‘I hate you.’

‘I know.’ Raul dipped his head and nipped her earlobe. ‘Imagine how incredible it will be … all that hate fuelling all that lust.’

Sensation filled Charley, every crevice of her coming alive at his touch, and at the whisper of his breath on her skin.

Two years without this …

Somehow she managed to pull her hands free from his grasp, fully intending to use them as weapons to push him off. Instead, working of their own accord, they hooked around his neck to pull him in for her hungry lips to connect with his. She had no sane comprehension of what she was doing. Instinct was taking over to seize what her body so desperately wanted.

In that instant any sort of rationality dissolved from her mind.

In a mesh of lips and tongues they came together, devouring each other, her fingers digging into his scalp, one of his hands sweeping up her back and nestling into her hair, clasping her head tightly.

His taste filled her and his warm breath merged with her own, sending deeper darts of need into her. Every part of her was aching for his touch, his kiss, his caress …

MICHELLE SMART’s love affair with books started when she was a baby, when she would cuddle them in her cot. A voracious reader of all genres, she found her love of romance established when she stumbled across her first Mills & Boon® book at the age of twelve. She’s been reading (and writing) them ever since. Michelle lives in Northamptonshire with her husband and two young Smarties.

The Perfect

Cazorla Wife

Michelle Smart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to Pippa, my wonderful editor.

Thank you for everything you do—

I couldn’t do any of this without you.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE MOONLIGHT THAT poured over the mountaintop hotel gave it an ethereal, mysterious quality. From one perspective it looked enticing, welcoming. From Charley’s perspective, the shadows it cast spelled danger. The moonlight shouldn’t be silver. It should be red.

But this was no time for imagined threats. She was here for one purpose and one purpose only.

Taking a fortifying deep breath, she waited for the barrier to rise then drove through and parked in the main car park. No valet approached to whisk her Fiat 500 off to the secure parking area filled with Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Maseratis and the like.

Ambient music greeted her in the sprawling lobby where hotel guests were lounging around in their finery sipping on pre-and post-dinner drinks. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone, intent on slipping through to the function room at the back.

The closer her steps took her, the louder the thuds of her heart grew. By the time she reached the door, the beats inside her were so loud the ambient music was completely drowned out.

A barrel of a man materialised, preventing her entry into the room.

‘Your invitation, please,’ he said, holding out his hand.

‘My husband arrived earlier,’ she answered in hesitant Spanish. She’d lived in the country for over five years but only in recent months did she feel she’d got an actual grip on the language. She still kept her phrasebook in her handbag just in case. ‘He left word that I would be getting here late,’ she lied.

‘Your husband?’

Charley reached into her silver clutch bag, removed her passport and handed it over. ‘Raul Cazorla.’ She imagined how her soon-to-be ex-husband would react if he were in this situation and tried to channel some of his arrogance. She held her phone up. ‘Would you like me to call him so he can come and verify who I am?’

She could see the guard debating what to do. No doubt he had taken Raul’s invitation himself. No doubt he had clocked the flame-haired lingerie model on his arm too.

Thinking of that lingerie model...

A host of bitter feelings curdled in Charley’s belly, just as they had two weeks ago when the first picture of the happy couple had been spread on the cover of one of Spain’s high-end glossies. Raul had looked like the cat who’d licked the bowl dry of all the cream, which Charley supposed wasn’t all that surprising. Physically, Jessica was perfect.

She doubted the model was his first lover since she’d left, just the first he’d publicly acknowledged.

Who he saw was none of her business, she reminded herself. In a few short weeks their divorce would be finalised. He would be a free agent.

She inhaled deeply and narrowed her eyes, little signs she had seen Raul perform hundreds of times to denote his displeasure at whatever situation was occurring. ‘Perhaps you would prefer to find him yourself and ask him to confirm who I am?’

She knew her words had done the trick when the guard placed his hand on the door to admit her. Who wanted to be the man to seek out Raul Cazorla, one of Spain’s richest men, in the middle of a high-society party, to ask him if the woman bearing his name really was his wife?

‘Enjoy the party,’ he said, opening the door.

The function room of Barcelona’s Hotel Garcia was a mass of glitz and silver and heaving with glamorous bodies. Unlike the easy jazz music of the lobby, here a DJ was playing a set, popular dance music throbbing beneath her already aching feet. It had been nearly two years since she’d last worn high heels and all the bones in her feet were protesting.

Waiters and waitresses armed with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres mingled discreetly, but close enough for Charley to swipe a flute of champagne and drink it in one swallow.

As she scoured the room she became aware of curious eyes watching her, imagined she could hear the whispers of, ‘Is that Charlotte...?’

She tuned them out, focusing her attention on the open French doors that led out into the expansive gardens and the balmy night air.

The garden was alive with revellers sitting on the many iron tables and chairs scattered over the lawn, people talking, smoking, kissing...

Her heart recognised him first, accelerating to a gallop as she spotted the tall, muscular frame standing in the far distance, his back to her, a hand in his pocket. He was deep in conversation with a man she didn’t recognise. On the table beside them sat two women chatting between themselves. The redhead took a long drag of a cigarette.

Raul hates smoking, she thought faintly.

For a horrible moment she thought she was going to be sick.

She’d barely taken a step when he turned his head as if sensing eyes upon him.

He tilted his face a touch in her direction then turned back to the gentleman he was talking to and carried on his conversation.

Gathering all her courage, Charley began to walk. She’d only taken a few steps when he turned his head again. This time his eyes fixed directly on her.

He twisted his body round fully to face her.

As she neared him he became more than just a figure in the distance. Step by step he seemed to expand and flesh out, becoming solid. Becoming Raul.

He was as handsome as her tortured mind remembered.

Dimly she noted the dark hair cropped short, the black bow tie loosened around his neck, the perfectly tailored handmade suit hugging his snake hips...

By the time she reached the table, all conversation between his companions had stopped. In particular, she could feel the redhead’s eyes boring into her.

‘Hello, Raul,’ Charley said softly, the anger that had propelled her to gatecrash this party diminishing as she took in the face she had last seen in the flesh almost two years ago.

If her appearance shocked him, he hid it well. He’d always been able to hide his emotions well. Apart from in the bedroom...

‘Charlotte,’ he said, leaning forward to place a kiss on both her cheeks. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure.’

At least, those were the words his mouth said. His eyes spoke a different tale. Even through the tingling on her cheek where his lips had met her skin, she could see the fire spitting from them.

When he next spoke she could hear the tightness of his vocal cords. ‘Excuse me, Andres, ladies.’ With those polite parting words, he bore her away, taking hold of her arm and clasping it tightly enough to prevent her escaping but not so hard as to hurt.

Eyes followed them as they walked in silence to the far corner of the garden, the part where discreet benches were placed amongst the blooming flowers for lovers to be alone. With every step she took, Charley forced her mind to concentrate, to remember the words she’d spent the day rehearsing.

