The Forgotten Gallo Bride

She looked again and saw there was a rough timeline to the wall. It covered almost a decade. There were pictures of Tomas as well and hand-scrawled notes in pencil beneath. Press clippings about himself as if he were a total narcissist? It just didn’t make sense.

A horrible feeling sank into her bones. All these people pictured were people connected to him, mostly through business. They were people he knew.

Or had known.

She replayed that conversation they’d had only minutes ago on his doorstep—remembering his abruptness, his defensiveness. And when he’d asked that question—‘Do I know you?’

He hadn’t looked angered as much as guarded. He hadn’t wanted to ask her that question. What had he been wary of? Her answering yes?

Why would that have been a problem? Because he hadn’t remembered her?

If he’d asked ‘have we met?’ she wouldn’t have lied. But she’d hidden behind semantics. Now she registered that there was more than an arrogant aloofness to him, there was a barrier. He was locked away. She remembered Jasper’s agitation and insistence that Tomas was still suffering since that accident. Her own hurt pride had blinded her to the obvious.

She knew Tomas had carried Jasper to safety seconds before the car had exploded—that had been well documented in the press. It had been reported that Tomas had been thrown to the ground with his leg shredded. And his head?

He didn’t welcome guests, didn’t want intrusion. Why? Because he didn’t want to talk about anyone, or himself?

She feared there was a very good reason for that and she was furious with Jasper for not telling her the truth. What else hadn’t he told her?

‘What are you doing in here?’

She jumped at the furious demand and almost dropped the tray she was carrying. Turning, she saw Tomas had come up behind her. The iciness in his eyes was impenetrable. He was livid.

Her blood quickened. ‘Looking for you.’

But the plush carpet had masked his footfall.

‘You do not come up here. Ever,’ he snapped.

Zara’s anger flared—a mixture of guilt and outrage. He was rude and arrogant and she didn’t care how much of a hard time he’d had, there was no need to be so vile to someone. She’d been spoken to like that too many times in her life and she no longer stood for it. Ever. ‘No wonder you can’t keep staff when you speak to them like that.’

He visibly recoiled and then blinked. ‘The Kilpatricks have been loyal to me all this last year. They’re only away this weekend to attend a family celebration.’

She gaped at him for a second. ‘That wasn’t what I was told.’

‘And what were you told exactly?’ He stepped forward and grasped her shoulders. ‘And by whom?’

‘I told you. Jasper. He said you’d been left without any staff. That you needed someone for a week or so.’

‘How do you know him?’

‘I told you that already too. He helped me out a while back.’

‘Helped you out?’

She threw him a look as she heard the insinuation in his tone. ‘He’s old enough to be my father.’

‘That doesn’t stop many women. He’s very wealthy—’

‘You just can’t stop insulting me, can you?’ She glared at him. ‘I’m here to help you, because your friend asked me to come. If you have an issue with it, take it up with him.’

‘I intend to.’

Biting her lip, she glanced at the wall again. She couldn’t help it. And the thing was, she had taken Tomas’s money.

But that was partly why she was here. To make amends and show her gratitude. Only now did she realise just how impossible that might be.

‘Don’t ask,’ he said shortly as he followed the line of her sight to the picture-strewn walls.

‘I wasn’t going to.’

Because now she thought she understood. Her anger melted as her heart broke for him. She was so very sorry. ‘This part of the house is cosy.’

‘I’ve put the heating on in your room.’ His expression became remote and he released her to step away. ‘And in the kitchen. It should be better in a few more minutes. The whole house temperature is controlled to protect the art and furnishings that are in storage. I’m not into wasting resources.’

Tomas watched as Zara nodded and placed the tray she was carrying onto a nearby low table. She lifted up one of the mugs. He refused to be tempted but he could smell the chocolate. He hadn’t had chocolate in a long, long time.

But when she turned back, Tomas read pity in her eyes and it infuriated him. ‘Still think I can’t cope alone?’ he asked bitterly.

‘I don’t think that,’ she said briefly. ‘Jasper was the one worrying. He said you’re likely to work so hard you’d forget to eat. That you won’t bother taking the time to cook yourself something decent. And it’s not like you can get a pizza delivery tonight.’

