Australia: Sinful Secrets: Public Marriage, Private Secrets / Every Girl's Secret Fantasy / The Heart Surgeon's Secret Child

No. The negation rose and died in her throat.

Please don’t do this to me.

‘I couldn’t possibly accept them.’

‘Why not?’

‘They should belong to you,’ she said quickly. Too quickly. The words tumbled without thought. ‘Your family. Your wife.’

Oh, God, what had she said?

With a sense of horrified dismay she saw one eyebrow slant with a hint of humour. ‘You are my wife,’ Raúl reminded her silkily. ‘Or had you forgotten we’re still legally married?’

Forgotten? How could she forget, when never a day went past when his image didn’t come to mind? Or night…when he managed to invade her dreams.

‘You can’t expect me to agree,’ she managed at last.

‘There is a valid reason why you can’t?’

Several, she longed to fling, truly torn as she mentally weighed her loyalty to a genuinely kind woman who had gifted unconditional support at a time when she’d needed it most.

To give in would mean revisiting painful memories, not the least of which took the form of the indomitable man who now stood before her.

A man whose physical impact affected every nerve in her body, heightening tension to an electrifying degree.

Three years, she agonised silently, and nothing had changed.

‘There’s a lover you’re reluctant to leave?’

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his assumption. As if. Any man she’d encountered after Raúl didn’t come close, for there was no spark, no quickening of her pulse…nothing.

Yet how many lovers had he taken since she’d walked out on their marriage? Sierra Montefiore…had she quickly resumed her former place as one of them?

The mere thought sent a shaft of pain arrowing through her body.

‘Yes,’ she revealed with unaccustomed flippancy, knowing it to be false…unless Jazz, the black-and-white moggy she’d adopted from an animal rescue centre, counted. Male, he curled up on her bed every night, his warm, furry feline body a welcome comfort.

Raúl’s eyes darkened, then narrowed a little so fleetingly she almost missed it.

‘I’m sure he can exist without you for a few weeks,’ he drawled with dispassionate coolness.

Gianna pretended to consider the possibility. ‘Doubtful.’ Jazz would protest volubly at being deposited in a boarding cattery, and probably disdain gifting her his affection for days on her return. The little fluff-ball possessed a territorial personality…the apartment was his. Anyone who entered was duly inspected, reluctant approval given or denied, and thereafter subject to slit-eyed feline observance.

‘Yes or no, Gianna.’

She cast him a disparaging look. ‘In case you haven’t done your homework, I run this boutique with one part-time member of staff. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t leave at a moment’s notice.’

‘I wasn’t aware I’d asked that of you.’

‘Really? The man who snaps his fingers and every employed minion jumps to obey your command?’

Amusement lifted the edges of his mouth. ‘You are not one of my minions.’

‘Hallelujah.’

‘Have dinner with me, and we’ll discuss whatever arrangements you need to make.’

‘I don’t recall saying yes, yet.’

‘You didn’t need to.’ The dry tones held a degree of mockery…something she chose to ignore. There was the temptation to stand her ground, except it would prove an exercise in futility.

Without a further word, she crossed to the serving counter and dealt with the sales register, where it took only minutes to check folding money, credit slips, assemble the cash float. When she was done, she dimmed the overhead lights, collected her bag, engaged security and indicated they should leave.

Raúl loomed large at her side as they walked towards the escalator, and she was all too aware of his close proximity not to mention how he affected her.

It wasn’t fair to feel like this after an absence of three years. Hateful to be transported back to a time when she’d lived for him…only him. Even thinking about him had made her happy, and as soon as he’d appeared it had been all she could do not to break into a quickened pace and leap into his arms.

The way he’d laugh and hold her close, nuzzle the soft curve at the edge of her neck…then cover her mouth with his own in a kiss that reached down into her soul.

Heaven, she reflected as she stepped off the escalator, feeling momentarily bereft that what they’d once shared had been lost.

‘I’m staying at the resort directly opposite.’ Raúl indicated as he joined her. ‘We’ll eat there.’