Being here with him was a thousand times harder than she’d imagined it would be.

The last time she’d seen her husband had been exactly six hundred and thirty-three days ago.

The last time she’d seen her husband they’d been screaming at each other, real hate and fury spilling out like a bunch of fireworks detonating in one big bang. She’d left that night and hadn’t seen him since.

She’d thought all the hurt and anger from that evening and everything that had led up to it had gone, that she was over it and moving on with her life. To feel the same maelstrom of emotions stirring within her scared her more than anything she’d experienced since that night.

She could feel him trying to rein in his own fury too, in subtle ways that only someone who’d been intimate with him for a long time would recognise. Someone like his wife.

Only when they were safely out of sight, hidden behind a cherry tree laden with fruit, did he drop her arm and glower down at her. ‘What are you doing here, Charlotte?’

‘I’m here to speak to you.’

‘That much is obvious. The question is why have you wormed your way into this party when I’ve made it clear I have no wish to see you?’

His words shouldn’t feel like a slap to the face. But they did. They stung as badly as his refusal to take her calls and as badly as when he’d cancelled the appointment she’d made to see him less than an hour after his PA had put it in his diary. Charley had heard the mortification in Ava’s voice when she’d called her back with the bad news.

‘I need your help,’ she said with a helpless shrug, gazing intently into the pale blue eyes she’d once adored. The very first time she’d caught a glimpse of him it had felt as if her heart expanded enough to consume the rest of her. The high cheekbones, the full lips offset by a firm jaw...

She blinked and looked away. Raul’s intense masculinity that bordered on beauty had turned her brain to mush before. She needed to keep her head together, not plunge back five years to a time when her libido did her thinking for her. This was her one chance to convince him to help her. ‘Did you get my letter and the finance report I put with it?’

His throat emitted a sound of disgust. ‘Are you talking about the begging letter I received a couple of days ago?’

She rubbed an eye and immediately wished she hadn’t. She’d spent an age applying her make-up, unpractised after almost two years of not wearing it, and in one frustrated rub had probably ruined it. But she needed to look the part, not just to gain access to the party but to convince Raul to take her pleas seriously. Image was everything to her estranged husband. Regardless of what occurred behind closed doors, the public face had to be perfect.

‘So you’ve read it?’

Raul had taken one look at the girlish handwriting on the envelope and known immediately who it was from. Charley’s writing was undeveloped, as if she were stuck at age twelve.

It suddenly struck him that her handwriting was something she’d always been embarrassed about. She must have been really desperate to get in touch with him in this manner.

At the time he’d received her letter, though, he hadn’t been thinking of anything like that. Seeing her handwriting there before him had hit him low in his gut, churning up so many emotions he’d screwed the envelope into a tight ball and thrown it at the wall. A good hour had passed before he’d retrieved it and taken a look at the content of her letter. He’d barely got a third of the way through before screwing it back up again. The finance report—and he used that term loosely—had gone straight in the shredding pile.

‘I read enough to know you’re after more of my money.’ He’d transferred ten million euros into her account not long after she’d left, a reminder to her of everything she was giving up. He’d fully expected her to come crawling back. He’d still been expecting her to come crawling back a year later when the divorce papers had landed on his doorstep.

But now those millions had dried up and here she was, dressed to the nines, trying to get her greedy hands on more.

‘I’m not after your money. Did you read the bit about the Poco Rio day care centre?’

‘Yes.’ It was as far as he’d got before the words had blurred in his eyes.

Poco Rio day care centre. Those five words had been the reason his hands had fisted the letter into a ball the second time. It had been his estranged wife’s refusal to have a child with him that had killed their marriage.

He’d pumped an endless supply of money into her failed business ventures and now she had the nerve to ask him for money to fund yet another business, this one involving children, when she’d strung him along for three years with the promise of one.

He’d never thought of her as a sadist.

‘Then you know how important this is. I’ve found the ideal premises but the owner won’t hold onto them for ever. Either I complete the sale in the next month or he’s pulling out. Please, Raul, there isn’t time to find new premises. We’ve got four months left until we’re kicked out of our current home and—’

‘None of this concerns me. This is your problem.’

‘But I’m running out of time! The place I’ve found is perfect. The grounds are enormous and, once all the renovations are done, the building itself will be ten times better than the one we’re currently in and we’ll be able to double the number of children.’

‘As I said, this is your concern, not mine.’

‘But without you I can’t get the rest of the funding. I’ve tried everything...’

‘Then try harder. Maybe this time you’ll actually see something through to the end rather than giving up halfway through.’

She sucked in her cheeks at his home truth but met his gaze head-on. ‘I won’t give up this time. I can’t. But no one’s prepared to invest.’

‘Then either your business plan needs working on or you need to change your résumé. Maybe you should consider changing the truth into lies and hope no one bothers to check it.’ He backed away and nodded his head. ‘I’ve given you enough of my time—my date will be feeling neglected. I trust you can see yourself out?’

She blanched at the mention of his date.

He waited for gratification to hit him but all he felt was something akin to guilt, although why that should be the case he couldn’t begin to fathom. Charley had left him. After three years of his lavishing his money on her, helping her to improve herself, supporting her, giving her everything she desired...she’d refused him a child.

After three years of stringing him along, dangling the promise of a child over his head, she’d finally admitted the truth. She didn’t want to have his baby.

Their whole marriage had been a lie, reduced to nothing but a cauldron of recrimination and hate.

And now she had the nerve to ask for his help.

Yet, staring at her now, her skin as pure as alabaster under the moonlight, Raul had to clench his hands into fists and hold them tightly to his sides to prevent them reaching out to touch her.

The first time he’d met her, he’d just taken over the running of the Cazorla Hotel chain, the family business run by his father until he’d suffered a major stroke. Despite having his own successful, unconnected business to run, Raul had stepped up to the plate and taken over. The stroke had left his father physically disabled and unable to speak but he’d perfectly conveyed the disgust he felt at this occurrence. Raul had known it was the thought of him taking over rather than his new physical situation his father had hated the most. He knew his father despised the roaring success he’d made of the business since.

Back then, he’d been in Majorca to inspect the Cazorla hotel there, as he’d done in turn with the whole chain, refamiliarising himself with the business. This hotel had been markedly different from the others, having turned into a family hotel over the years rather than a luxury resort as the others in the chain were famous for. Charley had been employed by an outside Spanish company as one of the entertainers there.

He’d first seen her late in the evening, leaving the complex, dressed in shorts, a shimmering top and flip-flops, long honey-blonde hair flowing around her shoulders. She’d been laughing at something a friend had said, a deep, throaty laugh without inhibition that had made him smile to hear it. He’d spotted her again the next evening. She’d been on the stage running a game show that involved audience participation. She’d been funny and energetic and had the guests, young and old alike, eating out of her hand. He’d sought her out when the show finished, about to head out with her colleagues to party the rest of the night away. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to get her to change her plans and join him instead.

