A spotlight appeared on the dance floor and a woman in a tight-fitting black dress with a slit all the way up to her hip appeared. She walked to the small round table on the side of the stage and, to the sound of the solo cellist, took a sip from the glass of wine.
A man wearing a shiny black suit and fedora approached her and put a hand to her shoulder. He spun her round to face him in one graceful movement.
Becky gasped and tightened her hold on Emiliano’s fingers. He squeezed back, enjoying the way her eyes stayed glued on the sinuous dance unfolding before them. The hand not holding his absently strummed on the table in time to the music. His gaze roved between the dancers, whose bodies seemed to move as one while their legs flicked and clicked around each other in a blur, and the beautiful, incredibly sexy woman beside him.
She shifted in her seat and pressed closer to him. Her fragrant scent unleashed and dived into his senses. Heat, never far away when he was with Becky, released in a tidal wave to grab him by the throat and suddenly Emiliano found himself enveloped in a heavy cloud of desire but with a weight in his chest that made it impossible to breathe or move.
For all its sensuousness, the Argentine Tango, at its essence, was a lament to lost love. Watching the desperate passion unfold before him... For a moment Emiliano felt as if he was watching a prophecy.
He blinked the unsettling thought away and released his hold on Becky’s hand so he could wrap his arm around her.
Eyes not leaving the dancers, she leaned into him, her hand automatically groping for his.
Fingers laced through hers, the unsettling melancholy crept back on him. Only another ten days until she flew back to England.
He tried to find his usual positive mind-set, reminding himself of the progress he’d made with her. They’d worked the dates out and they were in his favour. Becky would start her maternity leave at around the same time as the US polo season finished. He would fly straight back to the UK and she would move into his home there, which would give them around a month to create a nursery for their baby in one of the spare rooms before its birth. He’d finally got her agreement that when she moved into his UK home it would be permanent. In the meantime, she had agreed to fly out to Argentina to spend Christmas with him. He would fly over to England whenever practicable.
Many conversations with diaries and schedules and a good deal of willingness had seen them find common ground but the one issue he couldn’t budge her on was marriage. It had reached the stage where if he brought the subject up she would walk out of the room rather than discuss it.
He knew what she was waiting for. What was stopping him from saying the words?
Was it the control he was as guilty as the rest of the Delgados for craving?
Fear?
He didn’t know and right then he didn’t care. Screw stealth. He’d proven himself useless at it. There was only one way to get Becky’s agreement to marry him.
‘If you marry me, I promise to be faithful for the rest of our lives,’ he murmured. ‘I will make that promise to you.’
She stiffened and tilted her head to stare at him with wide eyes. ‘Is it a promise you can keep?’
‘If that’s the promise I need to make for you to agree, then I will make it and I will keep it, however hard it may be. I will do that for you.’ He stroked her cheek and rubbed his nose to hers. ‘Don’t answer me now. Think seriously about it. Give me your answer after the party. If the answer’s no then I will never mention marriage again. I give you my word.’
A voice whispered in his head that if her answer was no, then he would perform a lament of his own...
* * *
Emiliano brought Diggity to a stop and watched the army of people coordinate perfectly to heave the marquee upright. Rows of large vans were parked close by, filled with tables and chairs, and in the distance catering vans approached. In a few hours, the vans would be gone and the marquee would be ready for the two hundred or so people coming to celebrate the end of a successful English polo season and the beginning of the Argentine one. He wondered if they’d be better behaved than they’d been at the last party he’d thrown, at the end of the US season at his home in Palm Springs. Very doubtful, he thought with a wry smile, before tapping his ankle into Diggity’s flank and setting off again, this time back to the stables.
Spirits were high when he returned. The practice sessions the team had had for the new season were proving their worth. Nicky, the new player he’d poached from a rival team, was fitting in smoothly, his horses even more so. Emiliano’s own horses had recovered well from the journey from England.
He should be raring for the new season to start but his spirits were flat. Becky hadn’t mentioned his latest proposal but he knew she was considering it. She hadn’t dismissed it out of hand. He wanted to take that as a good sign, but with Becky...
He sighed. He could never take her thoughts or actions for granted.
Feeling too out of sorts to mix with people, he rode back out of the stables to one of his vast open fields at a canter. Riding his beasts at speed was one of life’s greatest joys. One of Emiliano’s biggest regrets was being born a foot too tall to be a jockey. He would have loved racing; coaxing his horse past all the others, leaving rivals in his wake and smashing past the finish line. Truth was, he loved winning. On a horse, he was invincible. He had a natural affinity with the creatures, which had allowed him to dominate the polo scene for so many years. Before he retired he wanted a year when his team, with him at the helm, won every major cup competition in England, Argentina and the US. He’d won them all individually but never the clean sweep. This year he’d already won the most prestigious English one and it had been a bitter realisation that he couldn’t send a cutting of himself holding the trophy aloft to his father.
