“Everything has a price, don’t you agree?”

Why did she get the feeling this was manipulation at its worst? Yet Danielle had to ask, “What is it you want?”

“A child of my own to whom I can bequeath my fortune. A child born in wedlock,” Rafe told her, his expression enigmatic.

She cast him a look of total incredulity.

“It’s a question of needs,” Rafe offered. “Yours and mine.” His gaze narrowed, and his expression assumed an implacability that was frightening. “That’s the deal. Take it, or leave it….”

Bestselling Australian author HELEN BIANCHIN has a sophisticated, intense writing style and especially enjoys creating commanding, sexy heroes and stylish, passionate heroines. The emotional sparks really fly between her characters, and the sensuality sizzles! In The Wedding Ultimatum, Helen explores what happens when an independent woman is forced into a marriage of convenience….

Legally wed,

but he’s never said…

“I love you.”

They’re…

The series in which where marriages are made

in haste…and love comes later…

Coming next month:

The Blackmail Baby (#2247)

by Penny Jordan

The Wedding Ultimatum
Helen Bianchin

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

WHAT did one wear to a date with the devil?

Danielle cast a practised eye over the clothes in her wardrobe, made a considered decision, and began dressing with care.

The penthouse suite she shared with her mother in Melbourne’s exclusive Brighton suburb had been home for as long as she could remember. Luxurious, spacious, it represented the epitome of moneyed class.

But not for much longer. The writing, she reflected grimly, was on the wall. Valued paintings had been sold, secondhand pieces replaced priceless antique furniture. Items of jewellery pawned and auctioned. A standard sedan replaced the stylish Bentley, and creditors circled with shark-like anticipation for the moment bankruptcy was declared and the ultimate mortgaged-to-the-hilt penthouse went on the auction block.

Her mother’s collection of credit cards had long reached their ceiling limit, and the La Femme lingerie boutique she jointly owned with Ariane could at best be described as floundering, Danielle admitted wryly as she fixed a diamond stud in each ear. An heirloom that had once belonged to her maternal grandmother, and the only jewellery Danielle had kept.

In less than a week they’d have to walk out of the penthouse, take what personal belongings the bankruptcy court would allow them, seek mediocre rental accommodation, close La Femme, and find employment.

She was twenty-seven, and destitute. It wasn’t a good feeling, she reflected as she caught up her evening purse and made her way out to the lift.

It was almost a year since they’d entertained at home, and social occasions were limited to gratis invitations from a few remaining friends loyal to the widow of a man linked to a revered Spanish dynasty.

This evening’s meeting was a last-ditch effort to appeal for some form of clemency from the man who owned their apartment building and the shopping complex which housed their boutique. That he also owned a considerable slice of prime city and industrial real estate was immaterial.

In the city’s social echelon, Rafe Valdez represented new money, Danielle reflected as she reached the basement car park.

An almost obscene fortune accumulated from means, it was rumoured, that didn’t bear too close scrutiny.

In his late thirties, he was known to gift large sums to worthy charities, and had, some waspish tongues snidely wagged, used his generous beneficence as an entrée into the élite social circle of the city’s rich and famous.

An élite circle to which Danielle and Ariane no longer held access.

Yet she couldn’t fail to be aware of his existence. His photo graced the business section of the country’s newspapers on occasion, and was reproduced among the social pages at one function or another…inevitably accompanied by the latest beautiful young thing clinging to his arm, a known society matron anxious to receive media coverage, or any one of several attractive young women who fought for his attention.

Danielle had met him once, almost a year ago, at a dinner hosted by a so-called friend who, as Ariane’s financial position became known, no longer chose to extend her hospitality.

Then, she’d taken one look at him and retreated behind a slight smile and polite but distant social conversation. Self-preservation, she’d qualified at the time, for to have anything to do with a man of Rafe Valdez’s calibre would be akin to dancing with the devil.

Now, she had no option. It had taken weeks to arrange an appointment with him, and it was he who insisted they meet over dinner.

The restaurant he’d nominated was situated in the inner city, down a one-way narrow lane housing no fewer than five boutique eating houses. No parking signs were posted on both sides of the lane, and she circled the block in the slim hope of finding a vacant space.

Consequently she was ten minutes late…a forgivable time-lag, but not one Rafe Valdez would view favourably.

She saw him at once, leaning against the small semicircular bar, and, even as she gave her name to the maître d’, he straightened and made his way towards her.

Tall, dark and dangerous, he bore the chiselled bone structure of his Andalusian ancestors. Eyes as black as sin locked with hers…electric, mesmerising.

An involuntary shiver feathered the length of her spine, and her heart quickened to a thudding beat.

There was something about him that brought all her protective defences to the fore. An intrinsic quality that went beyond the physical impact of the man.

