The Billionaires' Brides Bundle

by Sandra Marton

  “It upsets her,” he’d explained.

  “Even though I abrogated it?”

  “Even though,” Lucas had replied, feeling as guilt-stricken as he had at the age of five, when he’d told a whopper of a lie about his governess, a box of chalk and a Velasquez that hung on the sitting room wall.

  All the more reason to come clean with Alyssa, he thought with growing urgency. And she would surely forgive him. She was happy; hadn’t she just said she was?

  Perhaps, given the choice, she would not have agreed to marry him three weeks ago but surely she would now.

  He had to tell her. Had to hear her answer. Suddenly it mattered more than anything in the world that she should want him for all the right reasons.

  “Lyssa,” he began, but she was already tugging him across the terrace, to the little entourage gathered around Felix’s wheelchair.

  “Your Highness,” she said, and made a perfect curtsy.

  Felix chuckled. “A lovely gesture, but you will be my granddaughter soon. Don’t you think it’s time you gave me a kiss and called me by my name?”

  Alyssa smiled and touched her lips to his forehead. “Felix. We’re happy to see you.”

  “And I am happy to see you, child. You will make a beautiful princess. My Lucas is a lucky man.”

  Alyssa reached for Lucas’s hand. “I’m lucky, too,” she said softly. “So lucky that I’ve decided to forgive you.”

  “Ah. That contract.”

  “That contract. Even that ridiculous marriage stipulation. Without it, I’d never have met Lucas.”

  “True. Still, I’m sure we’re both glad that I—”

  “Grandfather,” Lucas said quickly, “let me take you to the buffet. We have that chorizo you like so much, and wait until you see the size of the lobsters.”

  “It’s all right, mi hijo. I know you warned me not to mention the contract but your lovely novia is the one who brought it up and I’m glad she did. For weeks now, I’ve wanted to tell her how pleased I am she decided to ignore the fact that I abrogated the silly thing.”

  Lucas felt Alyssa’s hand stiffen in his.

  “Alyssa,” he said quickly, “amada, come into the house where we can talk.”

  Alyssa ignored him. “You made the terms null and void?”

  “Yes, of course. The first time you came to the hospital. You left, and Lucas asked me to do it.”

  “Lyssa,” Lucas said in the desperate tones of a man who sees his life flashing before him, “Lyssa, listen to me—”

  “I was glad to. By then, I knew Aloysius and I had meant well but that we’d done the wrong thing. So I agreed to abrogate the contract and let Lucas handle things on his own. You know, pay the arrears owed the bank and deed the land to you. And, of course, that invalidated that marriage stipulation but you know all this, dear child.” Felix smiled. “And, to my delight, you chose to marry my grandson anyway.”

  For a long moment, Alyssa didn’t move. Then she swung toward Lucas and he knew he would never forget what he saw in her face.

  “You lied to me,” she said in a shocked whisper.

  “No. Yes. I mean…” Lucas shook his head. “I wanted you. That was all I could think of, that I wanted you and that without the stipulation, you might leave me.”

  “So you lied.”

  “Amada. It was not that simple.”

  “Oh, it’s very simple. And very understandable. Why wouldn’t you lie? That’s the way people deal with me, isn’t it? My mother. My father. And now you.”

  “Damn it, you’re not listening. I wanted you to marry me.”

  “You wanted.” Her voice shook. Lucas reached for her, tried to draw her into his arms, but she jerked free of his hands, her head high, her eyes glittering with tears. “You wanted, and that made the lie appropriate.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re overreacting.”

  “You lied, Lucas. Everyone lies, and nobody gives a damn what effect those lies have on my life.”

  “All right. I made a mistake. That doesn’t change the fact that you’re happy with me. That you want to marry me. That we belong together.”

  The minutes slipped away. Then Alyssa took a steadying breath.

  “Did it ever occur to you that I’m as happy as possible under the circumstances, Your Highness? That given a choice, an honest choice, I might just as well have told you to go to hell?”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “You’re the one who lies, Lucas. Not me.”

