Claiming his Secret Baby & Blackmailed by the Spaniard (Clare Connelly Pairs Book 4)

by Clare Connelly

  She felt the perfection of being near him. She didn’t dare look at him. She couldn’t. It might break the beautiful illusion she was enjoying so much.

  “Ah! You are here!” The voice was loud and booming.

  Addie wasn’t sure what she’d anticipated, but from Guy’s description, she’d thought she might find Santiago to be frail. Unwell. Perhaps even in a wheelchair.

  The man who stood as they emerged onto the enormous curving deck was energetic and spry, his frame strong, his hair a dark silver, with eyes as dark as Guy’s, and his face handsome despite the lines that formed roadmaps of adventures-lived across his flesh. His smile stretched across his face and he moved with an easy alacrity towards them.

  “I saw the yacht pull in hours ago.” He winked, turning to Addie. “But I do not need to ask what kept you.” His laugh was a cackle and Addie couldn’t help laughing back.

  She liked him instantly.

  “Santiago,” Guy said, his own smile indulgent. “You look well.”

  “Yes, yes,” he agreed impatiently. “Everyone seems to think they are to find me on my death bed. Not likely.” He grimaced. “And you must be the young woman I have heard so much about. It is a true pleasure to meet you, Ava,” he turned his megawatt attention onto Addie, so that even his use of her fake name didn’t cause her too much discomfort. She was stuck on the fact he knew who she was.

  On the idea that Guy had mentioned her!

  But pleasure from that quickly gave way to the realization that he’d simply prepared Santiago for the ruse. He must have mentioned her to make her appearance more credible. That was all.

  “And you, sir.”

  “Sir!” He laughed, shaking his head. “Call me Santiago.”

  She nodded, smiling. “Santiago. Thank you for having me at your celebration.”

  “Ah! Of course, of course,” He grinned. “Sit. We’ll watch the sun go down. It is our favourite thing to do.”

  He gestured towards lounges that were arranged to face one another, with a small table in between. Platters of canapés were set in the middle, and a bottle of champagne was on ice.

  Though Addie didn’t drink often, the idea of a glass of champagne was instantly appealing. Anything to calm her nerves!

  She’d changed into a flowing maxi-dress, a pale gold colour that showed off her tan, and she’d pulled her hair into a fashionable bun that sat high on her head. She was glad for her efforts when she took her seat in the midst of this incredibly opulent setting, opposite a man who was eyeing her as though he could intuit everything about her by studying her face.

  Eyeing her with the same intensity and curiosity that had been a hallmark of Guy’s inspection.

  She bit down on her lip, and then immediately stopped, when she remembered that it was a nervous gesture completely at odds with the role she was supposed to be playing.

  Besides, any hint of nervousness was swallowed the minute Guy took the seat beside her. As with the golf cart, he was close, close enough that she was absorbed by his proximity, his smell, the feeling of his thigh pressed to hers. But when he put an arm around her shoulders, casually, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, her heart began to run like a wild little bird, beating furiously against her rib cage. She tilted her face to his on instinct, her expression showing how lost she was.

  His smile didn’t, for a moment, drop, but his eyes held a warning. A caution, and reminder to play along. She swallowed, forcing herself to breathe deeply, to remember that this wasn’t real. Not for him.

  “When Guillem was a boy, we would watch the sunset every day, wouldn’t we?”

  Guy nodded, that same indulgent smile curving his lips as he turned to face his grandfather. A man in a suit appeared, unobtrusively reaching for the champagne and unfurling the foil top, pushing his fingers into the cork to liberate it from the bottle. He curled his hands over it at the last moment, so the opening lacked the usual fanfare of a loud ‘pop’.

  “I was too tired from running over the island to do much else,” Guy drawled with a small laugh.

  The servant filled three glasses with champagne and placed them on a tray, which he carried first to Santiago.

  “No, please,” Santiago shook his head. “To Ava.”

  The man nodded and came around the sofa, holding the tray out to her. Her fingertips were shaking slightly as she reached for the champagne. Guy frowned when he saw the tell-tale gesture of nervousness.

