One Night with Gael (Rival Brothers 2)

‘Kenzo Ishikawa...one of your business partners?’

He’d snorted, his jaw going tight before he’d replied. ‘He seems to take pleasure in pointing out that I’m less of a man because I’m unattached. Our first attempt at a merger fell apart partly because of it.’

‘And this is your chance to rub your attachment in his face?’ Goldie hadn’t been sure whether to be offended or amused. She’d chosen to be neither.

But Gael had sent her a tight smile. ‘Exactly so. There is also the added bonus of beating Andro in the nuptials stakes, even if only by a few days,’ he’d added with surprising relish, before absenting himself from her presence.

Now, Goldie rose from the lounger and padded to the edge of the Olympic-sized pool.

Before that wedding happened there was the small matter of her wedding. Special licences had been arranged. Ethan had agreed to shoot a few of the scenes that didn’t involve her, then give the whole cast and crew a four-day break before they resumed filming again at the end of next week. And Gael was having her mother and Patience flown over tomorrow, for the wedding that would take place here on his estate just outside Barcelona.

The place was quintessential Spanish architecture at its best. A rambling two-storey villa, the property sat in the middle of acres of rich green valley dotted with orange and lemon trees. The villa itself, originally a Catalan manor house, modernised and extended, was made of stone, with grand arches and a vast courtyard decorated with trellises and carefully groomed vines. The house was stunning and yet homely—a place she wouldn’t have immediately associated with Gael Aguilar, the ruthless and ambitious CEO who wrote computer code as a hobby.

But then a few things were beginning to surprise her about Gael—not least being this marriage he was hell-bent on in order to protect his unborn child.

In the last twenty-four hours private doctors had visited her, taken blood samples and delivered enough pre-natal advice and vitamins to stun a horse. It was too early for an ultrasound scan, but Gael had readily agreed to a suggestion to listen to the baby’s heartbeat on a foetal Doppler. The loud sound echoing through the guest bedroom where she slept had brought a look of almost shocking determination to his face.

It was that determination that strengthened her belief that she was doing the right thing too.

So when Gael’s housekeeper walked out a few minutes later, to announce the arrival of the stylists and the gown designer contracted to ready her for her wedding, she took a deep breath, turned around and headed for her destiny.

* * *

Goldie climbed the small hill towards the tiny chapel that sat half a mile from the villa. A tiny part of her was glad for her mother’s fussing around her, because it took her mind off what was waiting for her beneath the ancient steeple. She also knew it was her mother’s way of accepting what was happening.

Despite Goldie’s reassurances that she was doing the right thing, her mother had voiced her worry from the moment she’d landed. Eventually she’d accepted Goldie’s assurances, but it hadn’t taken away the veil of concern in her mother’s eyes.

Goldie’s worry as to whether that concern might trigger a deeper reaction in her mother had been allayed by Patience, and the companion’s brief but buoying report of her mother’s progress had settled Goldie’s own anxiety.

So she let her mother fuss now, because it meant she didn’t have to do any fussing. She hadn’t seen Gael in the past twenty-four hours—a surprising turn-up since she hadn’t expected him to observe tradition. In his absence, questions had loomed—one in particular taking up most of her thoughts.

It was the question of sex—horrifyingly triggered by her mother’s observation

of the vast amounts of bedrooms in Gael’s villa and how she was looking forward to seeing it filled with grandchildren.

Of course that had also brought on the question of how much of their agreement they would be sharing with others.

All those questions beat hard like butterflies’ wings in her belly as she reached the doorway of the chapel. Technically, her mother was to walk her down the aisle, but Gloria wanted to walk a step behind, her hoarse insistence that this was Goldie’s day, not to be spoiled by a mother who’d let her down, having brought tears to her eyes.

There’d been no time to utter words of comfort, or to take in her mother’s new, more hopeful outlook on life, but something had settled in Goldie’s heart upon seeing her mother again. For now, though, she needed to head up the aisle and join her life with Gael Aguilar’s.

The man in question turned his tall, imperious frame and speared her with a fierce, possessive look as she walked slowly up the aisle.

He was impeccably dressed in a dark navy suit and snow-white shirt, his hair tamed and gleaming beneath the dozens of candles glowing from the cast-iron holders that hung from the ceiling, and his magnificence seriously threatened her breathing.

As his gaze raked her body she derived quiet satisfaction from the fact that she’d chosen a dress she loved, which gave her a much needed boost of confidence. The short-sleeved, cream silk lace gown that framed her figure to end in a short train behind her prohibited long strides. She’d forgone a veil in favour of a tiny tiara that held her pinned up hair in place. She wore only light make-up, and simple pearl earrings belonging to her mother adorned her ears to complete the subtly elegant ensemble.

Halfway to the altar, with her eyesight better adjusted from the almost blinding sunlight to the candlelit interior, she caught a better glimpse of Gael’s face. And her breath caught.

Beneath the possessiveness, that hard look she’d never been able to fathom lurked in his eyes. A feeling of having been tried and found guilty for a crime she had no inkling of committing assailed her, causing her to stumble slightly.

She stopped to right her footing. Gael’s nostrils flared as he took in her hesitation. Goldie started to shake her head, but he was already striding down the aisle.

Catching her hand firmly in his, he escorted her up to the altar. Murmurs went up in the small wedding party comprising her mother, Patience, Teresa—his housekeeper—and her husband, and the driver/bodyguard who gave her a small smile as she passed him.

They had barely stopped before the priest when Gael nodded at the tall, thin man to proceed.

The bilingual ceremony passed in a blurred rush from one moment to the next.