Spanish Escape. Maisey Yates
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‘There will be no one else for the duration of our contract…’
‘It’s not going to happen.’
‘Well, in case you change your mind—’ he handed her an envelope ‘—you might need this.’
She opened it, stared at the photo that had been taken last night. His arm was on the chair behind her, she was laughing, and there was Raúl—smiling, absolutely beautiful, his eyes on her, staring at her as if he was entranced.
He must have known the photographer was on his way, Estelle realised. He had been considering this even last night.
Raúl had rearranged the seating—she was certain of it now.
She realised then the lengths he would go to to get his way.
‘Did you arrange for Gordon to be called away?’
‘Of course.’
‘You don’t even try to deny it?’
He heard her anger.
‘You’d prefer that I lie?’ Raúl checked.
She looked to the mantelpiece, to the photo of her brother and Amanda holding a tiny, frail Cecelia. She was so tired of struggling. But she could not believe that she was considering his offer. She had considered Gordon’s, though, Estelle told herself. Tomorrow she had been going to tell her brother she was deferring her studies and moving in with them.
She had already made the decision to up-end her life.
This would certainly up-end it—but in a rather more spectacular way.
She went into the kitchen with the excuse of making coffee, but really it was to gather her thoughts.
Bought by Raúl.
Estelle closed her eyes. It was against everything she believed in, yet it wasn’t just the money that tempted her. It was something more base than that.
A man as beautiful as Raúl, for her first lover. The thought of sharing his bed, his life—even for a little while—was as tempting as the cheque he had written. Estelle blew out a breath, her skin on fire, aroused just at the thought of lying beside him. Yet she knew that if Raúl knew she was a virgin the deal would be off.
‘Not for me.’
He was standing at the kitchen door, watching as she spooned instant coffee into two mugs.
‘I’ll leave you to think about it. If you do not arrive at the appointment then I will accept your decision and stop the cheque. As I said, tomorrow my phone number will be changing. It will be too late to change your mind.’
It really was, Estelle knew, a once-in-a-lifetime offer.
‘I WILL FLY your family out for the wedding…’
They were sitting in Raúl’s lawyer’s office, going over details that made Estelle burn, but it was all being dealt with in a cool, precise manner.
‘I will speak with your parents and brother.’
‘My parents are both deceased.’ Estelle said it in a matter-of-fact way. She was not after sympathy from Raúl and this was not a tender conversation. ‘And my brother and his wife won’t be able to attend—Cecelia is too sick to travel.’
‘You should have someone there for you.’
‘Won’t your family believe us otherwise?’ There was a slight sneer to her voice, which she fought to check. She had chosen to be here, after all. It was just the mention of her parents, of Cecelia, that had her throat tightening—the realisation that everything in this marriage bar love would be real and she would be going through it all alone.
‘It has nothing to do with that,’ Raúl said. ‘It is your wedding day. You might find it overwhelming to be alone.’
‘Oh, please,’ Estelle responded, determined not to let him see her fear. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Very well.’ Raúl nodded. ‘It will be a small wedding, but traditional. The press will go wild—they have been waiting a long time for me to marry—but we will not let them know we are married till after.’
They had been talking for hours; every detail from wardrobe allowance to hair and make-up had been discussed.
Estelle had insisted she could choose her own clothes.
‘I have a reputation to think of,’ had been Raúl’s tart response.
Estelle was entitled to one week every month to come back to the UK and visit her family for the duration of the contract.
‘I am sure we will both need the space,’ had been Raúl’s explanation. ‘I am not used to having someone permanently around.’
There was now an extremely uncomfortable conversation—for Estelle, in any case—about the regularity of sex, and also about birth control and health checks. Raúl didn’t appear in the least bit fazed.
‘In the event of a pregnancy—’ the lawyer started.
Raúl was quick to interrupt. Only now did he seem concerned by the subject matter being discussed. ‘There is to be no pregnancy.’ There was a low menace to his voice. ‘I don’t think my bride-to-be would be foolish enough to try and trap me in that way.’
‘It still needs to be addressed.’ The lawyer was very calm.
‘I have no intention of getting pregnant.’ Estelle gave a small nervous laugh, truly horrified at the prospect. She had seen the stress Cecelia had placed on Andrew and Amanda, and they were head over heels in love.
‘You might change your mind,’ Raúl said, for he trusted no one. ‘You might decide that you like the lifestyle and don’t want to give it up.’ He looked to his lawyer. ‘We need to make contingency plans.’
‘Absolutely,’ the lawyer said.
It could not be made clearer that this was all business.
Estelle sat as with clinical detachment he ensured that he would provide for any child they might have on the condition that the child resided in Spain.
If she moved back to England, Estelle would have to fight against his might just to make the rent.
‘I think that covers it,’ the lawyer said.
‘Not quite.’ Estelle cleared her throat. ‘I’d like us to agree that we won’t sleep with each other till after the wedding.’
‘There’s no need for quaint.’
‘I’ve agreed to all your terms.’ She looked coolly at him. It was the only way for this to work. If he knew she was a virgin this meeting would close now. ‘You can surely agree to one of mine? I’d like some time off before I start working.’ She watched his jaw tighten slightly as she made it clear that this was work.
‘Very well.’ Raúl did not like to be told that sleeping with him would be a chore. ‘You may well change your mind.’
‘I shan’t.’
‘You will be flown in a couple of days before the wedding. I will be on my yacht, partying as grooms do before their marriage. You shall have the apartment to yourself.’ He had no intention of holding hands and playing coy for a week. He waited for her nod and then turned to his lawyer. ‘Draft it.’
They waited in a sumptuous lounge as the lawyer got to work, but Estelle couldn’t relax.
‘You are tense.’
‘It’s not every day you get offered a million dollars.’ She could at least be honest about that. ‘Nor move to Marbella…’
‘You