The Billionaire's Cinderella Contract

by Michelle Smart

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said in a strangely high pitch. ‘Just because I’ve lost my virginity to you does not mean I want or expect a ring on my finger.’

  ‘The thought never occurred to me.’ At least it hadn’t until she said it...

  ‘Good. Because you and I would never work. Not in a million years.’

  ‘And now that we’ve established that...’

  ‘Re-established it. You’re the one who keeps spouting it.’

  ‘Mia...’ He sighed. ‘Stop being defensive and stop deflecting. I appreciate that you must be feeling...strange...about what we just shared. I am too. I never meant it to happen, you know that, but your virginity changes things. Believe me, I wouldn’t care how irresistible you are, I would never have touched you if I knew.’

  ‘Thanks a bunch,’ she huffed.

  ‘I do not mean to offend. Waiting as long as you did implies it was something special you were hanging onto.’

  ‘I wasn’t hanging onto it,’ she clarified quickly. ‘I just wasn’t prepared to throw it away for some idiot who only wanted a quick fling.’

  He put his finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. ‘You’re beautiful and sexy. Any man would want to bed you, and I’m sure many men have tried, and if you didn’t have the history you have, I wouldn’t think twice about it.’

  Her brow creased. ‘What history?’

  Now his brow creased, confused at her confusion. ‘Your old drug habit, mi vida.’ Her eyes widened. The fear he’d detected before shone from them. ‘Teenagers who dabble in drugs to the extent that you did usually have lower inhibitions. Sex becomes a commodity...’

  ‘And you know this how?’ She twisted her face out of his hold and shuffled back to rest rigidly against the headboard.

  ‘A friend’s sister died of a drug overdose when she was a teenager. He set up a charity to help female drug addicts get clean in safe spaces. I’ve attended many of its fundraisers. So you see, mi vida,’ he continued, ‘I know a lot more about teenage drug abuse and the behaviours attached to it than you might think. I’m not making a judgement call here. I’m just relaying the facts as they have been presented to me.’

  Had Amy ever traded sexual favours? This was something that, until that very moment, had never crossed Mia’s mind. For many reasons she doubted it, but it was something she would never ask. Seven years on and Amy was happy and content in her life. Why stir the pot by rehashing the past and bringing up all the old pain?

  Damián must have seen something of her thoughts on her face for his brows knitted together. ‘What are you not telling me?’

  She clamped her lips tightly shut.

  ‘You have just shared something incredibly precious with me. Surely you know you can trust me with anything.’

  ‘Do I?’ On impulse, she palmed his cheek and stared intently into the obsidian eyes.

  In all the time they’d spent together, not once had Damián implied he thought of her as some kind of prostitute. Apart from those early days when their mutual loathing had been like a living entity between them, he’d never made any comment or judgement on her past.

  He cupped her face in his hands. ‘Talk to me,’ he urged, resting his forehead to hers.

  How natural it felt to touch like this. And how right.

  ‘I can’t,’ she whispered.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s not my secret to tell.’

  He moved his face back a little to gaze more openly at her. A myriad of emotions blazed in the dark depths before he blinked and his features softened. ‘It wasn’t you, was it?’

  Something deep inside her, a tight knot she’d barely been aware of, loosened. She was barely aware of the hot tears filling her eyes either, not until they spilled over and fell onto his hands.

  ‘Your sister?’ Damián guessed, and when Mia’s whole face crumpled he knew he was right.

  Her hands suddenly covered his, her wet eyes stark. ‘You can never tell anyone.’

  He exhaled a long breath and shook his head, not to deny her but because he understood what it meant to keep things private. Had he not shared things with Mia he’d never dreamed he would share with anyone?

  ‘Promise me.’

  ‘I give you my word.’

  She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose. Their hands dropped to rest on her lap, their fingers entwined.

  And then she opened her mouth and it all spilled out.

  ‘When Dad died we fell apart. My mum...she suffers with depression, and when Dad died she shut down completely. She was locked away from us. I found solace on the stage. I still don’t know how or why that helped but it saved me, but Amy...’ She sucked a deep breath in. ‘She was only thirteen when he died. We were already worried that she was showing signs of depression like Mum. Dad’s death pushed her over the edge and she went completely off the rails.’ Her eyes pleaded with him. ‘Please, you have to understand—before he died, Amy was the sweetest girl. I’d always been the mouthy one. If you’d put bets on which sister would self-destruct, you would have chosen me.’

  Damián gently squeezed her fingers, letting her take a moment to compose herself.

  Her throat moved a number of times before she continued. ‘She was arrested so many times I lost count. Fighting. Multiple arrests for possession of cannabis. Shoplifting.’ She loosened her hand from his and tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. ‘About eighteen months after he died, Amy stole a teacher’s car and crashed it. No one was hurt but the magistrates at the youth court put an order on her—if Amy was brought before them again for any reason within a year, she would be given a custodial sentence. That was the shock that woke Mum up and it woke Amy up too.’