He’d done that for the past decade. While he’d stopped caring what his adoptive father or anyone else thought of him, whatever success he’d had, he’d made sure Eduardo had known. His three Argentine Open cups had all been couriered to him.
But now Eduardo, the man who’d adopted him then thrown him aside as if he were dirt, was dead and, for the first time, Emiliano could acknowledge the hunger that had driven him to succeed for so long had dimmed.
When had that happened? Eduardo had been dead for months before the English season started, and he’d approached that with his usual gusto.
He didn’t know what was wrong with him, only that something was. It was inside him. Something off-kilter. Something that felt very much like fear.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BECKY CAME OUT of the woods with the dogs and found the sun beaming down. Emiliano would be happy. He’d been concerned about the weather changing for the evening’s party but, for the moment, there was not a puff of cloud marring the vast blue skies above. She didn’t want to think about the autumnal weather she’d be flying back to when she returned to England. She should be there already, settling into her rented flat and preparing for her new job which started in exactly eight days.
Emiliano’s promise of fidelity if she married him played constantly in her mind. A huge part of her wanted to say yes. So long as he respected her career, they could make it work. Maintaining a long-distance marriage wouldn’t be easy but they’d already reached agreement on so much. They could make it work.
So what was stopping her from saying yes?
She was mere paces away from the ranch when her phone vibrated. Snatching it out of her pocket, her heart leapt to see her mother had finally messaged her back.
Hands shaking, she walked up the steps and sat on the swing chair.
And then she read it and the hope that had clutched her heart turned to despair. A whole week she’d prayed for a response. Seven whole days. And this was what she received?
A burst of fury suddenly blazed through her veins and, fingers working of their own accord, she typed out a response and pressed send before she had time to think about
it. Her response consisted of two words: I’m pregnant.
Another burst of fury crashed through her at her stupidity in sending the message and, in a fit of pique, she hurled the phone through the air as hard as she could.
Emiliano, who’d returned to the ranch for food, had seen Becky, head bowed over her phone, clearly too caught up in whatever she was dealing with to notice his approach.
Crouching down to pick up the offending phone, which had landed only a foot from him, he took another two steps closer before she finally noticed him. He swiftly put his hands in the air. ‘Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.’
Her taut red, angry face softened to see him. A tiny splutter of laughter fell from her lips.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered, ‘I didn’t see you there.’
‘So I gathered. Unless you really did see me and just don’t want to admit you have a lousy aim?’
‘I have that too.’
He handed her phone back before sitting beside her and taking her hand. ‘What’s wrong?’
She shrugged.
‘Becky?’
‘Mum’s messaged me.’ She took a long breath then swiped at her phone. She brought the message up and handed it to him.
His heart thumped as he read.
I thought I’d made it clear that I will not listen to your lies. Anthony and I are very happy. The last thing we need is for you to inflict more of your jealous spite on us. Get your head out of your books and find yourself a man and STOP trying to steal mine.
‘Well, that’s me told,’ she said with a brave shrug.
‘You tried to make contact with her?’
She nodded. ‘I left her a message during your first practice session.’
‘You never mentioned it.’
She shrugged again. ‘I was scared to build my hopes up. Guess I was right.’
‘She really thinks you’re trying to steal her husband?’
‘Looks like it.’ She laughed morosely. ‘She used to tease me about my reluctance to date. I would bite my tongue to stop myself shouting that the only way I could cope with the loss of my family and with my parents being at war and my mum turning into a cougar overnight was by throwing myself into the books she’s now so dismissive of. It would have been easier if they’d split when I was a toddler. I wouldn’t have gone from being a loved daughter to a rival. She’s infatuated with him.’
Emiliano ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know if he’d felt worse the other week when she’d bawled her eyes out or now, seeing her so wan and so utterly defeated. At least when she’d cried he’d been able to hold her and comfort her. Now, he just felt useless.
But there was one thing he could do that might help.
‘I understand why she chose him over you,’ he admitted heavily, and felt her freeze beside him. ‘But I need you to understand that, as personal as it feels, it is not about you. It’s about her. And one day she will come to her senses.’
She turned her head slowly to him, eyes wide. She gave one large blink.
‘The truth will come to her sooner or later. It always does.’ Emiliano dragged his hand down his face then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. ‘The reason my time at the Delgado Group ended so badly was because I fell in love with a gold-digging con-artist.’
Becky almost jumped at the unexpected admission. Emiliano had been in love...?
‘Her name was Adriana. I hired her as my PA. I’d been given control of a major investment fund—I won’t bore you with the details but collectively the funds in it were worth tens of billions. I was new to the game and needed assistance from someone already in the industry.
‘Adriana had an impeccable résumé...’ he looked at her with a faint smile ‘...one of the reasons I don’t bother with them any more. It was love at first sight for both of us. She was beautiful and clever and she played me like a pro. I wanted to go public but she always resisted, which just added to her allure. I thought she wanted to keep it special between us but she was protecting herself because, while I was imagining our future, she was hacking into my work accounts and performing a heist of such nerve that I admit to having a grudging respect for it.’
