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The Forgotten Gallo Bride
Natalie Anderson
'Do I know you?'Zara Falconer’s convenient wedding to tycoon Tomas Gallo freed her from her mercenary uncle. She believes their vows were swiftly annulled but, unbeknownst to Zara, a car crash wiped Tomas’s memory before he could release her from their agreement.Grateful to her rescuer, Zara agrees to be housekeeper at Tomas’s English mansion while he recovers. Prowling the corridors is the tortured shadow of a commanding man – who she’s shocked to discover is still her husband!Being in close proximity to Tomas again awakens a powerful longing between them. Will this intense hunger remind him of the ties that bind them?


“Do I know you?”
Zara Falconer’s convenient wedding to tycoon Tomas Gallo freed her from her mercenary uncle. She believes their vows were swiftly annulled but, unbeknownst to Zara, a car crash wiped Tomas’s memory before he could release her from their agreement.
Grateful to her rescuer, Zara agrees to be housekeeper at Tomas’s English mansion while he recovers. Prowling the corridors is the tortured shadow of a commanding man—who she’s shocked to discover is still her husband!
Being in close proximity to Tomas again awakens a powerful longing between them. Will this intense hunger remind him of the ties that bind them?
‘Get in the bath or I’ll put you in it myself,’ Tomas said softly.
That order melted the last frozen part within Zara.
‘Really?’ She couldn’t help smiling at him. ‘How d’you think you’re going to do that?’
He looked up at her for just a moment longer, his focus dipping to her mouth. Then suddenly in one smooth movement, he caught both her wrists in one of his hands and to her astonishment swiftly lifted his jumper and pressed her cold, cold fingers to his bare skin.
She gasped at the shock—and the sensation. She looked up into his face and saw how intently he was gazing at her.
‘Tomas...’ she whispered. Pleading. She couldn’t help it.
He didn’t reply. He just stepped that last inch closer and kissed her.
She moaned in instant delight, despite the fact his kiss was furious. He subjected her to the full force of his anger—and his passion—and both only brought forth the desire she’d tried to hold within herself for so long.
She moaned again, her legs weakening, but he abruptly broke the kiss.
Never had a man made her feel like this. Made her want like this.
He stared down at her silently, his breathing quick, his expression burning. But he didn’t smile back at her.
‘Go and get into the bath,’ he breathed, releasing her completely. ‘Go. Now.’
‘Y-yes,’ she stammered. Then turned and fled.
NATALIE ANDERSON adores a happy ending. So you can be sure you’ve got a happy ending in your hands right now—because she promises nothing less. Along with happy endings she loves peppermint-filled dark chocolate, pineapple juice and extremely long showers. Not to mention spending hours teasing her imaginary friends with dating dilemmas. She tends to torment them before eventually relenting and offering—you guessed it—a happy ending. She lives in Christchurch, New Zealand, with her gorgeous husband and four fabulous children. If, like her, you love a happy ending, be sure to come and say hi on Facebook—facebook.com/authornataliea (https://www.facebook.com/authornataliea)—follow @authornataliea (https://twitter.com/authornataliea) on Twitter, or visit her website/blog: natalie-anderson.com (https://www.natalie-anderson.com).
Books by Natalie Anderson
Mills & Boon Modern Romance
Tycoon’s Terms of Engagement
Blame It on the Bikini
The Throne of San Felipe
The Mistress that Tamed De Santis
The Secret That Shocked De Santis
Mills & Boon Modern Tempted
Whose Bed Is It Anyway?
The Right Mr. Wrong
Waking Up in the Wrong Bed
First Time Lucky?
Visit the Author Profile page
at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more titles.
The Forgotten Gallo Bride
Natalie Anderson


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Toni—thank you.
Contents
Cover (#ufd39bd36-8b3d-509e-93b6-0c2898bd0486)
Back Cover Text (#u34342e87-b5a1-5678-9e01-f1cfdfabf2fc)
Introduction (#u19b55f0f-3a54-5821-a516-6d028474c292)
About the Author (#u335f5f77-ead8-51f6-b960-ddabb6cfae23)
Title Page (#ub2ecd468-3a3c-55a7-8363-be8f8c000eba)
Dedication (#uf7764e27-5268-56ef-9fcb-f77f47c4e4d3)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_7e3473a6-4393-5d96-9c14-587827619386)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_6f57006d-f164-5996-ae13-428dbdeffdf5)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_da9a3f66-d1ee-50a7-bbaa-4b106e7a78b6)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_f5521858-ed8d-53bb-b87a-cdf63089d529)
‘Type the security code quickly and get through the gates before he sees you, or he’ll override the system and won’t let you in. Don’t get there after dark or you haven’t a hope...’
ZARA FALCONER SQUINTED through the relentless rain, mentally reciting the long code while struggling to hold her freezing fingers steady enough to tap it into the keypad. Because of the storm clouds the sky had darkened early and Jasper’s warning rang loudly in her ears.
Nervously she entered the last number he’d given her and held her breath, but the heavy wrought-iron gates remained as tight-locked as ever. She glanced back at the keypad, wondering if she should try again. A sudden loud clang told her she didn’t need to.
The gates creaked more as they slowly opened, complaining they were unused to the movement. Zara didn’t trust them to remain open for long. The DO NOT ENTER and TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED signs pretty much gave it away. She hurried back to her car, slithering on the wet path in her haste. She inhaled deeply and tried to move more calmly. She’d only just driven through the gap when the iron gates began to close again behind her, groaning as they locked back into their defensive position.
She switched her windscreen wipers onto a faster setting and put her headlights on full to try to see more clearly where she was going. Her breathing quickened as the wet gravel crunched beneath her tyres. Big, barren branches from the large trees overhead obscured the bruised, weeping sky. She inched her battered old car down the long driveway, taking the corner at the end. That was when she had her first glimpse of the large Georgian manor that was his home. With its two stories of imposing bricks and empty windows, it was a vast, gloomy obstruction at the end of the drive. The whole building was in darkness save a feeble light gleaming in only one low window.
Her heart pounded as she pulled up right in front of the mammoth front door. She’d been driving all day and couldn’t quite believe she was finally here. She’d tried to imagine this moment every day for the past year, envisaging all kinds of possible scenarios—maybe she’d bump into him on the street, or maybe they’d be at an event together and see each other across a room, or maybe he’d come to find her...
She’d really had no idea how it was going to happen or indeed if it ever actually would. But then Jasper had found her and basically got on his knees and begged her to visit the man to whom they both owed so much. Jasper’s tired appearance and desperation had surprised her. He didn’t know she needed no real encouragement to see the man who’d changed her life so drastically. She wanted to. Secretly she’d been aching to for months.
So now here she was with her shoes and jeans wet, her hair a straggly mess, and she was late...but she was here.
She grabbed her bag and got out of the car but, despite running to the door, only got more drenched. She no longer cared. She was too busy wondering how he’d react to seeing her again. Would he smile and laugh? Would he look concerned and caring? What would he say?
Unable to suppress the scared-but-excited shivers running up and down her spine, Zara rang the doorbell. She bit her lower lip but she couldn’t stop the shy smile from slipping across her face. They’d had such a short encounter, but it had changed everything in her life. She’d relived those precious moments every day since. And every day she’d longed for just a few more.
She didn’t hear any footsteps over the thumping of her own pulse. It seemed that the door just silently swung open without any warning. And then he was standing in the doorway frowning down at her.
Tomas Gallo.
All she could do was stare.
