The Buenos Aires Marriage Deal

by Maggie Cox

  ‘In the meantime Mr Dominguez said he’d like to talk to you in private…in his room.’

  The blonde’s curious glance spoke volumes, and inwardly Briana groaned. That was all she needed. Tina speculating that there was something going on between the gorgeous Argentinian and her boss! Then she remembered the slightly pink abrasion at the side of her neck—the parting gift that Pascual had left her with last evening—and her face and body briefly burned with self-conscious and guilty heat. Automatically she lifted her hand to tug the silk collar of her blouse closer to the skin there.

  ‘Well, then…you’ll have to go outside and repeat what you’ve just told me to our clients…Needless to say not the part about Pas—Mr Dominguez wanting to see me in his room!’

  Feeling her face flame at inadvertently almost exposing herself even more, Briana turned abruptly away and reluctantly—feeling as though she had lead in her shoes—ascended the staircase to the landing where Pascual’s suite was situated.

  Nibbling worriedly on her lip, she rapped smartly on the oak door.

  ‘Come in!’

  Giving her a briefly cold look, his sensual mouth bracketed by distinct displeasure, Pascual held the door wide to invite her in. Clothed from head to toe in stylish black once again, his indomitable maleness projected the arresting package of a man used to giving orders and being in charge—and heaven help anyone who dared to obstruct him.

  Briana’s anxiety went up several notches merely at the intimidating sight of him. Closing the door behind them, he followed her into the centre of the room. The maid had put fresh flowers into a huge white vase on the polished chiffonier, and the scent of lilies in particular lay on the air like an exotic and drugging perfume. It only took one glance into the disturbing midnight gaze before her and she knew she was in trouble.

  Just the same she ventured, ‘Why—why don’t you want to go to the polo match?’

  ‘Because my priorities have changed…as I am sure you are well aware.’

  Saying nothing in return, she sensed the atmosphere spark as dangerously as a flickering flame near a bale of straw.

  ‘You may well be silent!’ A muscle jerked briefly in the shadowed hard jaw. ‘Because I warn you that nothing you can say can alter the path I have resolved to take. When I leave for Buenos Aires in two days’ time you and my son are coming with me for an extended holiday—a holiday during which time a marriage between us will take place. The marriage that should have taken place five years ago!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard me. And when you return to the UK it will only be for the purposes of winding up your business and closing it down.’

  ‘Closing it down?’

  ‘Sí. It is in trouble anyway, is it not? It can only be a relief to put it behind you. Once you are back in Buenos Aires, instead of running a business you will have to get used to fulfilling the role of my wife instead. Do not worry, Briana…’ Pascual’s dark-eyed gleam was deliberately provocative ‘…there will be plenty to keep you occupied as far as that position is concerned. And that includes sharing my bed, mothering our son, playing hostess at any dinner parties I may give and being my unimpeachable escort at any social functions we may attend as I attempt to integrate you into my world. The world you clearly despise so much you could not bear to entertain being a part of it! You can quickly forget any ideas you may have had about remaining a single mother and raising our child on your own in England. That was in the past. Today is a new day, and from now on things are going to look very different for you. You can count on it!’

  Feeling as if a storm had just ripped off the roof of her house, Briana found the power of speech had temporarily eluded her. It was as though what she’d just heard had rendered her mute with shock.

  ‘Have you nothing to say?’ Pascual thrust his implacable jaw forward in annoyance.

  ‘Yes…I do.’ Her returning glance was wary. ‘I have plenty to say. But whether you’ll listen to it or not is another thing.’

  ‘I will listen. It does not mean that I will concur or change my mind.’

  ‘I understand that you want to be in Adán’s life, and that is your right as his father. But you can’t really be serious about us going back to Buenos Aires with you and the two of us getting married. We surely don’t have to go that far? And anyway…I can’t believe that you’d even want to marry me after what’s happened between us. It just doesn’t make any sense.’