‘I hope you haven’t been waiting long.’

One dark eyebrow rose slightly. ‘Is that an apology?’

His voice was a deep drawl, and held a faint American-accented inflexion.

There was a hint of leashed savagery beneath the sophisticated veneer, an elemental ruthlessness that lent credence to the rumour he’d spent his youth on the Chicago back-streets where only the tough survived.

‘Yes.’ She met his gaze without flinching. ‘If you require an explanation as to why…parking was a bitch.’

‘You could have taken a taxi.’

‘No,’ she said evenly. ‘I couldn’t.’ Her budget didn’t stretch to taxi fares, and a woman alone didn’t choose to use the public-transport system at night.

He lifted a hand and signalled the maître d’, whose attentiveness almost bordered on the obsequious as he led them to their table and summoned the drinks steward with an imperious click of his fingers.

Danielle declined wine, ordered a light starter, settled on a main and declined dessert.

‘I imagine you’re aware why I initiated this meeting?’

He studied her carefully, seeing the pride, the courage…as well as the degree of desperation. ‘Why not relax a little, enjoy some food and conversation before we discuss business?’

She held his gaze. ‘My sole reason for conversing with you is business.’

His faint smile was devoid of humour. ‘It’s as well I don’t possess a fragile ego.’

‘I doubt there’s anything fragile about you.’ He was granite, with a heart of stone. What hope did she have of persuading him not to foreclose? Yet she had to try.

‘Honesty,’ Rafe concluded, ‘is an admirable trait.’

The waiter delivered their starter, and she forked a few morsels without appetite, careful not to destroy the chef’s artistry as she ate.

All she had to do was get through the next hour…or two. When she left here he would have given her an answer, and her mother’s fate as well as her own would be sealed.

She was sure the food was delectable, but her taste-buds appeared to have gone on strike, and she toyed with the main course when it was served, and sipped sparkling mineral water.

He ate with evident enjoyment, his hand movements economical as he utilised cutlery. He looked what he had become, Danielle mused idly…a man among men, attired in impeccable clothes, his suit fashioned by a master tailor. Armani? His deep blue shirt was of the finest cotton, his knotted tie pure silk. The watch adorning his wrist was expensive.

But what of the man beneath the fine clothes? He had a reputation for ruthlessness in the business arena, a power that was utterly merciless on occasion.

Would he be equally inflexible when she voiced her request?

Danielle schooled her nervous system and waited only as long as it took for the waiter to remove their plates before launching into well-rehearsed words.

‘Would you be willing to grant us an extension?’

‘To what purpose?’

He was going to refuse. Her stomach clenched with tangible pain. ‘Ariane can manage the boutique on her own,’ she offered. ‘While I go to work for someone else.’

‘For a wage that will barely cover week-to-week living expenses?’ He leaned back in his chair, and indicated the drinks waiter could refill his wine glass. ‘It isn’t a viable proposition.’

Their debt amounted to a fortune, and one she could never hope to recoup. She met his gaze. ‘Does it give you satisfaction to have me beg?’

One eyebrow rose. ‘Is that what you are doing?’

Danielle got to her feet and caught up her evening purse. ‘Tonight was a mistake.’ She turned, only to have her wrist caught in a firm grip.

‘Sit down.’

‘Why? So you can continue to watch me squirm?’ Pink coloured her cheeks, and her brown eyes held a gleam of anger. ‘Thanks, but no, thanks.’

He applied pressure and saw her eyes widen with pain. ‘Sit down,’ he reiterated with deadly softness. ‘We’re far from done.’

She looked at her water glass, and for one wild moment she considered flinging its contents in his face.

‘Don’t.’ A silky warning that held immeasurable threat.

‘Let go of my wrist.’

‘When you resume your seat.’

It was a battle of wills, his—hers, and one she didn’t want to relinquish. Except there was something prevalent in his dark gaze that warned she could never win against him, and after several tense seconds she sank back into her chair, unconsciously soothing her wrist.

A faint shiver slid over the surface of her skin at the knowledge he could easily have snapped her fragile bones.

‘What do you want?’ The words slipped out before she could heed them.

Rafe picked up his glass and took a sip of wine, then replaced it on the table as he studied her. ‘Let us first discuss what it is that you want.’

Wariness curled inside her stomach to mesh with apprehension.

‘A wish-list which features a freehold apartment with antique furniture restored, art works, jewellery, all debts cleared.’ He waited a beat. ‘Ariane’s boutique relocated to Toorak Road with an advantageous lease.’

It was impossible to guess his motives, and she didn’t even try. ‘That amounts to a considerable sum,’ she ventured slowly.

‘A million and a half dollars, give or take a few thousand.’

