Salazar's One-Night Heir

by Jennifer Hayward

  Antonio, looking far more introspective than he had earlier, waded in to suggest his had been about finding his son. Sebastien only inclined his head, saying that had been a bonus, but he needed to look deeper than that.

  The Italian laughed it off, as did they all because who knew where Sebastien’s head was really at? Who cared as the evening devolved into a series of bloodthirstily competitive games of snooker.

  Deep into the fifth frame, Sebastien stood by Alejandro’s side, eyeing the table while Stavros and Antonio refilled their glasses.

  “How was Kentucky?”

  “Successful.” Alejandro lined up a shot in his head. “Your cover was brilliant, obrigado. My grandmother will be happy now.”

  “And your soon-to-be wife?” Sebastien lounged back against the table. “I like her, Alejandro, a lot. She’s exactly what you need—a woman strong enough to stand up to you...to challenge you.” He lifted a brow. “Are you really prepared to detonate your relationship over an ancient feud?”

  “I’m working on a solution to that.” Alejandro took a sip of his whiskey, tilted his head back to absorb its mellow burn.

  “And if you don’t find one?”

  “I will.” He pointed his glass at the Englishman. “Why did you send me to Kentucky? It wasn’t about the wallets, I get that.”

  Sebastien set his dark gray gaze on him. “There’s more to life than proving you are a better man than your father, Alejandro. Justifying your net worth every single second of the day. Sometimes I think you get so caught up in that you forget who you are. What you are capable of.”

  His skin bristled. “I’m not trying to prove I’m a better man than my father, I am.”

  “No one would argue that.” Stavros inserted himself into the conversation as he and Antonio returned with their drinks. “Far too serious a topic,” he reprimanded Sebastien. “I leave for five minutes and look what happens. Tonight is about the game.”

  Alejandro couldn’t disagree. Stavros had dragged him away from his room at the worst possible moment. He was damn well winning this match.

  He did. His luck, however, had run out when he clambered up the stairs in the early hours of the morning to find Cecily, her silky blonde hair splayed across the pillow, curves plastered into a tantalizing piece of cream silk, fast asleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ALEJANDRO WAS UNCHARACTERISTICALLY still asleep when Cecily woke the next morning for her breakfast with the ladies. Still singed from their encounter of the night before, she averted her eyes from all the toned, olive-skinned muscle exposed right down to where the sheet cut across her fiancé’s lean hips and pointed herself in the direction of the bathroom instead.

  That would not help her composure, something she needed today. The pretty rose-colored dress she slipped on would. She did her hair and applied a light coat of make-up, then left Alejandro to sleep and descended the intricate, hand-carved, dark wood staircase to the main floor of the manor.

  Besieged by the sights and sounds of today’s festivities, her new-found composure was rattled before she’d even reached the bottom step. Horse caravans emblazoned with the rider’s names were arriving in the yard, sound systems crackled as they were tested and caterers flitted throughout the house, preparing for the lunch Monika and Sebastien were hosting for the riders and dignitaries—a lunch she and Alejandro had been asked to attend.

  Event day buzz had always energized and excited her. Today it tightened her stomach into a ball that refused to unwind. It felt as if the world, her world and everything in it was passing her by and there was nothing she could do about it. She wanted to be out there walking the course, thinking through strategy, chatting with her fellow riders. Instead she would merely be a spectator.

  Determined to master the day in spite of its wobbly start, she pasted a smile on her face and entered the Rose Room. She was the last to arrive, Calli looking lovely in a floral print dress while Sadie was elegant in yet another print that hugged her slender curves.

  Never the best at these feminine gatherings, she was happy to play with a piece of toast she didn’t really want and drink her tea while Calli regaled the table with an amusing tale of Stavros ending up in the pool the night before recovering a priceless bottle of sauterne Sebastien had tossed in.

  Monika laughed softly. “That’s the sort of thing they do. They thrive on challenging each other. Of course, this most recent challenge takes the cake.”