Appearancewise, she couldn’t have been more different from how she looked now in her expensive tight red dress with the plunging neckline that showcased her creamy cleavage and matching red heels. As soon as she’d been given access to his bank account, her style had changed dramatically, her wardrobe suddenly full of impeccable designer items.

Tonight, her long, thick hair had been dyed a warm blonde but he had no doubt it would be a different colour in a few weeks. Her hair changed more frequently than her ever-shifting career choices.

Her perfectly made up green eyes blinked rapidly as she pulled her generous lips into a tight white line. She reached out an imploring hand before quickly letting it drop. ‘You’re the only one who can help me. I’ve finally found a bank prepared to invest in the project but they’ll only give me the rest of the funds if you act as guarantor.’

‘What the...?’ He bit away the oath that jumped on his tongue and glared at her, ignoring the plea ringing from her eyes. ‘That’s even worse than asking me for money outright. You must be mad if you think I would guarantee money on any business venture you embarked on. After all, I threw away millions of euros during our marriage on your failed ventures—’

A thought occurred to him. ‘Why would the bank manager request I act as your guarantor? We’ve been separated for two years. Our divorce, which I remind you has come at your instigation, will be finalised in a few weeks.’

Her teeth sank sharply into her bottom lip and she cast her eyes down in a decidedly shamefaced manner. ‘I...’

‘What did you do?’ His wife was nothing if not impulsive. She could have done anything.

‘I...I told him we’d got back together.’

‘You did what?’

She met his gaze with a cringe. ‘I didn’t know what else to do...’

‘Let me get this straight—you told a bank manager we were back together so you could get investment on your latest hare-brained project?’

‘It is not hare-brained,’ she protested hotly, displaying the first real hint of fire since she’d gatecrashed the party. ‘Without the funding, the children have nowhere to go.’

‘That is not my problem.’ The anger that had been simmering within him pushed to the surface. ‘I don’t care what lies you’ve told, I want nothing to do with it and nothing to do with you. This is your mess and your responsibility to sort out. Goodbye.’

Leaving her standing there open-mouthed, he strode away. He hadn’t got more than a few metres before she called out to him.

‘It isn’t too late for me to sue for a slice of your fortune, you know.’

He came to an abrupt halt.

Now the truth of this meeting was revealed.

‘Our divorce isn’t final yet. I can call my lawyer Monday morning and tell him I’ve changed my mind and now want the large settlement he said I could have.’

Slowly he turned to face her, heart thundering, his brain burning. She dared to threaten him?

He did not take threats from anyone, especially not the woman who’d shared his bed for three years and milked him for everything she could before walking out on him.

‘Yes, you can call your lawyer and, yes, a court will probably compel me to give you some of what you ask for. I’ve always been generous with you—it was your choice not to ask for more than I’d already given.’ He’d been suspicious to find she didn’t want more of his wealth than the ten million euros. Probably she’d seen all the zeros in her account and assumed it would last for ever. He was surprised it lasted as long as it had.

Somehow he found himself right back in front of her with no memory of his legs having moved.

‘Any court case will take months, if not years, to settle so will come too late to save your latest business.’ He allowed himself a smile as he leaned down to place his face inches from hers so she could follow his lips and their meaning more closely. ‘In the meantime, you will have ample time to consider the folly of your extravagant ways and the consequences of your lies.’

This time he walked away without her calling him back.

As he rejoined the party the sight of her hurt, shocked face played heavily on his mind.

His date, Jessica, stared at him coolly, taking a long drag of her cigarette. ‘What was that about?’

He looked at her. They’d been dating for almost a month, his first foray into the dating world since Charley had walked out.

Jessica was tall, lithe and beautiful, regularly featuring at the top of sexiest women polls. She was poised, cool and considered, and looked fantastic on his arm.

Charley was inches shorter and considerably curvier. She was warm and impulsive with a laugh that warmed you to hear it. She smelled of fresh vanilla.

He could still smell her now.

‘Well?’ Jessica demanded, crunching her cigarette out in the ashtray.

Charley had always smelled gorgeous, especially first thing in the morning when the vanilla had turned to musk and mingled with the scent of their night’s lovemaking.

He hated the smell of smoke. Was it any wonder he’d been loath to even kiss Jessica?

A dart of red crossed the periphery of his vision. He turned his head to see Charley hurry back into the hotel. Even from this distance he could see the dejection in her demeanour.

Forcing a smile at Jessica, he ignored her question. ‘One more drink and then we’ll make a move.’

Not giving her the chance to respond, he headed back into the hotel and the heaving function room. As he fought his way to the bar, bypassing the waiting staff and their trays of champagne—he needed something much stiffer than that to drink—he kept an eye out for a vision in red but she was nowhere to be seen.

Charley had gone.

CHAPTER TWO

CHARLEY FORCED A polite smile and an even politer adiós, and left the bank manager’s office. Her chest felt so tight she struggled to breathe. Swallowing in a vain attempt to open her airways, she stepped into the lobby of the enormous building that housed her bank and a dozen other institutions, and headed straight to the ladies’ room, locking herself in the nearest cubicle.

It was over.

The manager had been as good as his word. Without Raul to act as guarantor, there would be no loan.

She’d known her chances of getting the manager to change his mind had been slim but had refused to be defeated. Slim was a better chance than zero.

And now it was all over. That last glimmer of hope had died. Zero chance had become reality.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, she stifled a sob.

Despite all her efforts, Poco Rio would lose its home and close.

Those poor children. Whatever she felt was nothing in comparison to how it would affect them and their families. God alone knew they’d already suffered enough in their short lives.

She had to hold her hands up and admit defeat. There were no avenues left to explore. She’d done everything she could, even turning to Raul for help.

Another sob formed in her throat as she recalled how he’d thrown her desperate plea back in her face. She’d never have believed he could be so heartless, had had no idea he was still harbouring the fury that had underpinned the end of their marriage. Then, his fury, his loss of control, would have been frightening if her own anger hadn’t matched his.

How clearly she remembered the reasonable tone he’d always adopted when discussing her failings. ‘Cariño,’ he’d said, ‘it is time for you to accept you are not business-minded. You have tried but now it is time for us to make the family we once talked of having.’

She remembered even more clearly how her blood, her skin, her bones—every part of her—had chilled at his words.

Bring a baby into this marriage?

Up until that point, having children was something she’d looked forward to having but in the future, after she’d found her niche in life.

Her own mother had worked hard to put food in Charley’s belly. The fact she’d thrown away all her mum’s hard work in her teenage years was something she’d become deeply ashamed of and determined to rectify. When she had a child of her own, she wanted her baby to look up to her. She didn’t want her own children comparing their parents and seeing a father who was a roaring success and a mother who was a dismal failure. She wanted her husband and children to be proud of her, to see her as a successful woman in her own right.

