Helen’s mind went blank as she stood silently rubbing her brow. She couldn’t think straight.
“Still awake, Mouse? I also thought you ought to know something else before Ricardo gets you to sign anything.”
“Like what?” Helen knew her nemesis wasn’t present through any good motive. She just wanted to run away, but knew it would be easier to hear her out than to have her dig her heels in and refuse to leave until she’d done what she’d set out to do.
“Please tell me you’ve not signed anything. You haven’t, have you? He’s very devious when it comes to business you know, you never get something for nothing with an Almanza, believe me.”
“Just get on with it and get out.”
“The marina development is a joint venture between the Skiptree Estate and Fothergill Enterprises.”
“So?” Helen said. That deal was no secret, but where was Ricardo supposed to come in all this?
Lidia sighed heavily. “Oh Mousey Marshall, you’re as dim and gullible as your mother. Fothergill is the UK operating subsidiary of the Almanza empire. They use it to gloss over the fact that prime land is being effectively developed by foreigners. Prevents some of the hippy protest nonsense at the planning application stage and lets us real business people get on with the business of making money. Have you worked it out yet? The development project is all Almanza’s idea, his baby. Lock stock and barrel.”
“You’re making this up as you go along. Please stop being so spiteful and—”
Helen heard a sharp intake of breath as Lidia stepped closer and her voice dropped menacingly. “Who do you think pulled the plug on your parents’ loan facility, darling? Anything to speed things up a bit. You don’t keep Ricardo Almanza waiting, do you now? A teensy bit unethical on his part, but it did make me laugh at the time. What’s the point in being the director of a world bank and not being able to pull a few strings, eh?”
“You really are an evil bitch.”
“I’m concerned for you, mousy dear, in case he’s trying to dupe you out of Primrose Farm as well. They have some peculiar laws out here when it comes to marriage and property. Mad Spaniards.”
“I’m busy now, and I think it’s time you and Antonella went on your way.” Helen could feel her legs beginning to shake. “I’m assuming you took this job just to get to me, so that Bloody Mary recipe won’t be necessary.”
“You’re smarter than you look. I’m sure you’re eager to get back on your magnificent Spanish stallion, but I’m telling you it won’t be long before he dumps you like all the others. Like he did me. And don’t get any silly ideas about falling pregnant, waste of time financially. Rumor has it there’s already an heir. Somewhere.”
“Get out.”
Lidia smiled and put her face so close to Helen’s that she could smell her thick make up. “I’m finished with you for now anyway, Marshall, but you’ve not seen the last of me.”
Helen heard her vile, poisonous laughter getting fainter as she slumped onto a sofa and felt sick. She scrunched her legs up tightly against her chest and rested her forehead on her knees.
How could she have been so completely and utterly stupid?
She would not cry. The bully would not make her cry again after all these years. Gritting her teeth and swallowing down the acidity in her throat, Helen knew she had to pull herself together. She couldn’t let the bully win. Even though her chest began to feel uncomfortably tight, she walked calmly into the nearest bathroom, splashed water on her face, and applied some makeup to hide the signs of her distress. Her world was a mess and she had no idea what to do next, but whatever was going to happen, she might as well go and face it head on.
…
“You must believe me. I had no idea that Antonella would pull a stunt like this,” Ricardo said, pulling out a chair for Helen on the terrace. “I’ve given her a good telling off, and she’ll be gone after she’s had a swim and a shower.”
“Thank goodness for that, because I was on the verge of killing her.”
Ricardo chuckled. “And she honestly thought we’d believe the Bloody Mary thing? Talk about a ridiculous excuse for coming to have a good nose and get on our nerves.”
“She did that all right.”
“I didn’t get to see her new slave though. She said she’d left her to chat with you? Any good?”
Now would be a good time to tell him what had happened, that she’d been tracked down and emotionally mauled by her oldest enemy, but there was no point now. He hadn’t been there to protect her from it and he wouldn’t be there the next time. And she was angry.