  Her words were like a slap in the face—but a welcome one. The land. The ranch. That was all she’d ever wanted. Maybe he’d known that, in his heart. Maybe that was why he hadn’t told her the truth.

  She’d wanted everything he could give her…

  But not him.

  When she ran for the house, he took his time. And when he finally reached their bedroom and found her already dressed in trousers, boots and a T-shirt, he looked at her and wondered why he’d thought she was the center of his life.

  It made it easy to reach for the phone and arrange to send her home.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THERE were certain absolutes in life.

  Not many. A man learned that early on. Still, there were a few things that never changed.

  New York in August was one of them.

  In those hot, sticky dog days of summer, the city turned into a different place.

  The streets were still crowded but with tourists, not New Yorkers. The city’s residents fled to the Hamptons or Connecticut. The ones with reason to be in town stayed indoors, where air-conditioning provided merciful relief.

  Unless it stopped working, Lucas thought grimly as he pounded along the indoor track at the Eastside Club, where the AC had given up an hour ago.

  That hadn’t stopped him.

  He’d flown into the city in early morning, met with an investment banker who’d needed reassurance his billions would be well-spent, thought about what to do next…

  And had ended up here.

  No particular reason for it, he told himself as he pulled the towel from around his neck and wiped the sweat from his face without ever breaking stride. It was just that he was in the States for the first time in a couple of months. No particular reason for that, either. He just hadn’t had any cause to visit the U.S.A.

  Now there was. He’d come over on business and, after a long meeting, a workout at the quiet, exclusive club seemed a good idea.

  Lucas’s jaw tightened.

  Who was he trying to kid? He’d sent his second-in-command to the States three times instead of flying over himself. The pressure of work, he’d told himself, but that was just bull.

  So was lifting weights and running laps when it was ninety degrees outside and probably more than that inside, unless a man had the inclination to end up in an emergency room, but it was the only way he could think of to clear his head and keep from thinking about what had happened the last time he was in the States.

  Alyssa.

  Why did he waste time on such nonsense? She’d left him two months ago and, except for his admittedly wounded pride, he’d forgotten all about her.

  He never thought of her anymore.

  Never. Never. Nev—

  “Mierda,” Lucas growled and swung off the track, to the locker room.

  An hour later, showered, dressed in mocs, chinos and a pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the collar open, he sat in the mercifully dark, mercifully chilly confines of a local bar, an icy bottle of ale in front of him.

  He felt much, much better.

  Why hadn’t he done this in the first place? Not only headed here but phoned Nicolo and Damian to see if, by some minor miracle, they were in the city, too.

  They were. And—

  “Reyes, what in hell are you doing in the outer reaches of hell in mid-August?”

  Lucas rose to his feet, grinned and held his hand out to Nicolo. Prince Nicolo Barbieri, to be exact, one of the two best friends a man could ever have.<
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  “Nicolo.”

  The men grinned at each other, then embraced.

  “Still ugly as ever,” Lucas said.

  “That’s just what I was thinking about you,” Nicolo countered. “Man, it’s great to see you. What’s it been? Six months?”

  “Eight,” another male voice said, “but who’s counting?”

  Damian Aristedes—Prince Damian Aristedes—flashed a grin and grabbed his two oldest friends in a bear-hug.

  “Nicolo. Lucas. How the hell are you guys?”

  “Good,” both men said with one voice.

  The three old pals settled into the wooden booth. The bartender, who’d known them for a long time, appeared almost instantly with two more bottles of cold ale. Lucas nodded his thanks, then turned to his buddies.

  “Amazing,” he said, “that the three of us should be in New York at the same time.”

  “This time of year,” Damian said, “who’d have believed it?”

  “Business goes on, no matter the weather,” Nicolo said.

  Damian nodded. Then a sheepish smile angled across his mouth.