‘What did you do?’ Her anger simmered beneath the surface, and she held onto it with difficulty. ‘Conduct a running inventory?’

‘Yes.’

Her fingers clenched until the knuckles showed white. ‘Why?’

‘You want me to spell it out?’

He’d sat on the fringes of her life and watched as Ariane’s treasured belongings were sold off, one by one? To what purpose?

‘I instructed an agent to buy every item you and your mother have been forced to sell.’

What manner of man was he?

One who was prepared to do anything to achieve his objective.

Something which chilled her to the bone.

Danielle examined his chiselled features and felt her nerves stretch to breaking point. ‘Why?’

His gaze was unwavering, and his lips curved slightly in a faint smile that was totally lacking in humour. ‘A whim, perhaps?’

A man of Rafe Valdez’s ilk hadn’t built his life by indulging in a whim. Her eyes flashed with barely hidden anger. ‘Please. Don’t insult my intelligence.’

He lifted the goblet and took a measured sip of wine, then held the stemmed glass and slowly swirled the contents, studying the texture and colour for several seemingly long seconds before shifting his gaze to fuse with her own. ‘You intrigue me.’

Something jolted deep inside, and raced through her nervous system with alarming speed. Only a naïve fool would mistake his meaning, and she was neither.

Pride, and sheer courage, enabled her to query with icy calm, ‘With almost the entire city’s female population, eligible and otherwise—’ She paused deliberately, then added with polite sarcasm, ‘I fail to see the fascination.’

The waiter served coffee, his smile fixed as he sensed tension thick enough to slice with a knife, then he retreated with polite speed.

Danielle banked down the desire to do the same.

Only the certainty that Rafe Valdez would ignore any histrionics kept her in her seat.

‘My father and his father before him laboured in the d’Alboa family vineyards, and considered it an honour to serve such a wealthy landowner.’ His gaze never left hers. ‘Ironic, wouldn’t you agree, that the son of an immigrant peasant has the power to rescue the granddaughter of the revered Joaquin d’Alboa?’

A cold fist closed around her heart. ‘This is about revenge?’

He smiled, but there was little warmth evident. ‘I was merely explaining the connection.’

Danielle watched as he spooned sugar into his black coffee, then lifted the cup to take a measured sip.

His gaze speared hers, his expression enigmatic. ‘Everything has a price, don’t you agree?’

Why did she get the feeling this was manipulation at its worst? Yet she had to ask. ‘What is it you want?’

‘A child of my own to whom I can bequeath my fortune. A child born in wedlock. Who better to conceive and gift me that child than a descendent of the d’Alboa aristocracy?’ He watched her features, saw the comprehension, the doubt, then the anger.

‘Are you insane?’ she demanded in a voice she didn’t recognise as her own. ‘There are plenty of needy children in the world. Adopt one.’

‘No.’

She cast him a look of total incredulity.

‘It’s a question of needs,’ Rafe offered with damnable imperturbability. ‘Yours and mine.’

‘The hell it is!’

His gaze narrowed, and his expression assumed an implacability that was frightening. ‘That’s the deal. Take it, or leave it.’

Dear heaven. It was unconscionable. Wasn’t it?

‘Let me get this straight,’ she said tightly. ‘You’re advocating I marry you, and act as a surrogate mother to your child…then walk away?’

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. ‘Not until the child enters the scholastic system.’

She wanted to hit him, and nearly did. ‘Are we talking kindergarten level, pre-school, or school?’

His eyes narrowed fractionally. ‘School.’

‘Almost seven years, given I should be sufficiently fortunate to fall pregnant immediately?’

‘Yes.’

‘For which I’ll be recompensed to the tune of approximately two hundred thousand dollars for each year?’ She paused to bank down the anger and take a fresh breath. ‘Paid up front in the manner that free-holds the apartment, clears all debts, restores all Ariane’s prized possessions, and resettles the boutique?’

‘Yes.’

‘And what of the years I spend as your wife?’

‘You get to enjoy all the fringe benefits of living in my home, acting as my social hostess, a generous allowance.’ He waited a beat. ‘And sharing my bed.’

She forced herself to conduct a raking appraisal of his features. ‘Forgive me, but I don’t see having sex with you as a bonus.’

His expression didn’t change. ‘That’s a foolish statement,’ Rafe drawled with a tinge of humour. ‘For someone who has no experience of me as her lover.’

She banked down wild images of that powerful body engaged in intimacy, and held his gaze. ‘Really? Is that knowledge gleaned from superb feminine acting and countless “you were wonderful, darling” compliments?’

‘Do you require recommendations as to my sexual prowess?’

Why did she have the feeling she was fast moving out of her depth? ‘And when I’ve fulfilled my side of this diabolical scheme you’ve devised…what then?’

