by Marinelli, Carol; Hayward, Jennifer; Stephens, Susan; Anderson, Natalie
So he could ensure the Salazar heir was healthy and well protected more likely. It was, after all, the reason she was here.
She fell quiet as a violet light descended over Manhattan, such a different canvas from the star-infused, inky-black sky she was used to, she was suddenly, achingly homesick.
Alejandro set his cup on the table. “It’s late. You look exhausted. You should go to bed. I’ll join you in a few minutes after I send a couple of emails.”
Her shoulders stiffened at yet another order, but she was exhausted. She climbed the stairs to their bedroom, barely able to put one foot in front of the other.
Did he expect her to share his bed? She thought the answer might be yes as she arrived in the sumptuous master suite to find Faith had put her clothes away in the armoire while they had eaten, her toiletries laid out neatly in the opulent, marble and limestone en suite.
She stared at them, not sure she was ready for this. Sure, in fact, she wasn’t.
Immersing herself in a cool shower, she attempted to regain her equilibrium. But her nerves grew with every moment that passed. Eventually she would have to share that bed with Alejandro—to get to know the complex, intimidating male she’d agreed to marry on every level. But she needed to trust him again first.
She understood from their conversations the deep sense of honor that drove him, why he’d done what he’d done, could even accept he’d tried not to hurt her, but he’d damaged them in the place she was the most vulnerable by deceiving her and that was not going to be easy to forgive.
Clad in her favorite pale pink nightie, she brushed her hair in the black stone mirror that lay as an accent piece against the wall in the bedroom, her pulse a staccato drumbeat in her throat.
Alejandro walked in moments later. Eyes wary, face lined with fatigue, the same dark stubble shadowing his jaw he’d worn at Esmerelda, he undid his sleek gold watch and set it on the dresser.
His visible exhaustion unearthed a twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “for my behavior today. I’m not myself. I’m overwhelmed, turned upside down. I don’t know which way is up anymore.”
His expression softened. Dropping his cufflinks on the dresser, he moved behind her, setting his hands on her hips. She jumped, the heat of his touch burning into her skin. He settled his hands more firmly around her. “Try and relax,” he said softly. “I never renege on a promise, Cecily. I will make this right.”
“What if he never calls—my father?” Her gaze met his in the mirror. “What if he doesn’t come around? Things haven’t always been good between us but he and my horses are all I have.”
“He will. He loves you. And,” he murmured, “you have me now—the life we will build together. Think of this as your chance to be something other than a Hargrove, to be what you want to be—everything we talked about in Kentucky. I said I would back you one hundred percent and I will.”
Warmth surged through her. For the first time today, she almost believed it, that everything would be okay, because this man’s will would accept nothing less.
This was the man she’d fallen for in Kentucky. Was he somewhere within this arrogant stranger she’d agreed to marry?
He took the brush from her hand and laid it on the dresser. “You were right,” he said softly, “that I didn’t wait for your answer—that I simply assumed you would become my wife. That said, I hope this will make up for the lack of a romantic proposal.”
Her throat went dry as he captured her left hand and slid a ring on her finger. Perched on a delicate platinum band, the round, brilliant-cut diamond was cast in a halo setting, accented by hundreds of tiny diamonds that flashed in the light.
It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
“I thought it fit your vibrant personality,” he murmured. “But if you don’t like it, I can have Jovan make something else.”
Didn’t like it? He’d had it made for her? She melted.
“It’s perfect,” she said huskily. “Exactly what I would have chosen. Thank you.”
He feathered a thumb across her palm, keeping her hand tucked in his. “You need to be wearing the appropriate rock when you walk into that party with me. I think this will do the trick.”
She stiffened, the glow inside her evaporating. For goodness sake, Cecily, get a grip. Remember what this is.
“It’s perfect.” She pulled her hand free, channeling the ice princess persona she did so well. “I think you’re right, actually. I need some sleep. I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Why not now?” His throaty rejoinder unraveled a curl of heat inside her as he bent to bring his mouth to her ear. “We’re engaged now, querida. There’s no reason to hold back.”
A flood of seductive, heady memories swamped her senses. She pushed them ruthlessly away. She was his convenient wife—the one bearing him his child—nothing more. Just like she’d been for Davis. Paramount to surviving this relationship was going to be keeping her head where he was concerned.
“Yes there is.” She twisted out of his arms and turned to face him. “We need time to ease into this, Alejandro. For me to learn to trust you again. For me to get to know who you are.”
He frowned. “You know who I am. We’ve talked about intimate things…deep things. That is who I am.”
“I thought I knew you,” she corrected. “Now I’m not sure what to believe.”
He stared at her for a long moment, jaw tight. “Fine. Take all the time you need. But the image we present in public is non-negotiable. We will look madly in love at that party even if you have to channel your best acting job to do it. Are you clear on that?”
