A Deal Before the Altar. Rachael Thomas

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       CHAPTER FOUR

      GEORGINA HAD THOUGHT the private jet was luxurious, but the villa, with its stunning sea view, was beyond anything she could have imagined. White curtains stirred in the breeze, making the sunlight dance across the marble floor. The fashionable furnishings offered every comfort possible, giving the villa the feel of a home.

      She stood and looked out of the open doors, which led onto the terrace. The heat of the afternoon sun must be having an effect on her. She’d been here for several hours and still she couldn’t get over the world of opulence she’d entered. But, determined that Santos shouldn’t know how out of her depth she felt, she kept her awe of her new surroundings hidden.

      ‘We’ll eat out tonight.’

      Santos’s voice brought her thoughts back to the present as he came to stand next to her. Each time he was near, her skin sizzled and anticipation zinged down her spine, but she couldn’t and wouldn’t go there. This was a business deal and nothing more. She could never allow it to be more.

      She dragged her gaze from the sparkling sea and turned to face him. He too had changed. He’d washed away the hours spent travelling and stood before her looking more relaxed then she’d seen him before. She couldn’t help herself and allowed her gaze to linger, to take in the latent strength of his body as he walked across the room to the doors of the terrace. The commanding strength he exuded excited her and terrified her at the same time.

      ‘Would that be to keep up the pretence of an affair?’ The words slipped from her mouth with practised ease, the facetious tone one she regularly used. ‘It’s obvious now why we are here.’

      ‘Is it?’

      Damn him, he appeared to be laughing at her. His new, relaxed mood made him smile at her prickly demeanour. It was as if he was genuinely flirting with her, teasing her as he might one of his lovers.

      ‘Of course it is. This area is a playground for the rich and famous, and with them come photographers and journalists, all waiting to catch the next big story. I saw them taking photos as we arrived.’

      She took a deep breath and forced herself to stop talking. Allowing Santos to see how he unnerved her wasn’t going to do any good at all. If he wanted to parade her around as part of the pretence then so be it.

      ‘For a woman who dreamt up this whole idea you’re very touchy about it.’

      He walked out onto the terrace, where he leant his strong arms on the balustrade. Briefly she remembered how it had felt to be held in their strength, but immediately she dragged her wandering mind back. She had to keep focused. It was almost as if he knew he was distracting her. She was convinced he was using it to his advantage.

      ‘I didn’t dream this up.’ She flung her hands wide, gesturing around them, and pushed to the back of her mind the terms he’d agreed on, hoping it would never have to go that far. ‘It’s you who took the idea from marriage in name only to this—this pretend love affair.’

      He turned back to face her and folded his arms across his chest, the sun behind him making it difficult to read his expression. ‘This is the best way.’

      ‘Best for who?’

      She realised she’d never questioned his motivation for changing things. She’d been so desperate to achieve her aims she hadn’t given it a thought. Yes, she knew he wanted the business—that much Emma had told her—but why would such a wealthy and successful man, who had women falling at his feet, agree so easily to her proposition of marriage?

      ‘It doesn’t matter who it’s best for. Once we are married your sister can marry Carlo and you will have got what you wanted.’

      ‘Not forgetting what you want. You will inherit the business, then we can both get on with our lives. As if this had never happened.’ She kept her words firm, as if she believed wholeheartedly in what she was doing. One thing she would never do was let him know her doubts.

      The clinking of ice in glasses halted further conversation as drinks were brought out to them. She watched as a petite Spanish girl placed the tray on the table before she slipped away, seeming to melt into the background.

      ‘Exactamente, querida.’

      He turned to face her as he spoke and a shiver of apprehension slipped over her.

      ‘It all seems too easy, Santos,’ she said, realising she’d used his name without having to force herself. ‘I can’t believe a man like you would agree to my deal so easily. There must be something more in it for you.’

      He moved away from the balustrade and came close to her. Too close. Her first reaction was to step back, but she stood her ground and met his gaze head-on, despite the pounding of her heart and the race of her pulse. Something in his expression had changed. He looked more intense, his eyes darker. She couldn’t help but look into them and momentarily floundered.

      ‘Yes, there is, querida.’

      He stepped closer and the air seemed alive with something she’d never experienced before.

      ‘And that is?’ She feigned bravado, her words short and sharp.

      ‘I want what we agreed in my office. A wife.’

      He was serious, and from the resolute set of his mouth she knew he wasn’t going to change his mind any time soon. ‘We don’t need to make this marriage any more difficult to get out of than need be,’ she said

      ‘I have no intention of getting out of it, Georgina. I want a real wife—not someone joined to me just because we signed the same bit of paper.’