‘Elaborate.’

‘After the divorce,’ she said succinctly.

‘That is something for negotiation.’

‘I want all the facts now. Do I get to have visiting rights to my child? Or am I to be cast aside after my use-by date?’

‘A suitable arrangement will be made.’

‘How suitable?’ she persisted.

‘It is not my intention to banish you from the child’s life.’

‘But you’ll legally limit it to minimum time during the holidays and the occasional weekend.’ He’d employ the best legal brains in the country to ensure his influence over the child was total.

‘And naturally a pre-nuptial agreement will ensure I walk away after the divorce with nothing.’

‘You’ll be settled in a suitable residence and maintained with a generous allowance until the child comes of age.’

‘I imagine you’re prepared to put all this in writing?’

‘I already have.’ He slid a hand into his jacket pocket and withdrew a folded legal document. ‘It’s signed and notarised.’ He placed it on the table in front of her. ‘Take it with you, read it carefully, and give me your answer within twenty-four hours.’

It was unbelievable she was still sitting here. Pride had caused her to attempt to walk out on him once. She knew with certainty the next time he would make no move to stop her.

‘What you ask is impossible.’

‘You’re in no position to bargain with me.’

‘Is that a veiled threat to withdraw your offer?’

‘Your words. Not mine.’ He regarded her steadily. ‘This is business. Nothing more, nothing less. I have spelt out the terms. It is for you to accept or decline.’

He was that heartless? She felt sickened as she rose to her feet and collected her purse. If she remained much longer in his company she’d say or do something regrettable.

‘Thank you for dinner.’ Politely spoken words that lacked sincerity.

Rafe lifted a hand and summoned the waiter. ‘I’ll see you to your car.’

‘That’s totally unnecessary,’ she responded stiffly, and began making her way towards the entrance.

She acknowledged the maitre d’, then stepped out onto the pavement, and she had only managed a few steps when a tall male frame drew level.

‘In such a hurry to escape?’ Rafe drawled, watching the play of street-lighting on her expressive features.

‘You got it in one.’

She reached the corner, turned, and walked as quickly as stiletto heels would allow.

Another block and a half, then she’d be free of him, and she almost counted off the seconds until her car was in sight.

‘Goodnight.’

He ignored the obvious dismissal and accompanied her to the small sedan, then stood waiting as she unlocked the door and slid in behind the wheel.

The ignition fired and she attempted to pull the door closed, only to have him hold it open as he leaned towards her.

‘Twenty-four hours, Danielle,’ Rafe reminded silkily. ‘Think carefully. You have much to gain, and everything to lose.’

Then he stood back, and she eased the car out of its parking space and into the flow of traffic.

Damn him. Who did he think he was, for heaven’s sake?

Don’t answer that, an inner voice prompted as she attempted to focus her attention on negotiating her way out of the inner city.

A marriage arranged to the mutual benefit of both partners wasn’t unheard of in this day and age.

The question was whether she could enter into such a business agreement with a man she professed to dislike.

A child. Her stomach muscles twisted into a painful knot at the thought of surrogacy. Rafe Valdez had given his verbal assurance she’d retain an active part in the child’s life after the divorce.

Was it too high a price to pay?

First, Danielle determined, she’d have a lawyer peruse Rafe’s written agreement.

Then she’d make a decision.

CHAPTER TWO

SEVERAL days later Danielle stood at Rafe Valdez’s side in an ornate gazebo situated in the gardens of his beautiful Toorak home and exchanged marriage vows directed by a celebrant in the presence of Ariane and Rafe’s lawyer, who acted as witnesses.

The previous week had passed in a blur, each day seemingly more hectic than the last as legal documents were signed and Ariane’s affairs brought to order pending the wedding itself.

Soon after signing the marriage certificate, Rafe Valdez would attach his signature to an affidavit authorising payment of all Ariane’s debts and the restoration of her previously sold assets.

Wealth was equated with power, and he’d used it ruthlessly to achieve his objective.

Danielle extended her hand for him to slip the wedding ring onto her finger, and her own hand shook slightly as she returned the tradition.

‘You may kiss the bride.’

She heard the words, experienced momentary panic as the man at her side cupped her face and covered her lips with his own in an evocative open-mouthed kiss that tugged at something deep inside.

Surprise caused her eyes to widen momentarily before she quickly lowered her lashes, forcing a smile as she accepted the celebrant’s voiced congratulations, closely duplicated by Ariane and Rafe’s lawyer.

Ariane’s hug conveyed maternal concern. The words had all been said, and it lent much to Danielle’s resolve that she’d managed to convince her mother that her decision to become Rafe Valdez’s wife was not born out of capricious insanity!