  He was very aware that his grandfather was watching them like a hawk. Santiago was no fool. The act needed to be perfect. Flawless.

  He imagined how he might act if this were real. If he was bringing Addie – Ava – to meet Santiago. It wasn’t so difficult to imagine; he had, at one time, believed that he would.

  “Don’t be nervous, darling,” Guy heard himself say, reaching for her spare hand and lifting it to his lips. “He is really a big teddy bear.”

  Addie’s skin glowed pink as she looked at Guy. He could see now that she was terrified. He stroked a finger over her hand, smiling at her reassuringly. She returned the smile but the anxiety remained.

  “You are not afraid to meet me?” Santiago laughed. “Whatever for?”

  Addie’s blush deepened. “Oh,” she murmured, swallowing, so that her fine throat shifted a little. “It’s just, I know how much you mean to Guy,” she said, lifting her champagne and sipping it, relaxing visibly as the liquid made its way inside of her, spreading through her bloodstream.

  “And you want to make a good impression?” Santiago winked. “You are the first woman my grandson has brought to Acantilados. You have already succeeded.”

  Addie shifted a little in the seat, putting some vital space between herself and Guy, but Guy didn’t allow it. He kept his hand on hers, squeezing it, holding her close.

  “It’s a beautiful name,” she murmured. “What does it mean?”

  “Cliffs,” Santiago’s grin stretched his face. “Beautiful, but not particularly imaginative.”

  She smiled. “I didn’t realise that the cliffs would be so dramatic,” she said, casting about for things they could discuss all the while trying to process the assault on her senses that Guy’s proximity was having.

  “Mmm, quite unusual too. Acantilados is the only island in the group that has such a sheer rock face.”

  “The view is incomparable,” she said with a small smile. “Do you mind if I have a look further along?”

  “No, of course not. Let us all go.”

  “No, no,” Addie demurred quickly. “Don’t trouble yourself. You’re both so comfortable here and I won’t be long. Only I’d love to get my bearings.” And her breath back! She hadn’t anticipated this. How foolish of her not to realise that they would need to be close to one another, to touch, to seem intimate.

  She stood, her champagne flute clutched in her hand like a lifeline, and made her way with unconscious grace towards the other end of the enormous balcony. From here she could see the edge of the front garden, and the hibiscus trees she’d spied from the boat when they’d arrived.

  Guy watched, his eyes following her progress as she crossed the space and finally paused, propping her elbows on the railing, her gaze held by the sea.

  “Guillem,” his grandfather’s voice was lowered. “Beautiful young women should not be left to watch the sun set on their own.”

  Guy laughed, shaking his head ruefully. “I came to see you.”

  “But you brought her,” Santiago volleyed back. “I will wait. Go.”

  Guy’s eyes narrowed, knowing that arguing was not just futile, it was dangerous. He wanted to convince Santiago that he was in love. To assuage the older man’s concerns. Though Santiago looked well enough, Guy knew.

  He saw.

  He saw the small details, the tiny giveaways that his grandfather was so adept at concealing. The slight shake to his fingers, the pallor beneath his eyes, the way he was limping a little, and sitting when he would ordinarily have leaped up to accompany Ava h
imself, without hesitation.

  Guy stood, reaching for his champagne with a tight smile for Santiago, and prowled across the deck, following Ava’s trajectory.

  She lifted her eyes to him and he saw the world of confusion in them.

  “Beautiful women should not be left to watch a sunset on their own,” he repeated with a wry smile, and saw Ava’s face pale.

  She hid it, turning away from him, forcing a tight smile to her face.

  “He’s very nice,” she said softly.

  “Yes. Don’t get any ideas, querida. You are too young for him.”

  She gasped, a noise of surprise, and angled her body to face him. “You’re kidding?”

  He shrugged, lowering his voice. “I presume once this week is over you’ll be looking for the next wealthy idiot you can con into bed.”

