“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 sceptical 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 forrich 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,” t
he 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.”
Ricardo ground his teeth with anger and revulsion. “What exactly do you think you’re going to achieve by breaking in here and slandering my wife? You’ve never even met her. Have you no dignity? I’ll say this once and for all—I am not interested in you.”
She placed the bottle of brandy onto a nearby wooden dresser with deliberate precision. “Oh but I have met her, darling. We went to the same school. Talk about a small world. Who’d have thought you’d end up marrying the local druggy tart? Of course, I’m sure she’s cleaned up her act these days, but could you credit it? Marshall never got caught shifting the stuff in that barn, but that was where plenty of unsuspecting college kids got hooked. And then she sent the big boys in when they couldn’t pay up. ”
“You’re mad, psychotic.”
“It must be an Almanza thing, drawn to the same sort of colorful women,” she said excitedly. “Brave old you, Ricardo, you finally managed to tame her, but don’t get yourself into a total pickle like Primeiro, will you, darling? We all saw the headlines at head office when that happened. Such a tragedy. She may seem sweet, but she’s not. I’d hate to see history repeating itself. One family destroyed is enough, you have no idea what she’s capable of.”
“I’ve heard enough of your disgusting lies.”
“You don’t believe me, do you?” She threw her phone down onto a sofa and began to unbutton her blouse.
“Of course I don’t believe you, you’re just being malicious. A stalker gone mad with jealously.”
“Then I suggest you ask your beautiful new bride all about it.” She peeled off her top to reveal a scarlet lace bra, and dropped it on the floor. “Ask her about Roger Humby in the barn and then watch your little bride blush.”
“I can destroy you, Kat.”
She pouted. “Don’t call me Kat anymore. I hate that common name.”
Ricardo clenched his fists as she slipped the bra straps down over her shoulders. “I can think of a few names that would suit you right now.”
She began to slide down the zip of her skirt. “Call me baby,” she breathed and licked her lips. “Or your bitch…”
“Stop this ridiculous charade immediately!”
“You don’t mean that, Ricky. I know you don’t,” she said and stepped out of her skirt as she drew closer. “I wore my best underwear for you, darling. She’d never do that for you, not in a million years, but I will. I’ll do anything.”
Ricardo gave her shoulder a firm shove with the flat of his hand as she reached out to touch him. “Then put your clothes back on, get out, and stay away from us or you’ll regret it.”
She glared at him and there was a silent impasse until she sulkily picked up her skirt. “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we? Well, good luck with Miss Snooty Drawers and when it’s all over, you now have my number. Tell that Rottweiler secretary of yours to put me through next time.”
He nodded towards the brandy bottle. “How much of that have you had?”
“Nothing yet. I pinched it from your miserable cook when she wasn’t looking, Thought we could enjoy it together. In bed.”
“You thought wrong. You’re fit to drive, so…” He thrust her blouse at her. “Drive away fast before I call the police.”
“But the Condesa—”
“I’ll deal with her.”
“You know where I am,” she said defiantly over her shoulder as she went to leave. “And I’ll do anything, remember. Anything…”
Once out of sight, Ricardo slammed down the silent phone he’d been clutching throughout the clumsy striptease, his head ready to burst with anger and confusion. Could there be any truth in what she had said? Was it possible that Helen had been involved with drugs? The woman he had fallen in love had been a supplier? Like the scum that had lived off his brother’s wife before it destroyed her?
He angrily threw the phone onto the polished table and it slithered with a crash to the floor. If that were true, Helen was probably responsible for destroying others’ lives and families. If it hadn’t been for dealer trash like that he would still have a brother and a mother, maybe even his dad would still be alive. And Pirro…poor innocent little baby Pirro would have grown up with his real parents.
This couldn’t be happening! Just ten minutes earlier he’d had been on the verge of asking Helen Marshall to remain his wife, because he had fallen in love with her. But how could that happen now, with so many questions that needed to be answered? How could he explain to Pirro that he had married such a woman, a woman who peddled death, one of the parasites of the world were responsible his parents’ deaths? Ricardo’s love for her could never be enough to get him through that sort of emotional storm.
His blood ran cold as his mind began to race faster. If there was any truth to this, who was to say Helen was off the drugs? They’d met in Ibiza, the White Isle, where sex, drugs, and parties were the norm. She’d been his captive for a couple of weeks and, now he thought about it, she was behaving strangely. Irritable, irrational, especially about that stupid old handbag. The handbag she took with her everywhere… she was agitated they’d left it behind at their picnic. What could it contain that was so important to her that he couldn’t easily replace? Or wouldn’t replace. His heart turned to stone. Could her behavior be withdrawal symptoms? It would explain everything, including the money. One million euros on ‘bills.’ Some bills…
Ricardo slammed his hands painfully onto his desk in a desperate attempt to feel something, anything but the sickening lurch in his stomach.
How could he have screwed up so badly? Maybe it was genetic, this male Almanza self-destructive tendency, their weakness for evil women. His smart big brother hadn’t spotted it, neither had Dad, so why the hell did Ricardo think he was immune? Arrogance, that was why. Arrogance and stupidity. He had always lambasted gullible people, but look at the bloody state of him now. On his knees, emotionally. He was a disaster.
“I’m not accepting this,” he muttered to the empty room and was disturbed by the emotion in his own voice. “I’m not going to let this happen.” He had to clear this up, give her a chance to prove that it was all a pack of lies. It had to be lies.
…
Ricardo reached the terrace and silently watched Helen pour herself another glass of wine. The bottle was half-empty already.
“You made it back then,” Helen said when he appeared next to her. “I suspected you’d be gone a
ll afternoon attending to ‘business’.”
“Obviously,” Ricardo said with a frown and glanced at the bottle. “But we need to talk.”
“Oh not about the rights and wrongs of property development again, please,” Helen said, and took a large drink from her glass.
“No.” He put his elbows firmly onto the table. “I want to talk about Roger Humby.”
Helen’s head jerked backwards in surprise and then she couldn’t stop an incredulous laugh escaping. “Oh, I can guess who you’ve been talking to! Popped in to see you too, did she? It really is a small world when it comes to backhanded property development, isn’t it?” She didn’t think she could stomach his deceit much longer, not when he was looking at her with the beautiful hazel eyes that never failed to melt her resolve. Until now, the bastard. He’d obviously been cooking up his next move with Lidia, Kat, whatever persona she’d been using to get to him. Right under her nose practically, the pair of them. What nerve! Perhaps they’d planned today’s horrible visit together from the very start. What next? Blackmail?
“You don’t deny knowing her?”
“Of course not, why should I? We were in the same year at school.”
“Best friends, I heard.”
“Hardly that,” Helen said. “She was queen of all the bullies. Still is. And I guess it’s now safe for me to believe her when she says that you two have also met?”
Ricardo nodded. “It’s a small world.”
“Isn’t it? I’m surprised you haven’t invited her to join us here for cocktails. Or dinner maybe, that would really make my day.”
“She left some time ago,” he said and then his voice grew quiet. “You partied, you two? In your parents’ barn?”
“Only in a small way and it happened in everybody’s barn,” Helen said and pushed her sunglasses back on her head. She didn’t care if he noticed her eyes were dull and red. “I don’t know what she’s been telling you, but it’s bound to be an exaggeration. She was never invited to our little parties, even her brother couldn’t stand her in those days.”
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