He was taller than she remembered, and leaner-looking in his faded black jeans and thin black sweater. His hair wasn’t now cut in that perfect, almost preppy, businessman’s style, instead it was longer, a jet-black unruly mess with a hint of curl that ended just above his collar. Despite his olive skin, he was pale. There was no Caribbean holiday tan on him now. Not that devilish smile either. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and the stubble emphasised the sharp edges and planes of his jaw. He looked harder, unhappier. But his eyes were the same—still that beautiful dark brown. The soulful kind of eyes that you could look into for ever, but still never understand the secrets they held. And there were definitely secrets. Even more of them.
He was so striking and so unforgettable. In that one second he stole her breath—and her heart—all over again.
‘What?’ he snapped as she stood there speechlessly staring at him.
Her shy offer of a smile froze.
‘How did you get in here?’ He glared down at her, clearly expecting an immediate answer.
She wasn’t able to give him one. She wasn’t able to speak at all. She watched him closely for a hint of recognition in his eyes, but there was only mistrust—and building anger.
‘I don’t know how you got inside the gates,’ he added roughly, ‘but the gardens haven’t been open to the public in almost a year.’
‘I’m not here to see the gardens,’ she finally managed to answer.
‘Then what are you doing here?’ He continued to glare at her. There was no recognition, no softness, no humanity.
The smile faded from her lips altogether. Awkwardly she stared back up at him. Jasper had said it was better to arrive unannounced. That he wouldn’t tell Tomas she was coming. But did he really not remember her?
She knew she’d changed, but it was only clothes, a new hairstyle...she didn’t think such superficial things would have made that much difference.
‘I don’t want whatever it is you’re selling.’ He began to shut the door.
That galvanised her into action. She’d not driven all day in such horrendous conditions to be given the brush-off in the first two seconds. In that way, she had changed.
‘I’m not here to sell you anything,’ she said, boldly stepping forward and blocking the doorway. ‘I’m here to help you.’
For a beat he looked stunned before snapping back, ‘I don’t need help.’
Defiantly she stood exactly where she was, uncaring that she was getting wet; she was not walking away from this just yet.
‘Yes, you do,’ she argued, taking another step forward right into the doorway. ‘Jasper sent me to you.’
Jasper had told her Tomas was still recovering from the accident. That he needed more help than he liked to admit. And while Tomas might not want her assistance, she owed him for more than he’d ever know and she wanted to pay him back for that.
He looked her over again, more slowly that time. There was still not the recognition in his expression that she’d expected, but as she watched something else emerged—something raw.
‘I don’t need or want your help,’ he said slowly, cynicism harsh in his eyes.
She tried not to be insulted, but she failed. ‘You don’t even know what I can do for you.’
‘I’m not interested in anything that you think you can do for me, sweetheart.’ A bitter smile curved his lips as he glanced over her again. He looked so thoroughly and slowly it was as if the rains had stripped her naked and he could see every tiny intimate detail of her body.
Embarrassed heat stormed through her as his gaze lingered on her breasts. She fought hard to control her reaction to his perusal but sensual awareness circled around her, fogging everything.
‘Excuse me?’ she choked, stunned at her own horrendous reaction.
‘What is it you’re offering?’ he asked. ‘A massage?’
‘You think I’m here to give you a massage?’ she asked, utterly astonished.
‘And other...services as required.’ Now he was looking at her mouth with a dark gleam in his eye.
She could feel herself blushing, she could almost see into his mind and knew exactly where he thought she might use her mouth on him...and the dreadful thing was, the truly dreadful thing was, she’d once dreamt about that. But she’d rather die before she admitted that—even to herself.
‘Does Jasper usually send women to provide these “services” for you?’ she asked huskily.
‘No.’ He frowned suddenly, that gleam vanishing, as if he too rejected the idea outright. ‘This is...unexpected, even for him.’
She drew herself up, gaining less than an inch in height and she was still far from being able to look him straight in the eye, but it was better than shrinking in front of him. She wasn’t that naive girl any more. She wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself now. She wasn’t going to run away and hide. ‘I’m not here to provide you with intimate entertainment.’
His gaze clashed with her own fierce one. Something changed within his expression. Then he too straightened.
‘What did Jasper say to you?’ he asked harshly, even angrier now.
‘That you were going to be alone this weekend.’
‘And he thinks that’s a problem?’ he asked bitterly. ‘Does he think I can’t handle being alone?’
‘You’d have to ask him that,’ she answered crossly. ‘I’m just doing what he asked me to.’
‘Well, Jasper was mistaken in asking you to do anything for me. I apologise for my crass assumption. You may leave.’
It couldn’t have sounded less like an apology. The sky was darkening more and she could see less of his face but she could sense his anger and his resistance to her presence. Her own anger bubbled. That he could be so rude? Had he truly forgotten her? She didn’t care if he couldn’t cope on his own or not, he didn’t look remotely incapacitated to her. As far as she was concerned, Jasper was worrying about nothing and she couldn’t wait to get out of the place. But she couldn’t get past him not recognising her. ‘Don’t you know who—?’
But it was then that the heavens truly opened, turning from torrential rain to ice. Marble-sized hailstones pelted down, bouncing on the gravel and her car and creating such a din she could no longer hear herself think let alone catch a word of what he was now saying. She saw him mutter something else—most likely impolite—then he stepped back and held his arm out towards her.
Was he inviting her in now?
Furious, she didn’t move. He sent her such a speaking look and then reached for her. His grip on her upper arm was hard and her feet were moving before she’d thought better of it. The door slammed behind her, shutting out the worst of the icy racket. But it was colder indoors than it had been out there. Her heart pounded. He’d stepped back only enough to drag her inside and suddenly they were face to face and only a couple of inches apart, his grip on her wasn’t any less ferocious and she could feel his breath on her frozen face.
Her gaze clashed with his. In the dim light she could see little of his expression, only that it was harsh. Her breathing—and her pulse—quickened at his nearness. Her body remembered his touch and she shivered.
Abruptly he released her. As he turned away his hand brushed hers and she quivered again as that electricity arced into her.
Yes. For her, he’d always packed a punch.
‘You may wait in here, until the hail has stopped,’ he said stiffly, taking another step back from her, frowning down at his hand before turning to switch on the light.
She blinked as the sudden brightness hurt her eyes—as did his silence. Shaken by her intense reaction to his proximity, she decided it was better to stay silent herself.
He didn’t invite her into a warm room and offer her a seat or a drink or anything more comfortable, only shelter from the storm that should hopefully pass quickly overhead.
It was clear he didn’t want to wait with her, yet he didn’t want to leave her alone in his large, inhospitable house either. She suppressed a vicious smile at his quandary, still smarting from his lack of recognition of her.
A year ago she’d seen him smile and heard him laugh as he’d joked with Jasper. From her hidden corner she’d been so drawn to him. He’d been arrogant then too, confident and assured, but it was different now—cold disapproval radiated from every inch of his body. He didn’t want the intrusion. He didn’t want her.
Well, he’d never wanted her. And that was just fine, wasn’t it?
Except there’d been one moment all those months ago. One moment when he’d teased her, smiled at her, reassured her. And then come close to her. Her cheeks burned at the memory of just how close he’d gotten to her then. He’d taken her by surprise—and her own reaction?
‘Miss—?’
He interrupted her thoughts, dragging her back to the cold, miserable presence.
He was staring, his eyebrows raised slightly as if he was wondering what she was thinking. Embarrassed, she glanced around the vast interior. It was freezing and so unwelcoming.
‘Falconer.’ She told him her new name. ‘Zara Falconer.’
She looked back at him as she spoke but there was no reaction at all in his expression.
And there was no outward sign of injury either. He seemed perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Yet Jasper had been adamant that Tomas needed her. He’d been agitated about it. And curiosity had been too much for her.
Tomas was undeniably the same lethally attractive man, but the shadows in his face were deeper and darker. He didn’t look like the carefree, rapier-sharp devil she’d met that day.
‘Jasper asked me to housekeep for you for a few days,’ she finally, formally explained her mission.