He blinked a few times waiting for an answer and soon appeared to pick up on her hostility. His voice took on a business-like tone. “Was your Mum okay?”
“She’s fine,” Helen replied quietly, glad to have her sunglasses to hide behind.
“Good. So you feel better now?”
“I was until our visitors turned up.” She took the glass of orange juice that he handed her, grateful he was oblivious to her fragile state of mind. “And after that I realized I’d lost my handbag. Must have left it up on the hill after the picnic. Could we go back for it?”
“Oh no!” He looked genuinely concerned. Either that or he was just pleased she wasn’t beating him around the head with it. Her foul mood must be glaringly obvious. “But it’ll be dark soon. I’m not sure we’d stand much chance of finding it tonight.”
“Oh…”
“We’ll get you a new one in the morning. It was an old thing anyway. Was there anything valuable in it? Your passport?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Sentimental value?”
“No.”
“Then it can all be replaced. We’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Perhaps I could pop into Mahon on my own in the morning,” she said quickly. “You won’t have the first idea about what cosmetics I like and…ladies’ stuff.”
“We can go together.”
Wretched man. “Aren’t you busy?”
“Never too busy for you.”
Helen exhaled slowly and calmly, hoping that the sea air would settle her. “Let’s see what tomorrow brings.”
“Good, that’s settled then, because I need to talk to you about something.”
He had nothing she wanted to hear. “I’m all ears.”
“I’m not going to beat about the bush, Helen. I think we’ve grown quite close in the last few weeks, closer than I’d thought I could ever be to a woman, but I want to get to know you even better, and I think it’s important to be open in a relationship.” Ricardo paused, as if he was expecting a reaction from her. She wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. He may have stolen her heart, but he hadn’t crushed all dignity.
He took a deep breath. “I know why you’re upset with me, and if things go the way I hope they will, then you’ll find out everything. The whole truth, but it’s going to take two of us to make this work. I need answers too. I’d like to know where all the money went. I’m confused by it because you seem so frugal. The only decent clothes and jewellery you have are what I’ve given you. You never go shopping or partying on your own. So, will you put me out of my misery? What happened to it all?”
Helen was speechless as she watched him thoughtfully munch on some marinated anchovies. He must be blissfully lacking any sense of morality or fair play in the way he conducted his businesses. And he’d been pretty deadpan discussing his abandoned son, so she doubted anything she said would shock him. Why the hell not tell him? She had nothing to lose. He was turning out to be a hard-faced, devious bastard, so she’d give him as good as he was giving everyone else. Perhaps all he really did need was sex and speedboats.
Her tone was deliberately belligerent. “Okay, you want to know? Million number one went on, let’s just say, bills. Million number two is invested for the future. For my financial security, to realize my plans and dreams.”
“You have dreams?”
“And aspirations, yes.” She ground her
teeth together for a second before continuing. “I want to make a difference somehow – even if it’s just in a small way.”
Ricardo made a beckoning movement with his hand. “Please carry on.”
She felt like slapping him but continued. “I’ve been thinking about setting up an independent outlet for all the local farmers and producers back home. A chain of farm shops maybe, regular farmers’ markets and a hamper service stocked with local produce that we could market on the Internet. Some foraging courses too, maybe.” She took a swig of juice. “Nothing firm yet, but the idea is to give everyone the chance of a decent living, over which they have total control.”
“It sounds very noble.”
“I want to help everyone fight off all the bloody builders and supermarkets who don’t give the local community a second thought. We’re all sick of ruthless developers. If something isn’t done soon, there’ll be no estuary or marshland left because it’ll be full of hooting yachties that come down in the summer, trash the place, and then disappear. It’s become quite obvious that the only chance we have is to band together and fight for our way of life.”
“Very admirable,” Ricardo said with a skeptical turn of his head. “But you’ll have a hard job beating off determined developers, because money is power. And let’s not forget that building marinas, apartments, and other infrastructure creates a lot of work.”