  She tugged her fingers free again to wipe away more tears then looked him in the eye, chin wobbling, biting her lip, swallowing repeatedly. ‘She admitted she needed help. She started seeing a grief counsellor and it really did help. We started seeing signs of the old Amy. She even dumped her deadbeat boyfriend, which was the best thing she could do because that boy was toxic. Carl was in my year at school and a real nasty piece of work. Anyway, a few months after the magistrates’ warning, we walked to school together then split up to go to our classes. I got to the main entrance and I don’t know what made me turn around but I did and I saw Amy and Carl standing against a wall having an argument. He had his hand on her arm—it really looked like he was hurting her, so I went straight into Big Sister mode and went charging over but he stormed off before I reached them. Amy wouldn’t talk about it and wouldn’t let me see her arm. She practically ran away from me.’

  For a moment Mia hung her head, lost in a past that still profoundly affected her present.

  When she continued, her voice became a whisper. ‘We had a school assembly that morning. The head announced that they were going to do a locker search. It was obvious there was something going on. You could feel it.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I looked at Amy and I saw the panic on her face and I went cold. I hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time but when she’d run off she was carrying two bags. When we’d left the house she’d only had one. Carl must have given her the other one and I just knew that whatever was in it was bad.’

  ‘You took the bag out of her locker.’ He could almost see her doing it.

  She nodded. ‘I’d stolen her spare locker key when she really started going off the rails so I could check to make sure there was nothing in there that shouldn’t be. We were told to line up but I told the softest teacher I knew that I was suffering from women’s problems and desperately needed to use the bathroom and she let me go. I was a prefect. She trusted me. I grabbed the bag from Amy’s locker but, before I could hide it, the deputy head caught me. There was enough cannabis in that bag to get the whole school high. And scales and deal bags.’

  ‘But surely they must have known it wasn’t yours?’
r />   ‘Everyone knew. Even the police knew when they turned up to arrest me. They all knew I was covering for Amy but I stuck to my story and pleaded guilty so there was nothing they could do about it.’

  ‘And your sister let you?’ He could hardly compute this monstrous act of selfishness. To allow someone you loved to take the blame and punishment for something you’d done was unforgiveable.

  ‘She wanted to confess but I wouldn’t let her. I was just getting my little sister back and I didn’t want to lose her again. She wanted to be fixed. She wanted to make amends and put things right. She was thinking about her future and a career. If I’d let her confess, that would have all been lost. She would have been sent to a young offender institution and her whole life would have been ruined.’

  ‘So she let you ruin yours instead,’ he stated flatly.

  Her face contorted. ‘No. I insisted. I needed to protect her. I’d learned enough of how the youth courts worked to know I would probably be given a non-custodial sentence and I was right—I was still a minor and had no previous record so I was given a two-year youth rehabilitation order.’

  He could hardly believe what she’d just said or the fury that slashed him to hear it. ‘You gambled with your freedom on a probably?’

  ‘Those drugs were not Amy’s—they were Carl’s. He forced her to take them. The bastard must have heard they were going to do a locker check and tried to frame her, probably because she’d come to her senses and dumped him.’

  ‘All the same, I cannot believe your mother allowed this.’

  ‘You have to understand how ill she’d been. Imagine living in a locked cloud of darkness for eighteen months—that’s what it was like for her. She was incredibly fragile. Heaven knows what she would have done if Amy had been sent to prison. I made Mum see that what I was doing was for the best, for everyone.’

  ‘Everyone but you.’

  Her features tightened and she shuffled a little further away from him. ‘It was the best thing for me too—don’t you see that? I’d only just got my mum and sister back and was terrified of losing them again. I knew what I was doing and I would do it again.’

  His incredulity almost made his head explode. ‘You are not serious.’

  ‘Under the same circumstances, yes, I would.’ Her chin jutted, defiance illuminating her beautiful face. ‘If Dad hadn’t died none of it would have happened. And it’s all worked out for the best. Amy qualified as a nurse a few months ago and, with her record, she had to plead her case to be allowed onto the course. If she’d had a custodial sentence it would have been impossible. Her record is something she will have to account for, for the rest of her life.’

  ‘What about your life?’ he challenged. ‘What about your dream of working on Broadway? You told me yourself that your conviction could prevent you from travelling to America.’

  ‘Amy’s mental health is more important than Broadway! And if I did ever make it there I would fall under the spotlight and I can’t risk that. We had to move miles away to escape the gossip and pointing fingers, and I don’t want to risk people we knew back then being tempted to sell their stories. It doesn’t matter whether the press would be allowed to print them or not, social media could see it all being dredged up again. Amy would be dragged into it and then who knows what would happen if her name was splashed everywhere? She’s in such a good place now, and Mum is too, and I won’t risk their mental health for anything. I can’t.’

  Damián shook his head and tried to control his rapidly rising temper. Or was it despair he was feeling? He didn’t know the difference right then, the emotions pushing through him too alien for him to get a handle on. ‘Mi vida, you have the talent and star quality to go as far as your dreams will take you and you’re throwing it away.’

  ‘How?’ she demanded. ‘I have my own home and I’m making a living doing what I love—how many people can say that?’