  He scowled. ‘Well, it is certainly not because I have found I cannot live without you, or anything as ludicrous as that! No. I am doing this purely for the benefit of my son. The son you have denied me for the past four years. You are his mother, and even though you have not shown me the least respect in any way I will accord you respect and not let him down. No…I intend to become the father to Adán that I should have been right from the beginning—and if that entails marrying his treacherous mother, then—’

  ‘Treacherous?’ Briana’s grey eyes rounded in protest. ‘I never cheated on you…ever! If anyone showed any tendency to be attracted to other people, it was you!’

  ‘You are still holding a grudge about that ridiculous scene with Claudia?’ Pascual sighed with impatience. ‘What can I say that will convince you of the truth? I swear to you that she was drunk. Because I had broken up with her and she was mad at me, she wanted to make me look bad in front of you. I had not even realised you saw what happened! If I had you can be sure I would have talked to you about it and explained. But you never gave me the chance to do that, did you?’

  ‘I was too upset and shocked!’

  ‘And apparently you believed that I was just like your father! The reason I call you treacherous is that you made me a promise that you would become my wife, Briana. You did not keep that promise. Instead you left and made me look like a fool in front of everyone I cared about, and then kept the fact that you were pregnant with my son a secret up until now. Disloyal, duplicitous, untrustworthy…Treacherous is as good a word as any in your English vocabulary to describe your actions…would you not agree?’

  ‘Even if you think that, you can’t really expect me to go along with your plans without protest and simply do everything you command, Pascual. We’re not living in the Middle Ages, here, and I’m not going to agree with everything you say simply because I feel bad about what happened between us five years ago!’

  ‘So you feel bad, do you? At last! Some indication of regret!’

  ‘Of course I feel bad about what happened. Every day…watching Adán grow…I’ve thought about what he’s missing by not having his father in his life. I truly regret what I did as regards to that. But I wasn’t being vindictive or cruel by not contacting you about him. At the time…considering the strain I was under…I just did what I thought was right.’

  ‘It is my view that you did not employ any thinking at all in the matter! You purely reacted! I knew you could be impulsive and I liked that about you…but I did not guess in a million years that that impulsive nature of yours would lead you to take the drastic steps that you took five years ago.’ His blistering glance narrowed. ‘I have a question. Did you ever plan to contact me about Adán at all? What if business had not brought me to the UK this week? What if you had not been providing hospitality services at the same venue where my meeting was being held? Would you have let more time go by? Perhaps not getting in touch until our son was a grown man? Maybe not even then?’

  It was a terrible thought. And one that made Briana feel as if she had committed a crime that carried a life sentence. It was not the first time that the gravity of the decision she’d made in leaving Buenos Aires five years ago hit her so hard. But never before had it swept over her leaving such destroying hurt and regret in its wake. Faced with the flesh-and-blood reality of the handsome, vital man in front of her, she began to see exactly what she had done to him. Because of her he had suffered humiliation and torment—and he was suffering doubly now. Instead of going through with the marriage and committing herself to the man
she had truly loved she had let fear and doubt rule the day—and this scene that was akin to torture was the result.

  Again she wished that she’d had a better example of a man than her deceitful, cruel father…Whatever way she reflected on it, her actions had resulted in denying Pascual the opportunity of having a relationship with his own son. Even if he potentially might have strayed in their marriage—and Briana had to recall the devastation she had endured when she’d seen him in the arms of his ex in Buenos Aires and believed the worst—he surely didn’t deserve that? Breathing out a troubled breath, she moved a few paces towards him. With all her heart she wished she knew a way to make everything right again, but she realised that was like wishing she could turn back time. It was simply beyond human capability.

  ‘You were always there at the back of my mind, Pascual. I suppose I just got caught up in the day-to-day demands of trying to run a business and support myself and Adán,’ she explained. ‘And because so much time had gone by without us speaking I worried that if I did contact you, you’d either slam down the phone or…if I went to Buenos Aires…shut the door in my face!’

