CHAPTER ONE

      Late November

      LYDIA MENTALLY BRACED HERSELF for battle, because this was one fight she was not prepared to lose. Over the twenty-six years of her life, she’d perfected the art of hiding her emotions and now she intended to use it fully. Raul Pérez Valdez wouldn’t know what had hit him. Ten years ago he’d made her feel totally insignificant, like nothing more than a spoilt little rich girl, and she hated him for that. Ever since she’d gone to live with her grandmother as a child, she’d worked hard to shake off that label.

      Any moment he would arrive and walk through the diners of one of London’s top restaurants to the intimate candlelit table he’d arranged, referring to it as neutral territory in his blunt email. The mood she was now in, he was going to need every bit of help he could get from the chosen venue, which was anything but neutral if his reputation of romancing women was true. It was very much a setting he would be at home in, whereas she was distinctly uncomfortable in such surroundings, having avoided anything remotely romantic after witnessing so many relationships turn sour, including her own supposed happy ever after.

      Irritation filled her as the minutes ticked by. He was late. The time he’d appointed had already passed. Was the man intending to make her suffer even more? Make her so nervous she could easily jump at her own shadow? Or had he decided against the ludicrous deal his father had concocted with hers? Did this mean she was free to go back to her life and not honour the conditions of that deal she’d unwittingly been dragged into? Her father had reached an all-time low with that deal, leaving her to pay the price.

      Except she’d had enough. She didn’t owe her father anything, not after all the years of ignoring her, unless it suited his latest negotiations, of course. Like the time she’d been paraded as a sixteen-year-old in front of the man she was about to meet, as if she was some sort of bait. That plan had failed—or so she’d thought.

      With a huff of irritation, Lydia picked up her purse from the small round table and stood up to leave. She wasn’t wasting any more time waiting for Raul Valdez. If he wanted her father’s debt settled, he could chase around London after her.

      ‘Going somewhere?’ The sultry accent snared her senses and she turned and looked up into the face of a man so handsome he couldn’t possibly be the perpetrator of such dire circumstances. He’d changed, but from the intent look in his inky black eyes she knew without a doubt this was Raul Pérez Valdez, CEO of the Spanish investment bank her father had defaulted to in the most spectacular way.

      Every sculpted angle of his face, from the high cheekbones to the Romanesque nose and the deep-set eyes, sent her body’s senses spinning into overdrive. Memories of being an impressionable girl on the brink of womanhood collided with that reaction and she was unable to quell the erratic racing of her pulse, or the shiver of something she quickly dismissed as nothing more than attraction.

      ‘We had a meeting ten minutes ago.’ Her sharp words did nothing to this specimen of cool reserve. The heavy brows lifted slightly in disbelief—or was it amusement? She couldn’t tell. The intensity in his eyes increased, but she was determined he wouldn’t use his well-known charm on her. She glared at him, hoping the icy coldness she was renowned for showed in all its glory. She wasn’t an impressionable sixteen-year-old any more.

      ‘For my lateness, I apologise.’ He held the back of the chair she’d just vacated, the expression on his face showing he expected her to sit back down.

      Lydia tried to remain focused as she looked up at him, hating the way excitement sparked inside her as his dark eyes travelled down her body, making her display of cold demeanour extremely difficult. She stood boldly as his gaze seemed to rip the black fitted skirt and businesslike white blouse from her. Each second that ticked by increased her vulnerability, raising it higher than it had ever been, and the urge to fight back kicked in. If he was going to blatantly inspect her, she’d return the compliment.

      With huge effort she dragged her gaze from the black depths of his eyes, taking in the clean-shaven face, then to the strong neck encased in a pristine white shirt collar, intensifying the olive tones of his skin. His hair was thick and as dark as coal and his broad shoulders gave her the impression they were strong enough to carry any problems. His arms flexed tantalisingly beneath the fine cloth of his suit as he stood and leant slightly on the back of the chair, his cold stare barely masking his irritation.

      How would it feel to be held within the strength of those arms? Her pulse leapt at the thought and she fought hard again to quell the instant attraction that had stirred the woman in her she’d long since hidden away. This was not the time to indulge in silly romantic notions and most definitely not with this man, one who’d made his thoughts of her plain many years ago.

      ‘If this meeting was as important as you led me to believe, you would not have been late, Mr Valdez.’ Her anger at the way her body had reacted as she’d taken in every detail of this man, and the thoughts that had raced through her mind at the idea of being held in those strong arms, made her voice crisp and sharp.

      That impressive control didn’t waver.

      ‘You and I are in a position which I am certain neither of us want, Miss Carter-Wilson, and, as I have the solution, I suggest you sit down.’ She saw his jaw flex as he clenched his teeth, the only sign she was challenging his outward display of patience.

      ‘The position we are in? You mean the bizarre conditions your father attached to the contract he forced my father to sign?’ That sensation of helplessness she’d been fighting for several weeks surfaced again and her voice rose rapidly with each word.

      ‘Exactly that.’ The calmness of his voice, together with the silky rich accent, jarred her senses, increasing her wildly overactive anxieties.

      ‘There is no way it can be enforced.’ She knew she was beginning to babble, the panic of everything almost too much, and she bit back further words. He had to think she was calm and in control, had to think he’d met his match. His equal.

      ‘If you sit down we can discuss this rationally.’ He gestured to the chair, his brow rising in question—or was it amusement?

      Unable to keep a sigh of discontent from escaping, she sat down. The need to be in charge, to control the situation she was virtually drowning in, forced her to speak again before he’d sat opposite her at the small and inappropriately intimate table, complete with a red rose and candle.

      ‘I think you need to explain just what kind of business contract your father tricked mine into signing. It is inconceivable that in the twenty-first century two people can be forced to marry because of such devious tactics.’ She took a deep shuddering breath, hardly able to comprehend that this nightmare was actually happening.

      ‘That is why I’m here—’

      Lydia cut across him, angry at the stupidity of her father for signing a contract with such dire conditions and, even more so, at this cool specimen of male splendour for being so calm and pragmatic about it. ‘Mr Valdez, I don’t care what is in the contract.