Claimed for the De Carrillo Twins

She shook her head, saying with a slightly strangled voice, ‘I haven’t had much time lately.’ She was usually so exhausted when she went to bed now that her love of reading was a thing of the past. A rare luxury.

‘Well? You said you were looking for me?’

He was looking at her expectantly, one hip resting on his desk, arms folded. Formidable. Remote. Her ex-employer, now her husband, but a stranger. It struck her then that even though they’d shared that brief intimacy, and she’d had a glimpse of what lay under the surface, he was still a total enigma.

She shoved down her trepidation. ‘Yes. I wanted to talk to you about the boys.’

A light knock came on the door, and he called for whoever it was to come in as he frowned and said, ‘What’s wrong? Are they okay?’

The maid, Julia, appeared with a tray of tea and coffee, distracting Trinity. She noticed how the girl blushed when Cruz bestowed a polite smile on her and said thank you. Trinity felt humiliation curl inside her. She’d used to blush like that when she’d worked for him. It felt like a lifetime ago.

When the girl had left Cruz was still looking at Trinity, waiting for her answer. Feeling exposed under that laser-like intensity, she said, ‘Nothing is wrong with them—they’re fine. Settling in better than I’d expected, actually.’

Some of the tension left Cruz’s shoulders and she felt a dart of unexpected emotion—what if he really did care about the boys?

He deftly poured tea for her and coffee for him and handed her a cup. ‘Sit down.’

She chose a chair near the desk and cradled her cup, watching warily as he took a seat on the oth

er side of his desk. He took a sip of his coffee and arched one dark golden brow, clearly waiting for her to elaborate.

She put the cup down on the table in front of her and sat up straight. ‘The rooms...our rooms...are lovely. And very comfortable. But the boys’ room isn’t exactly tailored for children their age. It could do with brightening up, being made more cheerful—somewhere they can play and where they’ll want to go to sleep. Also, they’ve been playing in the gardens—which they love—but again it’s not exactly suitable for them. Your head gardener has already had to replant some of his flowerbeds.’

* * *

Cruz’s conscience pricked as he acknowledged that he’d not even had the courtesy to stick around for one day and make sure that Trinity and his nephews and their nanny were comfortable.

He knew that the castillo was dated in parts, but the rooms he’d given to them had been those used by his mother before her death, so they were the most up-to-date. But evidently not up-to-date enough.

It hadn’t even occurred to him to make the space child-friendly, and that stung now. What also stung was the fact that he had to acknowledge that his trip to Madrid had been less about business and more about putting some space between him and this new domestic world he’d brought back to Spain with him.

He was distracted by Trinity’s very earthy clean-faced appeal. A look he had thought she’d eschewed as soon as she’d married Rio. Certainly any pictures he’d seen of them together had shown her to have morphed into someone who favoured heavy make-up and skimpy clothes.

And yet where was the evidence of that now? Her hair was pulled back into a low, messy bun. She was wearing soft jeans and a loose shirt, with a stain that looked suspiciously like dried food on her shoulder—as unalluring as any woman who had ever appeared in front of him, and yet it didn’t matter. Cruz’s blood sizzled over a low-banked fire of lust.

‘So, what are you suggesting?’ he asked, irritated at this reminder of how much she affected him.

Trinity swallowed, making Cruz notice the long slim column of her throat. Even that had an effect on him. Damn it.

‘I’d like to make the boy’s room more colourful and fun. And with regards to the garden... I’m not saying that that’s not enough for them—your grounds are stunning—but they’re bright, inquisitive boys and they’re already becoming frustrated with being told they can’t roam freely and touch what they want. Perhaps if they had something that would occupy their energy, like swings... They loved the children’s playground in Regent’s Park.’

All of what she’d just said was eminently reasonable, yet Cruz felt a tide of tension rising up through his body.

‘Anything else?’

As if she could sense his tension, something flashed in her eyes. Fire. It sent a jolt of adrenalin through Cruz. She certainly wasn’t the shy girl who’d come for that job interview a couple of years ago. More evidence of her duality, if he’d needed it.

She lifted her chin. ‘Yes, actually. I don’t know how the school systems work here, but if it’s anything like in the UK I’ll—’ She stopped herself and flushed slightly. ‘That is, we’ll have to think about enrolling them in a local school. Also, I’d like to investigate playschools in the area—they should be around other children their own age. Surely you weren’t expecting to them to never go beyond the castillo gates?’

He’d never been allowed beyond the castillo gates until he’d gone to boarding school in England.

He reacted testily to the fact that she was showing a level of consideration for his nephews that he’d never expected to see. ‘Are you sure you’re not just looking for opportunities to spread your own wings beyond these walls? You’re not a prisoner, Trinity, you can leave any time you want. But if you do the boys remain here.’

She paled dramatically, any bravado gone, but seconds later a wash of bright pink came into her cheeks. Cruz was momentarily mesmerised by this display of emotion—he was used to people disguising their natural reactions around him. It had intrigued him before and he was surprised that she still had the ability.

She stood up. ‘I’m well aware that I am here because I have little or no choice—not if I want to see my stepsons flourish and be secure—but I will never walk away from them. Not while they need me. I will do whatever it takes to ensure their happiness and wellbeing.’

Her blue eyes blazed. Dios, but she was stunning.