‘I have plans for the evening.’ Some plans, she reiterated silently. Drive home, change, feed Jazz, make herself something to eat, watch television, then call it a night.

He spared her a level look. ‘Postpone them.’

Gianna turned to confront him. ‘And if I choose not to?’

‘Do you particularly want to indulge in a verbal fencing match?’

He was standing too close, and she was suddenly all too aware of the subtle aroma of his cologne, light with musky undertones. Indisputably his, as if crafted especially for him.

It stirred her senses and awakened too many sensitive nerve-endings for her peace of mind.

Raúl’s eyes narrowed fractionally, almost as if he knew, and it irked unbearably…so much so she raked his tall frame from head to foot and back again with slow deliberation.

‘Let’s get one thing straight.’ She took a deep calming breath. ‘If I agree, it’ll be on my terms,’ she qualified as her eyes seared his own with unblinking determination. ‘It’ll take days, possibly a week, for me to organise staff, contact my clientele, suppliers, ensure there will be no hiccups with replacement stock arriving on time. When that’s in place, I’ll take the first available flight to Madrid, arrange hotel accommodation, and inform you of my arrival.’ There was more, and she delivered the words with precise care. ‘Meantime, I suggest you return to Madrid.’

‘That’s it?’ he queried silkily.

‘Yes.’

He regarded her with dispassionate imperturbability. ‘No.’

‘No—what?’

‘We’ll return together in my private jet, and hotel accommodation isn’t an option.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

Only a fool would refuse to travel in the maximum comfort afforded by luxury fittings which included a lounge that converted easily into a working office, a bedroom with en suite bathroom…and being served by a personal in-flight attendant.

Except it meant endless air hours secluded in Raúl’s company something she’d do almost anything to avoid.

‘I’d prefer to take a commercial flight.’

For a long moment he regarded her with lazy appreciation, and there was nothing she could do to still the increased tempo of her heart…or the faint shivery sensation feathering her fine body hairs.

‘Teresa has a full complement of medical staff on hand. The villa in Mallorca is large, and she insists you stay there as her guest.’

Mallorca? ‘I don’t think…’

‘Determined to fight me on every issue, Gianna?’

‘You expect anything less?’

‘Shall we call a temporary truce?’

She looked at him carefully. ‘It’s been a long day. I have work to do and calls to make.’

‘In which case you can eat and leave. An hour, Gianna…or less.’

Reluctance vied with determination to prove she was immune to him. A distinct untruth, if ever there was one, but she refused to concede him so much as a glimmer of satisfaction. You can do this, she vaunted silently.

She effected a seemingly careless shrug. ‘I guess so.’

Raúl spared her a musing glance and caught the faint air of tension apparent in her demeanour. She reminded him of a gazelle, uncertain whether to trust or flee.

With good reason, he admitted silently as he indicated the escalator at the eastern end of the spacious forecourt.

For flee she certainly would if she suspected there was another reason for Teresa’s request. One infinitely more precious than the personal gift of a few heirlooms, or the pleasure of spending time in Gianna’s company.

The fervent hope Teresa held for a reconciliation between her son and the young woman he’d taken as his wife.

A young woman so well matched to his needs it seemed almost a crime for the marriage to have fallen apart.

Dusk was falling as they crossed the overhead pedestrian walkway to the popular low-level resort. Already streetlights shone, and in the distance the tall concrete sentinels harbouring luxury apartments bore illumination against a darkening skyscape.

The expansive resort foyer, with its plush oriental carpet squares and large comfortable chairs, bore a Caribbean air which extended to a wide marble staircase leading down to ground level. A magnificent waterfall cascaded into a decorative pool, and beyond huge thick plate glass lay an extensive swimming pool, with an island bar fronting on to a sandy foreshore and the sparkling blue waters of the Pacific Ocean.

The à la carte restaurant held a small clientele as the maître d’ led the way to a table by the window, saw them seated, and summoned the drinks steward.

Raúl’s presence garnered discreet attention especially from the women present. Not surprising, Gianna reluctantly conceded, given his attractive broad-boned Mediterranean features.

