The Billionaire's Cinderella Contract

by Michelle Smart

  ‘What else do you require of me other than to act as if I’m madly in love with you?’

  ‘That is something I will divulge when we have made an agreement.’

  Her eyes narrowed with fresh suspicion. ‘Would the role involve doing anything illegal?’

  And now they came to the extra ‘something’ he required of the actress he’d selected for the role.

  ‘Nothing illegal but your criminal record proves you have the lack of scruples I require.’

  Her face drained of colour so quickly it was like someone had pulled a plug on her blood.

  ‘How do you know about that?’ she croaked.

  ‘Your criminal record?’

  Her head barely moved in a nod.

  ‘I have the means to discover anything.’

  Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened then closed but no sound came out.

  ‘Your secret is safe with me, Miss Caldwell,’ he assured her. Damián cared nothing for her past, other than what it made her as a person. For this role, he needed someone with a distinct lack of morals.

  She gave no response, sat staring at him as if a ghost had suddenly appeared before her.

  With a sharp tut, he reiterated all she stood to gain by taking the role. ‘Celeste’s party is a high society event. The press swarm all over it. Being photographed on my arm is guaranteed to raise your profile. The money I’m prepared to pay you is far more than you would get for selling any story about me but, as I’m sure you’ll understand, I’ve had a non-disclosure agreement prepared along with the contract of terms for your services. My family business depends on secrecy. Our discretion is what sets us apart from other financial institutions. You will be privy to information the press would pay a fortune to hear.’

  Still she gave no response. He didn’t think she’d blinked once since he’d mentioned her criminal record. Irritated, aware of time pressing, he tapped the table. ‘All the cards are on the table, so are you with me or not? I’m afraid I require an immediate answer. If the answer is no then leave and that will be the end of the matter. I haven’t revealed any sensitive information to you and I have no wish to ruin you through petty spite.’

  It was Damián’s last ten words that pulled Mia out of the heated fog she’d fallen into. Everything else he’d said from the moment he’d revealed he knew of her criminal conviction had been white noise in her head. His mouth had moved but the whooshing in her ears had deafened her to the words.

  Her belly churned, her brain awhirl, consequences flashing before her eyes.

  ‘I have no wish to ruin you with petty spite...’ Dear God, he was threatening her.

  She wanted to cover her ears and squeeze her eyes shut and then wake up far from this nightmare she’d unwittingly walked into.

  Don’t panic. Stay calm. Don’t panic.

  Don’t panic? This man couldn’t ruin her. The acting world wouldn’t care about her past; she would escape professionally unscathed, but emotionally... Any attempt to ruin her could easily destroy the two people she loved most in the world. Ghosts from the past would be resurrected. Everything she’d tried to protect her family from could blow up all over again.

  She should have listened to her instincts and walked away when she had the chance but she’d foolishly searched Damián’s name and what she’d found had blown her away. The man made Croesus look poor. Curiosity at why a man like Damián Delgado would want to pay her a ton of money to pretend to be his girlfriend had been the reason she’d sat back down to listen. Stupid, foolish curiosity.

  She’d listened to him explain how the weekend with his family would unfold, all the while intending to make her excuses and leave when he’d finished.

  Mia wasn’t an actress for the fame or the money and never had been. This was not the kind of career boost she needed and definitely not the boost she wanted. She didn’t want the spotlight. The consequences were just too big for her to risk: the main reason she plied her trade in provincial theatres rather than seeking bigger stages. But the theatre was her love. She’d found it when her world had caved in and it had saved her from her grief. On the stage she’d found a new home. Acting was all she knew how to do. All she hoped was to one day make a regular income from it.

  The chance to walk away from Damián Delgado had gone and she hadn’t even known it. This gorgeous man she’d been in danger of swooning over...

  ‘When do you need an answer?’ she asked, desperately trying to buy herself time: time to think, to plan, to escape...

  ‘I need an answer now, Miss Caldwell. Our contract and non-disclosure agreement are ready for signing. Sign or leave. Embrace a better future for yourself or continue to sink into nothing.’

  His obsidian eyes held hers, his handsome face a tightly controlled mask.

  How could anyone be so emotionless while making such threats?

  Thirty minutes ago, Damián Delgado’s name had meant nothing to her. She’d walked into this building unaware she was about to be propositioned by one of the world’s richest and most powerful men. He must have gone to enormous lengths to discover her conviction. She’d still been a minor during the court case, her name forbidden by law from being published.

  His eyes dipped to his watch and then back to her again. ‘Time is ticking, Miss Caldwell. Give me your answer or...’

  ‘Okay, okay, I’ll sign it,’ she said in a panicked flurry. If the only way to guarantee his silence was to agree to his proposition then she had to take it. And then pray the spotlight didn’t find her and that all the ghosts from her past stayed where they belonged. She didn’t want to think of the repercussions if they didn’t.

  CHAPTER TWO

  MIA WAS APPLYING her lipstick when the loud rap on the door informed her Damián had arrived. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. The hot panic that had engulfed her earlier had slowly seeped away, leaving only anger, fear and a million questions.

