Claimed for the De Carrillo Twins

She sounded hesitant. ‘I shouldn’t have put my hair up like this. I look ridiculous.’

Cruz looked at her hair, which was in a sleek high ponytail. He didn’t consider himself an expert on women’s hairstyles, but he could see that the other women had more complicated things going on. Another reason why Trinity stood out so effortlessly. She looked unfussy—simple and yet sexy as sin all at once.

‘Someone left a fashion magazine on the table in the café earlier and I saw pictures of models with their hair up like this. I thought it was a thing...’

The shadow of doubt loomed larger. He thought of how she’d shrunk back from the paparazzi earlier. She certainly hadn’t been flaunting herself, looking for attention. Anything but. She’d clung to him as if terrified.

He took her arm above the elbow and she looked up at him. He could see the uncertainty and embarrassment in her eyes. It was getting harder and harder to see her as the cold-hearted mercenary gold-digger who had willingly fleeced his brother.

His voice was gruff. ‘Your hair is absolutely fine. They’re looking because you’re the most beautiful woman here.’

* * *

Trinity was disorientated by Cruz’s compliment. He’d barely said two words to her since he’d got back to the apartment and they’d left to go out again, and he’d just looked at her suspiciously when he’d asked her what she’d done for the afternoon.

Cruz was staring at her now, in a way that made her heart thump unevenly. But then a low, melodic gong sounded, breaking the weird moment.

He looked away from her and up. ‘It’s time for the banquet.’

Breathing a sigh of relief at being released from that intensity, and not really sure what it meant, she followed Cruz into a huge ballroom that had the longest dining table she’d ever seen in her life. Opulent flowers overflowed from vases and twined all along the table in artful disarray. A thousand candles flickered, and low lights glinted off the solid gold cutlery. She sighed in pure wonder at the scene—it was like a movie set.

And then she spotted Lexie Anderson, the famous actress, and her gorgeous husband, Cesar Da Silva, and felt as if she’d really been transported into a movie. The stunning petite blonde and her tall husband were completely engrossed in each other, and it made something poignant ache inside her.

‘Trinity?’

She blushed, hating it that Cruz might have caught her staring at the other couple, and sat down in the chair he was holding out for her.

When she was seated, Trinity saw Cruz walking away and she whispered after him. ‘Wait, where are you going?’

He stopped. ‘I’ve been seated opposite you—beside the president of the Spanish Central Bank.’

‘Oh, okay.’ Trinity feigned nonchalance, even though she was taking in the vast size of the table and realising he might as well be sitting in another room.

Of course he couldn’t resist the opportunity to mock her. He came back and bent down, saying close to her ear, ‘Don’t tell me you’ll miss me, querida?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped, angry that she’d shown how gauche she was. She turned away, but hated it that her stomach lurched at the thought of being left alone to fend for herself in an environment where she’d never felt comfortable.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he walked around to the other side of the table, being stopped and adored by several people on his way. One of them was Cesar Da Silva, who got up to shake Cruz’s hand, and the two tall and ridiculously handsome men drew lots of lingering looks. He even bent down to kiss Lexie Anderson on both cheeks, and it caused a funny twisting sensation in Trinity’s stomach, seeing him bestow affection so easily on anyone but her.

No, what he’d bestow on her was much darker and full of anger and mistrust.

Determined not to be intimidated, Trinity tried talking to the person on her left, but he couldn’t speak English and she had no Spanish so that went nowhere. She had more luck with an attractive older gentleman on her right, who turned out to be a diplomat and did speak English, and who put her at ease as only a diplomat could.

Finally she felt herself relax for the first time in weeks, chuckling at her companion’s funny stories of various diplomatic disasters. With Cruz on the other side of the very large and lavishly decorated table she relished a reprieve from the constant tension she felt around him, even if she fancied she could feel his golden gaze boring into her through the elaborate foliage. She resisted the urge to look in his direction. She’d already given far too much away.

After the coffee cups had been cleared away her dinner partner’s attention was taken by the person on his other side. Trinity risked a look across the table and saw that Cruz’s seat was empty. And then she spotted him—because it would be impos

sible to miss him. He was walking towards her with that lean animal grace, eyes narrowed on her, this time oblivious to people’s attempts to get his attention.

The tension was back instantly. Making her feel tingly and alive as much as wary. When he reached her he didn’t even have to touch her for a shiver to run through her body.

‘Cold?’ The tone of his voice was innocuous, but the expression on his face was hard.

Trinity shook her head, feeling a sense of vertigo as she looked up, even though she was sitting down. ‘No, not cold.’

‘Enjoying yourself?’

Now his words had definite bite in them, and she saw his eyeline shift over her head. ‘Nice to see you, Lopez,’ he drawled. ‘Thank you for keeping my wife amused.’