There was something that set him apart from his contemporaries. An elusive ruthlessness lay beneath the sophisticated exterior, meshing an inherent masculine vitality with latent sensuality. Add an animalistic sense of power, and the combination proved electric…dramatic.

Fine tailoring, handcrafted shoes, the faint glimpse of a Rolex gracing his wrist, merely showcased a man whose presence was equally dynamic in anything he chose to wear…or not.

As she could attest to…and she hated the sensation that shook her slender form as an image of his splendid body unadorned rose to taunt her.

The broad shoulders, superb musculature, lean waist and hips, tight butt, long powerful legs. Awesome…in every area.

She recalled how it felt to be held close to him, the faint muskiness of aroused male combining with his elusive cologne…oh, God, his skilled touch with his mouth, tongue, fingers, as he sought out every sensitive pulse, each erotic nerve-end in a bid to escalate her emotions to fever-pitch…

Stop!

For a wild moment she imagined she’d screamed the word out loud.

What was wrong with her?

Somehow she managed a seemingly polite façade as the drinks steward approached and offered a formal greeting and presented Raúl with the wine list.

‘We have an excellent selection. Do you have a particular preference, or would you prefer me to offer a suggestion?’

Dark eyes captured her own. ‘Gianna?’

It was easy to defer, and she did so with a polite smile. ‘You choose.’

He did…a mild red, well-known as one of Australia’s finest vintages.

‘Mineral water—still,’ she added, and earned Raúl’s faintly arched eyebrow.

‘The need for a clear head?’

‘An aversion to drink-driving.’

‘Wise.’

She summoned a sweet smile as she accepted the proffered menu, and pretended to study the various selections while attempting to deal with a host of conflicting emotions.

It didn’t make sense.

She was over him…had been for a while, she reiterated silently.

To the point of weighing up the need to initiate divorce. Three years… Even discounting the initial few months of separation, when she’d retreated into despair, sufficient time had elapsed to reach a decision.

So…why the nervous tension? Or the wildly beating pulse-rate that threatened to go off the Richter scale?

She couldn’t be susceptible to him…surely?

The mere thought was untenable. Impossible.

She was unaware of her teeth worrying the soft swell of her lower lip or of the faint narrowing of Raúl’s eyes as he caught the gesture.

‘Shall we order?’

The thought of forking morsels of food in his presence held little appeal. Consequently she settled for an entree as a main, with a side salad, and declined dessert.

It was as he lifted his goblet of wine that she noticed a gleam of gold on his left hand, and her eyes widened in recognition of the unique handcrafted band she’d placed there on the day of their wedding.

He still wore it?

Why so surprised, when her own still graced her hand?

Admittedly transferred to her right hand. A wide bevelled gold band encrusted with diamonds. She had been morally unable to discard it while the marriage remained valid.

Gianna searched for something to say…and came up with nothing that made any sense.

You’re looking well didn’t cut it.

How is business these days? seemed ludicrous, given his consortium had inevitably diversified into areas she had little or no comprehension of, racking up millions in the process.

Failure and Raúl Velez-Saldaña did not equate.

He was a hard-hearted ruthless entrepreneur, well-respected for his uncanny ability to successfully manipulate and strategise, forging ahead with unfailing resolve when colleagues and adversaries chose to opt out.

Yet each acquisition was carefully and painstakingly researched, every possible angle examined to the nth degree.

She could recall the times she’d awakened alone in their bed in the late-night hours, only to find him closeted in his home office studying graphs and projections on-screen.

Then she would go to him, ease the tension in tight shoulder and neck muscles, and suggest he needed sleep…only to have him smile, press save and pull her onto his lap. Sleep, as such, had rarely happened for a while.

Dear heaven…why were such memories surfacing now?

It was madness. A brief moment of insanity she immediately banished to the nether regions of hell.

‘I suggest you tell me precisely what Teresa will expect of me.’ Her voice sounded calm, even to her own ears…amazing, given she was an emotional mess.

