Lucas raised his eyebrows, momentarily disconcerted. If he hadn’t had proof positive that Milly wasn’t interested in what he brought to the table, he would have put her down as just another gold-digger with a slightly different approach. ‘I’ll cut to the chase,’ he said tightly. ‘She’s told my mother that we’re slightly more than an item. My mother is now under the impression that we’re going to be married. Isobel showed her whatever candid snapshot got taken and presented her case as the utter truth because would I have gone for someone so...different from what I usually go for if it weren’t for the fact that we were serious about one another?’
‘What do you usually go for?’ She mentally answered that question for herself before she had finished asking it. The guy was drop-dead gorgeous and rolling in money as an added bonus. Guys like that only went for a certain type and that type wasn’t her. ‘No, don’t answer that,’ she told him quietly. ‘I’m thinking you like lots of supermodel types, stunning arm-candy. I’ll bet your jilted Isobel was tall and skinny and looked like a model.’
‘She was a model.’
‘So she’s pulled a pretty clever trick in showing your mum a picture of dumpy little me, because why else would you be in the same room as me unless it was serious. Am I right?’
‘That’s more or less the size of it. She must have glossed over the holes in the story and ran amok with the rest because my mother’s fallen for whatever she’s been told hook, line and unfortunate sinker.’
‘Do you know what, Lucas?’ She breathed in deeply and marvelled at how complicated her life had become ever since Robbie had entered it—lying, cheating Robbie who had come along and wreaked havoc with her perfectly enjoyable, uneventful, contented life. And, not satisfied with that, fate had decided to carry on where Robbie had left off and had thrown her a blinder in the form of the man now looking at her with dark, lazy intent.
‘I think I need a break from the male species. In fact, I might take a permanent break from them. Anyway, I don’t know why you’ve told me all this. I’m sorry your mother now thinks that you’ve found the love of your life but you’ll just have to tell her the truth.’
‘There is an alternative...’ He stood and flexed his arms, stretching out from having sat in one spot for too long when he had wanted to move around, walk some of his restlessness away.
‘Which is what, exactly...?’ Milly looked at him cautiously as he prowled through the vast open space. His vast open space. She still found it hard to grapple with the reality that all of this belonged to him. That said, she had recognised a certain something the very first time she had met him: a certain air that spoke of power; a certain arrogant self-assurance that made a nonsense of him being someone as relatively unimportant as a ski instructor. Even a drop-dead, improbably gorgeous ski instructor.
Another telling example of her stupid ability to trust even when she was staring evidence to the contrary in the face.
‘You’re broke, you’re out of work and you’ll probably return to London to find all your possessions tossed onto the pavement, awaiting your urgent collection.’
‘My landlord wouldn’t do that,’ Milly said coldly. ‘Tenants do have rights, you know.’
‘Not as many as a landlord whose primary right is the one to have his rent paid.’ He paused to stare down at her and Milly grudgingly gazed back up at him. ‘Here’s the deal. I employ you for a couple of weeks—three, max—to play the role of loved-up wife-to-be. We will stay with my mother in her house in the outskirts of Madrid, a beautiful city by the way, and we can break up over there. My mother will be saddened but she will recover. Normally, I wouldn’t go to this much trouble but, like I said, she’s been ill and she’s mentally not quite there yet. I don’t want to present her with a litany of low tricks and lies. She will be upset and confused, especially coming hard on the heels of wanting me to settle down. I will give her what she wants and, when she sees how impossible I am, she will understand why marriage is off the cards for me for the foreseeable future.
‘And here’s what you get out of this: a fat pay cheque, a five-star, all expenses paid holiday in Spain and, afterwards, I will ensure that you’re set up with a damn good job in one of the three restaurants I own in London, with full use of one of my company apartments for six months until you can find alternative accommodation to rent. Whatever you were earning in your last job... Put it this way, I’ll quadruple the package.’
‘And in return I lie to your mother.’
‘That’s not how I see it.’
‘Plus I lie to my grandmother as well, I suppose? Because what am I supposed to tell her when I don’t return to London? Plus I lie to my friends, as well? Thanks, Lucas, but no thanks...’
SO WHY WAS she now, a mere day and a half later, sitting in splendid luxury on a private plane heading to Salamanca on the outskirts of Madrid?
Next to her, Lucas was absorbed in a bewildering array of figures on the computer screen blinking in front of him. The ‘this and that’ had kept billionaires busy and hard at it.
Milly sighed. She knew why she was here; she was just too soft-natured. It was an emotional hazard that was close cousin to the ‘overly trusting’ side of her that had propelled her into naively believing that the billionaire with the private jet had been a ski instructor—which in turn had been the same side of her that had encouraged her to think that Robbie the cheat had been in love with her rather than mildly fond and willing to exploit.
‘You’re sighing. Tell me that you haven’t done a U-turn on your decision.’ Lucas snapped shut his computer and sprawled back in the oversized seat, which was just one of the many perks of having his own plane—no unwelcome strangers crowding his personal space and as much leg room as he needed. He was a big man.
He looked at her, his dark eyes lazily drifting over the baby-smooth, soft curves of her open, expressive face. She had tied her long hair back but, as usual, unruly curls were refusing to be flattened into obedience.
‘What would you do if I told you that I had? We’re in mid-air. Would you chuck me out of your plane? I still can’t believe that you actually own this, Lucas.’
‘I don’t employ strong-arm tactics, Milly. So no, in answer to your question, I wouldn’t chuck you out of the plane. And I’m getting a little tired of hearing you tell me how incredulous you find it that I happen to be rich.’
‘You can’t blame me. I don’t meet many people who own ski lodges and private planes.’ Her voice bore the lingering remnants of accusation.
‘I suppose I should be grateful that you’re no longer lecturing me for being a lying bastard like your long-gone ex-fiancé. Why are you sighing? If we’re going to do a passable imitation of being a loved-up couple, heavy, troubled sighs aren’t going to sell it.’
In response, Milly released another sigh as she absently looked at the stunningly beautiful face gazing at her with just the slightest hint of impatience.
‘You never told me why you’re so averse to settling down.’
‘You’re right. I didn’t.’
‘Why not? I’ve told you loads of stuff. The least you could do is fill me in, or am I supposed to be the clueless girlfriend?’
Lucas raked his fingers through his hair and stared at her in silence for a few seconds.