It hadn’t been on her mind to leave him but when she’d tried to explain why this still wasn’t the right moment to have a baby, everything had turned on its head and somehow they’d been in each other’s faces, shouting words she no longer remembered in detail but remembered the meaning behind.

Gold-digger and failure were two of his choice accusations that still rang clear and still had the power to make her stomach contract with pain. Those accusations had hurt terribly. She’d tried so hard to make a success of those businesses, had been desperate to impress him with something other than her body. But she had reached too high, she could see that now. Desperation had clouded her judgement; she had reached the stage where she couldn’t see the wood for the trees. The trees had become so thick she couldn’t see a way out either.

And then he’d told her to leave.

It had been like a light bulb going off in her skull. All the things she’d been in denial about had come to the forefront and with them had come the realisation that she couldn’t do it any more. She couldn’t be the woman he’d tried to shape her into being.

By the time she’d finished packing, he’d calmed down enough to tell her, not ask her, that he wanted her to stay. But it had been too late. Raul wanted perfection and she was far from perfect. She’d known as clearly as she knew her own name that their marriage was dead.

So why did she feel so heartsick to think about him? Why did she feel not just upset that he’d thrown her pleas for help back at her but a bone-deep misery that had stopped her eating more than a slice of toast since the party two days ago?

Only when she was certain she could keep the threatening tears at bay long enough to return home did Charley leave the ladies’ room, making sure a smile lay on her lips. That was one of the things the decorum tutor Raul had employed had drilled into her: always show a pleasant demeanour whatever the circumstances. Image was everything to the Cazorlas.

Her head ached, hurting much worse than the time she’d swallowed too large a lump of ice cream and got brain-freeze. The brilliant Valencian sunshine magnified it and she shielded her eyes as she stepped outside.

Her car was parked around the corner but before she could walk to it her vision cleared and she made out the tall figure leaning against an illegally parked silver Lotus at the front of the building, arms crossed over his broad chest.

‘Raul?’

For a moment she was too stunned to move or say anything else.

Seeing him in full daylight, gorgeous in a dark blue suit and light blue shirt that made the colour in his eyes gleam, threatened to knock what little stuffing she had left out of her heart.

This wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be. Over the years Raul had wined and dined all the major players of the Spanish banks. He had all the best contacts. His web covered everywhere.

He’d probably known the outcome of her meeting before she had.

Suddenly it became clear what he was here for.

She marched over to him. ‘Here to gloat, are you?’

He unfolded his arms and straightened, his pale blue eyes fixed on her without expression.

‘No, cariño.’ The faintest of smiles tugged at his sensuous lips. ‘I’m here to offer you a lifeline.’

She studied him carefully, trying to read his face.

‘What kind of lifeline?’ she asked, not hiding her wariness.

‘The kind of lifeline that will save your centre.’

Raul watched a dozen emotions flitter over her pretty face as she digested his words.

‘You’re going to help me?’

He allowed himself another smile and opened the passenger door of the Lotus. ‘Get in and we’ll discuss the matter.’

‘Tell me where to go and I’ll meet you. I’ve got my own car here.’

She could drive now? That was news to him.

‘If you want the lifeline for the centre that means so much to you, I suggest you get in. This is a one-off discussion. When I leave, the offer of my help leaves with me.’ Not waiting for a reaction, he sidled round and got into the driver’s side.

It was only when he shut his door and fastened his seat belt that Charley galvanised herself into action, jumping in beside him and shutting the passenger door with a slam.

He put his sunglasses on before turning to face her, taking stock of the designer black suit she wore and the way her hair hung loose around her shoulders. It surprised him to find her make-up-free bar a touch of eyeliner and mascara. His wife normally made her face up so artfully that not the slightest imperfection showed; at least she had after she’d been given access to his bank account and had hit the high-class department stores. When he’d first met her she’d been as fresh-faced as she was today.

His loins tightened as he caught her vanilla scent. He’d been imagining that scent since she’d gatecrashed the party.

She stared right back at him, confusion and suspicion vying in her look.

He experienced a surge of satisfaction.

He had her exactly where he wanted her.

With a half-smile on his face, he shifted the car into gear and joined the rest of the traffic on the street.

‘Are you serious about helping me?’ she asked in the throaty tone he remembered so well.

‘Why else would I be here?’

On Saturday night, his only intention had been to let her stew in the mess of her own making and get on with his life.

Charley had left him. She was nothing but a gold-digger who’d played him for a fool. She deserved nothing.

He’d dropped Jessica home after the party and returned to his own house alone, just as he’d slept alone since Charley had left him.

He’d lain awake, his mind drifting back to the nights he’d spent with his wife, remembering the curves of her body, the softness of her skin, the scent of their sex...for the first time in two years, his libido had awoken.

One short, angry conversation with his wife and his body—every part of it—had come back to life in a way it hadn’t in the whole of their two years apart.

He’d recalled their conversation in minute detail, over and over, Charley vivid behind his eyes. He couldn’t block her out.

When the sun came up he’d still been lying there, his mind still racing in a hundred different directions.

Not caring that it was a Sunday morning and that they would likely be in bed, he’d used his contacts to learn more about the finances behind her venture, including speaking to a businessman she’d pitched to.

He learned Charley only had the personal funds to pay for half the building costs. He dreaded to think what she’d blown the rest of the money he’d given her on.

Financially, her name was toxic. No investor would touch her. Her own bank wouldn’t touch her without his name as guarantor.

She’d explored all other avenues and now it was down to him and him alone to save her project.

Well, she would damn well pay the price for it, starting today.

‘You’re going to lend me the money?’

‘Better than that—I’m going to give it to you.’

He let that sink in, letting her realise in her own sweet time that he alone had what was needed to make her dream a reality.

‘Are you seriously serious?’

He almost laughed. He’d forgotten the way she had with words. ‘Yes.’

‘I’m assuming this offer comes with a catch.’

‘Nothing in life comes free, cariño.’ He felt her bristle at the use of his old name for her. Good. By the end of the day she would be doing a lot more than bristling beside him. By the time the sun went down she would be back in his bed beneath him.

Celibacy had not been a conscious decision. It was only as he’d lain in his bed thinking about her that he’d realised why he’d not found another bedmate.

How could he be with another woman when his wife still lived in his blood?

Charley hadn’t just gatecrashed the party, she’d gatecrashed her way straight back under his skin. And he knew just the way to exorcise her once and for all.

‘What’s your catch?’

‘We will discuss the terms when we get home.’

‘You’re taking me to Barcelona?’

‘Sí. And when we get to my home we will share a civilised lunch and discuss the terms of the deal in detail. For now, you can rest your mind knowing that if you agree to my terms, the building you want to buy will be a done deal.’

Charley bit into her bottom lip and balled her hands into fists, digging her nails into the palms of her hands. If her nails were as long as she’d kept them when she’d been with Raul, she would have inflicted pain upon herself. Now they were short and practical and produced only the dullest of aches. Nowhere near enough to distract from the turmoil playing in her belly.