‘You’re too young.’ He dismissed the idea in an instant.
She bristled, a bitter smile twisting her lips. How many times had she heard that in her life? Yes, she did look younger than she was, but she wasn’t stupid and she could work as hard as anyone. In fact, she could work harder. She had for years. ‘I’m not as young as I look.’
* * *
Tomas stared down at the bedraggled woman standing in front of him. She might think otherwise but he knew what Jasper’s intentions had been in sending her to him. The old schemer had been insisting for months that what Tomas really needed was some fun times with a beautiful woman. That if he relaxed, it would all come right, but his old friend was completely wrong. And the minute he got rid of her, he’d be phoning Jasper to tell him so. Again.
But it surprised him that Jasper had sent someone so unlike the usual high-maintenance-model bombshell that the old man himself preferred. This girl was too sweet. She looked so damned young in those thin sneakers, wet jeans and the light jacket that didn’t offer sufficient protection from the rain and annoyed the hell out of him. But as he looked closer he saw she was right. She wasn’t quite as young as her appearance first suggested.
When Tomas had opened that door she’d had a shy smile on her glowing face. The rain had been like dew on her radiant skin. Her loosely tied back rich brown hair had been starting to tumble, so wet tendrils curled softly at her temples. Her sweetheart-shaped face was dominated by those large sea-green shining eyes and full rosebud lips. Hell, she’d even had a dimple when she smiled. She’d looked the very picture of innocence and joie de vivre.
Everything he wasn’t. Everything he’d never had.
Right now she looked the picture of indignation. It was no less attractive and he was finding it very hard to wrench his eyes off her.
His thoughts were appallingly sexual in nature. He’d taken one look at her and been hit by the almost irresistible urge to draw her close and kiss her—and made a fool of himself in thinking that was why she’d come here. But her mouth looked full and soft and perfect for kissing and she was just the right size to fit in his arms and press against his hard body. He ached for that even now.
He couldn’t remember when he’d last kissed a woman. Or last wanted to. But then, he couldn’t remember anything.
Angered, he stepped towards her, not stopping even as her eyes widened in wary surprise. He didn’t want to know why she was here making a small puddle on the hall floor as the water streamed from her stupidly light jacket. He didn’t want to be bothered by how frozen her fingers had felt when the back of his hand had brushed against them. He didn’t want to see those still-shining eyes casting their innocent, cautious appeal at him.
He didn’t want to want her.
What he wanted was for her to be gone.
‘How do you know Jasper?’ His voice still sounded rusty. No real surprise given he hadn’t spoken to anyone in two days, not even a quick phone call.
She looked uncomfortable and didn’t answer. His eyes narrowed. What didn’t she want to tell him? Was she Jasper’s latest little affair? His anger flared irrationally. He forced himself to breathe evenly and assess the facts. She wasn’t Jasper’s type. And given the way she’d blushed before at his out of order assumption, she wasn’t the type at all.
‘He helped me out with something a while back,’ she eventually answered evasively. ‘Have you eaten dinner?’
‘That’s not your concern.’ But even as he answered his stomach growled. He wondered if she’d eaten. She looked as if she could do with something hot and filling. Where the hell had she driven from anyway? And why? And he did not want to be wondering about her like this.
She walked the length of the hall, not bothering to hide her curiosity behind a veil of politeness. ‘The house is dark and cold.’
Her tone wasn’t judgmental but he felt argumentative. ‘Maybe I like it that way.’
‘You like to make it as unwelcoming as possible?’ She flashed that impish smile as she turned back to face him. ‘Are you that afraid of people?’
The edgy question was softened not so much by that smile as the shining candour in her eyes but it didn’t defuse his simmering anger.
‘I work hard and I don’t like interruptions,’ he corrected, refusing to be melted by her radiance, refusing to be drawn nearer to her. But the pull was powerful. He glared, infuriated by his primary, base response to her. ‘And I don’t need a baby-faced babysitter. It really is time for you to leave.’
Except he couldn’t help wondering where she would go.
Her smile faded and a confused look entered her eyes, dulling the sea-green brilliance. Stupidly he felt he’d disappointed her in some way. He didn’t like it.
‘I’m not as young as you seem to think,’ she suddenly declared with a lift to her chin, as if she’d made up her mind about something and was determined to see it through. ‘I was married once.’
He huffed out a breath, stunned that her words wounded him in a niggling way. ‘But you’re not now?’ he replied softly. The silence hung with significance.
Her eyelids dropped and she looked down, as if it hurt to hold his gaze. ‘I guess it wasn’t meant to be.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Tomas said stiffly. Not so innocent then; she’d been bruised. The thought of her being hurt grated on his already strained nerves.
He cursed Jasper for sending her to him.
He walked back to the front door, but when he opened it he saw that, while the hail had stopped, the rain had returned. It was almost completely dark now and it would be impossible for her to see three feet in front of her while driving. No way could he let her leave in this weather. Inwardly he cursed more.
‘It isn’t safe for you to leave tonight,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’ll have to stay here.’
He looked at her again and something stirred in the back of his mind. Had he said those words to her before?
He scowled at the déjà vu—the trick of a feeble mind.
He loathed it when it happened. Hated thinking there might be a memory just out of reach and that there was nothing he could do to draw it closer or clearer. The most random, inconsequential things sparked it. He paused, waiting, hoping the fragment would float to the forefront of his mind.
It didn’t. It never did.
Frustration flamed his anger to fury. He stepped towards her, his gaze narrowing. The shine in her eyes had gone. So had her smile.
‘Do I know you?’ He rapped the question, like machine-gun fire, hating that he was compelled to ask. Hated giving his weakness away.
* * *
‘No,’ Zara answered baldly, her throat aching from holding back her disappointment. She’d tried to prompt him just then, but it seemed that what had happened a year ago had been so minor that he’d forgotten it. He’d forgotten her.
She knew it was stupid to feel it, but the reality of her insignificance crushed her. Yet what had she expected? This wasn’t a fairy tale. It never had been and never would be. It had been one afternoon, one night, one morning. It had been nothing to him, not even worth remembering.
And she hadn’t just lied. He didn’t know her. He never truly had.
But that hadn’t stopped him from marrying her.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_31642fb9-b49e-50f8-a44f-1d95e85d301e)
‘I want your niece.’
IT HAD BEEN for less than two days and it had been total madness. But it had been real. They’d married.
She should try again to remind him outright, but she was too mortified. That year’s worth of imaginings, of meeting him again and hoping to change his first impression of her? That she could show she was no longer that weak woman who’d needed rescuing—that she was strong and capable and going places—that kernel of hope that he might see her in a different light?
She’d been so stupid.
She had to get away from him—from here—immediately.
She stepped towards the still-open doorway, but before she got there he closed it and faced her, blocking the exit.
‘You’ll stay here for the night and travel on in the morning when the weather has eased,’ he said.
His dictatorial tone checked her momentarily, but she held her ground. ‘And if it hasn’t eased?’
‘You’ll at least be able to see in the light.’
‘My car has good headlights, I think it’s better if I leave now.’ The last thing she wanted was to stay here.
‘No.’ His tone brooked no argument.
She remembered that implacable decisiveness and the air of authority so very well. Once he’d made his mind up that was it. Done. He couldn’t be crossed or fought. She’d seen that when he’d dispatched the argument of her uncle with an icy blade. And there was that weak part of her that still wanted his recognition to come.
‘If you’d care to show me the kitchen,’ she said coldly. ‘The least I can do is make some supper for us both.’
And she’d be on the phone to Jasper as soon as she was alone.
‘I don’t need anything, but please help yourself to anything you may like,’ he replied equally coolly.
He refrained from indulging in a smile of satisfaction, but that obvious restraint made her all the more annoyed. He was too used to getting his own way.