  “How dare you?” She threw the question at him and had the satisfaction of seeing his face darken.

  “I dare because I know you.”

  “You think you know me.”

  “And whose fault is that?” He volleyed back.

  She opened her mouth, furious suddenly, needing to make him listen to her, to disavow the idea that she might be planning to seduce his grandfather – or any other man for that matter – for financial gain!

  Only he didn’t give her the chance to speak. He crushed his lips down on hers, hard and fast, with no warning, so that his kiss became her breath, his touch her lifeline. She made an angry noise of surprise, pushing it into his mouth, and her free hand lifted to his chest, clutching at his shirt, holding him for balance, support, gripping him like he was her salvation.

  A whimper came from deep within her throat and his kiss changed tempo, morphing from an angry silencing technique to a slow, sensual exploration. His tongue dueled with hers; she let him win. She was weak against his body, her every sense absorbed by what they were sharing.

  For six months, she’d dreamed of this. She’d remembered it, she’d craved it, and now, it was so much better than she’d hoped. Completion stormed her body; relief relaxed her.

  And then, he pulled away, his eyes glittering as they stared down at her, his expression unmoved. But it was a lie. She could see the dark slash of colour that ran along his cheekbones, the desire that had been stirred within him as much as within her.

  “Do not argue with me at his house. I do not care what you say on the boat, but here, at Santiago’s, you will show some respect.”

  “I’ll show some respect?” She repeated, desire being consumed by angry disbelief. “You’re the one who suggested I might try to seduce your octogenarian grandfather before the week is out! My God, Guy, don’t tell me we can’t discuss the past if you’re going to throw your misconceptions about it in my face at every opportunity.” She was whispering, but there was no mistaking the strain on her face, nor the urgency of her voice.

  Guy shifted his body, concealing her completely from Santiago’s view, just in case the older man were inclined to turn and check up on them. Her words stormed around him, angry like a hurricane, their logic indisputable. But he didn’t want to agree with her, nor to find logic in a damned thing she had to say.

  “It is not the past I am discussing so much as who you are,”

  “Which is informed by your view of what happened between us. A wrong view. If you want me to show respect then I suggest you do the same.”

  Her chin was tilted at a defiant angle and her eyes, her enormous, buttery golden eyes were spitting chips. Her fury was something he’d never seen before. Not the whole time they were in London. Even when they’d broken up, he had been furious and outraged.

  She had been … broken. Sad. Grief-stricken. Shocked. And yes, apologetic.

  Fury was new. Fury did strange things to him. Fury was hot. Fury made him want to ignore common sense and make love to her – but not love. The kind of angry, passionate push and pull that only fury could ensure.

  The idea of making her body his once more came to him and he jerked in response. He was hard and suddenly the idea of spending any more time here with his grandfather was unpalatable and irritating.

  He was tempted to tell her she was right.

  Because she was. He’d bound her up, and along with it, any right she had to defend herself. He didn’t want to hear more of her lies. He knew he would never trust her again, so what sense was there in listening to her stories? In giving her another opportunity to make a fool of him?

  But weakness was opportunity for women like Adeline; he wouldn’t surrender to it. “Our deal is what it is. If you want your money, you’ll do what I say.”

  She gripped the railing until her fingers turned white. He expected more fight; more fury. But there was none. Like a balloon with a tiny hole, she deflated before his eyes, and finally, she nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  He deserved that quip. He was treating her like a slave, not a person. Until that moment, Guy hadn’t realized that he was a man capable of this kind of behaviour. A man who would punish a woman again and again for her mistakes.

  It was beneath him, and yet he couldn’t abandon his course. He was driven by a deep, dark need to make this woman pay. To make her understand that nobody lied to Guillem Rodriguez and got away with it.

  5

  “AND WHAT DO YOU do, dear?”

  Addie paused, midway through lifting her fork to her mouth. The dessert of date and coconut pudding with orange scented cream was delicious. The perfect end to a surprisingly enjoyable evening. Since their contretemps on the deck earlier, Guy had been acting the part of the perfect gentleman. Attentive, respectful, enamored. The last one had been particularly hard to deal with, because it reminded Addie so strongly of before.

