Appearancewise, she couldn’t have been more different from how she looked now in her expensive tight red dress with the plunging neckline that showcased her creamy cleavage and matching red heels. As soon as she’d been given access to his bank account, her style had changed dramatically, her wardrobe suddenly full of impeccable designer items.
Tonight, her long, thick hair had been dyed a warm blonde but he had no doubt it would be a different colour in a few weeks. Her hair changed more frequently than her ever-shifting career choices.
Her perfectly made up green eyes blinked rapidly as she pulled her generous lips into a tight white line. She reached out an imploring hand before quickly letting it drop. ‘You’re the only one who can help me. I’ve finally found a bank prepared to invest in the project but they’ll only give me the rest of the funds if you act as guarantor.’
‘What the...?’ He bit away the oath that jumped on his tongue and glared at her, ignoring the plea ringing from her eyes. ‘That’s even worse than asking me for money outright. You must be mad if you think I would guarantee money on any business venture you embarked on. After all, I threw away millions of euros during our marriage on your failed ventures—’
A thought occurred to him. ‘Why would the bank manager request I act as your guarantor? We’ve been separated for two years. Our divorce, which I remind you has come at your instigation, will be finalised in a few weeks.’
Her teeth sank sharply into her bottom lip and she cast her eyes down in a decidedly shamefaced manner. ‘I...’
‘What did you do?’ His wife was nothing if not impulsive. She could have done anything.
‘I...I told him we’d got back together.’
‘You did what?’
She met his gaze with a cringe. ‘I didn’t know what else to do...’
‘Let me get this straight—you told a bank manager we were back together so you could get investment on your latest hare-brained project?’
‘It is not hare-brained,’ she protested hotly, displaying the first real hint of fire since she’d gatecrashed the party. ‘Without the funding, the children have nowhere to go.’
‘That is not my problem.’ The anger that had been simmering within him pushed to the surface. ‘I don’t care what lies you’ve told, I want nothing to do with it and nothing to do with you. This is your mess and your responsibility to sort out. Goodbye.’
Leaving her standing there open-mouthed, he strode away. He hadn’t got more than a few metres before she called out to him.
‘It isn’t too late for me to sue for a slice of your fortune, you know.’
He came to an abrupt halt.
Now the truth of this meeting was revealed.
‘Our divorce isn’t final yet. I can call my lawyer Monday morning and tell him I’ve changed my mind and now want the large settlement he said I could have.’
Slowly he turned to face her, heart thundering, his brain burning. She dared to threaten him?
He did not take threats from anyone, especially not the woman who’d shared his bed for three years and milked him for everything she could before walking out on him.
‘Yes, you can call your lawyer and, yes, a court will probably compel me to give you some of what you ask for. I’ve always been generous with you—it was your choice not to ask for more than I’d already given.’ He’d been suspicious to find she didn’t want more of his wealth than the ten million euros. Probably she’d seen all the zeros in her account and assumed it would last for ever. He was surprised it lasted as long as it had.
Somehow he found himself right back in front of her with no memory of his legs having moved.
‘Any court case will take months, if not years, to settle so will come too late to save your latest business.’ He allowed himself a smile as he leaned down to place his face inches from hers so she could follow his lips and their meaning more closely. ‘In the meantime, you will have ample time to consider the folly of your extravagant ways and the consequences of your lies.’
This time he walked away without her calling him back.
As he rejoined the party the sight of her hurt, shocked face played heavily on his mind.
His date, Jessica, stared at him coolly, taking a long drag of her cigarette. ‘What was that about?’
He looked at her. They’d been dating for almost a month, his first foray into the dating world since Charley had walked out.
Jessica was tall, lithe and beautiful, regularly featuring at the top of sexiest women polls. She was poised, cool and considered, and looked fantastic on his arm.
Charley was inches shorter and considerably curvier. She was warm and impulsive with a laugh that warmed you to hear it. She smelled of fresh vanilla.
He could still smell her now.
‘Well?’ Jessica demanded, crunching her cigarette out in the ashtray.
Charley had always smelled gorgeous, especially first thing in the morning when the vanilla had turned to musk and mingled with the scent of their night’s lovemaking.
He hated the smell of smoke. Was it any wonder he’d been loath to even kiss Jessica?
A dart of red crossed the periphery of his vision. He turned his head to see Charley hurry back into the hotel. Even from this distance he could see the dejection in her demeanour.
Forcing a smile at Jessica, he ignored her question. ‘One more drink and then we’ll make a move.’
Not giving her the chance to respond, he headed back into the hotel and the heaving function room. As he fought his way to the bar, bypassing the waiting staff and their trays of champagne—he needed something much stiffer than that to drink—he kept an eye out for a vision in red but she was nowhere to be seen.
Charley had gone.