For some reason the thought of Jasper talking about him with her got right under his skin. His right-hand man had always had affairs with beautiful women. Young and old. But with Zara? It didn’t gel. And it hadn’t happened. She didn’t need to tell him again.

Now her small smile returned and it mollified him.

‘So here you are,’ he muttered. Like a temptress.

‘Would you like some hot chocolate?’ She held out the mug to him. ‘That’s why I came up here.’

Slowly he shook his head. ‘I don’t eat sugar.’

‘You’re diabetic?’ She frowned and clasped the mug back close to her with her other hand. ‘Any other dietary requirement I should know about?’

‘I’m not diabetic. I simply prefer not to eat too much sugar.’ He wanted to get back to peak physical health.

‘Maybe you should, it might sweeten you up,’ she mumbled as she turned away about to return downstairs.

‘What was that?’ Her attitude took him by surprise. She was like a little spitting kitten with not very sharp claws but she wasn’t afraid to give him a swipe.

‘No sugar. Got it.’ She turned back and smiled brightly at him. That dimple appeared.

Her small show of fearlessness amused him. He almost smiled back.

‘It’s not good for my recovery,’ he explained reluctantly, because he didn’t want her to walk away just yet. That smile was bewitching.

A small frown pleated her brow as she looked him over—but her checking for his recovery took a twist. Her expression changed and a dazed look entered her eyes, colour ran up under her cheeks. Tomas tensed at her undeniable sensual awareness of him and he couldn’t resist another assessment of his own.

She’d taken off that almost useless rain jacket, revealing she wore only a thin T-shirt underneath. The curves in those jeans were not girlish in any way; frankly they were generous. The sneakers didn’t help her in the height department at all and when he’d held her from him just before he’d felt the slenderness of her shoulders. The sheer femininity of her made him catch his breath. It had taken every ounce of will to refrain from sliding his hand to her narrow waist and pulling her flush against him. He ached to feel those soft curves against him.

Hell, he’d turned into a pervert in two minutes flat.

She gulped at the hot chocolate as if she needed to do something with herself. He watched as she swallowed it back. The scent of the warm liquid assailed his senses. It was the first time in ages he’d regarded food as anything other than fuel. He looked at the speck of creamy milk left on her lip and his mouth watered.

‘Are you sure you don’t want some?’ Her eyes were wide and her voice a mere whisper.

Any other woman and he’d have thought it was a come-on, but the candour in those eyes spoke volumes.

He ought to tell her that she’d left a bit of chocolate milky foam on her lip, but he wasn’t going to. Too much of a cliché. He would not notice. He was well practised at eliminating extraneous thoughts from his mind. All that mattered was his work and rebuilding his company into something better than before the accident that had almost destroyed him.

No one would ever know how bad his injuries had been or the degree to which he’d suffered. The public perception of him—the belief in his knowledge and skill—needed to be unshakeable. Because he was his company.

No one could ever know the truth. He could never allow himself to be that exposed.

As he silently regarded her, her pupils grew and that sweet colour deepened in her cheeks as she realised the double entendre she’d inadvertently uttered. She caught her lip with her teeth. And then—to his surprise—she smiled again.

Grimly he stared at her, unable to speak. He wanted to kiss her—taste that smile and the sweetness deep inside her.

‘Tomas?’ Her voice was the thinnest of whispers now and uncertainty had stolen into her expression as she looked into his face.

No, she wasn’t one of Jasper’s ladies of pleasure. She was too confused by this undeniable electricity that arced whenever they so much as glanced at each other. But she couldn’t help the way she looked at him or hide the hazy desire evident in her eyes and in the way her breathing quickened the nearer he got to her.

She was as thrown as he. Only Tomas was a master of hiding everything now.

But the temptation was almost too great.

‘I’ll get your bag from the car,’ he said abruptly.

‘I’ll go tidy the kitchen.’ She turned and all but ran from him.

He watched her go.

No, he wasn’t doing anything about this sexual attraction no matter how intense. He didn’t have the time or the desire to fool around. And he couldn’t risk exposure.

Except all he could think about were her curves. And her mouth. And the irrepressible sparkles in her eyes. She was like a sensual pixie specially sent to torment him.

Damn Jasper.

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