Billionaires: They're powerful, hot, charming and richer than sin...

by Clare Connelly

  “Are you there?” He called, his head leaning forward over the opening.

  “Yes.” Wherever the heck ‘there’ was. There was a damp, musty smell, and also a fragrance of polished wood and spices.

  “Feel the wall to your left. There is a light switch.”

  She did as he said, tentatively extending her fingertips and running them over the cool, clay like surface until they reached a plastic box. She found the familiar button and pressed it. An orange glow flickered a few times and then hummed to life, creating an almost candle-lit atmosphere in the underground room.

  “What is this place?” She asked when he reached her.

  “I will show you.” His grin was like an excited child’s. He linked his fingers through hers and pulled her away from the ladder. It was a corridor, she realised with surprise. An underground walkway, with clay walls, glowing orange lights and wine barrels lined up on their sides against both walls.

  “A cellar?” She guessed.

  He laughed. “It is so much more than that.” They walked the length of the corridor and then turned down another. More wine barrels. “This was, once upon a time, an underground hideaway for the monks. The inquisition posed grave risks for men of religion, and this secret rabbit warren gave them a way to escape the monastery without detection.”

  Maggie couldn’t resist reaching out and touching one of the barrels. “Sort of like a priest cubby?” She said, referring to the impossible-to-find hiding places the British priests had built into their churches to escape the wroth of King Henry.

  “Sort of. But much bigger, and much more daring. This was not about hiding, it was about escaping until the danger had passed. They could have lived down here for months, though, with all the provisions they kept stored.”

  “I can’t imagine how long it must have taken them to create this space,” she murmured, looking left down yet another corridor. “How far does it extend?”

  “If you were to line the corridors up end to end, it covers four miles of distance.”

  “Incredible.”

  “When we bought the monastery, no one even knew it was here. It was so well hidden, and the secret so tightly guarded, that it took a curious child to find the trapdoor.”

  “You?” She guessed.

  He shook his head. “I was far too obedient for that. No, it was my grandfather. It became the place for the most special wines to be barrelled and stored. Perfect temperature year round, and safe from fire, theft; almost anything.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “I knew you would like it. But there is something else.”

  “Really?”

  “Si. This.” He pushed a pair of dark timber doors inward, and walked inside. The corridor was dark, until Dante flicked the light switch on. Then, Maggie saw that it wasn’t another corridor at all, but a room.

  She loosened her fingers from his so that she could slowly walk around the room. It was almost the size of her apartment in London, but completely open. The walls were clay, the ground was tiled. The ceiling was also clay, though painted a pale white. And the far end, opposite where they stood, was glass from floor to ceiling. The twinkling lights of a city could be glimpsed in one direction, and the moon-bathed ocean in another.

  “This is stunning,” she said on a slow breath. In the middle of the room, there were two sofas and a mosaic-topped coffee table. “What did the monks use this for?”

  He shook his head. “Not the monks, no. This is a recent addition. This used to house one of the exits to the mountain side. I had it converted into this room. It is a place I bring people when I want to show off.” His voice was ironic but Maggie’s gut twisted.

  Women he wanted to impress? Or buyers of his luxury wine? She was too scared of his answer to ask. “Well, you’re right. I think it is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  He walked towards her slowly, his face in the shadows cast by the soft lighting. “Do you?”

  She nodded, rendered speechless by the look of intent on his features. “Including this?”

  She looked down and saw that he was holding a closed ring box in one hand. Her heart froze. Her mind snapped. Every nerve ending in her body was quivering in surprise. “You … can’t be serious?”

  “I would never joke about something that mattered so much.”

  “Dante,” she shook her head from side to side. “You must realise… It makes no sense. We don’t have to be married to both be good parents to May.”

  “No,” he agreed cordially. “But we established last night that May isn’t the only reason to marry.”

  Her heartbeat began to climb steadily. “Then what other reason is there?”

  He pulled her towards him, holding her tight, and his eyes bore into hers. “The way we make each other feel.”

  She shook her head slowly. “Sex; and a baby. Basically the same thing.” Her smile was tight. “I’m not going to marry you.”

  He didn’t relax his grip. “You are, and we both know it. But, for a moment, let’s pretend I’m willing to take ‘no’ for an answer. Tell me why you wouldn’t marry me. Why the idea is so unpalatable to you?”

  Of course, the problem wasn’t that it was unpalatable. It was something she longed for. That was in and of itself the problem. What would she feel when he stopped wanting her? When he began to want someone else? And began to act on those feelings? As he had done with Veronika? It would kill Maggie; she knew it would.

  “I’m not romantic or anything, but I know that I would only ever marry for love. I’ve seen my dad go through wives like some men go through cars. I just don’t think marriage works unless both parties are completely in love with and committed to one another.”

  He lifted her chin with his thumb. “That’s childish.”

  “What?”

  “Marriage works best of all if it’s seen as a business arrangement. Let us outline our requirements now, and both stick to them.”

  “I don’t think you’re capable of that,” she returned quickly, and then clamped her mouth shut.