  “Truth is,” he said, “Ivy read about an exhibit at the Museum of Natural History. A butterfly room, you know, one of those things you walk through and the butterflies swoop all around you? I suggested waiting until fall but she said the baby was at just the right age, so—”

  “I know what you mean,” Nicolo said. “Aimee found out about a baby tiger at the Bronx Zoo. I said, great, we’ll fly over when the weather cools. She said yes, but the tiger would be bigger then and so would little Nickie.”

  “Priorities change,” Damian said softly.

  Nicolo nodded. “And for the better.”

  The two men grinned at each other. Then Damian turned to Lucas.

  “But not for our hold-out.”

  Lucas raised his eyebrows. “Hold-out?”

  “Lucas Reyes. Our perennial bachelor-in-residence. Still haven’t found the right woman, huh?”

  “You mean, I still haven’t been trapped. Not that you two were,” he added hastily. “I just meant that marriage isn’t for every man.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Nicolo said.

  Damian smiled. “Same here, but I was wrong.” He took a long, cool swallow of his ale. “So, Lucas. What brought you to the city?”

  “Business.”

  “Ah. I thought maybe it was a woman.”

  “Why would it be a woman?”

  “Just a thought.”

  “Business, is why I’m here.”

  “Yes. So you—”

  “There’s not a woman in the world I’d come all this distance to see.”

  Nicolo and Damian exchanged quick looks. Was Lucas’s tone just a little grim?

  Nicolo shrugged. “Of course there isn’t. As Damian said, you’re our perennial bach—”

  “I’d never get that deeply involved.”

  His pals shared another glance.

  “No,” Damian said, “we understand that.”

  “I’m finalizing a deal with a banker. Very hush-hush. He wanted some verbal hand-holding. He suggested flying over to Spain.” Lucas reached for his ale, saw that the bottle was empty and signaled for another. “But I said, why go to all that trouble? I can be in New York in just a few hours.”

  “Absolutely,” Nicolo said carefully. “Far better to hold your meeting here, where you could fry an egg on the sidewalk, than to sit on the patio at Marbella enjoying a breeze from the sea.”

  Lucas looked up, his eyes flat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s only an opinion.”

  “Yes, well, your opinion is way off the mark.”

  “Dio,” Nicolo said dramatically, “you mean there is no more sea breeze at Marbella?”

  Damian started to laugh, saw Lucas’s face and changed the laugh to a cough.

  “Very amusing, both of you.” Lucas waited until the bartender put the new bottle of ale in front of him and removed the old one. “It was simpler to hold the meeting here.” He paused. “And if you want to fry eggs on sidewalks, the place to do it is the southwest.”

  “Florida, from what I hear. I once read an article and this guy said—”

  “It’s so hot in Texas,” Lucas said, “you could definitely fry an egg on the sidewalk.”

  His friends blinked. “Texas?” Nicolo said.

  “If they had any sidewalks in Texas, that is.”

  “Hey, Austin and Dallas and a lot of other places would be pretty upset to hear you say—”

  “Texas,” Lucas said coldly, “is nothing but sagebrush and rattlesnakes baking under the sun.” He took a long swallow of ale, frowned and signaled to the bartender that he needed another bottle. “If I never see it again, it’ll be too soon.”

  This time, the look Nicolo and Damian exchanged began with What’s he talking about? and ended with Maybe we better find out.

  “You have something personal against Texas?” Nicolo asked with caution.

  “Why the hell would I?”

  “Well, I don’t know, it’s just that you sound as if—”

  “I met a woman in Texas.”

  Just like that, what had been gnawing at Lucas’s gut all day, hell, all day every day since Alyssa left him, was right there in the open.

  Nicolo looked at Damian. Your turn, the look said. Damian sighed, then cleared his throat.

  “And?”

  “And,” Lucas said, nodding his thanks at the bartender when the guy delivered a new bottle of icy ale, “and, nothing. Just, I met a woman a couple of months ago. In Texas. That’s all.”