“So you think it’s justified?”
“I don’t see anything wrong in creating jobs for people who couldn’t otherwise live in such a beautiful area. Jobs for people who can’t work the land or produce artisan treats for rich people with spare cash. Your exclusive little backwater isn’t that different from somewhere like Malaga. Everyone would like to live there undisturbed on a wee little estate with rolling hills and jam for tea. But they can’t, it’s as simple as that. And you don’t want them to either, do you?”
“How dare you say that? You have no idea what I want.”
He shot her a chilling look and continued unabashed. “Have you done the ‘people sums’ with this magnificently philanthropic idea? How many farmers’ cozy livelihoods would be assured versus a headcount of new people being able to move into the area and enjoy it? Your dream seems a tiny bit selfish and insular, if you ask me. Perhaps you need to rethink it.”
Helen flushed with outrage. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Once the place has been concreted over no one but the superrich will be able to afford to live there. Me included.”
“I don’t accept that,” Ricardo said sternly. “Whatever happens, there will be rich and poor in every community. You’re always going to need people for the roads and bins, the schools, shops, the day-to-day grind of it all. There’s always a place for the people who have to live off tinned food on a daily basis, not your lovely organic, free-range samphire. So why do their children have to choke away in the slums of the inner city? Can’t they have a chance to live by the sea too?” His nostrils flared. “You don’t realize how lucky you were to grow up where you did, Helen, and you’re not exactly poor now.”
“Well, listen to you, Ricardo Almanza! I shouldn’t think you’ve ever emptied a dustbin in your life!”
He shrugged. “I don’t live in an ivory tower.”
“Maybe it is a case of ‘not in my backyard,’” Helen said. “But how would you feel if someone plonked a noisy caravan site right next to your estate and then you found rubbish washing up on your spotless beach?
“Couldn’t happen. I own everything around here, even the beach.”
“Yes, I know. But what if you didn’t have the money to defend it? What if you had no choice, like your dad when he lost the department store?”
“I fixed that, remember? And I’ll fix anything that gets in my way or threatens me and the people I care about.”
“Presumably that includes Pirro. Well, bravo, Ricardo. Bravo for protecting yourself with your billions. It’s pretty easy not to take no for an answer when you’re loaded, surrounded by sycophants, and you want something badly enough, isn’t it? Just like a spoiled child!”
“Dios! You’re prickly this afternoon, Helen! I know you’re pissed off about Antonella, but so am I! Or is it because you didn’t eat much at lunch?” He offered her some olives, but she shook her head. “Lucia’s not going for another couple of hours. Shall I get her to fix you something?”
“Do what you like. That’s what you normally do, isn’t it?”
Including trying to steal my parents’ farm by marrying me…
“I think maybe this conversation has run its course for now.” Ricardo shook his head and frowned. “Listen, I need to touch base with the office and make sure Antonella clears off. There’s a shareholder who needs some urgent attention and is causing some disruption. So while I deal with those irritations, I’ll send Lucia up with a proper drink and a snack for you. With any luck, it should improve your mood and we can have a reasonable conversation later.”
Helen froze. Ricardo bent to place a kiss on the top of her head. “Me vuelves loco, you drive me crazy,” he whispered in a heavy voice before leaving her. He did it every time, pressed a secret button inside of her that maintained his control on her. How could she still be so lethally drawn to him? How much damage was she going to allow him to do to her already battered heart?
A few minutes later, Lucia arrived with an iced bottle of expensive imported Prosecco and a tray of tapas.
“Senor, he say it’s your favorite,” she said shyly and hovered for a moment.
Helen’s voice sounded weak. “Thank you, Lucia. Senor Almanza is very good at remembering such details.”
Lucia shuffled a few inches and then turned to leave, but seemed to change her mind as she wrung her hands slightly. “The lady, the Condesa’s new woman,” she said and fretted her bottom lip. “She say she must speak to Senor Ricardo, very rude. She insult me so.” She closed her eyes and crossed herself quickly. “Please forgive me, Senora. I hit her with a wooden spoon and say…vete al cuerno!”