  “Meaning?” He demanded, his tone dripping in ice.

  In for a penny, in for a pound. She narrowed her large blue eyes. “Meaning that we met because your wife wanted to divorce you after suffering through a string of your affairs. Meaning that I don’t think you could be faithful to one woman for the rest of your life no matter what was ‘expected’ of you. And I couldn’t live like that.”

  “Even though you claim to feel nothing for me beyond sexual attraction?” He asked fiercely, his eyes narrowed, his expression watchful.

  “Of course,” her heart was hammering against her rib cage. Did he know how she felt?

  “Then you will marry me because you want to be a part of May’s life.”

  Her body came over cold. “Don’t.” She reached up and put her hands on the side of his face. She spoke calmly and slowly, even though a part of her was dying at the very idea of what he hinted at threatening. “Don’t resort to threats to get what you want. I know you’re not like that.”

  He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d broken out into an Irish gig. “I do what I need to get what I want.”

  “Why do you want this?”

  “I am not certain.” His voice was cautious. “I just know that I need to have you and May here, in my home, where I can see you and protect you and be with you.” He turned his face and kissed the palm of one of her hands. “I have no intention of inviting other women to my bed, mi dolor. Just you. In this way, it would be a real marriage.”

  Maggie’s throat had a lump the size of a tennis ball in it. Or at least, it felt like it did. It wasn’t love. That wasn’t what he was offering. But it was a start. He was so good with May. And his family was lovely. She felt her resolve becoming dangerously weak. “Can I think about it?”

  “Do you need to?” He said with a smile, pressing another kiss against her palm.

  She sucked in a deep breath. How she wanted to say yes! But out of nowhere, s
he remembered his cold treatment of her, after her arrival in Spain, and a shield began to erect itself around her heart. “Dante, I need to tell you something first. Before I decide.”

  He was wary, but he knew that he was walking a tightrope that could weaken and snap at any point. “Tell me quickly, so that I can slip this ring on your finger and make love to you.”

  She smiled but she was distracted. “I need to apologise.”

  He stared at her blankly. “You do?”

  She nodded. “I should never have kept May from you.” Visibly, he withdrew, and she held him close. “Please let me finish.” She bit down on her lower lip, searching for the words. “I thought you were some big shot tycoon who hooked up with a new woman each night, while his wife was at home crying into her billion threadcount pillows.” She ran her fingers down his stubbled cheek. “I know you’re not like that now, but Veronika’s lawyers painted a convincing picture to the agency.”

  “And yet still you slept with me,” he drawled cynically.

  “What you said last night? About having never felt what we share? That’s how I felt too. It blind-sided me. I didn’t care about anything except being with you. It was very out of character for me. And we didn’t even use protection.” Tears moistened her eyes but she didn’t bother to check them. “I was so ashamed.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t believe what I’d done, truth be told. When I imagined what you must think of me, I felt disgusted.”

  “Hey,” he interrupted softly, a frown creasing his forehead. “There were two of us there that night. One of us was old and experienced enough to know better.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I beat myself up and told myself I just had to forget it had ever happened. Then I found out I was pregnant, and by then, I had decided that you would have contacted me if you’d wanted to.”

  “I tried,” he reminded her quietly. “I had stupidly decided I didn’t want to even know your name, remember?” He shook his head. “I thought I could just have sex with you to blot out the pain of my divorce. Stupid idea. And the agency wouldn’t budge on releasing your information.”

  She dropped her hands and turned away from him, walking slowly across to look out of the enormous window. “I wanted to tell you about May. Especially once she was born and she looked so like you. But I was scared. Of what I’d felt with you, and what I thought you might do. That you might take May. You have money and power. And I believed you to be ruthless and heartless. I know why I chose to keep her from you. But it was wrong. If I could do it all again, I would have told you.”

  He stayed where he was, at a safe distance. “I should never have let you go.”

  She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, staring abstractly down at the dark valley beneath them. “I can’t marry you unless you forgive me. I have carried this guilt for so long, and it is like a knife in my chest every time I see you with May, and I realise what I’ve kept from her. And from you.”

  He was at a cross-road, and he knew it. Anger alone had got him through the last five weeks of his life. But he didn’t want to feel that any longer. Not with Maggie.

  “I forgive you.”

  She spun around, her face shocked. “You do?”

  “Not only do I forgive you, I apologise. I should not have put you in that position. When I think of that night, and the way I used your body simply to forget Veronika, I am ashamed.”

  Maggie felt like she’d been punched, but she didn’t show it. “Is that all that night was to you?”

  “Yes, at the time.” He grimaced, holding his hands wide. “My wife hurt me. Very badly. Marriage to her was a sort of torture; one I knew I had to escape. She froze me out in the end. And you were so warm. So welcoming. Such a contrast.”

  Maggie turned away from him again, her heart racing.

  “But the next day, when you were gone, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I realised I’d been foolish to put our connection down to something else. It was just about you and me, really.”

  Maggie wished she could believe him. But he sounded so grief stricken, she couldn’t help but wonder if he would still be married to Veronika if the other woman had wanted it.