  Damian folded his arms and glared at Nicolo, who gave an imperceptible nod.

  “That’s all? You met her a couple of months ago and now you hope you never see Texas again?”

  “Damn right.”

  “Does she have a name?”

  “Alyssa. Alyssa Montero McDonough. Look, forget I said anything. The lady’s history. She doesn’t mean a thing to me.”

  “Oh. Well, in that case—”

  “We met because my grandfather said he wanted me to buy a horse, except it turned out what he’d wanted me to buy was a bride.”

  Damian opened his mouth. Nicolo kicked him in the ankle.

  “Well, of course, I’m not an idiot. I wasn’t about to get trapped into marriage. I told that to Alyssa. I kept right on telling it to her, even after I took her to Spain.”

  This time, it was Damian who kicked Nicolo.

  “I ended up doing some stupid things. Incredibly stupid,” he said, his voice turning husky. He looked up, jaw set, clearly ready for trouble. “And then Felix said something he shouldn’t have and the lady in question showed her true colors and left.”

  His friends waited. Lucas drank some ale. After a couple of minutes, Nicolo took a breath, then expelled it slowly.

  “She went back to Texas?”

  Lucas nodded.

  “And you said, good riddance.”

  “Of course.” Lucas frowned. “Well, I thought it.”

  “But you never said it to her face.”

  “No.”

  More silence. Damian knew it was his turn to take a stroll on the exceedingly thin ice.

  “So, is that the problem? I mean, is that why you’re in this mood?”

  “Mood? What mood?” Lucas demanded, and then he shrugged. “Yes. Maybe. Probably. Idiot that I was, I let her tell me off but I never—”

  “You never reciprocated.”

  “Exactly.”

  Nicolo and Damian looked at each other.

  “You know,” Nicolo said slowly, “not that it’s any of my business, but—”

  “Right,” Damian said. “I mean, I’m pretty sure Nicolo’s going to give you the same advice I would.”

  “Closure,” Nicolo said, and Damian nodded.

  Lucas looked at them. “Closure?”

  “Sure. Go to Texas. Confront the lady. Tell her what you should have told her when she walked out.” />
  Lucas said nothing. He lifted the damp bottle and made interlocking circles on the tabletop.

  “You think?”

  “Of course,” said Damian. “Fly to Texas, tell the lady what’s on your mind. Right, Barbieri?”

  Nicolo gave a quick nod. “Abso-freaking-lutely.”

  A muscle jumped in Lucas’s jaw. “You’re right. I should have thought of it myself. I need closure. I need to tell Lyssa—”

  “I thought it was Alyssa,” Damian said, and waited for a kick in the ankle that never came.

  The muscle in Lucas’s jaw twitched. “I called her Lyssa when I thought…Never mind that. Thanks for the advice, both of you.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what friends are for.”

  The three men got to their feet, shook hands, clutched shoulders, threw friendly jabs at each other’s biceps. Lucas reached for his wallet and they waved him away.

  “Just go,” Damian said.

  They watched him stride through the bar and out the door. Then Nicolo grinned.

  “The poor bastard,” he said softly. “He’s in love!”

  Damian grinned back at him. “And another one bites the dust,” he said, and waved the bartender over for celebratory shots of Grey Goose.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ALYSSA was not in a very good mood.

  Even that assessment was generous.

  She was in a miserable, horrible, don’t-even-talk-to-me mood, and there was no good reason for it.

  Life was definitely on the upswing.

  The bank and the tax collector were off her back. El Rancho Grande was hers. She’d wasted all of two minutes debating whether or not to let the Reyes deal go through and accept the deed from the Spanish prince.

  Her mouth thinned as she slipped the bridle over Bebé’s massive black head.

  Two minutes had been too long.

  Felix Reyes had agreed to buy El Rancho Grande; Aloysius had agreed to sell it. The arrangement had been legitimate enough except for the ridiculous marriage clause. There were times she still felt as if she’d been the victim of a tasteless joke but so what?