Redeemed By His Stolen Bride (Rival Spanish Brothers 2)

slung a towel around his waist. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the sink and stopped, looking long and hard at his reflection. He was thirty-three years old. He’d been ignoring his advisors’ not so subtle whispers for some time now. Whispers that had been getting more insistent. Whispers about settling down. Putting forward a more respectable image. Being a family man.

Something lodged in Gabriel’s gut at that thought. Family man. He’d always known that he would have to have a family some day. After all, he was the last in his line. But after his emotionally sterile upbringing, with two parents who had despised each other, he’d never relished the prospect.

And he’d never fully admitted to himself that while the thought of a family terrified him on one level, on another he’d always wondered if he could do it any differently? He’d grown up with one assertion—never to bring children into this world and leave them to their fate as his own parents had.

His younger sister had suffered more than he had, and he still felt guilty that he hadn’t noticed her descent into chaos. But by then he’d been the only thing holding the Cruz y Torres empire together...

Both his parents had conducted extramarital affairs for as long as he could remember, and he’d routinely witnessed them lying to each other about their activities to the point when it had become farcical.

Gabriel was ashamed to recall that when he had been much younger, he’d had a fantasy of a relationship far removed from what he’d seen with his parents. Uncynical. Respectful. Kind. But life had shown him that he was a fool to have such dreams when he’d found his first lover in bed with his so-called best friend.

She’d told Gabriel she’d seduced his friend to make Gabriel jealous. He’d thrown his lover and his best friend out, and from that day forward had ruthlessly quashed his silly teenage fantasies.

But perhaps he had finally met someone with whom he could envisage embarking on the next phase of his life. He wasn’t such a fool as to equate physical innocence with honesty, but there was something special and unique about Leonora Flores de la Vega.

She was stunningly beautiful, and she oozed elegance and class in spite of the fact that she was all but penniless. They had the most insane chemistry Gabriel had ever experienced with a woman.

And clearly, if she’d been prepared to marry Lazaro Sanchez, she was in the market for marriage.

The thought of her with that man made Gabriel’s hands clench into fists. His expression in the mirror turned hard.

Sanchez had obviously been ready to make a lifelong commitment in a bid to garner respect. Perhaps it was a sign that Gabriel finally needed to deal with something he’d been pushing away for a long time. Saying a curt Not yet whenever another advisor tentatively mentioned the notion of settling down.

But maybe ‘not yet’ had become now.

Leonora Flores de la Vega was perfect on every level for what he envisaged in a marriage. He had never been so old-fashioned as to have expected a virginal wife, but he couldn’t deny that her innocence appealed to a deeply masculine part of him. As did the knowledge that she hadn’t slept with Sanchez.

She was from their world. She knew how these marriages worked. And after last night he didn’t have to worry about compatibility.

Last night he hadn’t seduced Leonora for any other reason than because he wanted her. Sanchez had been the last person on his mind. But now...

He relished the perfection of timing and serendipity. And the opportunity to show Lazaro Sanchez in a very comprehensive way that a woman like Leonora Flores de la Vega was out of his league.

For ever.

* * *

When Leonora arrived back at the castillo after driving Matías back to his school, she found her mother waiting for her, looking pale and agitated.

‘What is it? Is it Papá?’

Leonora always had the fear that something would set her father off again. Something like this—his daughter getting jilted in public by her fiancé.

Her mother shook her head. ‘No, nothing like that. Papá is having a nap. You got a phone call...from Gabriel Torres. He wants you to call him back.’

Her mother was handing her a note with a number on it before Leonora could fully register it. It had been two days since that cataclysmic night. Two days of feeling alternately shocked and shamed and giddy at what had happened. And two days of the knowledge sinking in that of course Gabriel wasn’t going to be chasing her down.

Except now butterflies exploded in her belly. Along with a far more carnal tug of awareness. And the man wasn’t even here.

She looked at the number. A cell phone number.

Her mother gripped her arm. ‘Oh, Leo—Gabriel Torres. You must have made an impression.’

Leonora’s face burned and she avoided her mother’s eye. She’d been vague about Gabriel’s involvement the other night, making it sound as if he’d just offered her a place to hide out. But she knew he’d offered her so much more. And delivered.

She scrabbled for something to say. ‘Mamá, I’m sure he’s getting in touch for something quite boring. Let me go and call him back.’

Her mother shooed her off, two bright pink spots in her cheeks, making her look girlish for her fifty-four years.