A Deal Before the Altar

‘You are my wife. You will stay here.’

She shook her head. ‘No, Santos, I can’t. Their marriage changes everything.’

‘Your scheming, meaning that Carlo married first, has changed nothing. We are still married.’

He held her arm tight, pulling her against his body. She could feel the heat of it and, despite the anger and tension in the air, her body responded traitorously to his.

‘It’s all about the business for you, isn’t it?’ Accusation rang in her voice as she lifted her chin, finding her defiant streak once more, denying the burning need that raged inside her. ‘You can’t bear it that you’ve lost it.’

He shook his head and his voice was hard. ‘I haven’t lost it. Not yet. And we will remain married.’

‘Why?’ Her breath was heaving in her chest.

His eyes darkened, the brittleness of earlier replaced with hot desire.

‘Because of this.’

Before she could question him further his mouth claimed hers in a hot, searing kiss. She gasped in a mixture of annoyance and pleasure as his hand cupped her breast, making her arch against him, only being held upright by the firm grasp of his hand on her arm. She had no escape. Neither did she want an escape. She wanted his touch, his kiss. Damn it, she wanted him. She wanted him because she loved him—and that was exactly why she had to go.

She could hardly think straight, let alone put coherent words together, as he broke the kiss and looked down at her.

‘This undeniable attraction that exists between us. We can’t fight it for ever.’

‘No,’ she managed in a croaky voice. ‘But it can’t last for ever.’

He shrugged, relinquishing his grip on her arm to hold her hand instead. ‘True, but we can explore it while it lasts.’

‘Why would I want to do that?’ Indignation at his knowing glance leapt through her.

‘Because we are man and wife,’ he said in a smooth tone that rippled over her heightened senses like velvet. ‘Truly man and wife.’

She shook her head. ‘Not really, we aren’t. It was just a deal. Just a marriage of convenience.’

‘Was our wedding night on the yacht just part of the deal?’

His self-satisfied smile made her blush at the memory of just how abandoned she’d been. He kissed her—a brief but intense one.

‘I thought not.’

‘No, Santos.’ She pushed at his chest, needing space to think. ‘This isn’t what I wanted. Neither of us did. And now Emma and Carlo have married there is no need for us to be together.’

‘That’s where you are wrong, because Carlo hasn’t yet inherited the business.’

‘Of course he has. He’s married—before you.’ She almost froze with shock. Some of his earlier words were now making sense, like his accusation of her acting. He’d been playing with her.

‘Yes, they are married.’ The smile didn’t reach his eyes this time. ‘But, querida, that doesn’t change anything.’

‘What do you mean?’ Confused, she stopped pushing him away. She didn’t understand. Emma and Carlo had got married before she and Santos had even arrived in Spain, making Carlo the first son to marry. ‘Why doesn’t it change anything?’

* * *

Santos struggled with his conscience. Her act of being the wounded party was very convincing, just as her act of fear of the storm had been, but he didn’t believe she’d known nothing of their plans. Why else would she have asked so seductively to stay on the yacht longer, or even agreed to leave London with him, if not to make it as difficult as possible for him to contact the outside world? She’d practically thrown herself at him, used all that a woman could to snare his interest and keep him from going back to the villa. She’d made him want her, teased and dallied with his desire since that first kiss at the party, and there was only one reason as far as he was concerned.

She’d planned it all along.

True, she’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her. He’d have to be blind and stupid not to see how her body responded to his slightest touch. And each time he’d kissed her the attraction between them had intensified, until they couldn’t ignore it any longer.

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.