid as the December sun set across the city, her mind wandering through the ever-increasing questions about the deal she’d struck with Raul. She twisted the large diamond engagement ring on her finger, still shocked to find it there despite having worn it for over a week.
The first ten days of the fake engagement was over and she was closer to a marriage she didn’t want but would have to go through with, unless she came up with something to do with Maximiliano Valdez. She’d gone down so many dead ends this week and wasn’t any closer to discovering the whereabouts of Raul’s brother, or even the name he used, because she was certain it wasn’t Valdez. She sighed, momentarily feeling beaten. She had to come up with something soon. It was only a matter of time before Raul demanded to know what she’d found out.
‘Is your work boring you, Lydia?’ Raul’s deep and accented voice penetrated her thoughts and she swivelled round in her chair, turning her back on the view and her questions.
He leant casually against the door frame, his arms folded and an expression of expectancy on his face. How could he look so commanding and yet so attractive at the same time?
‘I was thinking.’ She tried to block that mutinous train of thought. She didn’t want to think about this man like that. She mustn’t.
‘And are you any closer to the answer, to finding my brother?’ He seemed to loom over her, his height darkening the light and airy office and, even worse than that, her heart was thudding. Was it panic that she hadn’t yet got any real leads as to where his brother might be or because he was so close and she was excruciatingly aware of him?
His brows flicked up in question when she didn’t respond, his eyes, so very dark, fixing her to the spot. ‘Anything?’
‘No.’ She didn’t want to elaborate on it, all too aware that now she had just over two weeks before he could demand that she became his wife and settle the debts her father had recklessly created. If she didn’t find his brother, she had no other way of paying even a part of what was owed. She might have her own business, but it was still in its infancy and would never be in the league of Raul’s high-earning business—or her father’s debt.
He inhaled deeply, as if he was holding back on saying something, and strode to stand at the window, his arms folded defensively across his broad chest. She watched him as the silent seconds ticked by, drawn to the width of his shoulders and the shirt that strained over his muscled arms. Strong and safe arms.
She blinked in shock. Where had that come from? She looked down at her desk, making a show of stacking papers tidily, anything other than look at this virile specimen of masculinity that threatened everything she thought she was.
‘Then I am afraid we have to put in motion our alternative option.’ The coolness of his voice sent a shock of fear through her as if she’d just dipped her toes into the cold seas around England.
‘What alternative option?’ Had she missed something?
He turned to look at her, that dark and yet strangely sexy look in his eyes, and she felt the simmer of attraction build. Damn the man. Did he know what he was doing? Was he deliberately trying to disarm her?
‘To go ahead with the marriage.’ His voice held a note of determination despite the calm, soft tone.
‘But there are three more weeks yet.’ She knew she sounded panicked, but she couldn’t help it. Quickly she tried to regain her inner strength, her ability to come somewhere close to matching this man’s power.
‘Sí, that is true, but, as far as your father’s debt is concerned, we have to be seen to be preparing for marriage in order to make the repayment of that debt.’
‘By who?’ she fired back at him angrily.
He moved to her desk, placed his palms on it and leant towards her. ‘By the board of directors, the people who have the power to insist that the contract your father signed is adhered to, that his debt is repaid by our marriage and subsequent transfer to me of those properties around the globe you claim to know nothing of.’
He was angry; she could feel it reverberating from him and bouncing off the clean white walls of the office. She’d spoken to her solicitor, knew that her father had been advised against signing such a contract, which made it all the worse. Her father had engineered the terms just to keep himself out of trouble, placing her in the firing line. Still she couldn’t help but goad this proud and powerful man.
‘And you always do as you are told?’ Mischief entered her voice and, briefly, she had the upper hand.
He leant lower to her, his face so close to hers that if anyone was looking in through the large window such a move could be mistaken for a lover’s kiss. She held her breath, refusing to back down, refusing to lose the upper hand she had inadvertently gained.
‘Do you really think I would marry you—or anyone—simply because I have been told to do so?’ The words were deep and accented, his breath warm on her face, his dark eyes granite hard and fixed on hers.
No, she didn’t think that at all. In fact, it had crossed her mind more than once why such a commanding and in-control man would follow the wishes of his father’s will so succinctly.
She leant daringly forward, closer to him and looked into the fierceness in his eyes. ‘No, I don’t, so maybe now would be a good time to tell me exactly what this is all about instead of waiting three more weeks and forcing us into a marriage neither of us want. I have no wish to spend the next two years with you.’
He didn’t answer. His eyes searched hers, what for she didn’t know, but she couldn’t help the tingle that covered her lips as if his had touched hers, brushed over them and teased them—teased her—into passionate life.
She jolted back on her chair. ‘What is it all about, Raul?’
A smug smile of satisfaction teased at the lips she’d just imagined kissing hers and heat spread over her cheeks. She stood up from the desk, as calmly as she could even though her insides were somersaulting wildly as she fought, once again, the pull of attraction for this proud Spaniard.
‘You