The Billionaire Bundle

by Michele De Winton

  “I assume it is Senorita?” Ricardo asked quietly. “It was presumptive of me, but Alfonso can be quite a nuisance when it comes things like that. If he thought for one second I was out with a married woman he’d have slung us into the street.”

  “Has that happened before?” Helen whispered in alarm.

  Ricardo dipped his chin and leveled his sharp eyes with hers. “I don’t do married women.” His expression was serious. “So am I safe?”

  “Yes,” she said firmly. Ricardo poured her a glass of red wine from a stubby carafe. Finding it impossible to maintain eye contact with him any longer, she took a sip from her glass. “Presumably Alfonso’s moral code extends to both parties?”

  “If you’re asking me if I’m married, then the answer is a definite no.” He leaned back into his chair and smiled lazily. “Would you be here if I was?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Helen said brightly. “We’re only having dinner. It’s not as if anything sordid is going on between us, is it?”

  “No, no it isn’t.”

  For the next hour Helen enjoyed a selection of the day’s special dishes, made to order using the freshest seasonal produce from the market each day. Helen nibbled first on fragaglie, deep-fried baby fish, and they were so delicious she ate the lot as Italian opera played subtly in the background. Consequently, she struggled to finish her exquisitely charred pizza. Ricardo had no such difficulty and not only demolished his pizza, but managed to finish a steaming bowl of pasta and a whole mozzarella di bufala as well.

  “Dessert?” he said as Helen dabbed her napkin to her lips.

  “You’re kidding. I’m fit to burst.”

  “I can see you need some practice when it comes to eating five course meals. It’s no wonder you’re so skinny.”

  “Hardly!” Helen said, but was secretly pleased at the compliment. She’d never been skinny, and never would be. Her genes wouldn’t allow it.

  “Okay, shall we take our coffee outside? It’s quieter and less crowded out there.” He stood and gestured for her to follow, but not before she saw Alfonso leaning out of the kitchen door, winking at Ricardo. “Ignore the old fool. He’s trying to embarrass me. He’s been doing things like that since I was a teenager.”

  The tiny courtyard was surrounded by high stone walls that looked centuries old. It was illuminated by lanterns and a spot-lit fountain that trickled pleasantly in the darkness. The perfume of jasmine flowers and basil filled the night air as she followed Ricardo to a round table.

  “It’s lovely.” Helen closed her eyes in appreciation. “I can’t believe we’re the only ones out here.”

  “And I have seen to it that it stays that way,” Ricardo murmured.

  The hairs stood up on the back of her neck as his eyes fixed her with a strange intensity. “What do you mean?”

  “I have a proposition for you, and I don’t want it to be the talk of the Balearics by morning. Not until I choose it to be, anyway.”

  “Go on,” she whispered, trying to hide the excitement in her voice.

  “You need money, yes?”

  “I’ve already told you that.”

  “You didn’t tell me how much though, did you?”

  Helen began to feel nervous. “It’s not any of your business.”

  “It could be.”

  “I’m not following you, Mr. Almanza, and I now think it’s time I went home.”

  “You can’t possibly call that hovel down the street home. And the other place? The place you call home in England? You can’t go back there until you’ve put your hands on enough money to satisfy whatever squalid needs you have there. I’ve deduced that much.”

  “How dare you! You know nothing about me or my circumstances.”

  “Maybe not, and I’m not the least bit interested in your life in England, but you need money fast and I’ve got lots of it.”

  “So? Am I supposed to be impressed?”

  “Please be quiet and listen. I also need something quickly, and I think you’re the perfect person to help me out.”

  Helen went to get up. She wanted to walk away from the bizarre discussion. She’d heard enough. “This conversation is over.”

  “I will pay you one million euros if you agree to work with me for three months.”

  Her hands froze on the tabletop. “As what, might I ask?”

  “As my wife.”