  ‘Knowing that I had a son? You really believed I would do that?’ With even more disbelief, Pascual dropped his hands to the lean, masculine hips encased in black corded trousers. ‘It makes me realise even more that you do not know what kind of man I am Briana. Words desert me at the idea that you thought I would not be interested in the fact that I had fathered a son with you!’

  Disturbed by the thought that clearly she hadn’t really known Pascual as well as she’d thought she had, and feeling a sense of shame wash over her, Briana lifted her shoulders uneasily. ‘What can I do to help make things right?’

  Levelling his black velvet gaze right at her, Pascual did not hesitate to illustrate. ‘Apart from doing as I outlined and coming back to Buenos Aires with me? You can arrange for a car to drive us to where you live so that I may at last become acquainted with my son!’

  ‘But that’s three hours away and another three back…You won’t make dinner tonight with our clients if we do that.’

  When she saw how Pascual received that particular piece of information, Briana instantly regretted speaking her thoughts out loud. But she hadn’t only been thinking of what her clients would say if he did not meet them for dinner as arranged. She was genuinely concerned for her son, and how he would cope if she suddenly arrived home with a man he’d never seen before and declared that he was his father!

  ‘Do you think I care about attending a business dinner over seeing my child for the first time?’ Pascual uttered furiously. ‘Tell them I will meet them in London tomorrow instead…they can name the venue. You can say that something of the utmost importance has called me away. Why not?’ The formidably broad shoulders beneath the perfectly fitted black shirt lifted in a dismissive shrug. ‘It is the truth.’

  ‘First I’ll have to ring my mother to tell her we’re coming. She’s been looking after Adán for me while I’ve been away this weekend.’

  ‘Do that—and then arrange for a car. I am anxious to get going as soon as possible.’

  ‘I have my own car here. I can drive us.’

  ‘Good. Then go and make your phone call and let us not waste any more time, hmm?’

  Clearly dismissing her, Pascual turned away to reach for the water jug and glass on the coffee table to pour a drink. Feeling as if her limbs had turned as fluid as the water in the jug, Briana moved towards the door and silently exited the room.

  Once outside, in the monastic quiet of the corridor, she briefly leant against the panelled wall, trying hard to stem the sudden onrush of fear and doubt that had overtaken her about the impending visit home. How would it be, she wondered, when father and son came face to face for the very first time? Her little son could be shy and uncommunicative even with people he knew—let alone strangers. How would Pascual react if his child appeared to reject him?

  Feeling for them both, she felt hot tears well helplessly behind her eyes and spill over onto her cheeks. Impatiently scrubbing at them with the heel of her hand, she pushed away from the wall and returned to her room to make the phone call…

  The house was situated down a pleasant tree-lined street in one of London’s less busy boroughs. It was a neat terraced property, painted white, and next to the other less bright edifices on either side of it easily stood out. As Pascual followed a definitely subdued Briana up the short path that led to the front door, with its pretty stained glass panelling, adrenaline shot through him like rapids at the prospect of meeting his little son.

  He’d quizzed her on the way about him, but she’d seemed almost reluctant to give him answers—just as if she was preserving the right to hold onto that information…as if she feared that if Pascual knew too much he would make it even harder for her to keep the boy to herself. It infuriated him that Briana was still reluctant to let him into their lives when all he wanted was the chance to be a proper father. Every bit of trust between them was gone. It had all been smashed into the dirt five years ago. And now they stood on either side of the ground they were both determined to capture—like warring factions in a souldestroying battle instead of the passionate lovers they had once been.

  As Briana let herself into the narrow hallway with her key, along with his great anticipation at meeting his son Pascual sensed the full extent of her betrayal of his heart as he had never sensed it before—and right then his soul had never felt bleaker…

  CHAPTER SIX

  HER mother was the first person to greet them. Her usually calm and attractive features looking strained, Frances Douglas glanced behind her daughter at the tall, startlingly good-looking man behind her and frowned. When Briana had told her that she was unexpectedly returning home early, and bringing Adán’s father back with her to visit, her ensuing soft intake of breath had spoken volumes.