CHAPTER TWO
CHARLEY FORCED A polite smile and an even politer adiós, and left the bank manager’s office. Her chest felt so tight she struggled to breathe. Swallowing in a vain attempt to open her airways, she stepped into the lobby of the enormous building that housed her bank and a dozen other institutions, and headed straight to the ladies’ room, locking herself in the nearest cubicle.
It was over.
The manager had been as good as his word. Without Raul to act as guarantor, there would be no loan.
She’d known her chances of getting the manager to change his mind had been slim but had refused to be defeated. Slim was a better chance than zero.
And now it was all over. That last glimmer of hope had died. Zero chance had become reality.
Clamping a hand over her mouth, she stifled a sob.
Despite all her efforts, Poco Rio would lose its home and close.
Those poor children. Whatever she felt was nothing in comparison to how it would affect them and their families. God alone knew they’d already suffered enough in their short lives.
She had to hold her hands up and admit defeat. There were no avenues left to explore. She’d done everything she could, even turning to Raul for help.
Another sob formed in her throat as she recalled how he’d thrown her desperate plea back in her face. She’d never have believed he could be so heartless, had had no idea he was still harbouring the fury that had underpinned the end of their marriage. Then, his fury, his loss of control, would have been frightening if her own anger hadn’t matched his.
How clearly she remembered the reasonable tone he’d always adopted when discussing her failings. ‘Cariño,’ he’d said, ‘it is time for you to accept you are not business-minded. You have tried but now it is time for us to make the family we once talked of having.’
She remembered even more clearly how her blood, her skin, her bones—every part of her—had chilled at his words.
Bring a baby into this marriage?
Up until that point, having children was something she’d looked f
orward to having but in the future, after she’d found her niche in life.
Her own mother had worked hard to put food in Charley’s belly. The fact she’d thrown away all her mum’s hard work in her teenage years was something she’d become deeply ashamed of and determined to rectify. When she had a child of her own, she wanted her baby to look up to her. She didn’t want her own children comparing their parents and seeing a father who was a roaring success and a mother who was a dismal failure. She wanted her husband and children to be proud of her, to see her as a successful woman in her own right.
It hadn’t been on her mind to leave him but when she’d tried to explain why this still wasn’t the right moment to have a baby, everything had turned on its head and somehow they’d been in each other’s faces, shouting words she no longer remembered in detail but remembered the meaning behind.
Gold-digger and failure were two of his choice accusations that still rang clear and still had the power to make her stomach contract with pain. Those accusations had hurt terribly. She’d tried so hard to make a success of those businesses, had been desperate to impress him with something other than her body. But she had reached too high, she could see that now. Desperation had clouded her judgement; she had reached the stage where she couldn’t see the wood for the trees. The trees had become so thick she couldn’t see a way out either.
And then he’d told her to leave.
It had been like a light bulb going off in her skull. All the things she’d been in denial about had come to the forefront and with them had come the realisation that she couldn’t do it any more. She couldn’t be the woman he’d tried to shape her into being.
By the time she’d finished packing, he’d calmed down enough to tell her, not ask her, that he wanted her to stay. But it had been too late. Raul wanted perfection and she was far from perfect. She’d known as clearly as she knew her own name that their marriage was dead.
So why did she feel so heartsick to think about him? Why did she feel not just upset that he’d thrown her pleas for help back at her but a bone-deep misery that had stopped her eating more than a slice of toast since the party two days ago?
Only when she was certain she could keep the threatening tears at bay long enough to return home did Charley leave the ladies’ room, making sure a smile lay on her lips. That was one of the things the decorum tutor Raul had employed had drilled into her: always show a pleasant demeanour whatever the circumstances. Image was everything to the Cazorlas.
Her head ached, hurting much worse than the time she’d swallowed too large a lump of ice cream and got brain-freeze. The brilliant Valencian sunshine magnified it and she shielded her eyes as she stepped outside.
Her car was parked around the corner but before she could walk to it her vision cleared and she made out the tall figure leaning against an illegally parked silver Lotus at the front of the building, arms crossed over his broad chest.
‘Raul?’
For a moment she was too stunned to move or say anything else.
Seeing him in full daylight, gorgeous in a dark blue suit and light blue shirt that made the colour in his eyes gleam, threatened to knock what little stuffing she had left out of her heart.
This wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be. Over the years Raul had wined and dined all the major players of the Spanish banks. He had all the best contacts. His web covered everywhere.
He’d probably known the outcome of her meeting before she had.
Suddenly it became clear what he was here for.
She marched over to him. ‘Here to gloat, are you?’
He unfolded his arms and straightened, his pale blue eyes fixed on her without expression.
‘No, cariño.’ The faintest of smiles tugged at his sensuous lips. ‘I’m here to offer you a lifeline.’
She studied him carefully, trying to read his face.
‘What kind of lifeline?’ she asked, not hiding her wariness.