“Oh Lucia!” Helen laughed with surprise. Lady Lidia being told to piss off by one of the staff was priceless. “She’s no friend of mine, believe me. You did the right thing, and if she ever turns up again—”
“I send her packing. Bueno!”
The old woman shuffled off happily and Helen’s moment of delight quickly faded. Lidia Skiptree was a viper, cunning in wheedling her way into the Condesa’s employ, and it looked like she was trying to stir up trouble with Ricardo from what Lucia had said too. Or perhaps she wanted reconciliation with her old lover while she was here.
Helen recalled the Condesa’s advice on the day she’d left her job in Ibiza—the Almanza men destroyed their lovers in the end. She had been warned. It was unlikely that Lidia was the only woman scorned at losing such a prize catch as Ricardo Almanza, and she was unlikely to be the last. And all this was heading for a very sad and sorry end as far as Helen was concerned too. Ricardo had no deeper feelings for her than any other convenient bed partner. It just so happened he’d married her for convenience.
Helen poured herself some Prosecco and took a deep gulp from her glass. They’d only been married for a couple of weeks and he was back to work already taking that phone call, but she had no right to begrudge him that. This had only ever been a business transaction. It wasn’t Ricardo’s fault she’d gone and fallen in love with him, wanted more than he had contracted. But she wasn’t going to let him drive her parents out of their home after all this. Ideally, she’d get on a plane back to the UK as quickly as possible and try to forget this period of her life. But she’d signed a contract. She was legally obliged to play her part for three months however difficult it was going to be. If there was some way she could walk out now she would, but she had to check the legalities first. She had to protect her family.
Chapter Fourteen
Ricardo suddenly realized he was muttering to himself as he stalked up to his office. It was a massive annoyance having his honeymoon interrupted by
some idiot who couldn’t cope with a persistent small-time shareholder. What he could do from there was anyone’s guess, but if it got the stupid cow out of his staff’s hair until he got back, he’d do it. It would also give Helen some breathing space. Perhaps he had been smothering her. She hadn’t had any time to herself since they’d married, and she probably wasn’t used to it, being an only child and living on her own all this time.
He punched in the phone number he’d been given by headquarters. Skiptree Enterprises…Finance Director…it rang a bell, but he couldn’t place it. His business interests were vast, complicated, and diverse.
“Hello, Ricky,” the husky female voice purred down the line. “Just thought I’d ring to pass on my congrats. Saw a few of your wedding snaps in Rizzo Magazine. Nice. You look good as always, but I’m amazed at your choice of bride.” She sounded breathless. “Thought you’d tired of pale, English girls. Brazilian seemed to be more your style the last time I noticed.”
“This is an unpleasant surprise, Kat, and characteristically vulgar, but then you always were trailer trash underneath all the bling. I’m just glad I never actually shagged you. I thought I told you not to bother me anymore. I blocked your number months ago.”
“I changed it. You can hang up now, because I’m right behind you.”
“What?” Ricardo span around to see Lidia lounging against the marble archway that led into the inner part of his study. She waved her cell phone at him with one hand as her other clutched a bottle of cooking brandy. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you find me? For Christ’s sake, you’ve been warned about doing this—”
“I want to speak to you, darling, that’s all. Don’t be nasty. I’m only hazarding a guess, but I assume Saint Helen managed to convince you she was a virgin, that you claimed the ultimate prize when you married her?” She cackled unpleasantly. “I expect she said she’d been hanging on for years, you know, waiting for Mr. Right to come along. Well, it’s rubbish. My brother, Roger, had her when she was fifteen, broke her in for all the low rent aristos that followed. Not to mention a gang of construction workers once. Her antics in the barn were legendary. Still, it made her enough money to go to university and travel. Scheming little madam.”
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