‘Can you at least tell me why you changed your mind about helping me?’

‘We will discuss everything when we get home.’

She wanted to demand answers but forced herself to think rationally. Right now he was being cordial towards her, his attitude a marked improvement to the loathing he hadn’t bothered to hide at the party. He was here and, if he was as good as his word, prepared to help her. At that moment, that was all that mattered. Anything else she could worry about later. Antagonising him would accomplish nothing.

If she had to suffer his company then for the children’s sake she would gladly accept it.

Her head might term it as suffering, but her body had a different word for the reaction provoked by being in the close confines of the car with him. It was familiar torture: her lungs tight, her pulse loose, her skin alive with awareness.

She breathed out slowly and peeked at him from the corner of her eye. Her heart swelled to see his sleeves rolled up, his tanned left arm resting on the ledge of the open window. Unlike most people with his wealth, Raul preferred to drive himself unless he was drinking. The first of his birthdays that they’d celebrated together, she’d bought him a day’s racing at a racetrack. He’d been too well-bred to tell her he’d already raced on it a dozen times, happy that she’d bought something that actually meant something to him.

They’d been happy then. She’d been happy then.

She blinked the memories away and fixed her gaze on the road ahead.

A few minutes later they were at the heliport where his pilot awaited them, ready to take them back to Barcelona.

* * *

Charley stared up at Raul’s home with a definite sense of awe and trepidation.

‘When did you move in here?’ she asked.

‘A year ago,’ came the curt reply.

In direct contrast to the old villa, which had been set in a private enclave by the beach, Raul’s new villa was located in the exclusive neighbourhood of Avenida Tibidabo. Surrounded by high-security gates that in turn were lined with palm trees, the villa was three-storey, with cream outer walls and turrets, all topped with terracotta roofs.

Intuition told her she was walking into a trap, although she couldn’t fathom what it could be. Once she knew exactly what he wanted from her she’d deal with it. It was the not knowing that made her feel so tense, that and being back in the company of the man whose masculinity she’d always found so very potent. It shamed her that even now, after so much water had passed beneath the bridge, her body was as alert to him as it had always been.

The villa’s differences internally were as marked as the location. The home they’d shared by the beach, although just as grand, had been modern. This villa was steeped in splendour, with mosaicked floors and high, arched frescoed ceilings, a sense of history breathing through the whitewashed walls.

Here was the evidence, if she hadn’t already guessed it by his two years of silence, that Raul had moved on.

She swallowed the acrid taste that had formed in the back of her throat. ‘Where are the staff?’ At this time of day the house should be teeming with activity, especially on a Monday.

‘I told the household staff to take the day off.’ Raul’s eyes gleamed with something she couldn’t interpret. ‘I thought it best for us to be alone.’

Low, down in the juncture of her thighs, heat pulsed and licked through her veins.

How could she still react to him like that, as if the past two years had never happened?

She rubbed her arms, her trepidation growing with each passing second. ‘What are the terms you want to talk about? Only, I’m working at the centre tomorrow and want to get back to Valencia before it gets late.’

‘We can talk while we eat.’

She followed him through to a dining room with huge windows that looked out onto the villa’s gardens. The sun shone down, beaming on the manicured lawn and the abundance of flowers and shrubs.

A long dark wood table had been set for two. Raul pulled a chair out for her. ‘Lunch has been prepared for us. Make yourself at home.’

Home? She gagged at the thought. This would never be her home. In a few weeks they would be officially divorced. She was almost counting the days.

She sat gingerly, running her fingers over the silver cutlery in silent contemplation.

Any moment now and his real motive for bringing her here would be revealed. She doubted it was to do with the money. Unlike Charley, who’d proven herself to be a spectacular failure in business, her husband had a habit of turning whatever he touched into gold. Much as she tried to avoid reading media reports on him, it was like telling a child not to touch the nice shiny toy in the corner. Already worth hundreds of millions, he’d sold the technology firm he’d founded and run before his father’s stroke had forced him to take over the running of the Cazorla luxury hotel chain. The sale had earned him a reported two and a half billion euros. Since taking over the family firm he’d added a fleet of aeroplanes and half a dozen brand spanking new cruise liners to the stable.

Simply speaking, her husband was worth more than entire countries.

If she’d taken her lawyer’s advice she could have taken a good slice of his wealth, far exceeding the ten million he’d transferred into her account without consulting her. She hadn’t wanted to take even that, had left it untouched for months. It was Raul’s money, not hers. She’d contributed nothing to it so why should she have a claim to it?

She’d spent enough of his money during their marriage as it was.

He came back into the dining room carrying a platter of antipasto: deli meats, marinated vegetables, roasted peppers and sundried tomatoes, olives, cheese, rustic breads...all her favourite bites. And to think this was only the first course...

He poured her a glass of the red wine that had been left to breathe on the table, then raised his glass in a toast before swallowing half his wine and taking the seat beside her.

Charley couldn’t bear it a moment longer. ‘This all looks delicious and I thank you, but I can’t eat anything until you tell me what your terms are.’

Helping himself to a little of everything before them, Raul took a bite of some bread then fixed his eyes on her as he ate. Once he’d swallowed and taken another drink of his wine, he answered. ‘I am prepared to give you the money you need to buy the building and for all the renovations that will be needed to make the day care centre fit for purpose.’

She returned his stare, waiting for the catch that was surely coming.

‘When do you have to get the renovations done by?’ he asked. ‘Four months, was it?’

‘Yes. The new owners agreed to give us six months to relocate.’ She watched him with caution. ‘Two of those months have already gone.’

The owner of the building that housed Poco Rio had died unexpectedly, leaving the team who worked there rudderless. Worse still, his family had not shared his sentimentality and opted to sell to a developer, only telling the staff about it when it was a done deal.

‘Four months to complete the purchase and the renovations?’

‘It sounds like a long time but it isn’t. We need to make it as safe and as suitable for the children’s needs as it can possibly be. Walls need to be knocked down, doorways need to be extended...’

Raul made a dismissive motion with his hand. ‘All of that can be discussed when we have reached an agreement.’

‘But what is it you want me to agree to?’ she asked in bewilderment. ‘The centre receives sufficient funds to repay any loan.’

His lips curved upwards. It was like looking at a sensuous shark. ‘As I said earlier, I will not be giving you a loan. With your track record, who knows when I will get it back?’

Her ire, already simmering at his mocking attitude, rose. ‘I already told you...’

‘You have the business acumen of a child. I trust your figures as much as I trust your judgement.’

‘My judgement must have been seriously off when I married you.’

She regretted her hotly spat words before they’d left her tongue. So much for not antagonising him until the deal was done.

Raul’s smile remained but his eyes had turned to ice. ‘It is a shame you feel that way but it’s not a sentiment I happen to share.

‘When I say giving I do not mean it in the literal sense. I will require a form of payment but not one of monetary value.’

She’d known it. From the minute she’d got into his car she’d known there was a catch involved.