  That was when Cecily realized it wasn’t just Alejandro who had been undercover. So had Antonio, posing as a mechanic in the garage where Sadie had worked and Stavros, dispatched as a pool boy to the villa in which Calli had lived. The assignment, Monika reported, clearly assuming they’d known all about it, had ostensibly been for the men to go two weeks without their wallets, but Sebastien’s wife seemed sure there had been a deeper meaning to each of the individual challenges.

  To ruin her family. Cecily set her cup down with a rattle. This had all started as a game? She was too dumbfounded to speak. Guessing from the looks on the other women’s faces, she wasn’t alone.

  “What were the stakes in the bet?” she asked Monika.

  “If Sebastien won, the men would give up one of their most prized possessions. Alejandro’s private island, for instance. If Sebastien lost, he promised to donate half his fortune to charity.”

  “And all three men completed their challenges?”

  Monika nodded. “Sebastien will be making the announcement of the donation in a few weeks’ time. He plans to set up a global search and rescue team with it, something that’s close to his heart given his near miss last year.”

  Cecily’s head spun as Monika told the story of how Stavros, Antonio and Alejandro had dug Sebastien out of an avalanche. It was a gut-wrenching story, a noble endeavor Sebastien was embarking on, to be sure, but her brain was still caught up in the wager that had brought Alejandro to Esmerelda.

  She was trying so hard to get past what he’d done, how he’d deceived her. Had just begun to trust him, them, again. But to find out this had been part of a silly bet as her life fell apart at the seams? It made her head want to explode.

  * * *

  Alejandro eyed his fiancée over lunch on the terrace. She looked like some kind of pink confection in the dainty little dress, one he wanted to consume inch by inch. The smoke coming out of her ears, however, suggested the idea of a trip back to their room might not be well received.

  Biting back his impatience, he bent his head to hers, keeping his voice low given the dignitaries at their table. “I know that look. What are you so angry about?”

  “Your bet came up as a topic of conversation over breakfast.”

  Ah. He took his sunglasses off. Eyed her. “I didn’t tell you about it because it only complicated an already complex situation.”

  “You don’t say.” Her eyes flashed a brilliant blue fire. “Do you know how blindsided the three of us were? I felt like a fool.”

  He rubbed a hand against his pounding temple, the after effects of the whiskey lingering. “I should have told you. But it changes nothing about us Cecily—everything I’ve told you is the truth.”

  “The truth,” she derided, “is a subjective state of being for you, Alejandro.”

  Heat seared his belly. “It was an omission,” he said curtly, “not a mistruth.”

  “It was juvenile, ill thought-out and ill advised. Although Monika,” she added, voice dripping with sarcasm, “was quick to point out there was some deeper lesson you were all supposed to be learning. What was yours...revenge is sweet?”

  “Maybe it was that you are sweet, angel, as I seem to have acquired a high-maintenance fiancée along the way.”

  She made a sound at the back of her throat. Fixed her gaze on his. “And to think I was considering being intimate with you again. Trusting you, when life is
just a joke to you.”

  “I assure you,” he returned in a dangerously low voice, “I take all of this very seriously. I’ve done nothing but since our impetuous night in bed together landed us in this unfortunate...situation. It was an expensive move for both of us, querida, and the costs keep rising.”

  Her sapphire eyes snapped with fury. She put her nose in the air and began a conversation with a judge sitting across the table. He slid his sunglasses back on, muttering a curse beneath his breath. No way was he letting her derail them again—destroy what they’d begun building. This was ending now.

  He laced his fingers through hers as they left the lunch and headed for the show jumping ring to watch Natalia ride in her junior class. Cecily tugged on his hand. “We don’t need to be joined at the hip.”

  “Yes we do,” he replied evenly. “There are photographers everywhere. Now is not the time to regret your impulsive behavior, meu carinho.”