‘The pleasure of your company. One-on-one time.’ His eyes speared her own—dark, enigmatic. ‘She occasionally lunches with a few close friends, and I imagine she will delight in having you join her.’

Not a difficult ask. She held his gaze, silently wishing it wasn’t so hard to do so. ‘I’ll be happy to fit in with whatever Teresa wants me to do.’

A woman Gianna held in high esteem, whose compassion, genuine affection and loyalty had helped fill the void left by losing her own mother at a young age.

The only stumbling block was Raúl himself, for spending any time in his company would be difficult, to say the least.

Yet a few weeks wasn’t a lifetime, she rationalised. Primarily, her purpose was to fulfil Teresa’s wish to be able to say goodbye in person.

Time to focus on the prosaic…and she did it by forking delicate morsels of food without tasting a thing.

Soon the meal would conclude and she could leave, retrieve her car from the shopping complex and retreat to the sanctuary of her apartment.

If only it were that simple.

Yet nothing about the man seated opposite could be categorised as simple. For how was it possible for her to feel as if she’d been caught up in a sensual whirlpool when she’d vowed to hate him?

It didn’t make sense.

So? a tiny voice taunted. Why waste time and energy attempting to solve the impossible?

Raúl ate with evident enjoyment, and she found it annoying that he could appear so totally at ease when she felt as if she was caught up in an emotional maelstrom.

‘Perhaps you’d care to enlighten me about your life in the intervening three years?’

‘Specifically?’

‘Insignificant personal details.’

‘Such as?’

Oh, spit it out, why don’t you? ‘Your current lover.’

His eyes darkened measurably, and she glimpsed a muscle bunch at the edge of his jaw. ‘Do you particularly want to cover old ground?’

‘Not really.’ Amazing how much it still hurt. ‘I think it’s reasonable to ask if I’m likely to be confronted by a woman in your life.’

‘That isn’t a consideration.’

Which didn’t answer the question.

‘Sierra?’

‘A brief testament to her superb acting and my poor judgement well before I met you,’ Raúl insisted silkily. ‘And never afterwards.’

It surprised her how much she wanted to believe him. Yet the evidence was stacked heavily against him.

It was a relief when the meal concluded. She declined coffee, then retrieved a few notes to cover her share and placed them on the table.

‘You choose to insult me?’

His voice was silky soft and dangerous. Something Gianna elected to ignore.

‘Not at all.’ She stood to her feet, and felt a moment’s reservation when Raúl followed suit. ‘I imagine we’ll be in touch?’ she offered, with the utmost politeness.

She didn’t wait for his answer as she turned from the table, acknowledging the maître d’ with a faint smile as she exited the restaurant into the main lobby.

The sense of relief was enormous, and she was conscious of the click of her stiletto heels on the tiled floor as she crossed to the automatic front doors.

The concierge inclined his head as she passed through into the spacious courtyard, and she’d almost reached the overhead pedestrian bridge when Raúl joined her.

He had the tread of a cat, and she sent him a level look as she kept walking. ‘We’ve already said goodnight.’

‘I don’t recall goodnight being mentioned.’ His voice held drawled cynicism.

‘How remiss of me,’ Gianna said sweetly. ‘Buenas noches.’

Traffic flowed freely on the dual carriageway beneath them. In all probability patrons heading towards the parking facilities offered by the many restaurants situated in the immediate vicinity.

‘There’s no need for you to play the gentleman,’ she voiced as they reached the upper level of the shopping complex. ‘I’m perfectly capable of reaching my car unaided.’

‘Of course you are.’

He followed her onto the escalator, and when she stepped onto ground level he accompanied her down to the underground parking area.

She ignored him and crossed to the bay containing her small Lexus sedan, released the remote locking mechanism, slid in behind the wheel and ignited the engine.

‘Satisfied?’

Far from it, he admitted. But she would keep.

He removed a card from his pocket and handed it to her through the open window. ‘My cellphone number.’

The overhead fluorescent lighting threw his features into shadow, making his expression difficult to define.

‘Thanks.’

The window slid closed, and she lifted a hand in a polite wave as she sent the car towards the exit ramp.