  ‘You call that a living? You could be earning a fortune.’

  Her defiance blazed as brightly as her fury. ‘If being rich means I spend my life cynically doubting the intentions of everyone I meet and being at war with my sibling and having to make an appointment to see my own mother then I’d rather be poor, thank you very much. You can keep your riches and your judgements to yourself.’ Jumping off the bed, she picked up her nightshirt and shrugged it over her head.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Going back to my room.’ The blue eyes that had been filled with smouldering desire such a short time ago spat fire at him. ‘Goodnight, Mr Delgado. Don’t have nightmares.’

  She slammed the door shut behind her. A moment later another door slammed.

  Mia wrapped herself in the duvet and squeezed her eyes shut, determined not to let any more tears fall.

  She’d been an idiot for thinking Damián would understand. The man had been pampered and cosseted his entire life. What would he know about grief? His father had died barely six months ago and, instead of mourning him, he was at war with his brother over who got to run the family business. What would he know about helplessly watching someone you love self-destruct, or the burning need to protect them from themselves? What would he know about depression and the terror evoked by watching someone you love slip further away from you into the darkness?

  All Damián knew was how to make money, for himself and the rich people who entrusted their wealth with him. He knew nothing about love and family.

  Movement outside her door made her ears prick up and then her door was flung open and Damián’s huge looming figure appeared.

  ‘You do not get to run away,’ he said harshly.

  ‘Go away.’

  ‘No.’

  The bed dipped.

  Mia cocooned herself even tighter.

  Undeterred, he lay beside her. ‘I was not making judgements.’

  ‘Yes, you were.’

  For a long time, all she could hear was the heaviness of his breaths and knew he was planning what he was going to say next.

  How someone who calculated everything in advance, right down to the words he spoke, could have such passion hidden deep inside him was something she would not have believed if she hadn’t experienced it for herself. Just thinking these thoughts was enough for her skin to tingle. She squeezed her thighs tight, trying to fight the quivers now sweeping into her abdomen. How could she still feel such desire for someone so cold?

  But he hadn’t been cold when they’d been...

  And his voice didn’t sound cold when he said, ‘If I was making judgements it was because I was trying to understand why you did something you knew would affect the rest of your life, and to your detriment.’

  ‘You said I could trust you.’

  ‘I gave my word not to speak about it unless you brought the subject up. I did not give my word to keep my opinions to myself. You would rather I keep silent?’

  ‘It’s done. It’s in the past. Your opinions don’t change anything.’

  ‘That does not stop me from having them. And you have opinions too. I don’t remember going off in a mood when you called my family life a soap opera.’

  He had her there. Damn him. And, she had to admit, hearing him be so vocal in his outrage on her behalf had warmed her in a way she couldn’t explain.

  She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had cared about her wellbeing and future, not like that. Her mum and Amy loved her. They cared for her. But they didn’t look out for her. With a stab, she realised it was because she never gave them reason to think they needed to. It was her job to look out for them.

  Sighing, she loosened the duvet a little to stop herself suffocating. ‘I’m sorry for shouting at you. I think... I’m very protective of my family.’

  ‘I’ve gathered that,’ he responded dryly.

  She turned her face to his. One look into the obsidian depths and her heart swelled. ‘And I�
�m feeling a little overwhelmed by us...’

  ‘Making love?’ he supplied, his eyes crinkling. He tugged at the duvet, loosening it a little more.

  Was that what it had been? Making love?

  It had felt like making love. It had felt... It had been...wonderful.

  ‘I guess I never expected my first time to be with someone there’s not a cat in hell’s chance of having a future with,’ she said.

  He tugged some more at the duvet. ‘I thought you had no regrets?’

  ‘I don’t.’ She turned her face away to stare at the ceiling. ‘I guess I never thought I would feel so different.’

  ‘Different how?’

  ‘I don’t know. Just different.’

  ‘Good different or bad different?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ His hand finally burrowed its way beneath the cocooning duvet and rested on her belly. The tingles that had been building up again in her deepened and thickened. She squeezed her eyes shut but that had zero effect on halting the growing sensations.

  He brought his mouth to her ear. His voice was caressing, the warmth of his breath swirling deliciously against her sensitised skin. ‘If you want me to apologise for not understanding why you willingly admitted to a crime that was not yours then I will apologise.’

  ‘Don’t apologise for something you don’t mean.’

  He kissed the lobe of her ear. ‘Not even if it stops you being cross with me?’

  ‘You’re just trying to get back in my good books so I don’t mess the weekend up.’

  For such a large man he was surprisingly agile, rolling on top of her before she had time to hitch a breath. He stared at her with a hungry, wolfish expression. ‘No, mi vida,’ he murmured. ‘I’m trying to get back in your good books because I want to kiss your breasts again.’

  She tried to glare at him but it was impossible. He was impossible.

  And then, when he kissed his way down her neck and his mouth found her breasts again, she closed her eyes and sank again into the heady feelings his touch alone evoked in her, as impossible as it should be.