‘The kind of lifeline that will save your centre.’
Raul watched a dozen emotions flitter over her pretty face as she digested his words.
‘You’re going to help me?’
He allowed himself another smile and opened the passenger door of the Lotus. ‘Get in and we’ll discuss the matter.’
‘Tell me where to go and I’ll meet you. I’ve got my own car here.’
She could drive now? That was news to him.
‘If you want the lifeline for the centre that means so much to you, I suggest you get in. This is a one-off discussion. When I leave, the offer of my help leaves with me.’ Not waiting for a reaction, he sidled round and got into the driver’s side.
It was only when he shut his door and fastened his seat belt that Charley galvanised herself into action, jumping in beside him and shutting the passenger door with a slam.
He put his sunglasses on before turning to face her, taking stock of the designer black suit she wore and the way her hair hung loose around her shoulders. It surprised him to find her make-up-free bar a touch of eyeliner and mascara. His wife normally made her face up so artfully that not the slightest imperfection showed; at least she had after she’d been given access to his bank account and had hit the high-class department stores. When he’d first met her she’d been as fresh-faced as she was today.
His loins tightened as he caught her vanilla scent. He’d been imagining that scent since she’d gatecrashed the party.
She stared right back at him, confusion and suspicion vying in her look.
He experienced a surge of satisfaction.
He had her exactly where he wanted her.
With a half-smile on his face, he shifted the car into gear and joined the rest of the traffic on the street.
‘Are you serious about helping me?’ she asked in the throaty tone he remembered so well.
‘Why else would I be here?’
On Saturday night, his only intention had been to let her stew in the mess of her own making and get on with his life.
Charley had left him. She was nothing but a gold-digger who’d played him for a fool. She deserved nothing.
He’d dropped Jessica home after the party and returned to his own house alone, just as he’d slept alone since Charley had left him.
He’d lain awake, his mind drifting back to the nights he’d spent with his wife, remembering the curves of her body, the softness of her skin, the scent of their sex...for the first time in two years, his libido had awoken.
One short, angry conversation with his wife and his body—every part of it—had come back to life in a way it hadn’t in the whole of their two years apart.
He’d recalled their conversation in minute detail, over and over, Charley vivid behind his eyes. He couldn’t block her out.
When the sun came up he’d still been lying there, his mind still racing in a hundred different directions.
Not caring that it was a Sunday morning and that they would likely be in bed, he’d used his contacts to learn more about the finances behind her venture, including speaking to a businessman she’d pitched to.
He learned Charley only had the personal funds to pay for half the building costs. He dreaded to think what she’d blown the rest of the money he’d given her on.
Financially, her name was toxic. No investor would touch her. Her own bank wouldn’t touch her without his name as guarantor.
She’d explored all other avenues and now it was down to him and him alone to save her project.
Well, she would damn well pay the price for it, starting today.
‘You’re going to lend me the money?’
‘Better than that—I’m going to give it to you.’
He let that sink in, letting her realise in her own sweet time that he alone had what was needed to make her dream a reality.
‘Are
you seriously serious?’
He almost laughed. He’d forgotten the way she had with words. ‘Yes.’
‘I’m assuming this offer comes with a catch.’
‘Nothing in life comes free, cariño.’ He felt her bristle at the use of his old name for her. Good. By the end of the day she would be doing a lot more than bristling beside him. By the time the sun went down she would be back in his bed beneath him.
Celibacy had not been a conscious decision. It was only as he’d lain in his bed thinking about her that he’d realised why he’d not found another bedmate.
How could he be with another woman when his wife still lived in his blood?
Charley hadn’t just gatecrashed the party, she’d gatecrashed her way straight back under his skin. And he knew just the way to exorcise her once and for all.
‘What’s your catch?’
‘We will discuss the terms when we get home.’
‘You’re taking me to Barcelona?’
‘Sí. And when we get to my home we will share a civilised lunch and discuss the terms of the deal in detail. For now, you can rest your mind knowing that if you agree to my terms, the building you want to buy will be a done deal.’
Charley bit into her bottom lip and balled her hands into fists, digging her nails into the palms of her hands. If her nails were as long as she’d kept them when she’d been with Raul, she would have inflicted pain upon herself. Now they were short and practical and produced only the dullest of aches. Nowhere near enough to distract from the turmoil playing in her belly.
‘Can you at least tell me why you changed your mind about helping me?’
‘We will discuss everything when we get home.’
She wanted to demand answers but forced herself to think rationally. Right now he was being cordial towards her, his attitude a marked improvement to the loathing he hadn’t bothered to hide at the party. He was here and, if he was as good as his word, prepared to help her. At that moment, that was all that mattered. Anything else she could worry about later. Antagonising him would accomplish nothing.
The Perfect Cazorla Wife Page 2