‘What did she do?’ Becky breathed, half afraid to hear.
‘She syphoned exactly four hundred and ninety-eight million dollars from the accounts I had control of. She did it so subtly that it took weeks for the theft to be discovered but by then it was too late—she’d gone too. We’d spent a weekend together and I swear I had no idea anything was up. She went home on the Sunday evening, kissed me goodbye as normal and that was the last I saw her. When she didn’t turn up for work I was out of my mind with worry. I went to her apartment and it was empty. She’d disappeared overnight. It took weeks for me to learn she’d left with half a billion dollars, all neatly deposited into an offshore tax haven I couldn’t touch.’
‘Oh, my God,’ she whispered.
‘I learned much later that I wasn’t her first victim. She’d spent a year in an English prison for defrauding two companies. I’m sure there’re others.’
‘So what happened? Was she arrested?’
His eyes locked back onto hers. ‘You’re the first person I’ve told this story to.’
She just stared at him.
‘I hired some private detectives to find her but I didn’t give them reasons. They tracked her to a private island in the Caribbean in a territory with no extradition treaties. It’s a criminals’ paradise. She’s still there, living the high life on stolen money...albeit surrounded by criminals. And she knows that I know where she is. I made sure of that. I have people watching her. She will never leave. She’s too frightened of the consequences.’
She was almost afraid to ask. ‘What will they be?’
‘I’ve a file as thick as my arm with the trail she left. There’s enough evidence in it to have her sent down for twenty years.’
Swallowing back the nausea churning in her belly and blinking away the blurring in her eyes, Becky forced her thoughts away from Emiliano being in love. ‘So you didn’t tell your family about it?’
He sighed and rubbed the nape of his neck. ‘When the losses were discovered, their first assumption was that I’d messed up. I was still trying to unravel the trail Adriana had left. I knew she’d had something to do with it but at that point I had no proof. I would have enlisted their help but all they did was shout and rail at me, assuming I was at fault. Celeste had convinced them to hire me—she’d damn well convinced me to work for them too—and for them this was confirmation that I should never have been given a chance. I was booted out and paid off to keep quiet. They couldn’t afford for it to come out that half a billion of their clients’ monies had disappeared.’
‘They kept it a secret?’ she asked in astonishment.
‘As far as I know, they paid the funds back from their private accounts. I would have felt guilty for that but, as far as I was concerned, they could go to hell.’ His smile was so cold she shivered. ‘It just proved they’d never trusted me and that they’d been waiting for me to mess up. So screw them. I’d worked my backside off in an environment I hated and I think part of me did it because deep down I craved their approval. I wanted them to accept me as one of them. My mistake for trusting them when I should have known better. Never trust anything that walks on two feet.’
She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. It was too much. The figures he’d mentioned—half a billion dollars!—the way his family had automatically assumed the worst of him and the cold war that had erupted in the Delgado family because of it...
And still, with all that racing through her head, the most shocking admission was that Emiliano had once been in love.
‘I tell you this to give you hope,’ Emiliano said quietly, although there was a part of him that thought Becky’s mother should join Adriana in hell for the way she’d treate
d her daughter. But Becky loved her. She was pregnant and needed her mother. ‘Love makes fools of us. It blinds us. And then one day you open your eyes and you can see again. Your mother’s eyes will open to the truth and when they do she will need you. Keep the door open for her and she will come back to you...but when she does, resist the temptation to say I told you so,’ he added with a rueful smile. ‘She will already know.’
Her lips pulled in and she took a long inhalation as she considered his words. ‘I hope you’re right.’
‘I am.’
She gave a tiny snigger which lightened the weight compressing his chest at making an admission he, in his pride, had vowed to never share with anyone. Then her eyes met his and the brief flare of amusement in them dimmed. ‘I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.’
He grimaced. ‘It was the worst time of my life. I’d been made a fool of. My ego smashed. I still don’t know if I felt worse over Adriana’s theft or my family’s reaction to it. Their reaction would have been the same if I’d told them the truth, that the money had been lost through theft and not negligence. They would have blamed me for not listening to their warnings about gold-diggers.’ He blew out a long puff of air. ‘I hated the lot of them.’
‘And now?’
He considered this. ‘My father is dead. Our differences will never be resolved. I could blame Celeste for stealing that opportunity from us but I would never have taken it. He never loved me and nothing I did or said could have changed that. But I still have my brother and, as much as the rage at his treatment still bites me, I know I have to take my share of the blame where he’s concerned. Why give someone the benefit of the doubt when he’s been consistently horrible to you your entire life?’
‘Maybe you should tell him,’ she suggested softly. ‘Put the past to bed once and for all.’
He rubbed the nape of his neck more vigorously. It was one thing admitting his blind stupidity to Becky but to do the same with Damián? ‘What good will it do to rehash the past?’
The Cost of Claiming His Heir Page 12