  “You said you didn’t want children. Or a wife. That you didn’t want to be tied down.” She continued to stare into the dark, cold night. “I rationalised it to myself that I was doing you a favour. That you’d feel duty bound to be involved in May’s life, but that you’d quietly resent me for being so stupid as to fall pregnant.”

  The silence hung between them, heavy and impregnated with their sadness.

  Finally, Maggie turned and fixed him with an uneven smile. “I can’t marry you. I’m flattered that you would offer, but I know it’s duty that’s driving you now. Just as I feared it would.” She saw that he was about to speak and she shook her head. “It would make us both miserable eventually. And take it from me, a child is better to be brought up by two parents who love the child and live apart, rather than two parents who hate one another but stay married.” She shook her head firmly. “I’ve promised to stay here for three months. Let’s focus on making this transition work for May, and then I’ll look for something more permanent. Perhaps in the village.”

  He raised his brows. “You mean you’ll stay in Spain?”

  A sob was obvious in her voice. “I think I owe you that much.”

  The sadness on her beautiful face filled him with compunction and a strange sense of powerlessness. He opened his mouth to say something that he hoped would erase her sadness, when his phone began to buzz.

  “What is it?” Maggie demanded, seeing the way his face drained of all color.

  He disconnected the call and grabbed her hand. “It’s May. We must go.”

  10

  He ran the whole way back to the villa, so fast that Maggie couldn’t keep up. She entered behind him, and when she did, took a moment to sum up the scene. Anita was standing with a screaming May on her hip, and Veronika stood opposite her. The blonde mane that had been so spectacular earlier that day was now pulled up into a tight pony tail on the top of her head. It was immediately apparent that she’d been drinking.

  Dante stood in front of Anita, looking calmly at Veronika. Looking lovingly at Veronika. Maggie couldn’t care about that at that point in time, though. May was hysterical, and she knew she, Maggie, was the only one who could calm her.

  “You swore to me that you were faithful! And here is proof that you were not,” Veronika screamed in a pitch that almost matched May’s.

  Dante held his hands up in a gesture of calm. “We were all but divorced when I met Maggie,” he said in a tone that brooked no opposition.

  “But we were still married. And you had sex with … that!” She turned and pointed her finger towards Maggie, who was almost paralysed with shock. But the way Veronika looked at her with such hatred galvanised her into action. She moved swiftly, giving the blonde a wide berth, focussing only on May.

  “Don’t! I want to spend time with my niece,” Veronika spat, her eyes bloodshot.

  “Not on your life,” Maggie retorted unwisely, taking the baby from Anita and clutching her tight. “If you so much as touch her while you’re in this mood I will slap you silly.”

  Veronika lunged for Maggie, and would have connected a closed fist with her face if Dante hadn’t stepped in to intercept it. Instead, the blonde’s hands hit his hard chest, and she pummelled him with her fury. Maggie was forced to step back and watch as he took blow after blow, and finally put his arms around her, when her anger was spent, and held her to his chest.

  “Maggie, I think you should go,” he said without looking at her. All his attention was focussed on his distraught ex-wife. Maggie didn’t need to be told twice. She walked from the lounge, pausing only to grab her handbag from the back of a chair. She strapped May into her car seat faster than she’d known possible, and revved the engine.

  The village was a short drive away, and she drove there on instinct. Surely there’d be somewhere she could
stay for the night, until she worked out what the hell she could do next.

  The local bar had a sign for rooms. It was not particularly salubrious, but it was clean, and it would certainly be preferable to the villa. Maggie paid for the room in cash and took a now sleeping May upstairs. Though the manager had offered in halting English to arrange a portable cot, Maggie declined it. She wanted to keep May close to her.

  She curled her body around May’s like a conch and held her tight. “I love you, May.”

  She fell asleep with a bitter taste of resentment in her mouth. Dante had forced them to come to Spain, and within less than a week, he’d tried to bully her into marriage, and exposed their daughter to his stark raving mad ex-wife.

  And what was Maggie’s excuse? She’d fallen in with his suggestions, made love to him as though there was no tomorrow, and been too busy worrying about how much she loved Dante to think about what was in May’s best interests.

  It was the last thing that occurred to her as she drifted to sleep. She awoke with a determination to stop being so selfish, and over ten missed calls from Dante on her mobile.

  Maggie, I need to speak to you. Please call me. A text message.

  Another. Where the hell are you?

  And another, an hour later, Don’t you dare run away from this, Maggie.

  She tiptoed to the small kitchenette and splashed some water into the plastic kettle. As she waited for it to boil, she typed out a response. Of course I ran away from ‘that’. Your ex-wife is a train wreck.

  It was childish and rude, but she was hurting.

  She swore under her breath as her phone began to buzz in her pocket. Dante was calling her. She looked over her shoulder at the still-sleeping May and moved out onto the balcony, sliding the glass door shut behind her.

  “Where are you?” He demanded, as soon as she’d answered. He sounded terrible.

  “I’m in the town. I thought it would be better if we stayed at a hotel for the night.”