  Helen stared at him in horror for a second, and then she began to smile. “Oh, very clever. How long did it take for you to cook that joke up with Alfonso? Was it when you were quietly discussing the house red? Or was it when I went to the loo? Well, I must say I’m relieved, because for one awful moment I thought you’d brought me out here to sell me a dodgy franchise. Or a timeshare.”

  “I am serious.”

  “Yeah, sure you are. I might be unsophisticated, but I’m not a complete fool.”

  “Let’s hope not, because I get very tired of the sound of my own voice saying the same thing over and over again.” He leaned forward across the table, his fingertips pressed together in a tent shape. “My offer is genuine. A marriage in name only for, say, three months and you get one million euros. Go away and think about it for twenty-four hours. Don’t say another word now or you may regret it. Believe me, I do deals like this all the time.”

  “I’ll just bet you do,” she said, pushing her coffee cup with a scraping noise to the center of the table. “I can only begin to imagine what sort of a woman you think I am, but don’t expect things to go your way this time. I’m not one of the local whores you can pay to do your bidding.”

  “You do me a disservice. I’m only marrying to satisfy an outstanding matter of honor, not to slake some perversion, and you’re perfect for the job. Attractive, intelligent, the perfect trophy wife.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “You also want to leave for home within six months, divorced by then obviously, so we both win. This is a once in a lifetime offer. The last thing I want to do is get married, but I need to before I’m thirty or I’ll lose a long-standing bet. A very big bet.”

  “A bet? My God, you really are as shallow as a puddle. I can never see a time where I’d willingly enter a contract of marriage with such an arrogant, spoiled, and insensitive man. The only way I’ll ever consider marriage is when I fall in love, so the answer is no. Double plus no. And now,” she said with a flourish as the chair tipped over behind her, “I’m leaving.”

  .

  Early morning sunshine cut through the dirty windowpane and seared across Helen’s eyelids. She had slept badly, and as she forced herself out of bed, the nausea of extreme fatigue washed over her. She eyed the magnum of champagne Ricardo had quietly left outside her door the previous night. The expensive bottle looked extremely out of place on the aluminum sink, and memories of shouting at him to leave came flooding back. She shook her head and groaned, realizing the events of the night before really hadn’t been a dream.

  Ricardo Almanza must be out of his arrogant mind thinking he could pay her to marry him! The idea was ridiculous, and he certainly had too much time and money on his hands if he spent his life getting involved in bizarre wagers. He’d even had the nerve to push his flashy business card under the door before he left. She brushed her teeth roughly in the rust-tinged sink, and it wobbled as she turned off the tap. The entire plumbing system was vintage 1960s by the look of it, air bubbles clattering around the building like loose marbles.

  While drying her face, her cell phone began to ring and she considered not answering it. “Go away!” she muttered into the towel. It was probably the Condesa wanting her to bring something particular from the market for her breakfast. It had been goji berries the day before. She’d seen them featured on TV overnight and had become like a woman possessed until she had some.

  Helen scooped the cell phone up in one hand and swore as she fumbled and dropped it, buzzing like a hornet, on the floor. “Hello?” She managed to answer calmly and then felt the blood drain from her h
ands when she heard her mother’s strained voice.

  “The bank’s brought everything forward. If we don’t come up with the money in one week, we’re out.”

  Helen’s breath caught. “They can’t! Not just like that. Can they?”

  “Apparently they can.” The connection crackled. “We’re set to lose everything in five working days time.”

  “But, Mum, we had six months.” Helen squeezed her eyes shut to quell the panic.

  “There’s nothing to be done now, love,” her mother said. “I thought I’d better call you about your things before the bailiffs get hold of them. Your dad and I are running out of places to send everything. Is there a friend who can look after them until you get back?”

  There was a moment of silence as Helen sensed her mother was thinking exactly the same she was: back to what exactly?

  Her head began to pound. “I can’t believe they’re doing this. Can’t we hold them off for another month? Perhaps by then we can find a way to meet the minimum payment—”

  “It’s too late,” her mother blurted. “They won’t budge. We have to accept the inevitable. If there was any hope I wouldn’t be ringing you like this.”