Now, however, she wasn’t so confident.

Bankruptcy had been averted, a considerable debt wiped, and precious d’Alboa possessions restored. All for a price.

One she was about to begin to pay for.

The man who stood at her side was an unknown quantity. Yet before the night was over she’d share her body with his and engage in the most intimate of physical acts.

The knowledge ate at her equilibrium and almost brought her undone.

During the past week she had seen him once, and that had been in his lawyer’s office when she’d attached her signature to the pre-nuptial agreement.

One contact had been made by telephone, informing her of the date, time and place their marriage would take place.

This morning her clothes and personal possessions had been transported to his home, and less than an hour ago she’d driven her small sedan through the tall gates guarding his elegant mansion and entered the spacious lobby with Ariane at her side, where they were greeted by Rafe, introduced to his housekeeper, Elena, and then taken upstairs to an elegant suite.

Attired as she was in a classically styled suit of ivory silk, the only concession towards bride was a single ivory rosebud she held in one hand. Her hair was swept up into a smooth twist, and she wore minimum make-up.

Rafe had chosen formal attire, and she’d taken one look at him, noted the impeccable tailoring, the crisp white shirt, and suppressed the momentary urge to flee.

He had the look of an indolent predator, all darkly coiled strength and indomitable power. Enhanced by a tall frame and an impressive breadth of shoulder. Together with an intrinsic quality that was elemental, primitive.

The celebrant handed Rafe the marriage certificate, offered the customary pleasantries, then left.

There was champagne, and Danielle sipped the sparkling liquid, aware of its potential potency, given that she’d eaten a token slice of toast for breakfast and picked at a salad for lunch.

It seemed superfluous, even hypocritical, to have Rafe’s lawyer propose a toast to their union, and a proffered tray of hors d’oeuvres did nothing to tempt her appetite.

Rafe’s gaze narrowed as he caught a flicker of concern chase across Ariane’s features, and he selected a bite-size portion and deliberately fed it to the woman who now bore his name.

He watched as flecks of gold fire sparked in those dark brown eyes, and for a moment he thought she’d refuse. Certain, had they been alone, that she would have.

The lawyer murmured words Danielle didn’t catch, and Rafe placed his champagne flute down on a nearby table. ‘If you’ll join me in the study for a few minutes?’

An affidavit requiring his signature following the marriage. Their agreement was a done deal. All she had to do was deliver…on a very intimate level, and gift him a child.

She felt her stomach twist into a painful knot. There was no room for second thoughts.

Both Ariane and the lawyer took their leave at the same time, and Danielle watched the small sedan ease down the driveway, followed by the lawyer’s late-model BMW.

Rafe turned back towards the lobby, and Danielle followed.

‘The master bedroom is upstairs overlooking the gardens and pool, if you want to freshen up.’ He indicated the wide curving staircase leading to the upper floor. ‘Elena will have unpacked your clothes.’ He pulled back a cuff. ‘Dinner will be served in half an hour.’

She took it as a dismissal, and was relieved when he turned and retraced his steps to the study.

The Spanish influence was much in evidence, Danielle noted as she made her way towards the staircase.

Pale cream marble-tiled floors patterned and edged with a combination of dark grey, black and a heavy forest-green. Mahogany cabinets hugged the wall space, large urns stood atop marble stands, and original artwork graced the cream walls.

High ceilings in the spacious lobby were offset by an elegant crystal chandelier suspended above an ornate water fountain. A wide balustraded staircase led to the upper floor.

Guest rooms each with an en suite, Danielle determined, a comfortable sitting-room, and there was no mistaking the large master bedroom. His-and-her walk-in wardrobes, a large en suite containing luxurious fittings and a spa-bath.

Her toiletries and make-up were neatly positioned at one end of the long marble vanity, her clothing and shoes rested in one of the spacious walk-in wardrobes, and the many drawers held her underwear and lingerie.

She let her gaze skim over the room, noting the pleasing neutral colour scheme in cream and ivory, offset by an abundance of low-and high-set mahogany cabinets, a mirrored dressing-table.

It was impossible not to have her gaze linger on the king-size bed with its heavy quilted spread. Equally difficult to ignore the nervous tension curling painfully in the region of her stomach.

Get a grip, she admonished silently. Rafe Valdez is a man like any other.

However, the prospect of having sex with a man she hardly knew, even within the bounds of marriage, wasn’t in her comfort zone.

Yet all she had to do was occupy his bed, and allow him to fuse his body with her own. Maybe if she fell pregnant quickly, he’d leave her alone.

She drew a deep breath and averted her attention from the bed. Maybe she should change? Yet it seemed doubtful Rafe would exchange his suit for something less formal, unless, she determined with a quick glance at her watch, he chose to do so within the next few minutes.