‘You must be hungry after your journey,’ he added formally.
He was determined to reject her assistance in any way, yet was insistent she accept his help. It was an arrogantly unfair power play. He’d ensured she was reliant on him, yet he refused any assistance or even kindness from her.
One day she’d make him accept it somehow, some time. Just for once she didn’t want to be the weak one.
She followed him down the long cold corridor. In the light she now noticed a very slight limp as he walked.
‘My office is on the second floor, but the kitchen is this way,’ he explained briefly. ‘Where have you driven from today, Zara?’
‘Up north,’ she answered carefully.
She was hyper aware of the latent strength in his lean physique as she followed him. He seemed more ruthless, he smiled a whole lot less, but he was still breathtaking. She’d forgotten just how much he fascinated her. Fortunately he didn’t appear to realise the effect he had on her. Thank goodness. He’d never noticed how he made her feel.
Her heart thudded at the strangeness of this arrangement. She shouldn’t have agreed to come. He didn’t need her help at all—what had Jasper been worrying about?
‘I’m sorry if I’ve inconvenienced you,’ she said politely, still trying to get over the smarting hurt that he’d not remembered her.
‘I will ensure there is a room ready for you,’ he replied and left her.
She watched as he left. Not big on small talk, was he?
The kitchen was beautiful and scrupulously clean and she realised she needed food. She’d think better if she warmed up. She’d prepare something and then speak to Jasper.
She checked the cupboards. There were barely the staples in the pantry. She opened the freezer and found a stack of containers—single-serve portions—labelled with the dish and the date it had been made, but also the date for him to eat. Someone had prepared enough for him to last the next few days. Who had done that, when Jasper had insisted that Tomas’s housekeeper had walked out suddenly, leaving him in the lurch?
Someone had organised this for him. She frowned. So why had Jasper been so insistent she come then, if he’d already been taken care of?
Her frown deepened as she looked in the fridge. There was milk and another—uneaten—prepared whole meal, but no raw ingredients.
But the meal he was supposed to have eaten last night was still in there. So was the container labelled as his lunch. She glanced at the counter and the sink again; there wasn’t even a drop of water from the tap in the bottom of the sink. If he’d prepared anything for himself, he’d not left a single sign of it.
She shrugged, telling herself not to care. But she would make herself—and him—something to warm up.
She took off her jacket and scrabbled round in the bottom of her shoulder bag and found the bar of plain chocolate she had there. Thank goodness she’d not eaten it on the drive down. She found a copper pan and gently warmed the milk on the stovetop and grated the chocolate in. As she stirred it to melt the slivers she couldn’t stop the memories from tormenting her. She’d made him coffee that morning, served it with her special lemon-slice cake—that first recipe she’d ever tweaked.
‘He’s here to invest in the casino—don’t screw it up. Stay out of sight as much as possible.’
By then she’d got good at staying out of sight. Her uncle’s temper had been worsening by the day and she was the easiest person for him to vent it on. So she knew when to avoid him, but that day he’d needed her skills.
She’d been the only child of doting parents who’d died when she was just twelve. Her only living relative had flown in to console her. Uncle Charles had said he lived on a luxury yacht in Antigua and ran a casino. He’d sold her parents’ home and told her she’d love it on his boat, with his glamorous second wife.
But that wife had walked out ten months later, fed up with the chauvinistic abuse he served up twenty-four-seven. She’d left teenaged Zara there alone to witness the drinking and womanising and gambling and sleaze.
Her uncle had blamed her for his wife’s departure. In the end everything was her fault. That flashy ‘home’ had offered no relief from isolation and grief—it only exacerbated it, because she didn’t fit the mould.
She’d been nothing but a disappointment to her uncle and he’d let her know it. She’d been so scared and lonely she’d let him stomp all over her—had shut herself away like some sad Cinderella. She’d been so stupidly quiet and shy.
She’d never been able to live up to the expectations he had of her. He’d told her time and time again she was useless. He refused to send her to school and begrudged the correspondence-school paperwork she requested.
She’d retreated below deck. Len, the Scottish chef he employed, became her one true friend and mentor. Over the next few years he’d taught her everything he knew. But then Charles sacked Len and told Zara to take over the food prep full time. At the time she’d thought it had been to spite her, but in hindsight she realised it was one of several signs of the financial failure he was verging on.
By then she’d long since lost contact with her school friends. She was isolated, lonely and trapped; her uncle held her passport and was the sole trustee of her finances—and the money her parents had left her?
All gone. Didn’t she know how much it had cost her uncle to house her? Wasn’t she grateful for that?
Her uncle Charles had been embarrassed that she’d had to wait on his unexpected, important guests. She wasn’t decorative enough—not thin enough, not perfect enough. Not for investment guru, Tomas Gallo, and his lawyer, Jasper Danforth. She was the useless, mousy niece he’d inherited and had never wanted.
But for that business meeting she’d had to be the hostess as well as prepare the coffee and cakes. When she’d caught sight of Tomas Gallo as she’d carried the tea tray into the room, she’d nearly dropped everything.
He’d not appeared to notice when she spilt some of the coffee, but he’d eaten some of the lemon slice. Two pieces in fact.
She’d sat in the corner, mute, suffering silently as her uncle had made joke after joke at her expense. She’d been bowled over by Tomas’s appearance and the bottomless depths of his eyes. He was the most striking man she’d ever seen but he and Jasper had appeared amused, as if they’d agreed with every one of her uncle’s words. And she’d died that bit inside to see that someone so gorgeous could be so cruel.
Almost an hour had passed when Tomas had dropped the bombshell.
‘Sorry, Charles, I don’t think the casino is the right fit for us at this time.’
Her uncle had been beyond furious at losing the investment. He’d been unable to contain his rage, venting it on her down in the galley while the two guests upstairs were readying to leave. She’d stared at the floor as he’d berated her in a bitter hoarse whisper.
‘You’re worse than useless. If you were attractive you could have seduced him. But as if any man would ever want you. You’re a millstone, you ungrateful, lazy little cow. You can’t even pour a coffee properly.’
The blow had come sudden and hard. It had stung so much.
She’d run from the galley only to collide in the corridor with Tomas Gallo. She’d gasped, appalled that he was down there—that he might have heard...
* * *
Firm hands held her upper arms and she flinched when she looked into his thunderous face. He quickly stepped back into the side room, lifting her with him and swiftly closing the door behind them.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ he muttered harshly.
But the lethal anger in his eyes told her he was so very much more dangerous than her uncle. He visibly made himself relax and force a small smile. That was when she realised his fury was not for her.
‘He hit you.’ He tilted her chin and inspected the red of her upper cheek.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ She wanted him to leave before her uncle found out he was down here and made everything worse.
‘It always matters,’ he replied curtly.
Her heart was his in that second.
Tomas released her and she dashed the tears away with the back of her hand, willing him to go back up to the deck and leave with his lawyer. But he didn’t.
‘You’ve lived here how long?’ he abruptly asked. ‘How long?’ he prompted when she didn’t answer.
‘Almost ten years,’ she whispered.
‘You have money?’
She shook her head.
‘Passport?’
‘My uncle...’ She trailed off hopelessly.
‘I see.’
* * *
Yes, she’d known he saw more than she’d ever wanted anyone to see—not only had he seen through her uncle’s ‘joking’ façade to the emotional abuse that it was symptomatic of, he’d witnessed the occasional physical violence her uncle subjected her to. She’d hated that she hadn’t the strength or resources to leave, she’d loathed the depth of her dependence on her uncle. Flushing with mortification, she’d made to push past Tomas but he’d grabbed her arm again. She’d been forced to meet his gaze. There she’d read the steel and the concern, the sympathy and—to her shock—empathy.
It was as if he’d understood, because he’d been there himself.
