Читать книгу: «Valdez's Bartered Bride»

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. I’m not going to marry you. Not ever.’

His dark brows rose and she thought she saw a hint of a smile on his lips. Even worse, his reaction sent a skitter of something she’d never experienced hurtling through her and her pulse leapt just from having that sexy hint of a smile, which had sparked briefly in his eyes, directed at her.

‘At least we agree on that.’ He sat back in his chair, his dark eyes locking with hers, full of challenge. ‘You may be assured I have absolutely no desire to make a spoilt little rich girl my wife.’

So his opinion of her hadn’t changed. ‘I am no such thing.’

She fought hard to resist the urge to jump up and walk away; only the fact that her solicitor had told her the terms of the contract her father had signed with Banco de Torrez, however bizarre, would stand up in court, kept her from doing just that—for now.

‘What about all the properties? Many of them are worth millions. Your father hid them by putting them in your name as he defaulted month after month on the agreement he’d signed with my father.’ He folded his arms across his chest, serving only to emphasise the strength in them as the dark grey suit pulled over his biceps. Since when did she ever notice such things about a man?

‘That is something I had no knowledge of, but, if they are in my name and worth that much, I will sell them to clear the debt.’ The discovery several weeks ago of what her father had done had been just another bit of her life falling to pieces. Angry at the man who was supposed to protect her, she’d maintained a stony silence with him, to show him her disappointment and anger that once again he’d risked everything, including this time her future, her happiness.

Raul looked at her and she knew he didn’t believe her. The cold lack of interest was too obvious. Was he really as ruthless in business as those reports she’d read on the Internet implied? She had hoped to strike some sort of deal with him. After all, a man who rarely dated the same woman twice was as unlikely to want marriage as she was.

‘I would be more than happy to accept such an offer—’

‘Good.’ She stood up, content that this absurd conversation was over. ‘Then you can liaise with my solicitor over the matter.’

‘Do you always talk over people?’ His question stopped her as she was about to leave for the second time and she looked down at him, stunned into silence, and the elusive sensation of being in control slipped further away with each erratic heartbeat. From the moment he’d arrived and their eyes had met, she’d lost that control.

* * *

Raul had never known such self-assured insolence from a woman as beautiful and alluring as the prim and proper Lydia Carter-Wilson. She certainly didn’t want to hear what he had to say and wasn’t prepared to listen to his suggestion for dealing with the situation they were both now in. A solution he was certain would be acceptable. Yet it was blatantly clear all this fiery beauty cared about was herself. She hadn’t changed a bit since he’d met her ten years ago. Granted, she’d become a beautiful and sexy woman, but she wasn’t any different. She was still a spoilt little rich girl. Daddy’s princess—and a liar.

He pushed down the irrational anger that engulfed him every time he thought of what his father had done. That last meddling dig at the son he’d never wanted threatened to unleash all the bitterness and contempt he’d kept hidden since his father had died five months ago. The devious old man had even known he was terminally ill and changed his will to get at him one last time.

‘No, I don’t, but then I’ve never had the dubious pleasure of lunch with a man like you.’ The hot retort fired at him and he couldn’t help but smile. It was definitely an inconvenience having to extricate himself from such an agreement with this woman, but he’d certainly not expected to find it so entertaining. She was a bundle of hot sparks and defiance. Just the mutinous tilt of her chin and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts as she glared at him fired something deeper than merely lust. Something he had no wish to get tangled in—ever.

She tempted him, daring him with that sexy body that begged to be made love to, and almost all rational thought slipped from his mind. But he was not his father. He would not be drawn by the lure of sex. His playboy reputation was deserved, but only as part of his armour, his defence in order to remain emotionally intact and very single.

‘And what would a man like me be?’ He taunted her, enjoying the fire of annoyance that flared in those green eyes, reminding him of the fresh leaves of spring on the trees in Retiro Park, in his city of birth, Madrid.

‘A man who thinks he only needs to smile at a woman to have her falling at his feet—or into his bed.’ The slight nod of her head, the little so there gesture, as she finished speaking made laughing at her impossible to resist.

‘My bed?’

‘Don’t you dare laugh at me.’ Indignation hurtled out with those words, all but lashing at him, and he reluctantly pushed away the image of this woman in his bed.

‘Maybe a little laughter is how we need to deal with this situation. Now, please sit down. The poor waitress has no idea if we are staying or going.’ He tried to instil some order into their meeting, which didn’t feel anything like a business lunch.

He watched as she turned to look at the waitress who was approaching their table for the second time. He liked the way Lydia’s brunette hair moved, slipping over her shoulder, the loose curls bouncing with the movement, and the way she tucked it back behind her ears. There was an air of vulnerability about her he didn’t buy into at all. There was no way this fiery creature was vulnerable. Spoilt and used to getting her way, yes, but vulnerable, no.

‘I’m not entirely sure being forced into a marriage is a laughing matter.’ She fixed those gorgeous eyes on his face, her full lips pouting slightly, making him briefly wish this were a date and that by the end of the evening he would be able to kiss them. Savagely he pushed those thoughts aside. This was not a time to become distracted.

‘Then on that we agree.’ He beckoned the waitress forward with a subtle move of his hand and watched as Lydia took the menu, appearing to use it as a shield. Against him or the situation? He watched her long lashes lowering as she read and took the opportunity to study her further. Her skin was pale, making it obvious she hadn’t spent the summer in one of her Mediterranean properties. The menu shook very slightly in her hands and he wondered if it was possible for such an audacious woman to be nervous. Much more likely to be anger, he decided, anger that was directed firmly at him. Anger was good, because then at least they could sort out this mess their fathers had selfishly created for them.

As she gave her order her voice became soft and gentle, not at all like the hard and sharp tones he’d been treated to so far. How would she sound if they were here as lovers? Would that softness be beguiling him to take her home and to his bed?

Alarmed by the train of his thoughts yet again, he dragged his mind back to the truth of the situation and placed his order. Employing all the charm he’d perfected as his armour, he smiled at the waitress.

‘So, how exactly do you propose to deal with this situation?’ The softness had gone and the question fired at him with force. Had she meant to use that word? Propose was the last thing he intended to do. He focused his attention back to the woman opposite him, the woman his father had decided would make him a suitable wife simply because of the substantial properties that she owned and her misfortune to have such a reckless and weak father.

He kept his gaze fixed on the pale beauty of her face, watching for any signs of compliance. ‘You have considerable property assets and these were the security used by your father. The terms are more than clear, as I have already informed your lawyer.’

‘I have said that I am more than happy to sell them in order to raise the funds required.’ She cut across him again, stemming the flow of his well-prepared proposition.

‘If that were possible, it would be the most sensible option. Unfortunately, my father has used this security as part of his conditions of his will.’ The outrageous terms his father had insisted on still infused him with rage as fiercely as the day he’d discovered what his father had done. A final jab at his son, even after his death, to get just what he wanted.

‘His will?’ The sharp intake of breath left him in no doubt this was not a piece of information she was aware of. ‘I’m sorry about your loss. I had no idea.’

‘Please don’t waste your sympathy on me.’ He pushed away memories of his childhood, of never being able to be what his father wanted, never knowing how to please him and having no idea why. At least that mystery had been solved. ‘My father and I were not close.’