With care she entered the stream of traffic, turned left towards the roundabout, then circled back along the southbound carriageway leading towards Main Beach.

It wasn’t until she reached the solitude of her apartment that she allowed herself to relax, and she scooped up the fluff-ball patiently awaiting her arrival.

‘Hi, there, gorgeous.’ She stroked the soft fur beneath his chin. ‘Miss me?’

His response was to curl his head into the palm of her hand as she made for the kitchen to feed him.

When he was happily eating, she removed her stilettos and crossed to her bedroom, where she discarded her clothes, showered. Then, attired in her night wear, she took a cup of tea into the room she’d converted into her home office, set up her laptop, and worked until Jazz leapt up onto the desk in protest.

‘Yes, I know. Time to call it a night.’

She lifted both arms and stretched, felt the stiffness of neck and shoulder muscles, then saved her work, closed down, placed Jazz in his sleep basket and entered her bedroom.

It was late, much later than she usually chose to retire, and she slid beneath the bedcovers, switched off the bedside lamp…aware that within minutes the adorable fluff-ball would disdain his sleep basket, enter her room, and leap onto the foot of the bed, where he’d settle comfortably and remain until morning.

Raúl’s disturbing image intruded, and she replayed the evening from the moment he entered the boutique until she left the underground car parking area. An hour and a half, that was all, yet she could recall every detail.

None of which aided an easy passage into restful sleep, and it didn’t help that he entered her dreams…sequences that switched from happy to sad without rhyme or reason.

Consequently she woke feeling as if she hadn’t slept at all. Worse, her head threatened a doozy of a headache, and she’d have given almost anything to be able to take the day off.

Except it wasn’t an option. She had work to do, things to organize…

Rise and shine, she bade herself silently as she slid from the bed. Time to shower, dress, eat breakfast, grab a caffeine fix, then move it.

CHAPTER THREE

ONE day bled into another: hectic long hours where multitasking became a necessity, not an option, and sleep was something Gianna sought in the late-night hours, only to wake at dawn and repeat the process all over again.

Somewhere in there she factored in a call to Ben, explained her decision, and listened to his voiced caution.

It didn’t help that he disapproved…for good reason. He didn’t want to see her hurt again.

‘Two weeks, Ben,’ she reassured him. ‘I’ll be with Teresa in Mallorca. Raúl will remain in Madrid most of the time.’

‘I hope so, for your sake. You’re determined to do this?’

‘Yes. For Teresa.’

‘OK, but take care,’ he warned. ‘And stay in touch.’

‘I will.’ A promise she’d keep, without fail.

Annaliese accepted the managerial position with remarkable ease, and together they conducted the interviewing, trial and selection of a new team member for Bellissima, choosing a capable salesperson with an impressive CV and a pleasant personality. Gianna elected to retain another applicant on call, should the need arise for back-up.

By week’s end most everything was in place, and when the weekend—the boutique’s busiest days—passed without a hitch, there seemed no logical reason not to contact Raúl.

There were, of course, any number of the illogical kind…most of which she’d considered and discarded several times in any one day.

Except she’d given her word and, failing an accident or illness, in a matter of days she’d board a private jet en route to Madrid, with Raúl in attendance.

Something she’d give almost anything to avoid.

Oh…suck it up, she chastised herself in silent admonition.

He was CEO of the Velez-Saldaña conglomerate. A man who worked long hours and travelled extensively.

Two weeks. Why, she’d probably only see him a few times, and then she could excuse herself on the pretext of giving mother and son quality time.

Raúl had only phoned once since the evening they’d shared dinner. And then the conversation had been a brief, matter-of-fact request for an update with a view to fixing a departure time.

So she made the call, and ignored the faint shivery sensation that slithered down her spine at the sound of his deep faintly accented drawl.

‘Gianna.’

Why should she be surprised he had her number listed on his caller ID register? Except it was recorded as a private listing, and only essential business colleagues and close friends had been given it.

For a moment she felt inclined to pull him up on it—except he had sources, influence and possessed the manipulative power to acquire almost any information he wanted.