  Helen fisted her free hand to stop it shaking. “How’s Dad taking it?”

  “Not so good. The doctor upped his heart pills yesterday.” Her mother’s voice sounded distant. “He blames the whole mess on himself.”

  “He was only trying to protect us, Mum.”

  “I know, darling, but if we’d known the legal fees would eventually outstrip the value of our land and property we’d have given in to the Skiptree Estate’s demands a lot earlier. At least that way we would have something left, somewhere to live at least. But we don’t have enough cash to fight the court case any longer. We have to give up.”

  “And let that Skiptree woman bully us until she gets what she wants?” A hot tear slid over her bottom lashes, and Helen wiped it angrily away. “We can’t let her drive us out of our home!”

  “Pride comes at a too high a price, I’m afraid. Not only has Lidia Skiptree exhausted every penny we have by dragging out the litigation, she’s also started to get to our customers. Orders have dropped off, and now, well, we simply can’t continue. Even if sales bounce back, we can’t afford to implement the latest health and safety requirements that were thrown at us last week. The sterilizing equipment’s packed up and we have to pour the milk down the drain.” Her mother’s voice rose a pitch. “She’s got us just where she wants us—reduced to selling a few eggs at the gate.”

  “Damn the woman,” Helen snapped. “What idiot said money can’t buy you happiness? It’s getting her just about everything her dark little heart wants, even down to that ludicrous off-the-shelf title. Lady. She’s the furthest you could get from one. She’s a monster.”

  “We aren’t the only ones.” Her mother sniffed. “She’s railroaded the sale of at least three other farms since she came back down from London. She’s determined to push this development of hers through.”

  “Oh no …”

  “We can’t fight her anymore. I’m sorry, my darling, but we have to face facts. It’s over.”

  “No it isn’t, Mum.” Helen scraped the back of her sleeve over her sore eyes. “I won’t let her do this. It’s about time someone stood up to her and gave her a taste of her own medicine. There has to a way we can save Primrose Farm, and I’m going to do everything I can to give Lidia Skiptree a bloody nose.”

  The line fell silent for a few seconds. “Don’t come rushing back, Helen. There’s nothing that can be done at this late stage, and I’ve already started packing things up anyway. You’re young and free and shouldn’t be having to worry about all this. You should be having fun, not looking out for your foolish old parents.”

  “I think we can still sort this mess out, I really do.” Helen looked over to the business card next to the champagne bottle and swallowed hard before squeezing her eyes shut and crossing her fingers. “Look, I know this isn’t the best time to mention it, but I’ve met someone. He’s Spanish. His name’s Ricardo.”

  .

  “So you’ve come to your senses.” Ricardo lounged in an armchair on his stepmother’s terrace, his long legs stretched out in the sun. “I thought you’d put up some resistance for a day or two, but I’m pleasantly surprised that you’ve come round to my idea so quickly.”

  Helen calmly picked up the glassware on the table and loaded it onto a tray. She was grateful there was no way he could hear how hard her heart was beating. “You’re assuming I came out here specifically to see you and not just to clear away the remains of last night’s cocktail party. Some might call that arrogance.”

  He looked up from his newspaper and smiled coldly. “Do I assume correctly, or is it time to start turning the screw a little? If I was sensible I’d start reducing the fee by a hundred thousand for each day you make me wait.”

  She put the tray down on the table. “I wouldn’t risk it, Ricardo. You might end up looking a bit silly.”

  “Might I? How so?”

  “Because the fee has gone up. I want two million, and I’d like half of it paid up front within five days.”

  He was silent, and his stern tiger-eye gaze flashed dangerously until she was forced to turn away. Clasping her hands tightly under her armpits, she stared out over the balcony at the panoramic view of Ibiza town below. A blistering heat haze shimmered over the rooftops and the piercing blue sea made her squint. “Cat got your tongue?” She felt like sandpaper was lining her mouth.