  “Ava’s an actress,” Guy said, when Addie didn’t speak.

  Santiago made a grunting noise which could have been surprise or agreement. “Film?”

  “Stage,” Addie responded croakily, remembering vividly what she’d told Guy. It had been easy to create this fiction, for it was the life she would have been living, had things with her mother been different.

  “Ava’s a brilliant actress,” Guy added. “Her performances are unfailingly believable.”

  Addie stiffened, the undercurrent of criticism meant for her ears alone.

  “Where have you performed?” Santiago pushed. “Anywhere I would know?”

  “No,” Addie’s smile was wistful.

  “Don’t be modest, querida. You had a sensational season in London six months ago. The Taming of the Shrew, wasn’t it?”

  She stared at him for a moment before nodding jerkily, her eyes only able to hold his for a moment before dropping to the cake in front of her.

  “Ah, Shakespeare,” Santiago said with a grimace. “Not my thing, I’m afraid.”

  “Don’t apologise,” Addie murmured. “I’m not a huge fan of his either. I mean, of course, I can see the brilliance in his work, but it’s not my personal preference.”

  Santiago leaned closer over the table, his own dessert long since finished. “What is?”

  “That’s easy,” Addie relaxed back in her seat a little, until the action brought her shoulder into contact with Guy’s fingers, draped as they were over the seat. She straightened a little, and he curved his hand over her in response. She cleared her throat, focusing her attention on the matter at hand. “Anouilh. Miller.”

  “Modern playwrights,” Santiago said with an approving nod. “You have good taste.”

  “And you know drama?” She prompted, reaching for her coffee cup and sipping the strong black liquid, appreciating its spice, even more so for the excuse it gave her to slip away from Guy a little. Goosebumps stayed on her shoulder though, tiny reminders of how easily he could unnerve her.

  “My wife was a script writer,” he said with a smile that was unmistakably proud.

  Addie turned to Guy, her surprise obvious. “You never mentioned that.”

  “Didn’t I?” His eyes were watchful.

  “She gave it up once we married,�
�� Santiago said, with a sense of regret, and a shrug of shoulders that were far more slender than Addie had, at first, appreciated. “It’s how things were done back then.”

  “Of course,” Addie murmured with understanding. “I’m sure she was happy pursuing other things.”

  “She read,” he grinned. “Everything she could get her hands on. Books, plays, news. She had a voracious appetite for entertainment.” His expression was wistful.

  “When did you lose her?”

  She felt Guy stiffen beside her, but Santiago seemed to be okay with the conversation, so Addie made no moves to change the subject. “Rafaela died many years ago. When Guillem was just a child.”

  “I was six,” Guy said softly.

  “Yes, six, that’s true,” Santiago nodded. “I remember now.”

  “Had she been ill?”

  “No,” Santiago shifted his body, and he winced a little. Was he in pain? Or was it an emotional wound?

  “I’m very sorry for your loss,” she said gently.

  “It was sudden,” Santiago murmured. “I had no idea. That makes it harder. There’s so much I should have done and said.”

  Addie frowned. “You can’t live with that kind of regret. All death is sudden, even those we are braced for. No one can prepare you for what it’s like to lose someone.” She spoke from personal experience, from the unexpected and sudden, wrenching losses she’d had to bear for many years. Regrets had barked at her door but she had refused to let them cloud her pleasant memories.

  “We should let you get some rest,” Guy interrupted the conversation, putting an arm around Addie’s shoulder and pulling her towards him. “It’s late.”

  “Yes, and there is much to do this week,” Santiago cackled. “A party week. Whose idea was this?”

  “My mother’s,” Guy drawled, and another tingle of apprehension ran the length of Addie’s spine. His mother? Foolish though it might seem, Addie hadn’t really comprehended, until that moment, that she was going to have to meet Guy’s mother. The nerves were back, temporarily paralyzing her.