But that had to have been her own projection. She’d wanted out for so long, but she’d become so trapped by imposed gratitude, felt so beholden and been so downtrodden, she hadn’t known which way to turn or how to get herself out of it. She’d had no money, no chance to study, or to work. She’d been made to feel as if she owed Uncle Charles everything.
* * *
‘Do you want out?’ Tomas asked bluntly.
‘Out?’ She blinked uncomprehendingly. ‘You mean do I want to leave?’
‘Yes. Do you want me to help you?’
His question was brusque and unexpected. She instinctively knew he wasn’t going to wait for her to um and ah. He wasn’t going to cajole or try to convince her. This was a single offer and she had a single second to decide.
She nodded.
‘Follow my lead.’ He let her go and turned towards the stairs. ‘No matter what.’
Back up on deck Jasper was standing with his briefcase in hand. Her uncle was attempting to hide his anger and disappointment by talking incessantly about the tourism boom. Zara stood terrified at a distance, knowing her uncle would be even angrier that she’d returned to the deck.
‘Sit back down, Jasper,’ Tomas said with deceptive softness. ‘I’ve had some time to think about things some more while freshening up.’
‘You have?’ The glow of bitterness in her uncle’s eyes morphed to avaricious excitement. ‘Go fetch more drinks, Zara. Now.’
‘No, I want her to stay,’ Tomas overruled him firmly. ‘She’s a crucial detail to this possible deal.’
Cold sweat slid down Zara’s spine. Surely he wouldn’t call her uncle out for hitting her? She sent Tomas a desperate look, but he wasn’t looking at her at all.
‘I want your niece,’ Tomas said bluntly. ‘I’ll invest in your casino operations, but only if I have Zara.’
Zara’s heart stopped. She couldn’t have heard right.
‘You want Zara?’ Her uncle narrowed his eyes. ‘You can’t want—’
‘Those are my terms.’ Tomas didn’t let her uncle continue. ‘Without Zara there will be no investment.’
‘You want...’ Her uncle just stared at him in shock. ‘How do I know you’re serious?’
‘I’ll marry her,’ Tomas answered bluntly. ‘How soon can we arrange that, Jasper?’
It took five seconds for Charles to collect himself and shut his dropped jaw.
Terrified, she stared from Tomas to Charles to Jasper. The lawyer’s face was utterly impassive while he checked data on his tablet, as if his boss made outrageous queries every day. He’d said to follow his lead, but this was almost barbaric.
‘It seems...er...that you can marry today if you really want to,’ Jasper said, sending his boss a covert look. ‘There’s no notice or stand-down period required. Just the fee, two witnesses and passports.’
‘Good,’ Tomas said, ignoring that warning plea in the tone from his lawyer. ‘So we can leave now.’
Zara stared at her uncle, trying to read his reaction. Surely he’d say no to such a preposterous suggestion? Surely he’d have some compunction?
But a greedy light entered his eye. ‘You’ll be my nephew-in-law.’
‘That’s right.’ Tomas nodded. ‘We’ll be family.’
A prickle ran down Zara’s spine at something in Tomas’s tone. There was something so very cold when he said that word.
Uncle Charles smiled. ‘She can cook.’ He nodded, as if suddenly approving of her skills. ‘She’s a virgin too, you know.’ His proud smile made her skin crawl. ‘She’s been very sheltered.’
She closed her eyes, engulfed in scalding shame and mortification. He was talking about her as if she were a thing to be traded. And as if her sexual experience were anything that mattered?
‘Then it’s decided. Zara, go pack your bag.’ Tomas issued the order without even looking at her.
Sickened to her soul, she knew she had no choice. If she stayed she’d be her uncle’s skivvy and, increasingly, his punchbag, for the foreseeable future. His temper would only worsen the more his business failed. And now she knew how he really saw her. How he’d trade her for some stupid business deal.
‘Wait.’ A suspicious twist tightened her uncle’s mouth. ‘I’ll come with you to the register office.’
‘Of course,’ Tomas said unblinkingly, staring her uncle down. ‘You’ll want to witness the wedding. Go and pack now, Zara.’
Her uncle hadn’t even bothered to ask her how she felt about it. He was acting as if he owned her. But then, that was how he’d always acted. She meant absolutely nothing to him. She’d been a source of money—and when that had gone, she’d become little more than another of his staff. Only he hadn’t had to pay her.
She left the room without a word. And then she ran.
* * *
Zara poured steaming-hot chocolate into two mugs and blinked back the tears at the recollection of how little her uncle had cared for her. But she was away from him now—and so much stronger.
She sprinkled a hint of cinnamon on the top of each. She found a half-empty packet of biscuits at the back of the cupboard and added a few to a small plate and loaded the wooden tray she found in a cupboard.
It had all happened so quickly it was almost a blur. Yet those moments were seared in her mind. There she’d stood in the council offices shivering in a cheap sundress and make-up covering the mark from where her uncle had hit her.
The ceremony had been ridiculously brief. Uncle Charles had witnessed it. Jasper had been the other signatory and given Tomas a ring to slide onto her frozen finger. Heaven knew where he’d found it so quickly.
She could have said no. She could have tried to tell the officials that it was all a farce and that her uncle was insisting she marry a stranger. But she didn’t. She’d just said yes.
There’d been no photos. No glasses of champagne. No speeches. And no kiss. Tomas had given her a cool peck on her cheek when the official had given the corny ‘you may kiss the bride’ permission. She’d pushed away that fleeting feeling of disappointment, reminding herself it wasn’t real.
Her uncle had stood practically rubbing his hands in glee as she married the wealthiest man either of them had ever met. But Tomas Gallo had flipped the tables on Uncle Charles completely. He’d waited until they returned her uncle to the marina before dropping the bomb. He’d told her to remain in the car, but she’d opened her door already and could hear every word between the two men now eyeballing each other.
* * *
‘I’ve changed my mind about the deal,’ Tomas said coolly. ‘I’m not going to buy into your company.’
‘But you just—’
‘We signed nothing and there was no formal agreement,’ Tomas continued, ignoring the interruption. ‘Jasper, Zara and I are leaving now and you won’t see us again.’
‘You...you...’
For the first time she saw her uncle lost for words. Suddenly he spun towards her, his face contorted with rage.
‘You manipulative little...’ He lunged for her through the open car door but Tomas stepped in front of her like an avenging angel.
‘She’s my wife.’ Tomas bit the words out. ‘And you’ll leave her alone.’
‘Your wife? She’s worse than useless. She won’t be—’
‘I neither want nor expect anything from her,’ Tomas interrupted, still ice-cold. ‘She’s not a commodity to me.’
He jerked his head at Jasper and the lawyer closed the car door, sealing her away from the ugliness and the threats. But she could still hear their conversation.
‘Try to contact her again and I will destroy the little you have left of a life.’
She shivered at the ruthless promise.
Her uncle fell back a step. ‘You can’t destroy me. I’ll go to the media—’
‘And tell them you sold your niece to a total stranger? The same girl who bears the bruises from your fist?’ Tomas coolly goaded. ‘You’re a gambling man. You know it’s time to cut your losses and leave.’
Tomas got back into the car and drove them away. The last time she saw her uncle he was red-faced, sweaty and defeated.
Tomas’s mouth was held firm and she didn’t dare speak a word as he drove them away from her uncle and towards the hotel he was staying in. She could feel the cold rage rolling off him. Jasper, sitting in the back seat, was utterly mute.
Tomas glanced at her and suddenly broke the silence. ‘Don’t be frightened. He won’t bother you again.’
She was still afraid. She had no idea what she was going to do.
‘You’ll fly to London in the morning,’ Tomas continued, turning his attention back to the road. ‘I have your passport from your uncle as we needed it for the wedding. Jasper will ensure the marriage is annulled in the next few days. I will gift you a one-off payment. You never have to return here and you never have to see him again. Or me, for that matter. You’re free to do as you wish.’