  Whilst knowing that her mother wouldn’t unfairly judge any decision she made—and indeed had never judged her for leaving Buenos Aires so abruptly, calling off her planned marriage and returning home pregnant—Briana realised that this impromptu visit by Pascual would naturally fill her with anxiety about her daughter and grandson’s future…as it did Briana herself. But right this minute her heart was thumping like a full-blown percussion band inside her chest at the knowledge that Adán might run out into the hallway at any moment to set eyes on his father for the very first time…

  ‘Hi, Mum.’ Her gaze was quizzical as she kissed the older woman’s scented, powdered cheek. ‘Where’s Adán?’

  ‘Asleep on the couch. I took him swimming. They had all the inflatable toys out in the pool, and he was tired by the time I got him home. He’s been out for the count for about half an hour or so.’ Warily, Frances glanced up at the dark-haired Adonis who was currently making Briana’s tiny hallway resemble the entrance to a doll’s house instead of a normalsized dwelling. ‘I presume this must be—’

  ‘Pascual Dominguez.’ Standing aside to make the awkward introductions, Briana somehow made her lips form a smile. ‘Adán’s father. Pascual—this is my mother, Frances.’

  Catching the instantly disturbing drift of his expensive cologne as he extended his hand past her to greet her mother, Briana sensed his disapproval of her informality.

  Her intuition was proved right when he announced, ‘Mrs Douglas…it is good to meet you at last.’

  ‘As I’m sure you heard me tell Briana just now,’ her mother replied, ‘Adán is asleep and may not stir for a while.’

  ‘It does not matter. I have waited a long time already to see my son. I will wait as long as I have to until he wakes.’ This time Pascual made no bones about casting his meaningful gaze at Briana directly, so that she couldn’t mistake his displeasure with her.

  ‘Well…shall we go into the living room, then? That’s where he’ll be if he’s asleep on the couch.’

  ‘And in the meantime…shall I make some tea for us all?’ Frances suggested, her even-voiced tone acting as temporary balm to
the tension that had enveloped them all.

  ‘A cup of coffee would be most welcome…black, no sugar…gracias.’

  ‘And you, darling?’ Briana’s mother started to move towards the long galley kitchen at the end of the hallway, with its cheerful red and white checked curtains.

  Hardly able to think straight for the emotion that was tightening her chest, Briana answered distractedly. ‘Tea would be great—thanks.’

  ‘After you.’ Observing her glance towards the living room door, Pascual gestured that she precede him.

  In the small square room with its pine bookshelves crammed with books and CDs, its small television, compact music system and carpeted floor strewn with various children’s toys, her small son was lying asleep on the smaller of the two dark gold couches. His slumbering form was covered warmly with a cheerful patchwork rug Briana had made last winter. On the pillow his curly dark hair framed a sweetly heart-shaped face that wouldn’t shame an angel, she thought lovingly, her heart constricting with a surge of strong emotion as she gazed down at him.

  Sensing Pascual move next to her, she glanced up, her pulse racing hard at the realisation that his handsome face was equally affected. He was moved by what he saw. Adán was an exceptionally beautiful child, and people often stopped her in the street to tell her so. But then how could he not be beautiful when he had a father who looked like Pascual? Briana concluded.

  Straight away she knew that he could see that the boy was his. At least there would be no degrading speculation about paternity to deal with, on top of all the other accusations that he’d levelled her way, she mused with relief.

  ‘He looks not unlike myself as a small boy,’ he commented quietly beside her, the warmth in his voice replacing its previous chill.

  ‘He’s often mistaken for a girl with those lustrous curls!’ Briana smiled back. ‘But I can’t bring myself to cut his hair short yet.’

  ‘My mother would feel the same if she saw him. She had the same dilemma with me.’