“Crystal,” she murmured. “I’ll start practicing right now.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
ALEJANDRO SPENT THE next two weeks working day and night to free himself up for his trip to England, his multi-billion-dollar acquisition occupying the lion’s share of his time. Aware that his fiancée was swimming in the deep end and doing her best to stay afloat, he brought work home with him and had dinner with her each night rather than cast her adrift in Manhattan.
Which also allowed him to work toward his other goal of proving to Cecily she could trust him. That he was that man she’d known in Kentucky. He found himself sharing pieces of himself he rarely did in an effort to have his fiancée do the same with him. It was going to take time, but slowly, ever so gradually, she was letting down her guard. He was beginning to see glimpses of the woman he’d first gotten to know—the open, vulnerable Cecily she was at the heart of her.
It infuriated him that her father hadn’t called with an olive branch. As if he truly meant to take the Hargroves’ crime to the grave with him rather than allow it to tarnish the family name. As if he cared more about his legacy than the daughter he’d disowned.
It was tearing Cecily apart—he could see it in her expressive blue eyes when her vulnerability shone through. Seeking to provide her with a distraction, he pushed ahead with his plans to buy them a place in upstate New York. While his real estate agent searched for the ideal property, he had Cecily work with an architect to envision what her dream stables would look like. Not only had it occupied his fiancée, it had put a sparkle back in her eyes and given them a project they could work on together.
By the time they boarded the Salazar jet for the anniversary party, they had developed a workable rapport between them. Her continuing to freeze him out was another matter. It wasn’t going to work this weekend with the façade they had to perpetuate, nor was it going to close the gulf that had grown between them. And since eliminating that tension, putting his life back into its pre-Kentucky order, was his number one priority right now, he needed to solve her.
Watching her now, curled up in a chair beside him as the jet leveled out into a smooth sea of blue, he felt that familiar tug of desire. Dressed in legg
ings and a sweater that emphasized her soft curves, her legs curled beneath her as she reviewed the architect’s revamped drawings, it was as if she flicked some internal switch inside of him just by being in the same room.
What would she look like when she started to show evidence of their child? He imagined those lush curves grown ripe with his son or daughter, a powerfully possessive feeling assailing him, one he couldn’t even begin to articulate. She would be even more desirable, if that was possible.
He ran a palm over his jaw. Sexual frustration was not, he was discovering, a state of being he enjoyed.
“Happy with them?” he asked, nodding at the drawings.
She nodded. “They’re getting there.”
“Bring them over. Show them to me.”
She uncurled herself from the chair and perched on the arm of his, walking him through the drawings. They were impressive. She’d thought of everything: roomy, loose boxes for every horse in the barn, extra wide aisles for grooming, a bathing area done in tile as well as multiple indoor and outdoor schooling rings that took into account the cold New York weather. Eventually, he knew, she wanted to be a coach, helping younger riders just as her mother had done.
He pointed to one of the outdoor rings. “You might want to put that one next to the ring for the more mature horses. The novices tend to pick up their good habits.”
She chewed on her lip. “That’s a good idea.” She made a note. Asked if he had any more thoughts. Because he loved the subject, he did, suggesting small refinements here and there. When they were done, she rolled up the drawing and stayed put.
“Tell me about your friends,” she prompted quietly, “so I’m not walking into this cold.”
Something he should have done already, but hadn’t in his preoccupation with everything on his plate. He captured her hand in his, smoothing his thumb over her palm. “I have three close friends. Sebastien Atkinson founded the extreme sports club we all joined in college. It’s he and his wife Monika’s anniversary party we’re attending.
“Stavros,” he continued, “is in pharmaceuticals, based here in New York.” His mouth curved. “He’s a piece of work. You’ll see what I mean when you meet him. He recently married a Greek woman named Calli I haven’t met yet, so you won’t be the only new face.”
“Did they elope?’
“Something like that. Antonio,” he concluded, “owns one of the world’s largest construction companies. Italian, very charming, easy to like. He recently married the mother of his son. A child he didn’t know about,” he qualified, “until just a few weeks ago.”
She frowned. “Why is that?”
“Leo is the product of an old affair between he and Sadie. Why she didn’t tell him about his son, I don’t know. I expect I’ll find out more when I see him.”
She nodded. Shifted her weight to stand up. He sank his thumb deeper into the flesh of her palm to keep her there. Heat darkened her eyes, that always on electricity pulsing between them, but there was a wariness there too, a seemingly permanent state of affairs he was beginning to hate, particularly when he’d been the one to put it there.
“I will clearly have to kiss you this weekend,” he said huskily. “Perhaps we’d better get back into practice?”
She froze, the hesitancy written in every bone of her body making him curse beneath his breath. He was demonstrating she could trust him in every way he could. What the hell more could he do?
“Alejandro…”
“Forget it.” He pushed the drawing back at her. “I’ve got work to do.”
He was in a fairly antagonistic mood then as they arrived at Sebastien’s glorious Waldenbrook estate in Oxfordshire, situated on two hundred acres of lush, green, forested land.
Perhaps Sebastien would offer up one of his sadistically cruel, military-inspired obstacle courses this weekend…some target practice with a powerful gun. That could burn off some frustration.