Her fears melted away. She bit her lip. She didn’t know how to thank this man. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes; he was so gorgeous, and now he’d done this?
‘Your uncle is a greedy gambler and poor businessman. He thought our marriage would mean I’d committed to his company. He didn’t bother asking me to draw up any binding documents in regards to any investment. He thought he’d won the lottery and showed just what he was capable of.’ He shook his head regretfully. ‘He thought he could sell you.’ He pulled up outside the hotel and sent her a small smile. ‘But we got him, didn’t we?’
He was so handsome and, in that moment, almost mischievous...
* * *
On a whim she’d probably never fully understand, he’d offered her an escape and she’d sold herself to him that very afternoon.
But he’d never actually wanted her. He was too much the maverick for that. It was his distaste for her uncle that had forced him to act. In less than forty-eight hours Tomas had gotten her out of there and then disappeared from her life.
She lifted the tray and made herself lift her chin. She did owe him. And now it seemed she was going to owe him for yet more—a night’s accommodation to wait out the storm.
As she walked back along the corridor and headed up the wide staircase, she realised his wing of the house was warm. The luxurious thick carpet was plush and intricate. It truly was a stately home with its antique furniture and polished wood. On the first floor she glanced at the walls, expecting gilt-edged frames of the family portrait gallery.
That was when she paused in amazement. There were pictures, but they weren’t in frames. Slowly she progressed along the gallery towards the lit room at the end that she assumed was his office. But she was unable to look away from the pages and pages pinned to the wall. Pictures of people with notes written underneath all of them—dates, times, messages about meetings, details about the individuals pictured.
Her heart pounded. It was like the case room in some FBI movie. Was she in a house with a total psychopath or was he some kind of overachieving stalker?
Of course he wasn’t. She knew that about him. She knew he was ruthless, yes. But he was also kind. And he was ferociously good at his job.
She looked again and saw there was a rough timeline to the wall. It covered almost a decade. There were pictures of Tomas as well and hand-scrawled notes in pencil beneath. Press clippings about himself as if he were a total narcissist? It just didn’t make sense.
A horrible feeling sank into her bones. All these people pictured were people connected to him, mostly through business. They were people he knew.
Or had known.
She replayed that conversation they’d had only minutes ago on his doorstep—remembering his abruptness, his defensiveness. And when he’d asked that question—‘Do I know you?’
He hadn’t looked angered as much as guarded. He hadn’t wanted to ask her that question. What had he been wary of? Her answering yes?
Why would that have been a problem? Because he hadn’t remembered her?
If he’d asked ‘have we met?’ she wouldn’t have lied. But she’d hidden behind semantics. Now she registered that there was more than an arrogant aloofness to him, there was a barrier. He was locked away. She remembered Jasper’s agitation and insistence that Tomas was still suffering since that accident. Her own hurt pride had blinded her to the obvious.
She knew Tomas had carried Jasper to safety seconds before the car had exploded—that had been well documented in the press. It had been reported that Tomas had been thrown to the ground with his leg shredded. And his head?
He didn’t welcome guests, didn’t want intrusion. Why? Because he didn’t want to talk about anyone, or himself?
She feared there was a very good reason for that and she was furious with Jasper for not telling her the truth. What else hadn’t he told her?
‘What are you doing in here?’
She jumped at the furious demand and almost dropped the tray she was carrying. Turning, she saw Tomas had come up behind her. The iciness in his eyes was impenetrable. He was livid.
Her blood quickened. ‘Looking for you.’
But the plush carpet had masked his footfall.
‘You do not come up here. Ever,’ he snapped.
Zara’s anger flared—a mixture of guilt and outrage. He was rude and arrogant and she didn’t care how much of a hard time he’d had, there was no need to be so vile to someone. She’d been spoken to like that too many times in her life and she no longer stood for it. Ever. ‘No wonder you can’t keep staff when you speak to them like that.’
He visibly recoiled and then blinked. ‘The Kilpatricks have been loyal to me all this last year. They’re only away this weekend to attend a family celebration.’
She gaped at him for a second. ‘That wasn’t what I was told.’
‘And what were you told exactly?’ He stepped forward and grasped her shoulders. ‘And by whom?’
‘I told you. Jasper. He said you’d been left without any staff. That you needed someone for a week or so.’
‘How do you know him?’
‘I told you that already too. He helped me out a while back.’
‘Helped you out?’
She threw him a look as she heard the insinuation in his tone. ‘He’s old enough to be my father.’
‘That doesn’t stop many women. He’s very wealthy—’
‘You just can’t stop insulting me, can you?’ She glared at him. ‘I’m here to help you, because your friend asked me to come. If you have an issue with it, take it up with him.’
‘I intend to.’
Biting her lip, she glanced at the wall again. She couldn’t help it. And the thing was, she had taken Tomas’s money.
But that was partly why she was here. To make amends and show her gratitude. Only now did she realise just how impossible that might be.
‘Don’t ask,’ he said shortly as he followed the line of her sight to the picture-strewn walls.
‘I wasn’t going to.’
Because now she thought she understood. Her anger melted as her heart broke for him. She was so very sorry. ‘This part of the house is cosy.’
‘I’ve put the heating on in your room.’ His expression became remote and he released her to step away. ‘And in the kitchen. It should be better in a few more minutes. The whole house temperature is controlled to protect the art and furnishings that are in storage. I’m not into wasting resources.’
Tomas watched as Zara nodded and placed the tray she was carrying onto a nearby low table. She lifted up one of the mugs. He refused to be tempted but he could smell the chocolate. He hadn’t had chocolate in a long, long time.
But when she turned back, Tomas read pity in her eyes and it infuriated him. ‘Still think I can’t cope alone?’ he asked bitterly.
‘I don’t think that,’ she said briefly. ‘Jasper was the one worrying. He said you’re likely to work so hard you’d forget to eat. That you won’t bother taking the time to cook yourself something decent. And it’s not like you can get a pizza delivery tonight.’
For some reason the thought of Jasper talking about him with her got right under his skin. His right-hand man had always had affairs with beautiful women. Young and old. But with Zara? It didn’t gel. And it hadn’t happened. She didn’t need to tell him again.
Now her small smile returned and it mollified him.
‘So here you are,’ he muttered. Like a temptress.
‘Would you like some hot chocolate?’ She held out the mug to him. ‘That’s why I came up here.’
Slowly he shook his head. ‘I don’t eat sugar.’
‘You’re diabetic?’ She frowned and clasped the mug back close to her with her other hand. ‘Any other dietary requirement I should know about?’
‘I’m not diabetic. I simply prefer not to eat too much sugar.’ He wanted to get back to peak physical health.
‘Maybe you should, it might sweeten you up,’ she mumbled as she turned away about to return downstairs.
‘What was that?’ Her attitude took him by surprise. She was like a little spitting kitten with not very sharp claws but she wasn’t afraid to give him a swipe.
‘No sugar. Got it.’ She turned back and smiled brightly at him. That dimple appeared.
Her small show of fearlessness amused him. He almost smiled back.
‘It’s not good for my recovery,’ he explained reluctantly, because he didn’t want her to walk away just yet. That smile was bewitching.
A small frown pleated her brow as she looked him over—but her checking for his recovery took a twist. Her expression changed and a dazed look entered her eyes, colour ran up under her cheeks. Tomas tensed at her undeniable sensual awareness of him and he couldn’t resist another assessment of his own.
She’d taken off that almost useless rain jacket, revealing she wore only a thin T-shirt underneath. The curves in those jeans were not girlish in any way; frankly they were generous. The sneakers didn’t help her in the height department at all and when he’d held her from him just before he’d felt the slenderness of her shoulders. The sheer femininity of her made him catch his breath. It had taken every ounce of will to refrain from sliding his hand to her narrow waist and pulling her flush against him. He ached to feel those soft curves against him.