  “Not only has she got my tongue, she seems to be after all the cream as well. What a greedy girl you’re turning out to be.”

  “Well, I figure that if I have to marry you, I might as well make it worth my while. I doubt if it will be an experience I’ll want to repeat. In that way I’m a lot like you, a loveless marriage isn’t something that’s ever interested me.” Helen could hardly believe what she was saying. “So we can be quite business-like about the whole thing. I will marry you, in three months it will be annulled, and I will disappear from your life forever.”

  “Not quite.” His chair scraped back and within seconds she felt his presence close behind her. “You doubled the price. So the small print changes.”

  She suppressed a shiver. “Meaning?”

  “For two million, I want more. A lot more. There will be no annulment. The only way our marriage will end is in divorce.” She felt his large palms close around her shoulders, and a finger began to stroke the soft flesh on the side of her neck. “My inflated ego could never stand the public humiliation of an annulment. Our union will be consummated.”

  “You’ve got to be joking.”

  He turned her to face him, his smile hard and merciless as he began to twirl a lock of her hair around his forefinger. “You walked straight into very deep water trying to out-bargain me, Helen. It’s annoyed me. You will walk up the aisle, smiling as if your life depended on it, and then share my bed. For three months you will be my beautiful, obedient, compliant, willing wife in every way imaginable.”

  “I won’t!”

  “You will,” he murmured, pulling her tightly against his hard body. “Because you won’t be able to help yourself.”

  His mouth easily silenced her protest. She felt the power in his muscles as she grabbed at his biceps to push him away, but her own arms became weak as the kiss intensified. His tongue explored as he held her tight and her struggle grew half-hearted as she found herself responding to him. Warm lips, sharp stubble, her breasts crushed against his broad chest—she shouldn’t let him…

  His hands skimmed her bottom, and pulled her so close she could feel the hard ridge of his erection. Head spinning, she touched the bare triangle of flesh below his throat and the shock of such intense awareness made her lungs freeze.

  Ricardo drew his mouth away. “I knew you’d see sense, but we mustn’t spoil our wedding night by getting carried away.” He lightly touched her breasts through the thin cotton of her T-s
hirt, brushing her tight nipples with the pads of his thumbs. “It will be worth the wait, I promise you.”

  Helen’s eyes opened to find him grinning down at her. He had her exactly where he wanted her now that her body had been so treacherous. She’d gone up in flames the minute he’d touched her, and the ache between her thighs was like nothing she had ever experienced. Desire. Raw animal desire, but he wouldn’t get the better of her. She was no whore.

  “I won’t sleep with you. It’s not going to happen.”

  “This afternoon, my lawyer will come with the paperwork,” he whispered throatily, his breath feathering along her jaw. “And I’m considering making you an appointment with my doctor.”

  “Your doctor?”

  “Yes.” He eased away and gripped her shoulders firmly. “I need to be sure you are clean before I sign my money away, don’t I? There’s no way of knowing where you’ve been before.”

  “How dare you!” Helen gasped, flicking away his hands with the sides of her wrists. “How bloody dare you speak to me like that. As if I’m dirt.”

  “You must see it from my point of view—”

  “Then get your damn lawyers to write it into a clause!”

  He cocked his head to one side, showing no apparent concern for her wounded feelings. “There’s also the matter of contraception. I hate to be crude, but we don’t want any accidents prolonging this marriage, do we? I don’t anyway. We can’t afford to take any risks.”

  “You’re not listening to me, I will not sleep with you, so there are no risks and it’s my body, not yours, so I’ll do what I want with it.”

  “In that case, I’ll have my lawyers draft a clause to cover that too, because I don’t think you’ll be able to resist temptation and I never leave anything to chance. Three months and we both go our separate ways.” He ran his fingertips along the square ridge of his jaw. “We’ll be thoroughly sick of each other by then.”