‘I imagine you’ve had time to acquaint yourself with the layout,’ a deep voice drawled from the doorway, and she turned slowly towards him.

His jacket was hooked over one shoulder, and he’d loosened his tie. He looked dark and dangerous, his breadth of shoulder impressive without the emphasis of superb tailoring.

‘You have a beautiful house.’ She couldn’t for the life of her call it home.

‘Gracias.’ His gaze raked her slender curves. ‘Dinner is almost ready.’

She made an instant decision. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes.’ With smooth movements she entered her walk-in wardrobe, selected a dress at random, then hastily exchanged the ivory suit for a red shift, cinched a gilt belt at her waist, touched up her lipstick, then emerged into the bedroom.

Rafe was waiting for her, and she met his brooding scrutiny with equanimity, then preceded him from the room.

Calm, poise. She possessed the social skills to employ both, and she slipped into the familiar role as he seated her at the dining-room table.

There was more champagne, and Danielle toyed with the idea of sinking into a pleasant alcoholic haze, only to discard it in favour of alternating the champagne with mineral water sipped slowly between each few mouthfuls of food.

Elena had prepared a veritable feast, and Danielle attempted to do justice to each course.

‘Not hungry?’

She met his piercing gaze and held it. ‘Not particularly.’

‘Relax,’ Rafe bade brusquely. ‘I’m not about to sweep all this—’ he paused to indicate the china, crystal and various serving dishes ‘—to one side, and ravish you on the table.’

He watched her eyes widen, then become veiled as her lashes lowered. He was adept at reading an expression, skilled in the art of mind-play.

Most women of his acquaintance would have slipped into seduction mode, teasing with the promise of sensual delights beneath the sheets. Sure knowledge of the sexual act and the mutual pleasure each could derive.

Yet the young woman seated opposite him was consumed with nerves. It was evident in the fast-beating pulse at the edge of her throat, the careful way she consumed each mouthful of food.

‘I’m relieved to hear it.’ She replaced her fork, unable to face another morsel. The image of that broad male frame sweeping the table’s contents to the floor, then crushing her beneath his weight…

‘Dessert?’

‘No.’ Was that her voice? It sounded so calm and controlled, when she was anything but. ‘Thank you,’ she declined.

Elena entered the room, gathered their plates, nodded as Rafe relayed they would take dessert and coffee later, then she left.

The need for conversation prompted Danielle to query, ‘At what age did you leave Andalusia?’

One eyebrow lifted. ‘Question-and-answer time?’

She toyed with the stem of her glass, her gaze level. In this light she could see the tiny lines fanning out from his eyes, the faint groove slashing each cheek. His facial features bore a chiselled look, and his mouth… She could still feel the touch of his lips as he’d claimed her as his wife, sense the slow sweep of his tongue on hers.

‘Anything I know of you amounts to hearsay,’ Danielle qualified evenly.

‘Will the knowing make a difference?’ His faint mockery held a cynical edge, and there was a hardness evident she was loath to explore.

‘None at all.’

‘Yet you’d prefer to delve into my background, discover what shaped and made me the black-hearted devil I am today,’ Rafe drawled. ‘With what purpose in mind?’ A slight smile curved his lips, but didn’t reach his eyes. ‘To better understand me?’

Two could play at this game, and she didn’t hesitate. ‘To separate fact from fiction.’

‘Fascinating.’

‘Yes, isn’t it?’

‘Don’t stop, Danielle.’

She ignored the warning purr in his voice. ‘Fiction tags you as having lived on the Chicago streets, a gang member who walked the wrong side of the law.’

‘You believe that?’ The tone was silk-smooth and dangerous.

She studied him carefully, attempting to see beneath the façade, aware he would permit only a chosen few to get close. ‘I think you did whatever was necessary to survive.’

‘A chequered past, hmm?’

To have acquired great wealth in his lifetime meant risk-taking, and living on the edge.

‘Is any of it fact?’

His expression didn’t change. ‘Some of it.’

A street warrior, shoulder-length hair tied back, dark clothes, with attitude. A leader, rather than a follower.

‘Somewhere along the way you cleaned up your act. One assumes crime didn’t pay?’

He had a hard-nosed cop to thank for turning his life around. A man who had seen potential beneath the bravado, and fostered it, directing the anger towards oriental combat skills in a back-street dojo, where discipline was of the mind as well as the body, a spiritualism that channelled energy into something meaningful. That, and one man’s faith in his ability to succeed.

He had gone back to school, gained a college scholarship and worked his butt off, graduating with honours. The cop had pulled in a favour that gave him a chance…and the rest was history.