  Her chin came up. “And I expect you do?”

  “In this moment, sí.” He flashed her a blinding smile as a photographer pointed a camera at them.

  Her smile slipped as Natalia bounded up to them, wearing cream colored breeches and a red riding jacket. “Will you walk the course with me?” she asked Cecily, breathlessly. “I always get so nervous before a class I want to upend my stomach.”

  His fiancée dropped his hand and gave him a victorious look. “Sure. Jump on Sappho and show me her stride.”

  * * *

  Cecily walked the course with Natalia, focusing on the technical aspect of the test ahead of the young rider rather than the familiar, almost ritualistic routine she would have done anything to be a part of. She’d thought she might feel better contributing. Instead she felt more ragged inside with every step she took. More undone.

  When was it going to stop hurting so much? Because right now it felt like never.

  She managed to avoid the familiar faces she came across, including Virginia Nelissen, her arch rival on the Dutch team who was competing in a later class. Slipping out of the ring after wishing Natalia good luck, she went to watch in the VIP area with Alejandro and the rest of their group.

  The strategy she and Natalia had devised paid off. Cutting the corner at precisely the right angle, Natalia turned in a clear round with a very fast time and placed second in her class. Sebastien, radiating with pride, insisted they all join him and Monika for a celebratory drink in the tent he’d had erected for refreshments.

  It was über-hot in there, with the soaring afternoon temperatures, far too many people packed inside far too small a space. Cecily’s head throbbed, a band of tension encircling her skull. She really should have eaten more today but her stomach had been so off.

  She would find Natalia, congratulate her and leave. But that, of course, proved impossible. She and Alejandro got caught up in an endless round of chit chat with her old social set. Wrapping herself in an impenetrable shield, she allowed nothing and no one to permeate it, including her fiancé she was still furious with.

  She was discussing the course with a jubilant Natalia, intent on extracting herself imminently, when Virginia Nelissen tracked her down.

  “Cecily.” The current number six rider in the world enveloped her in a cloud of perfume and air kisses, causing Natalia to melt away into the crowd. “How did I not know you were going to be here?”

  “I’m not riding.”

  “Why ever not?’ Virginia, the circuit’s biggest gossip, gave her a speculative look. “It’s a fabulous course.”

  “I’m taking a break,” Cecily said woodenly. “That’s all.”

  “Oh,” said the Dutch rider, hazel eyes wide with feigned innocence, “I was worried the rumors were true.”

  Don’t bite, don’t do it, Cecily. She’s poison. But she couldn’t help herself.

  “What rumors?”

  “I heard the powers that be on the American committee were worried you’d lost your edge after the accident. That they didn’t think you were a good bet for the team.” Virginia lifted a shoulder. “I’m sure it isn’t true.”

  Or was it? Her stomach twisted as she remembered the closed-off conversation she’d had with the team chief. Did they think she was damaged goods? Was her career on the rocks? Once you had a reputation for being a broken rider, it tended to stick.

  Alejandro joined the two of them. She gave him a frozen look, remaining stiff under the arm he wrapped around her waist, the thick air in the tent closing in around her with every minute that passed.

  Confused, shattered, the heat pressing down on her lungs, it was all she could do to function on auto-pilot until Alejandro excused them and pulled her aside.

  “This whole routine is getting old,” he murmured in her ear. “You freezing me out, me trying to make this work. It was a bet, Cecily. Get over it.”

  Perspiration broke out on her brow. She swallowed hard as a wave of nausea rolled over her, noticing the curious looks Sadie and Antonio were directing their way. “Can we get out of here?” she asked sharply, biting back the bile that climbed her throat. “Your friends are watching us.”

  “When we’re finished here.” His ebony eyes blazed with heat. “You know you can trust me. I’m not going to let you derail us again, just when we’re finally getting somewhere.”

  A cold sweat enveloped her, a clammy film covering her skin. She dragged in a breath, but the air felt too thick, too heavy to speak.