  Everything had passed in a whirl. No sooner had she agreed to his terms than the contract and non-disclosure agreement had been shoved in front of her. Then no sooner had she signed them than an envelope stuffed with cash had been thrust at her with the instructions to buy herself an outfit and get ready for their first ‘date’. Damián had then bowed his head, excused himself and left Mr Man Mountain to show her out of the building.

  If not for the thick wodge of cash in her hand, she could’ve easily believed she’d dreamt the whole thing. She wished it had been a dream. Instead, she’d sleep-walked into a nightmare.

  Swallowing back her bitterness, Mia had done as he’d instructed, stopping at a boutique she’d passed many times but never entered, bought herself the required outfit then hurried home. The rest of her day had been spent researching everything she could about him. If she hadn’t needed to get ready for their ‘date’ she would still be reading. The internet had thousands of articles about the Delgado family. That was if most of the articles could be believed because none of the Delgados had ever done a press interview. Pretty much everything she’d read of a personal nature was gossip, innuendo and speculation.

  What was irrefutable was that the Delgados were one of the richest families on earth. The Delgado Group, founded in 1960 by Damián’s grandfather, was reputed to be one of the wealthiest private institutions in the world. It was indisputably the most secretive.

  As for Damián himself... The only concrete facts she’d found were that he was thirty-six, two years younger than his brother Emiliano, and that he ran Banco Delgado, a division of the Delgado Group and believed to be the second largest private bank in Argentina. She’d found a handful of photos of him through the years with a handful of different women but there was nothing to suggest he’d been in any long-term relationship or had any children. It was rumoured he’d been in overall charge of the Delgado Group too since his father’s death nearly six months ago. Eduardo Delgado’s funeral had been attended b
y world leaders. Presidents. Monarchs.

  Every word she’d read only added to her fear. Not even the down-payment of half the two hundred thousand pounds hitting her bank account shifted it. If anything, it heightened her fears. There was no backing out now. She had to approach the next few weeks as just another job with her performance being watched by only a select few. She was the actress. Damián was the director. The choreographer. The puppeteer.

  But what the heck was she being dragged into? And why? And why her when there were literally thousands of actresses to choose from? Those were only a few of the million questions racing through her head as she walked to the front door. The Delgado family had more power than most of the world leaders who’d paid homage at their patriarch’s funeral. Damián had the power to squash her like a bug and crush her family too.

  Her belly full of weighted dread, she opened the front door.

  Damián stood dressed in a black velvet suit and black shirt, holding the most enormous bunch of roses she’d ever seen in her life.

  Their eyes clashed. A tempest of emotions shot through her. Her heart thumped violently, blood pumping hot and rabid. She held onto the door to stop herself from launching at him like a cat with its claws out, a reaction that frightened her as much as everything else that had happened that surreal, nightmarish day. She’d never had such a primitive, ferocious reaction before, had never wanted to hurl herself at someone and scream and pound and scratch at them.

  Dark, dark eyes held hers. ‘For you, mi vida,’ he murmured before brushing his lips against her cheek. ‘You look stunning.’

  Her senses were immediately assailed by his exotic spicy cologne. Smelling it again hit her as vividly as it had the first time.

  ‘Thank you.’ She snatched the roses from him and took a sharp step back. The skin on her cheek tingled manically where his lips had caressed it. ‘Let me find a home for these.’ A home that didn’t involve slapping them around his face first.

  She was three paces up the hallway when she realised he’d stayed on the doorstep. ‘Aren’t you coming in?’

  He flashed a smile that could have powered her flat on its own. From their earlier meeting she’d assumed he didn’t know how to smile. ‘You haven’t invited me.’

  ‘I didn’t think it was necessary,’ she retorted. ‘But please, come in. Make yourself at home.’

  ‘Sarcasm?’

  ‘Bravo.’

  He raised a black brow. ‘Not an auspicious start when we’re about to embark on the date in which we fall in love.’

  That explained the full-wattage smile. Damián had clearly decided to go the method acting route.

  ‘You told me I have to play devoted lover in public,’ she said coldly, desperate to hide the heat flowing through her veins his presence had ignited. ‘We’re not in public.’

  Did he think she was going to be polite and nice to him when he was blackmailing her with the one thing she couldn’t bear people to know? He might be the sexiest man she’d ever encountered but he was also the cruellest and the most arrogant. If she had only herself to think of she would tell him to get stuffed but she had her sister and mother to think of. The thought of going through the dark days that had come so close to destroying them again was too terrifying to contemplate. She would gladly throw in the acting towel and work in a coffee shop for ever if it meant protecting her family.

  Be careful what you wish for, she thought grimly as she filled pint glasses with water for the roses and tried not to think of Damián turning his haughty nose up at her meagre possessions.

  Damián took his surroundings in. He’d never been in a home of such tiny proportions. The entire flat, he estimated, would fit in the reception room of his Buenos Aires home. But it was clean and smelled nice, a scent that made him think of fresh laundry. He took a seat at the tiny table in the living room and admired the furnishings, most of which were threadbare and none of which matched yet somehow fused together to create a tasteful and homely vibe. It was a home put together on a minuscule budget by someone with a keen eye and flair. He admired it.