No one knew he’d arranged a retirement package and heavily supplemented the cop’s superannuation plan. Or that he’d organised privately funded assistance to provide street kids with sports centres. Centres he personally visited each time he returned to the States.

‘Let’s just say I made the decision to walk on the right side of the law,’ Rafe declared with thinly veiled mockery.

‘That’s all you’re going to tell me?’

‘For now.’

‘You didn’t answer my original question,’ she pursued.

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘I was nine years old.’ And life, as he knew it, had changed forever. Tension, friction, and a disenchanted father unable to get steady work had eventually split the family. Lack of money had ensured a downhill spiral that fashioned his youth and robbed him of both parents at an early age.

Dusk encroached, and Danielle watched as the day’s colours began to fade. There was almost a surreal quality as night descended, an eery stillness before electric lights sprang to life, providing illumination.

‘More champagne?’

Danielle met his gaze and was unable to determine anything from his expression. ‘No, thanks.’

‘We’ll move into the sitting-room, and I’ll have Elena serve coffee.’

‘Does Elena live in the house?’

‘No. She comes in Tuesday through to Saturday with her husband, Antonio. Elena looks after the house, prepares and leaves me an evening meal when required, and Antonio takes care of the grounds, the pool, any minor maintenance.’

Danielle took her coffee sweet and black, and she sipped the brew slowly. How long before he would suggest they go to bed? An hour…less?

There was a part of her that wanted the sex over and done with. Another that wished she could slip into an accomplished seduction mode.

‘The Toorak boutique is ready for Ariane to move in her stock,’ Rafe informed. ‘I’ve organised for transportation tomorrow.’

‘I’ll ring and arrange to meet her there.’

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’

She looked askance at him in silence.

‘You’re now my wife.’

‘Ariane and I are business partners. It wouldn’t be fair of me to expect her to set up stock alone in our new premises.’

He examined her features, taking his time before offering comment. ‘What if I’ve made arrangements that preclude you being available to assist your mother?’

‘Have you?’

‘We’re due to attend a tennis party in a private home at two in the afternoon.’

‘Which leaves me the morning free to help Ariane,’ she responded evenly.

‘You have no need to work.’

‘You expect me to sit in this house twiddling my thumbs while I wait for you to service me at the end of the day.’

‘Por Dios.’ The oath slipped softly from his tongue. ‘Service you?’

There was a quality evident in his voice that sent apprehension scudding down the length of her spine.

‘Given that pregnancy is the main objective, sexual activity should be restricted to my fertile cycle.’

It was impossible to ascertain anything from his expression. As a card player he would be brilliant, she perceived. Yet this was not a game.

‘Rather like a brood mare put to stud?’

The softness of his tone was deceptive, and although she was willing to swear he hadn’t moved a muscle his posture seemed to have assumed a menacing ruthlessness.

‘Why not call it what it is?’

His gaze was unwavering, and it took all her courage not to flinch beneath the silent power emanating from the depths of those dark eyes. Evident was a hard intensity that was almost frightening.

‘We occupy the same bed each night,’ he said with dangerous softness.

‘You intend to enforce conjugal rights?’

‘Did you hope that I wouldn’t?’

‘Yes!’

‘Your mistake,’ he refuted simply.

‘That’s—’ words temporarily failed her ‘—barbaric.’

‘I doubt you’ve experienced the true meaning of the word.’

Her chin lifted fractionally, and her eyes blazed with open hostility as she watched his lengthy frame uncoil from the chair.

‘You expect me to walk calmly upstairs with you?’

‘On your feet, or slung over my shoulder.’ He effected a negligible shrug. ‘Take your pick.’

‘You have the sensitivity of an ox!’

‘What did you imagine? Pretty words and romance?’

Danielle stepped ahead of him and made her way towards the elegant staircase. ‘I should be so fortunate.’

Careless, foolish words, she chastised silently as she reached the upstairs lobby and turned towards the hallway leading to the master bedroom.

The nerves in her stomach seemed to intensify with every step she took, and she was supremely conscious of the man who walked at her side.

There was no easy way to ignore the large bed, or its significance, as she entered the room.

Did her step falter slightly? She hoped not. Hesitation wasn’t on the agenda. Without a word she slipped off her shoes, then she crossed to the set of drawers that held her lingerie. There was a beautiful satin and lace nightgown, a gift from Ariane, which she ignored in favour of a cotton T-shirt, then she moved towards the en suite.

A shower might help soothe her soul.

Minutes later she’d shed her clothes, removed her make-up, and pinned up her hair. Then she adjusted the water dial to a comfortable temperature, stepped into the large glassed cubicle, and caught up the soap.

Pride ensured she didn’t take overlong, and, towelled dry, she completed the usual ritual, donned the T-shirt, then re-entered the bedroom.