‘My condition for giving you the money and for giving your project all the skills and expertise at my disposal is modest. I want you back in my bed and living with me as my wife until the work on the new building is complete.’

CHAPTER THREE

THE COLOUR DRAINED so quickly from Charley’s face that Raul braced himself to steady her should she faint.

Then the colour returned, her cheeks staining a dark, angry red.

‘What do you mean, live as your wife? We’re getting a divorce.’

‘Which we can put on hold.’ Deliberately he drained his wine. ‘If you want this new home for the centre, then that’s the payment I require.’

‘But why? Of all the things you could want, why that? Until Saturday night we hadn’t spoken in almost two years. Our marriage is dead.’

‘Our divorce isn’t finalised.’ He swallowed a plump black olive. ‘We will put it on hiatus until the renovation work is complete and the centre reopened.’

‘I don’t see why that means we have to pretend to be back together.’

‘There won’t be any pretence about it. But to answer your question, I will be donating a considerable amount of money to your project and I want to be there to make sure you don’t give up on it halfway through.’

‘I would never do that.’

‘You founded three different businesses in our time together. They all failed because you lost interest, failed to take the good advice I gave you, and let things slip. I won’t just be backing this project; I’ll be taking control of it.’

She winced at his cold assessment of her failures but understood his meaning immediately. ‘You haven’t the faintest idea what the project entails or what’s needed for the renovations.’

‘You will be by my side to assist me. Think of it as a learning curve. Four months to learn how to run a business properly rather than rely upon guesswork. After all,’ he continued, ‘it won’t be my bank balance that suffers if you fail but the children and families you’ve made promises to.’

More angry colour flooded her cheeks. Her green eyes darkened, her fury as easy to read as a book.

He refused to feel any sympathy.

Charley loved children. He’d seen that from the first. They’d discussed starting a family of their own and he’d shown great patience in her request that they wait a few years so she could make something of herself first.

He’d lavished her with everything she desired.

In return she’d denied him what he desired: the baby she’d promised.

Together they would have created the perfect family.

He’d imagined their unborn child a thousand times, imagined how different a parent he would be from his own father. Not for his child the feeling of being worthless. His children’s achievements would be celebrated, their failures whether minor or major understood and forgiven, their opinions valued. He would have shown his father what being a father was really about. It was everything his father hadn’t been.

‘Take control of the project if you must,’ Charley said, a tremor racing through her voice. ‘Be the big alpha man you are and throw your weight and money around as you always do. So long as the centre reopens in four months’ time I don’t care how it’s done, but there is no need to go through a charade of us being back together.’

He clenched his hands into fists, straining not to react to her inflammatory words. Taking control of situations where he was the most suitable person to take charge was not akin to throwing his weight around. She made him sound like a tyrant, which, he was certain, was deliberate. His wife might be uneducated but she was not stupid. Regardless, he would keep his cool even if she couldn’t.

‘I fail to see what your issue is,’ he said, channelling his composure. ‘You were happy to tell your bank manager the barefaced lie that we’re back together when it suited you. This arrangement suits me but in this case it will not be a lie. For four months you will live with me as my wife and then you will be free to resume your life. But this time our marriage will end on my terms.’

Already he could taste the satisfaction that would bring. It might even taste as sweet as having his wife back in his bed.

The wildness he’d sensed in her from that first look had translated into the bedroom. Making love to her had always been out of this world. Whether it was hard and fast or slow and sweet, their passion for each other had been unquantifiable.

‘This is your pride talking, isn’t it? Because I had the nerve to leave you? You want to humiliate me?’

‘Not at all,’ he answered with deliberate smoothness, counteracting the vibrations emanating from her delectable frame. A charge flickered through his loins to see her face become the same colour it rose to when in the throes of passion. ‘You want my help and I’m prepared to give it to you but in return I want payment—and the only form of payment you are in a position to make is with your body.’

She pushed her chair back as if she’d been scalded and got to her feet. ‘You want me to prostitute myself?’

‘I’m merely requesting that you, my wife, return to the marital bed for a fixed period and in that period you make yourself available to me wherever and whenever I require.’

The charge in his loins tightened at the thought of her doing whatever pleased him. All those years when he’d done everything in his power to please her, in bed and out...now the tables had turned and it was her subjugation he required. For a limited time.

Yes, four months should serve him perfectly. During their marriage they’d spent a substantial amount of time apart, the distance always stoking the flames of lust so when they were together they made the most of every minute. This time, he would keep her by his side continuously so the lust they shared would finally be slaked and he could walk away from her without a backwards glance. Just as she had walked away from him.

Charley’s legs felt wobbly. Everything felt wobbly. She hadn’t touched a morsel of food, knew she wouldn’t be able to swallow it past her throat.

‘In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never hated you.’ Her body trembling, she forced her eyes to keep their gaze on his cool, unflinching stare. ‘I hate you right now, more than I thought it was possible to hate another human being.’

He rose and, although he smiled down at her, his eyes were like ice. ‘I don’t care for your hate any more than I care for your love.’ He reached out a hand and slipped it under the open top buttons of her blouse to rest on her collarbone.

She didn’t want to react to the feel of his warm fingers on her skin...

She held her breath, his touch setting off a charge within her, certain he must be able to feel the hammering of her heart.

It was the first time he’d touched her in so, so long.

His voice dropped to a murmur. ‘I am willing to give you what you want. Are you willing to give me what I want? Because, let us speak frankly, it’s the only thing you’re any good at.’

If his thumb hadn’t found the exact spot on her neck that always sent tingles of need and delight rippling through her, Charley might have reacted to his words a little quicker. As it was, it took a few moments for them to sink in and when they did she wrenched his hand away and pushed at his chest.

‘How dare you reduce me to nothing but a plaything? I’m not a sex toy.’

The ice in his eyes melted into a gleam, as if he’d accepted a challenge. He reclosed the gap between them, trapping her against the table. ‘You never had a problem being my sex toy before.’

Heat streamed through her at the feel of him pressed against her, all the memories she’d spent six hundred and thirty-five days trying to forget pouring into her mind.

She had lusted after him from their first conversation.

He’d been like no one she’d met before. Outrageously handsome, ridiculously wealthy...everything a young woman of twenty could wish for in a man. Prince Charming had come to life and it was her slipper he wanted. Was it any wonder her head had been turned?

And the sex... Never had she imagined such carnal responses existed within her, the same responses that were flashing back to life now, at the time when she needed her head clear to deal with what he was demanding of her.

It had been her own misfortune that she’d mistaken lust for love and married him. What they’d shared should never have been more than a summer fling.

As hard as she’d tried to fit in—and she’d tried so hard—she didn’t belong in his world. She was a badly educated south-east London girl; elocution lessons paid for by her husband had knocked most of her mild cockney accent out of her. She’d come from a broken family where finances were erratic. Raul had grown up with wealth and social standing and had all the arrogance such an upbringing instilled.

