Bride in a Gilded Cage

Isobel shot him a withering look and crossed her arms. She faced away and shut her eyes on his far too amused face by pretending to go to sleep.

She woke to a gentle shake and her name being called with a seductively husky voice. ‘Isobel…wake up. We’re here.’

Isobel sat up to see Rafael move back. She felt exposed at having slept so easily beside him, and in her sleep she could see that she’d gravitated towards him. She moved a hand through her hair, ruffling the short silky strands, feeling disorientated. ‘Did I sleep the whole way?’

Rafael nodded, his eyes intense on her. ‘Pretty much. Once we hit the outskirts of Buenos Aires you were gone.’

‘I’m sorry…’ Isobel said stiffly, coming more awake. ‘You must be tired, too.’

Rafael quirked an incredulous brow. ‘Concerned, Isobel?’

Thankfully, Isobel saw some people approach the car and Rafael turned and got out before he could make sense of what Isobel couldn’t make sense of herself. A smiling man opened her door and she got out, smiling back.

It was only then that she noticed where they were, and the stunning surroundings, and the fact that she was breathing in clean, pure air. Rafael was instructing staff to carry their bags in, but Isobel was frozen, a wave of déjà vu washing over her.

He came to stand beside her, where she was looking at the mountains in the distance.

‘We’re in the foothills of the Sierras Chicas. Do you remember it?’

Isobel shook her head. ‘Barely. I only came here a couple of times when I was small. I think my mother always felt it was too far out of Buenos Aires. And then my grandmother died when I was six, and we never came back.’ She looked at Rafael. ‘That must have been when my grandfather sold it.’

He nodded. ‘It was a couple of years after that.’

It struck Isobel forcibly in that moment just how long ago their fate had been decided. Avoiding Rafael’s penetrating look, she turned around and gasped as she took in the sheer understated elegance and beauty of the estancia. Cream walls and a terracotta-tiled roof made it look warm and inviting. The one-level storey was very traditionally colonial, and the columns gave it an air of grandeur.

‘It dates from the eighteen-thirties, but has been added to over the years…’ Rafael pointed to an extension which looked slightly out of sync with the rest of the building, but still worked somehow. ‘That’s a neo-classical Italian addition, probably from around the late eighteen hundreds.’

‘It’s beautiful.’ Isobel’s voice was husky. ‘I’d forgotten how beautiful it is.’

The land around the house was verdant and lush. Isobel could see what looked like a lake surrounded by trees towards the back of the estancia. She felt a wave of sadness then, at knowing that they’d lost this for so many years. No wonder her grandfather had wanted to make sure this returned to them eventually. She could see how losing this must have pushed him even closer to despair.

‘And it’s now yours as much as mine.’

Isobel felt tongue-tied. The enormity of the reality of her situation overwhelmed her for a moment. Luckily Rafael didn’t seem to expect her to say anything, and started to stride towards the house with loose-limbed grace. Isobel forced herself to move and follow him when he said, ‘Come on. I’ll show you around.’

Her head was reeling about an hour later when Rafael led her back into the impressive reception area. Twenty-three bedrooms. Two private suites. A dining room fit for royalty…and kitchens that would put a five-star hotel to shame. One formal living area and a more informal one, complete with TV, sound system and shelves heaving with books.

Unaware of Isobel’s inner meltdown, Rafael was striding out through the main door again, beckoning her to follow him. She followed him back to the car speechlessly and got in when he held the door open. They drove down a rough path hidden in the undergrowth by the side of the house and came out into a large clearing, where a helicopter stood waiting.

Isobel was seriously afraid she wouldn’t be able to process much more, but already Rafael was at her door and helping her out. The helicopter was starting up.

‘I thought this might be the best way to give you an idea of the estate. We have some time before it gets dark.’

Within what felt like seconds they were in the helicopter and lifting into the air. It was Isobel’s first time, and her hands gripped the armrests. She was connected to Rafael via headphones and speakers, and as they flew over the fifty-thousand-hectare estate he pointed out the polo grounds and the stables, the livestock area, and where the land had been turned over to agricultural use. It went on and on and on, no end in sight.

Isobel was feeling more and more nauseous. Not helped when Rafael looked at her sharply and said, ‘Are you okay?’

All Isobel could do was shake her head numbly. Rafael gave a signal to the pilot and the helicopter started to turn around and head back. As soon as they landed Isobel clambered out of the small craft and staggered slightly.

Rafael caught up to her and took her arm. ‘What’s wrong?’

At first Isobel couldn’t get any words out. She was terrified she’d throw up there and then. She sucked in big breaths, feeling clammy and sweaty all at the same time. ‘I just…It’s a bit much to take in.’ The enormity of the disparity between her simple life in Paris and her life here now was overwhelming.

When Isobel emerged from her room a little later her belly was still in knots. Thankfully, when a woman had shown Isobel to her room she’d seen that she wasn’t expected to share with Rafael. But the evidence that he was sticking to his word wasn’t making her feel any less threatened.

The woman appeared again, seemingly out of nowhere, and shyly took Isobel out to a terraced area at the back of the house. Isobel had put on loose-fitting wide trousers and a similarly loose top. She felt covered up and safe, unaware of how the luxuriousness of the fabric clung to her body provocatively.

Her trepidation spiked when she took in the nonchalant figure of Rafael, surveying his empire, hands in pockets, looking out over the beautiful lake at the bottom of the lush lawn. It suddenly hit home, in these beautiful and rarefied surroundings, that she was a trophy wife, joining her disgustingly powerful and wealthy husband for pre-dinner drinks, dressed to please him.