Hell, he’d turned into a pervert in two minutes flat.
She gulped at the hot chocolate as if she needed to do something with herself. He watched as she swallowed it back. The scent of the warm liquid assailed his senses. It was the first time in ages he’d regarded food as anything other than fuel. He looked at the speck of creamy milk left on her lip and his mouth watered.
‘Are you sure you don’t want some?’ Her eyes were wide and her voice a mere whisper.
Any other woman and he’d have thought it was a come-on, but the candour in those eyes spoke volumes.
He ought to tell her that she’d left a bit of chocolate milky foam on her lip, but he wasn’t going to. Too much of a cliché. He would not notice. He was well practised at eliminating extraneous thoughts from his mind. All that mattered was his work and rebuilding his company into something better than before the accident that had almost destroyed him.
No one would ever know how bad his injuries had been or the degree to which he’d suffered. The public perception of him—the belief in his knowledge and skill—needed to be unshakeable. Because he was his company.
No one could ever know the truth. He could never allow himself to be that exposed.
As he silently regarded her, her pupils grew and that sweet colour deepened in her cheeks as she realised the double entendre she’d inadvertently uttered. She caught her lip with her teeth. And then—to his surprise—she smiled again.
Grimly he stared at her, unable to speak. He wanted to kiss her—taste that smile and the sweetness deep inside her.
‘Tomas?’ Her voice was the thinnest of whispers now and uncertainty had stolen into her expression as she looked into his face.
No, she wasn’t one of Jasper’s ladies of pleasure. She was too confused by this undeniable electricity that arced whenever they so much as glanced at each other. But she couldn’t help the way she looked at him or hide the hazy desire evident in her eyes and in the way her breathing quickened the nearer he got to her.
She was as thrown as he. Only Tomas was a master of hiding everything now.
But the temptation was almost too great.
‘I’ll get your bag from the car,’ he said abruptly.
‘I’ll go tidy the kitchen.’ She turned and all but ran from him.
He watched her go.
No, he wasn’t doing anything about this sexual attraction no matter how intense. He didn’t have the time or the desire to fool around. And he couldn’t risk exposure.
Except all he could think about were her curves. And her mouth. And the irrepressible sparkles in her eyes. She was like a sensual pixie specially sent to torment him.
Damn Jasper.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_521399f8-6d12-5275-b45d-007b782637c9)
‘You can’t sleep?’
ZARA WAS STILL trembling when she made her way to the kitchen. She’d been so overwhelmed by the desire to kiss him, she’d almost leaned into him. But she’d mistaken that look in his eyes, because he’d then looked so forbidding. She’d almost humiliated herself all over again.
She fished her phone out of her bag, frowning at the low number of battery bars. She needed to charge it soon. Before anything, though, she needed to talk to Jasper.
She hit him with it the second he answered. ‘Why didn’t you tell me the truth?’
‘Zara?’
At his sharp reply her bravado faded. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about Tomas?’
There was a pause. ‘What did he say when he saw you?’
‘He has no idea who I am.’
‘He didn’t recognise you?’ Jasper’s disappointment was more than audible; she felt it echoing over the ether.
‘Why did you tell me his staff had walked out on him?’ she asked plaintively. ‘You lied to me. You set me up.’
‘I thought it might work,’ he answered a touch belligerently. ‘It was my last—’
‘What might work?’
‘That he’d see you again and...’
She waited. Then she guessed anyway. ‘You hoped he’d remember me.’
‘Zara.’
‘That’s what you meant, isn’t it? When you said he had injuries, you meant his memory. Because there isn’t anything else. He’s very...fit.’ She drew in a shuddering breath and leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? He’s lost his memory.’ She waited for his reply. ‘Jasper?’
‘I can’t tell you. I promised him.’
‘I’m different.’ She wasn’t just anyone. She’d been the man’s wife.
‘No. Not even you,’ Jasper muttered, sounding older than his years. ‘He saved my life too, you know.’
‘Jasper—’
‘He needs help.’ Jasper suddenly interrupted her. ‘He’s not left that house all year. All he does is work—’
‘He doesn’t need my help. He needs professional help.’ She wasn’t a professional anything. She blinked back the tears as she whispered, ‘I’m not the right person. He deserves better than this.’ He deserved better than her.
Jasper had been wrong in setting them both up like this. He’d lied to Tomas and made her an accessory. She hated that.
The phone cut out a couple of times and she guessed someone else was trying to phone Jasper, but he ignored it.
She thought of that lonely gallery up there with Tomas’s life in pictures and articles on the wall. The notes he had and what must be a desperate attempt to make sense of it all. ‘Can he remember anything?’
‘I can’t talk about it, Zara. I promised him I wouldn’t. But he’s lost so much. You can see how isolated he is. I thought if he just saw you...’
But she’d been nothing in Tomas’s life—only a moment, a whimsy. She hadn’t truly touched him or made any lasting impression on him. He’d turned her world upside down, then walked away without so much as a backwards glance. All done in a little over a day.
She’d meant nothing to him.
‘I can’t stay here,’ she said. Jasper had trapped her in a situation she’d never have agreed to had she known the truth.
‘You must,’ Jasper said firmly. ‘It will take a couple of days until I get there. Work as his housekeeper. I can get him to agree to that.’
‘No—’
‘You can’t leave, Zara.’ He overrode her.
‘Why not?’
There was a hesitation, then a sigh. ‘Because you’re still married to him.’
‘What?’ Every muscle in her body weakened and she almost dropped the phone. ‘What?’
‘You’re still married. The annulment was never processed. I’m sorry.’
She was still married to Tomas? Goosebumps skittled over her skin. She drew in a breath so jagged it seemed to slice her lungs. ‘How is that possible?’ she whispered.
‘After the accident, I was so distracted it slipped my mind.’
‘But the paperwork... I signed—’ She broke off, too stunned to speak.
‘It burned in the car. We were in hospital for weeks. Tomas was there for months. Then I was concerned about him—protecting him.’
She’d read in the newspaper about the car accident in France less than a week after their crazy wedding. She’d felt sick at the time as she’d learned how Tomas had fought to get Jasper free of the wreckage before the car had exploded. But they’d both survived the accident and the blast and, according to the reports, both were going to be fine. There’d been little about the man in his bio on his business website. Other online searches had been business related and largely fruitless.
Not long after that that she’d forced herself to stop searching for information on him. She couldn’t turn into some sad obsessive. She’d had to forget him to move forward with her life. But her repayment plan had always burned in the background. In the long term she’d aimed to track him down, successful, a whole new woman. With the money plus interest to return to him. She’d wanted to impress him with her transformation and her success.
She’d never do that now.
‘No one knows?’ She turned and stared at the dark window but she could see nothing but her own pale face in the glass.
‘No one knows anything about you. Only his medical team know about...’
She felt the ground had been cut out from under her. All this time they’d been married? And all these months he’d been so hurt?
‘You’re coming here now, aren’t you? Please,’ she begged. She couldn’t handle this alone. ‘He has to know,’ she said, her old anxiety rushing to the fore. She should go in there right now and tell him, but she couldn’t do it. More than that, he wouldn’t believe her. She had no proof. He’d think she was crazy. And she wouldn’t blame him. ‘Please, you have to tell him...’
She didn’t want to do more harm than good. She didn’t want to make anything worse for him. And she didn’t want him to know how weak she’d been.
Truth?
She was still weak. And she was still half in love with him.
She heard the series of interruptions signalling Jasper was getting another call, but again he ignored it.
‘We both owe him, Zara.’
She closed her eyes against the emotional manipulation. So many times that had been used against her. But this time was different. Because this time she did owe.