They couldn’t have been more wrong for each other if they’d got a computer program to determine their worst matches.

But the computer would have got their desire for each other right.

‘That was when I loved you,’ she said hoarsely. For love had grown from the lust, a greater love than she’d ever imagined could exist. Leaving him had been easy. Staying away had been almost unbearable.

And now that love had twisted into hate. But the desire was still there, however deeply she’d thought she’d buried it. ‘If you ever felt anything for me you wouldn’t ask for such a...a despicable thing from me.’

‘Oh, I still feel a great deal for you.’ He swept his fingers up her neck, pressing even closer.

She smothered the gasp that wanted to break out at the feel of his hardness against her.

Take control, Charley. Don’t show your weakness for him.

‘You can’t force me.’ The words she’d intended to come out forcefully were expelled with a whisper. Every inhalation brought him into her tight lungs, that masculine smell that had become as familiar to her as the scent of her home.

Her body remembered. His scent made it sing with delight.

He laughed softly into her ear and traced his fingers up her side. ‘I don’t need to force you.’

As if proving his point, he cupped her breast over her blouse and ran a thumb over a nipple straining against the suddenly restrictive bra she wore. The heat that had pooled low within her deepened, and she pressed her thighs together in denial.

He could demand all he wanted, but she would never give herself to him willingly, not now he was showing his true colours, the colours her love-blinded eyes had forgiven for far too long.

Mortified at her lack of self-control, she tried to wriggle out from beneath him but he was too strong.

‘See, cariño,’ he said, smothering her hands in his own and resting them on the table by her sides, his grip unyielding. ‘The desire between us is as strong as it ever was, however much you try and deny it. When I ask you to open yourself for me, your head might want to say no but your body will be begging for it.’

That his words were true only served to shame her further, which she knew for certain was his intention. She’d humiliated him by leaving him and this was the price he was forcing her to pay.

The worst of it was, her treacherous body was eager to pay the price.

‘I hate you.’

‘I know.’ He dipped his head and nipped her earlobe. ‘Imagine how incredible it will be, all that hate fuelling all that lust.’

Sensation filled her, every crevice of her coming alive at his touch and the whisper of his breath on her skin.

Two years without this...

Somehow she managed to pull her hands free from his grasp, fully intending to use them as weapons to push him off her. Instead, working of their own accord, they hooked around his neck to pull him in for her hungry lips to connect with his. She had no sane comprehension of what she was doing, instinct taking over to seize what her body so desperately wanted.

In that instant, any sort of rationality dissolved from her mind.

In a mesh of lips and tongues, they came together, devouring each other, her fingers digging into his scalp, one of his hands sweeping up her back and nestling into her hair, clasping her head tightly.

His taste filled her, his warm breath merging with her own sending deeper darts of need into her, every part of her aching for his touch, his kiss, his caress...

The hand not cradling her head so possessively swept up her thigh and under her skirt, his mouth still hot on hers, his tongue swirling in her mouth. His finger found the band of her knickers and slid beneath it to feel the heat and dampness at the heart of her.

When he found her, already swollen and aching for him, she gasped...

And then he pulled away, releasing his hold so quickly her legs would have given way if the table hadn’t been there to support her.

There was the tiniest moment when she caught Raul’s own dazed incomprehension before his composure snapped back into place.

He smoothed his shirt down and nodded at the window. ‘The gardener,’ he said tightly.

A rumbling sound played in the distance and through the glass she caught a glimpse of a figure on a ride-on mower just metres from where they were...

It was enough to bring her to her senses.

What on earth had possessed her?

She tugged her skirt back down before straightening.

A taunting smile now played on his lips. ‘See, cariño? I was right. All that hate fuels lust beautifully.’

She wiped her mouth defiantly, loathing herself for being the one to instigate the kiss as much as she loathed him for the mocking tone of his voice and his unscrupulous mind and the power he held over her.

‘It won’t happen again,’ she promised through ragged breaths.

‘I think you’ve told enough lies this past week, don’t you?’

Raul sat back down and reached for a breadstick, waiting for the thunder beneath his ribcage to abate.

How had things got out of hand so quickly?

He’d been taunting her, teasing her, asserting his control, spelling out to her how much he held the upper hand. He’d enjoyed it but had kept his mind firmly on the seduction in hand.

She’d been the one to kiss him, a fact that, from the look on her face, she regretted hugely.

She’d hooked her arm around his neck and his mind had gone blank, desire overshadowing everything else.

The chemistry between them had always been explosive but that...

It had felt as if a coil locked in a too-tight box had finally sprung free.

He’d been seconds away from taking her on the table.

In his haste to free the house for them, he’d forgotten about the ground staff. If he hadn’t heard the sound of the mower, who knew how far they would have taken it?

She still stood by the table, her green eyes firing their hatred at him.

Who did she hate the most? Him for compelling her back into his bed? Or herself for wanting it?

‘So, cariño, do we have a deal?’ He was gratified to hear his voice functioning as normal. He would never allow himself to show weakness in front of her. ‘The day care centre, signed, sealed, delivered and renovated in exchange for four months in my bed?’

Four months. That would surely be enough to get her out of his system once and for all.

Maybe it was fortuitous that she’d walked back into his life at this moment. He needed to move on, not just from the dissolution of their marriage but from the sexual hold she still held over him.

Her chin rose, her pretty nostrils flaring. ‘Yes. I accept your terms but with one condition of my own: I won’t be sharing your bed until the deeds of the building are in my hands.’

‘The building will be in the Cazorla name by the end of the week.’

‘Then you’ll have to wait until then before you can touch me again.’

‘You are not in a position to make any demands, cariño.’

‘Of course I am.’ She swallowed but didn’t waver. ‘You can always go running back to your girlfriend if the frustration of waiting four days gets too much for you.’

‘That relationship is over.’ It hadn’t even started.

Her lips curled into an expression that most closely resembled a sneer, but it was a fleeting look, quickly replaced by the loathing he was becoming familiar with.

Another four days?

He could force the issue if he wanted. It wouldn’t be hard. All he had to do was touch her and she’d be putty in his hands.

Another four days?

The anticipation would be delicious.

He knew his wife and what an earthy, sexual creature she was. The chemistry between them was just as potent—if not more—as it had always been.

After four days of living together, Charley would be begging him to take her.

He’d managed almost two years. Another four days would be nothing.

* * *

‘What time do you finish?’ Raul asked when he pulled the car to a stop outside the building that currently housed the Poco Rio day care centre.

‘Five o’clock,’ she answered shortly. ‘Wait for me to call—I might be late.’

‘I’ll be here at five o’clock and you will be ready.’

Not bothering to argue or say goodbye, she shrugged a shoulder, grabbed her bag and got out, slamming the passenger door behind her. She might not be able to see his face but could easily imagine her handsome husband’s wince at her treatment of his precious Lotus.

