She’d deceived him, duped him, like all females did, with her body. And just like his father he’d ignored everything to be with her, to make her his. He’d been like a man possessed, unable to think of anything else other than Georgina. Thoughts of her had been all-consuming. He enjoyed being with women, but never had he been so completely under a woman’s spell.
Even now, when her kisses tasted of deceit, he wanted her. Passion burned in her eyes as she stood and glared at him. How dared she look so wounded? There could only be one winner in this game of passion and deceit she’d started. And that would be him.
‘It isn’t the first son to marry who inherits.’ The words slipped out effortlessly. Finally he’d got her attention. ‘But the first married son to produce an heir.’
He watched as his words slowly filtered through, like water permeating through limestone, until finally the expression on her face told him she understood the full implications.
She shook her head, backing away from him as if he was evil itself, her beautiful face ashen white, her eyes wide with disbelief. Oh, but she was a good actress. He almost believed it. Almost.
THE FIRST MARRIED SON to produce an heir.
No, she screamed in her head, whilst outwardly the shutters came down, cocooning her behind a safe barrier.
‘How long have you known this?’ How could he stand there so calmly and tell her that? He might as well say her whole plan had been a waste of time. He’d lied all this time, but she couldn’t see a trace of remorse.
‘Long enough.’
His words sent a shiver down her spine.
‘So what were you hoping for? A honeymoon baby?’ She wanted to close her eyes against the pain of shattered dreams as they splintered around her. For just one night she’d thought she could sample that dream. She hadn’t expected her attraction for him to turn into something deeper. Now it was spoilt by his admissions. His deceit. ‘No wonder you were so—what was it?—unusually relaxed about contraception.’
‘That’s absurd.’
His eyes looked dark and hostile but she stood tall, remaining as defiant as she could manage.
A ray of sunlight speared the gloom and she glanced out at the clearing sky, glad that at least one storm was over.
‘Not absurd, Santos.’ She looked directly at him, something akin to anger and disappointment flitting through her. ‘Not when you consider the clause of the will and that you knew Carlo wanted to get married. He loves my sister. Just by marrying he was a threat to you—because not only would he be the first married son, but probably the first married son to have the required heir.’
It was like a puzzle, and finally she was putting it together. She still had a few pieces to find, but it was all beginning to make sense now.
‘Why are you so against Carlo?’ She felt frustrated by those missing pieces. ‘When you could have married any one of the women you’ve dated in the past and inherited everything you believe is yours.’
She watched as he paced the room—long, lean strides that drew her attention. As if needing escape, he opened the doors to the terrace and strode out. The fresh smell of dampness after the rain rushed into the room as he left. For a moment she stood and watched him, saw his pain, his frustration, with every move he made, and something deep inside her tugged at her emotions.
She knew that kind of pain, that kind of emptiness.
She walked to the door. Santos stood looking out to sea, his broad shoulders tense and the muscles in his arms taut as he leant on the balustrade. She longed to go to him, to touch him and soothe his pain. But sense prevailed. This was all of his making. She couldn’t let him know how she felt—not when he’d used everyone as pawns in his power game.
It rushed at her so hard she almost stumbled. All her breath momentarily left her body and her heart raced like a wild horse fleeing captivity.
It couldn’t be true—it just couldn’t.
She loved him. Completely and utterly.
She pressed her fingertips to her lips to stifle a cry of distress. She didn’t want to love anyone. She couldn’t love anyone. And certainly not Santos Ramirez. Since the day her father had turned his back on them she’d watched her mother take a path of self-destruction. Her parents’ actions proved beyond doubt that love was all-consuming, but also that it hurt, left you alone and killed all joy in life when it went wrong. It was a gamble she’d never wanted to take, so how had it happened? How had she fallen in love with Santos?
‘I’m not against Carlo.’
His harsh words dragged her mind back from the pain of her past.
‘Just the marriage.’
She sensed his vulnerability as he remained with his back to her, looking out to sea, at the sky clearing and brightening after the storm. Knowing she shouldn’t, but unable to stop herself, she crossed the terrace and stood by him, her shoulder almost touching his arm as she stood surveying the view.
‘Why did your father put such a clause in his will, forcing you to marry?’ This was something that had niggled at her since Emma had first mentioned it. She’d imagined two young boys vying for their father’s attention. A man who didn’t deserve any from either of them as far as she was concerned.
‘It’s a family business, started by my grandfather—my mother’s father. I suppose he assumed that as I was older by nine years I’d marry and have a family a long time before Carlo did.’
He sounded resigned and it tugged at her heart to hear him, almost as if he was admitting defeat.
‘He must have thought he was being fair to us both, putting that clause in his will.’
‘So why didn’t you marry?’ The question just had to be asked. He’d never been short of female company. She’d very quickly learnt that.
He turned to face her and she held her breath as he looked down at her. His eyes searched her face as if looking for answers to questions he didn’t even know. She watched as his face set into hard lines, shutting her out.
‘To avoid the mess we are in now.’ The angry words all but barked out at her.
She shivered despite the sun. ‘It’s easy to sort out.’ Her words were curt as she lifted her chin in defiance and challenge, the softer emotions quashed by his frozen expression. ‘I leave and you file for divorce.’
In one swift stride he came towards her, his hand holding her arm firmly. ‘You are not going anywhere unless I do—and as for a divorce...’
He spoke with a voice so stern and disapproving she blinked in shock.
‘There will not be a divorce. Your meddling has made sure of that.’
‘But—’ she began, wondering what she wanted to try and tell him, even what she didn’t. ‘There isn’t any reason to remain married—not now.’
‘You are forgetting, mi esposa, that an heir may yet still be needed.’ He let go of her, keeping her where she stood with just the fixed glare of his dark eyes.
‘No,’ she snapped, and backed away from him, bumping against the chair she’d sat in to call her sister earlier. ‘Even you’re not so cold and callous that you’d bring a child into the world just to inherit a business.’
‘I had hoped not even to marry to inherit. When you so kindly offered yourself I believed it would be enough, that I could find a way out of the clause long before Carlo married. But your meddling has changed everything.’
His eyes glittered furiously at her but she held her ground,