Tomas. Everything.
‘I know,’ she said softly.
‘Stay until I get there.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. Defeated.
‘Is that Jasper you’re talking to?’
She jumped at the question that cracked across the room like a bullwhip. Tomas stood in the kitchen doorway, looking furious, his own mobile phone in his hand. How long had he been standing there? What had he heard?
Then it hit her. She was staring at her husband.
‘Zara?’
She didn’t answer Jasper’s sharp query because in two steps Tomas was across the room and had snatched the phone from her limp fingers.
‘Never ignore my calls,’ he said furiously into her phone to Jasper, not taking his eyes off her.
She heard Jasper’s immediate reply. She hadn’t got that apologetic deferential tone from him. The grim look on Tomas’s face deepened as Jasper muttered something else she couldn’t hear because now her mind whirled at the implication of Jasper’s words.
She was still married to Tomas. She was his wife. She quivered as a frisson of intimacy that she had no right to feel skittered down her spine.
She’d always been too aware of him, too attracted, too ready to say yes.
Now she was here in this huge house alone with him and while he might have no clue about the truth, that didn’t mean he wasn’t totally, utterly in control.
And she wasn’t. Not of herself. Not of those stupid yearnings she’d felt when he—and only he—was near. She’d been too isolated. Too inexperienced. Too insecure.
She licked her lips nervously as she watched his anger flare at Jasper.
At totally the wrong moment that one precious memory slipped its leash to torment her.
* * *
‘You can’t sleep?’
She shook her head, feeling her colour mount because he’d found her awake and alone at two in the morning, pacing the corridor outside her hotel room like an undead wraith unable to rest. She stopped outside her door, her bare toes curling into the carpet, and half hoped he’d just pass by and leave her to her own agony.
She had the most massive crush on him. How could she not? He was gorgeous and kind and mesmerising. And he’d helped her.
She knew the crush was mostly gratitude—she was confusing desire with appreciation. Their wedding that afternoon wasn’t real in any way. He’d said it would be annulled in a couple of days once she was safely back in England. So this awareness of him could just die a death.
‘And you’re a bit scared?’ Tomas asked with a gentle smile. ‘I remember when I left Italy with nothing but the clothes I was wearing, I was scared, but it was an adventure.’
Her surprise grew; he’d become this successful from absolutely nothing? ‘How did you make it?’
‘Hard work. Determination.’ He shrugged as he stepped closer until he was right in front of her. ‘You have skills, you have more resources than you know. You’re going to be fine.’ He tilted her chin and looked into her eyes with a small smile. ‘And your uncle was wrong, you know. You’re very attractive.’
His lips brushed hers in the lightest gesture of support—and finality.
She screwed her eyes shut, her humiliation total. Her first ever kiss had come from her first lethal crush, and it had been born of compassion.
‘Please don’t pity me,’ she muttered, then forced herself to look at him. ‘I am going to be fine.’ She echoed his words, drawing strength from them. Determined to believe they would be the truth.
His eyes were only millimetres from hers, bottomless, unreadable, so beautiful and for a timeless moment all she could do was drown in them.
‘I know,’ he answered, his voice suddenly roughened.
And to her surprise, he quickly bent and brushed his lips over hers ever so lightly again. Without volition she parted her lips, lifting her chin so the sweet contact lingered just for a fraction longer. She closed her eyes to hold onto the magic. And then everything changed.
He was back, his mouth moving over hers more firmly. Then more so again. She quivered, stifling a gasp when his tongue slid between her teeth, searching out her secrets. It felt foreign, but it felt so good as he stroked her that she simply leaned into him.
She heard a low growl in the back of his throat as his arms came around her. He kissed her again. She opened more for him; she couldn’t not. And she sought the same knowledge, darting her tongue to tangle with his, to push past and explore him. A wave of emotion rose in her, tearing apart the veneer of fear and releasing an intense desire that had never before been roused. It was so raw and new she had no hope of either containing or controlling it. Instinctively she knew that her response inflamed him too—the kiss grew more passionate. She wound her arms around his neck, curling her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. Her action bringing her body into full contact with his—her breasts pressed against his hard chest. Spasms of awareness shot from her taut nipples to the depths of her most private parts. It was shocking and delightful all at once and she simply didn’t know what to do other than press closer and closer still.
This wasn’t gratitude. This wasn’t anything as easy as that. This was a desperate meeting of two spirits that had suddenly curled together and couldn’t be forced apart. She moaned as that fire inside built to an unbearable temperature. She needed something more...
But all of a sudden he wrenched his lips from hers. She gasped in disappointment, but then clamped her mouth shut as embarrassment crashed down on her.
There was an unreadable expression in his eyes as he pulled her arms from where she’d wound them round his neck. She had to lean back against the wall for support as he put three feet of distance between them.
Oh, Lord, she’d been clinging to him. She closed her eyes tightly to hide from him. She wanted to apologise but she couldn’t. She was trembling too much to summon coherent speech.
She heard the sound of her hotel-room door opening and she opened her eyes in a flash. But he’d stepped back from it and wasn’t looking at her as he crisply ordered her to bed.
‘You’d better try to sleep now, you have a long journey tomorrow.’
Alone.
* * *
As if she could ever sleep after that. Her husband had kissed her—meaning nothing but a little comfort—but she’d succumbed so totally, tumbling into a heady fantasy of fate.
That fantasy had been hers alone. He’d almost wordlessly walked away, unable to even look at her. And her humiliation was complete all over again.
She closed her eyes briefly now to force the burning memory back into its padlocked box. And she bit down on her lip to stop that pulse of desire tormenting her.
Not now. Not ever.
He’d never been hers in that way. And now he never could be.
* * *
Tomas gripped Zara’s phone, his annoyance burning brighter as he looked at how pale she now was. What had Jasper been saying to her?
There was an almost beseeching look in her sea-green eyes, as if she was wordlessly asking for something. Asking for—
He didn’t want to know what it was. He could never give her it anyway.
He had nothing to give anyone.
But now he had a woman before him looking so damnably beautiful. And alone. Looking as if she needed comfort. And contact. And—
He turned on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen.
‘Leave your playgirls in London,’ he growled in a low voice. ‘I have too much to do for this distraction.’
‘You always have too much to do and not all distractions are bad,’ Jasper tried to joke.
But Tomas wasn’t in the mood. ‘Why did you send her to me?’ he barked as he braved the rain to get her bag from the car. The car was cheap and not in the best condition and he was surprised it had got her here safely. Her bag wasn’t heavy; she obviously hadn’t planned to stay long.
‘Because you shouldn’t be alone for weeks at a time.’
Tomas snorted. Being alone was exactly how he liked it. As it was he hadn’t been going to be alone for long enough. ‘The Kilpatricks will be back next week.’
‘You don’t exactly let them into your life.’
Tomas paused. How did Jasper know that? Did he get them to report to him? He was livid at the intrusion—well-intentioned or not. ‘Don’t interfere, Jasper. Work is all that matters.’
‘Haven’t you proved that already?’ Jasper argued quietly. ‘The company is more successful now than it ever has been. No one can believe the way you’ve pushed it on this last year...isn’t it time you had a break and took care of other aspects of your life?’
‘There are no other aspects,’ Tomas snapped. ‘And there never have been. You know it as well as I.’ That was how he liked it and wanted it. ‘I pay you for your legal advice and nothing more. If you want me to keep paying you, then I suggest you stick to the books.’
There was silence as Jasper digested that threat. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...’ He cleared his throat. ‘But Zara is a good worker, please give her a chance for these few days. She needs it.’
Tomas closed his eyes at the plea in the older man’s voice and blocked the memory of the anxiety in Zara’s eyes. He’d known there was more to her story than what she’d told him.

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