When they’d first met, her manners had been somewhat rough around the edges. She’d been taught to say please and thank you, and not speak with her mouth full, but that had been the extent of it and those few manners had been drilled into her by her primary school headmistress, not her parents. Her mum had been too busy holding down two jobs to find the energy while her dad had hardly been there, flitting in and out of their lives as and when it suited him, which had never been enough, not for her.

She’d never lived with her father, had never spent a night under his roof and had lived for the days when he would visit his only daughter.

She remembered once begging her mum to move so they could be closer to him, remembered the anxiety on her mother’s face at this impossibility. Her mum would do anything for her but to move the fifty miles would mean uprooting from the support network of her own loving and hardworking family.

Before they’d married, Raul had employed various people to ‘help’ Charley assimilate into Spanish high society. At the time it had felt as if she were starring in a rags-to-riches film and she’d been happy to embrace the elocution and deportment lessons, the drills on social niceties.

When she was growing up, meals at home had been spent beside her exhausted mum, with trays on their laps in front of the television, the pair of them happily arguing about whatever reality television programme they’d been into at that time. They’d hardly tasted the food. Their one proper meal of the week had come every Sunday when they would go to her grandparents’ for a roast dinner, everyone squashed around the small kitchen table with huge mugs of tea in front of them.

Raul’s world, with meals around a fully laid dining table with jugs of iced water, expensive wine, the savouring of food and the correct order of cutlery...it had been a different world. A fantastical dream come to life. Learning all these new things had been fun! At first.

It had taken a long time for her to realise that Raul had set out from the off to improve her so he could stand beside her without her being an embarrassment to the Cazorla name.

Their whole marriage had been about him moulding her into the sort of woman he believed she should be, the perfect wife he so desired.

She might have missed him terribly these past six hundred and thirty-six days but she had also been able to reclaim herself.

Leaving him had let her breathe again. She didn’t have to introduce herself to people as Charlotte any more. She could simply be who she’d always been: Charley, the name Raul had never once addressed her by.

Whatever happened over these next four months, she would not allow herself to lose sight of who she really was. Charley. Charlotte was merely the name on her birth certificate.

Inside the centre, she was greeted by Karin, a nine-year-old girl who’d been in a car crash as a baby. The crash had killed her father and left her with one functioning lung and severe brain damage. Yet, however locked in her own world Karin seemed, she always appeared to know when Charley was on the rota to work and would hang around the door of the day room until she arrived.

Charley scooped the skinny child up and planted a kiss on her cheek then gently set her back down and took her hand. Karin would be her shadow for the rest of the day, her easy affection something that warmed her heart.

A lump came to her throat as she looked at the dozen children in the day room, many locked in their own worlds, most of them here and alive against all the odds. This was what she was fighting for, these beautiful children. This was what she had to hold onto over the next four months.

For these children she would do anything. Even suffer living with her husband again.

CHAPTER FOUR

RAUL SAT IN his car scowling at his phone. It was almost five-thirty and Charley hadn’t yet come out. Nor was she answering his calls.

He looked at the building again, debating for the tenth time whether or not to go inside and get her. To his eyes the place looked like nothing but a load of concrete blocks slapped together. The only spot of colour was a faded sign above the door that read Poco Rio. Little River. The name would have amused him—for a start, the Turia had run nowhere near this part of Valencia even before the devastating floods of 1957, which had caused the authorities to divert it to skirt the city rather than run through it—but instead he shuddered. Who would want their child to spend their days in a place like this? Far from the sunny exterior most day care centres projected, this building, with its drab grounds...everything about it shouted ‘institution’.

His mind flickered to the care home his father had spent time in after his stroke while his mother had turned a wing of the family home into a facility able to manage his twenty-four-hour needs. That care home had been more akin to a hotel, a beautiful villa set in luscious grounds with first-class staff.

The care home could have been as opulent as the very first Cazorla hotel, built by Raul’s grandfather, Nestor Cazorla, in 1955, and Eduardo Cazorla would still have hated it, even if he couldn’t vocalise his thoughts or feelings. That hotel, built in Madrid, had been a shot in the eye to the Ritzes and Waldorfs of this world, a statement that anything they could do, the Cazorlas could do too.

Under Eduardo’s reign, the Cazorla Hotel Madrid fell from its lofty heights, as did the other thirty-eight hotels in the chain. Investment became a dirty word, Eduardo preferring to spend the dwindling profits on maintaining his lifestyle.

Raul clearly remembered the day when he’d sat down with his father to discuss the shocking decline of the family business. He’d graduated from university with a mile-long list of ideas for improvement. He’d mistakenly thought that gaining a first-class degree from MIT would finally garner his father’s respect. If not respect then at least something more than the distaste that seemed to be his father’s default emotion towards him.

His father had calmly sat at his desk and flipped through the pages and pages of analysis and reports Raul had completed, then, still calm, had walked to his office window, opened it, and thrown the pages out onto the street below.

Then he’d turned back to his son and said, ‘That’s what I think of your ideas.’

After twenty-two years of Raul’s being on the receiving end of his father’s relentless criticism, something inside him had snapped. He’d walked out of his father’s office without a word, returned to the family home, packed his bags, and left, using the small cash inheritance he’d received when Nestor died to rent an apartment and invest in a friend’s fledgling technology business. He’d recouped his investment in three months and immediately set out to invest in another.

He’d spent his entire life striving to be the perfect son his father wanted; now he was going to be the man he wanted to be. What he wanted above all else was to be nothing like his father.

As his business had grown, not once had his father asked any questions about it. Raul had no idea whether he had been pleased or disappointed that his only son had bailed on the family firm. When they had been together as a family no one had spoken of or alluded to it; not even his mother, who came from a wealthy, high-society family in her own right. So long as Raul had still played at being the dutiful son, kept the perfect Cazorla face intact, joined them at important family functions and kept the family name away from the scandal rags that had been good enough for her.

He was pulled out of his reminiscences when a dark blue minibus drove into the grounds and pulled up beside him. He paid little attention to it until he caught the figure getting out of the driver’s side.

While he was processing the image of Charley driving a minibus, she spotted him and, unsmiling, held up a hand and mouthed, ‘Five minutes.’

He shoved his door open. ‘We need to leave now. You’re late enough as it is.’

‘I did warn you,’ she replied with a nonchalant shrug. ‘I need to drop the keys back in and sign off. I won’t be long.’

She hurried off in her jeans-clad legs and disappeared through the double front door.

He could still hardly believe his wife was wearing jeans. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her in a pair before.

When he’d refused to take her back to her house in Valencia the night before, although promising to get her to work on time that morning, she hadn’t argued. He’d been quietly satisfied that she was adapting to his authority well, right until he’d discovered her missing. She’d returned a couple of hours later with a bag of shopping, saying, ‘You can hardly expect me to go to work wearing Chanel.’ Thus she had proceeded to take herself off to one of the spare rooms she’d appropriated for her own use, locked the door, and refused to come out until the morning.

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