“Not this weekend.” Sebastien dashed his hopes as he stood on the front steps of the impressive Georgian manor, his arm wrapped around his wife. “My niece, Natalia, is mad about show jumping. We’re hosting the Oxfordshire County Show this weekend as a show of support.”
Alejandro scowled. A horse show?
His disappointment evaporated when he saw Cecily’s pale face. Meu Deus. Of all the weekends. Sebastien moved his gaze between the two of them. “Of course.” He bumped his head with his hand. “How bloody stupid of me. Of course you should ride, Cecily. I should have let you know. Borrow one of Natalia’s horses.”
Cecily pushed a smile to her face. “I’m taking a break from riding. Just for a short while with the engagement and my move to New York.”
“Well you must come out and cheer for Natalia. She’d be so thrilled.”
His fiancée didn’t flinch even though they’d announced the American world championship team today, the papers full of the news, rife with speculation as to why she hadn’t made it. Instead of focusing on her brilliant comeback in Geneva, the press had noted Cecily’s less than stellar year. He knew it was killing her but she didn’t let it show.
“I would enjoy that,” she murmured. “Of course.”
Sebastien sent them off to get settled in their room before cocktails, a staff member carrying their luggage.
“I didn’t know,” Alejandro said in a low voice.
Cecily lifted a shoulder. “It’s fine.”
* * *
It wasn’t fine. Cecily attempted to readjust her bearings as she and Alejandro were shown to a gorgeous suite on the second floor of the manor, decorated in pale blue and silver with a lovely balcony and luxurious en suite bathroom.
Part of her mental preparation for this weekend had been to promise herself she would not think about her career or family—the gaping holes inside of her threatening to tear her apart. Instead, she had been plunged right into the center of the world she was trying to avoid just as she was slated to put on a performance of adoring fiancée in front of Alejandro’s closest friends.
How was she supposed to do that with a horse show going on under her nose?
She walked to the window and took in the sprawling English countryside. Even now she could see them setting up the show course in the distance, the lush surrounding forestland providing spectacular scenery.
“This is for you.”
She turned to find Alejandro holding out a cream-embossed envelope. Swallowing back the jagged edge inside of her, she crossed to him, took the envelope and tore it open, reading her hostess’s sophisticated script.
Cecily,
I hope you will join me in the Rose Room for breakfast at eight tomorrow morning. I’ve invited Sadie and Calli. I’d like to take this opportunity to get to know all of you better.
Monika
Alejandro peered over her shoulder. “That’s nice. You’ll like Monika.”
She nodded. “I should have a bath so we aren’t late.”
She attempted to collect herself while immersed in lemon-scented bubbles up to her chin in the luxurious marble tub. Her interaction with Alejandro on the plane wasn’t helping.
He had been a rock in the center of the storm this past couple of weeks, there for her in every way. Sensing how disoriented she was, he’d given her carte blanche on her dream stables and worked side by side with her on the plans, an attempt she knew, to distract her, but one that had also thrown her into confusion.
She’d gotten to know him over those quiet dinners they’d shared talking and working through the plans. Had been able to see beneath some of those complex layers of his. Yes, he was tough and ruthless when it came to acquiring what he wanted, but she’d also seen more than a few glimpses of the man she’d met in Kentucky—the brutally honest, empathetic side of him with the strength of character she’d gravitated to. Leaned on.
If, as she was starting to believe, he was that man she’d met, why then was it so hard to take that next baby step in trusting him? Was she so afraid of being wrong again about someone after what Davis had done to her she didn’t trust her own judgment anymore, a fear Alejandro’s deception had exacerbated? Because she knew she couldn’t afford to be wrong in the decisions she was making right now with her life disintegrating around her?
Or was she more afraid of what it would mean if Alejandro was that man she’d thought he was? How powerfully drawn she was to him. That she could easily lose her head over him all over again, the one thing she could never do in this convenient arrangement of theirs.
She knew the next step was hers. She simply had no idea what to do.
She felt frozen. Paralyzed. Utterly unsure of how to proceed.
* * *
Cecily was too quiet. Alejandro had heard enough I’m fines uttered by females who were anything but in his lifetime to know she wasn’t fine. But she wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. He assumed it was the horse show on top of today’s announcement, but who knew? The guesswork was making him crazy.
He gave her some space as he took a shower and dressed in trousers and a pale blue shirt in deference to the evening’s casual attire. Space was what he needed when he was off balance. Maybe that’s what Cecily needed too.
Heading to the sitting room just as the clock struck seven, he stopped in his tracks at the sight of his fiancée, dressed and ready to go.
The sapphire silk dress finished far too high on her thighs in his opinion, a pair of sky-high silver stilettos setting off her toned, magnificent legs. There was only one thing a man wanted to do with a dress like that and you couldn’t do it in public.
She murmured something about being late. He tore his gaze away from her legs and found his shoes.
“You’re stiff as a board,” he said as he laced his fingers through hers and they walked down the massive, center staircase to the mezzanine.