  “Cecily.” Alejandro’s voice sharpened. “What’s wrong?”

  Darkness swirled around her, everything dissolving into a thick, gray fog. She swayed into him. “I—I can’t breathe.”

  * * *

  Alejandro cursed and slid an arm around Cecily’s waist. He couldn’t even see the exit through the crush of people. A glance back at her ash-colored face made his heart pound.

  Sinking his fingers into her waist, he hoisted her slight frame into his arms, and elbowed his way through the crowd. Shock guests gaped at them. Alejandro threw a laconic smile in Antonio’s direction. “Lovers quarrel,” he said loudly enough that everyone in the immediate vicinity could hear. “Only one way to solve this problem.”

  The crowd parted like the Red Sea. A blast of fresh air hit him as soon as he walked outside, making him realize how oppressively hot it had been in there for his pregnant fiancée. Furious at himself for being so insensitive, he carried Cecily up the hill and into the house. He didn’t stop until they were inside the cool, quiet confines of their suite, away from prying eyes.

  He set her down on the edge of the bed and made her put her head between her knees. “Breathe,” he instructed, sitting down beside her. She took a deep breath, then another. He made her continue until she was taking regular, even inhales of air.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” she said when she sat up, still pale but far less gray.

  “Would you have preferred I let you pass out in front of everyone?

  “No.” Her chin dropped. “But what are they going to think?”

  “That we are having sex.” He was amused to see that brought her full color back. “Why on earth didn’t you tell me how you were feeling?”

  “I thought it would pass. It usually does...but it was so hot in there. And,” she admitted, eyes on his, “I was angry with you.”

  His gaze darkened. He stood, walked to the sideboard and poured a glass of water from the crystal jug. Carrying it back to the bed, he handed it to her and sat down.

  She took a sip of the water. Exhaled with a deep sigh. “I told myself I was going to be tough today—prove I can get through this.”

  “You were tough. You walked that course with Natalia. You faced what must have been a difficult day head-on.”

  She shook her head. “I let Virginia get to me. She told me she’d heard a rumor—that the selection committee might not have p
icked me for the team. It...upset me.”

  “You can’t listen to that kind of conjecture,” he reprimanded. “She’s playing with your head, Cecily. You of all people know how cut throat the competition is.”

  “But she’s connected. What if it’s the truth?”

  “If it is, there’s nothing you can do about it except prove them wrong. Focus on what you can affect rather than what you can’t.” He arched a brow at her. “Remember what we talked about in Kentucky? You are the master of your own destiny. No one else.”

  “That’s just it,” she said quietly, “I can’t prove anything right now. I’m scared of what this year off—this baby—is going to do to my career.”

  His heart tugged at her vulnerability. “Your mother had you when she was young and remained highly competitive. You will do the same because you are just as fiercely competitive. You are a Hargrove.”

  A hint of her trademark stubborn defiance crept back into her blue gaze. “Use the year to get your stables up and running,” he advised. “Find another couple of horses to back up Bacchus and Derringer so when you come back, you come back even stronger than before. That’s what winners do. They build on their setbacks. They use them to make them stronger.”

  She eyed him. “Why do you always know exactly the right thing to say?”

  “Because I know what it’s like to be on top. What it’s like to be surrounded by people whose mission in life is to tear you down. Protect yourself by having an unshakeable vision. Don’t give the Virginias of the world the opportunity to steal your joy.”

  Her gaze darkened. She looked down at the glass she held balanced on her lap, the afternoon sun arcing off its finely cut crystal edges. “You asked me once who I was doing this for. I thought about it a lot after you left. I know now it’s for me. Of course it’s for my mother too,” she acknowledged, “but this dream, the dream to be the best that I have, comes from me, not from what I’m expected to be. Riding is who I am, Alejandro. It’s what I love. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

  “Then tune out the noise,” he said softly. “Follow your heart.”