  Mia walked into the living room carrying two glasses filled with roses. ‘You don’t own a vase?’ he asked.

  She shook her head and placed one of the glasses above the fake fireplace. The other she placed on the table then disappeared again, only to reappear moments later carrying another pint glass and a huge mug full of roses too.

  ‘Are you done? Our table’s booked for eight and traffic’s heavy.’

  ‘Give me one minute.’ She disappeared again before he could say another word.

  When she returned, she’d slipped her feet into a pair of gold heels and sprayed perfume on, for his lungs filled with the most delicious fruity scent that immediately made his mouth water.

  He cast a critical eye over her. She wore a white dress with strappy sleeves; it plunged in a V to her midriff without actually displaying any breast, a thin gold belt separating the top half from the skirt, which flared slightly and fell to her calves. With her hair knotted in a loose chignon and lots of tendrils framing her face, artfully applied make-up and simple hooped gold earrings, she looked classy and understated.

  ‘Well?’ she snapped, colour high on her cheeks. ‘Satisfied with what your money paid for?’

  He stared at her meditatively, biting back the burn of anger her belligerence provoked. No one spoke to him in that tone and it was time Mia Caldwell learned that. He’d made it very clear she didn’t have to accept his offer: that she could walk away and her criminal record would stay secret. She’d chosen to take the money and career boost of her own free will. To behave as if she’d been put into this position under duress was inexcusable.

  ‘I’m very satisfied, thank you. Looking at you makes me wonder if I’m not underpaying you. Still, I’m sure there will be men at Celeste’s party who will happily pay a great deal more for a more intimate arrangement. Name your price with them—you can earn yourself a fortune.’ Before the dark stain of angry colour on her face could translate on her tongue, he got to his feet. ‘Provoke me, Miss Caldwell, and you will learn I always bite back. Now wipe that ugly look from your face and let us see if you’re as good an actress as I think you are.’

  Humiliation flushing through her blood, Mia stormed to the front door, teeth clamped together to stop her mouth firing expletives at him. While she checked she’d put her keys in her new clutch bag, she took some very deep breaths and worked on transforming her features into something soft and loving. The first role she’d ever played had been Juliet in a school production. The boy who’d played Romeo had been a vile braggart with halitosis who’d believed himself to be God’s gift to women. She still considered convincing the audience that she’d been madly in love with him to be her finest acting achievement. If she could pull that off she could pull this off. She had to.

  When Damián joined her in the hallway, she slowly tilted her head and fluttered her eyelashes at him. ‘There you are. For a horrible moment I thought you’d flown back to Argentina.’

  His eyes narrowed.

  Making sure her voice was soft and verging on simpering, she put her hands to her chest and said, ‘I can’t tell you how excited I am for our date. It feels like I’ve spent my life waiting for you and now you’re finally here...’ She let her voice trail off and gave another flutter of her eyelashes for good measure.

  His firm mouth twitched before he inclined his head. ‘Much better.’

  She smiled dreamily and opened the door. ‘Shall we?’

  They stepped out into the cool evening air. When Damián put his arm around her waist she made sure not to flinch, kept the same dreamy smile on her face all the way to the waiting car. The driver jumped out to open the back door for them.

  Only when they were secure in the car’s confines, the driver hurrying to climb back in, did she look at Damián and, with the dreamy smile still firmly in pl
ace, say, ‘Don’t even think of touching me in private.’

  His dark eyes held hers before he slowly dipped his face to her ear and whispered, ‘I’d rather touch acid. It would have less of a burn.’

  * * *

  When Mia got out of the car and saw the name of the restaurant Damián had brought her to for their ‘date’ she choked back a gasp. Never in a million years had she dreamed she would dine here, in a restaurant widely regarded to be one of the finest in the world.

  ‘Am I allowed to be star-struck?’ she murmured when he reached her side.

  ‘No.’ Then, slipping his arm around her waist, he swept her inside, where the maître d’ greeted him like a long-lost Messiah.

  Affecting nonchalance at the glorious interior, she clamped her vocal cords shut so as not to squeal when the first person she spotted was an A-list Hollywood actress and her director husband. Even though Mia kept her gaze fixed on the maître d’s back as they were led to their table, she couldn’t fail to notice all the heads turning as they walked past and the sudden flurry of impeccably dressed women smoothing their hair and dabbing under their eyes to catch wayward mascara.

  Strangely, although the place was full, there was none of the noise she associated with busy restaurants. The background music was pitched at just the right level and the owner must have done some tricks with the acoustics because she couldn’t hear a word of any surrounding conversations, only a low-level buzz.

  To play it safe, she waited until they were alone before leaning forward to say in a low voice, ‘Can we speak freely here?’

  Damián, who was reading his menu, raised his gaze to hers. ‘Yes.’

  ‘In that case, tell me what it is, exactly, that you’re forcing me into.’