Only to have the breath catch in her throat at the sight of Rafe in the process of pulling the covers from the bed.

A towel was knotted at his hips, highlighting a toned body that displayed an admirable flex of muscle with every move he made.

The olive texture of his skin was offset by a smattering of dark hair at his chest, extending in a single line to his navel. Lean hips and powerful thighs added to a composite that exuded raw strength. Also apparent was a primitive alchemy that fascinated and disturbed in equal measure.

She looked little more than a teenager with her face scrubbed clean of make-up and her hair caught into a careless pony-tail, Rafe mused, his gaze narrowing fractionally as he perceived her hesitation.

CHAPTER THREE

‘WHICH side of the bed do you prefer?’

One eyebrow arched. ‘Does it matter?’

Oh, hell. What could she say? I’m not very good at this?

She took the few essential steps to bring her to the edge of the mattress, then she sank down onto it, all too aware of Rafe’s actions as he loosened the towel.

She quickly averted her gaze. ‘Could you turn out the light?’ Was that her voice? It sounded as if she had a constriction in her throat.

‘No.’

She was willing to swear she detected a hint of amusement as she felt the faint depression as he sank down onto the bed.

‘Let’s get rid of this, hmm?’

Danielle felt his hands slide up her thighs as he caught hold of the T-shirt’s hem and lifted it over her head. A protest rose and died in her throat, and she crossed her arms across her breasts in an automatic reflex action.

He possessed no such reservations, Danielle observed with resentment, aware of his powerful frame, the sheer size of his arousal.

Dear heaven, how was she going to be able to accommodate him?

A hand closed over her wrist and shifted her arm away from her breasts, and she lowered her lashes in a protective veil. Only to have him tilt her chin.

‘Don’t hide.’

The chastisement brought a tinge of colour to her cheeks and her lashes flew wide. ‘Maybe you’re used to bedding a willing female on short acquaintance,’ she vented as he lightly traced the contours of her breast. ‘But I’m not comfortable getting intimate with someone I barely know!’

Sensation began deep inside and flared through her body, activating a host of nerve cells in open betrayal. Damn him! Did he know what he was doing to her?

Stupid question! Her jaw clenched, silencing the gasp threatening to escape as he teased one nipple, then rolled it gently between thumb and forefinger.

He lowered his head down to hers and brushed his lips against one temple.

‘Please.’ There was a catch in her voice as she lifted a hand and indicated a nearby lamp.

‘I want to see your reaction to my touch,’ Rafe murmured as his mouth trailed down towards her own.

Gentle pressure on her shoulders lowered them down onto the mattress, and she lifted her hands to his chest in an attempt to increase the distance between them. Only to have them freeze as he traced her lower lip with the edge of his tongue, then slipped in to tangle with her own in a slow open-mouthed kiss.

He had the skill to render a woman mindless, and he used it mercilessly in an evocative dance that brought her unbidden response.

She was so caught up with the pleasure of it, she was scarcely aware of the seeking trail of his fingers as they explored her waist, the soft indentation of her navel, then traced a slow path to the juncture between her thighs.

She tensed as he probed the moist cleft, and she was powerless to prevent a protest escaping her throat as he circled the sensitive clitoris, teasing it to such a highly sensitised degree she instinctively pushed against his shoulders.

A hollow groan rose and died in her throat as he eased a finger into the moist orifice, imitating the sexual act itself, and she instinctively arched against the increased pressure of his oral stimulation, alternately exulting in it and hating herself, him, for the attack on her emotions.

Danielle almost cried with relief as his mouth left hers and sought a sensitive hollow at the base of her throat.

Not content, he trailed a slow path to her breast, teasing the hardened nipple until she tangled her fingers in his hair and endeavoured to shift his head.

Sensation arrowed through her body as he began to suckle shamelessly before shifting his attention to the other sensitised peak, and she gave an anguished groan as his mouth travelled to her waist, then trailed down over her quivering stomach.

He wouldn’t… But he did, holding her flailing hands together with effortless ease as he bestowed the most intimate kiss of all.

She attempted to use her feet, her legs, to buck against him, but he simply adjusted them beneath his weight, locking her into immobility as he took his time gifting a sensual feast that shattered her equilibrium and sent her climbing to heights she hadn’t known existed.

Did she cry out? She had no idea of time or place as sensation ruled.

He felt her body quiver, heard the husky sounds emerge from her lips, and he levered himself up over her in one fluid movement, nudging her thighs apart as he eased himself into her.

She was tight, despite his preparation, and he took it slow, feeling her stretch, aware of her momentary panic as she attempted to ease the pressure.

His mouth closed over her own, absorbing her startled cry as he withdrew a little before increasing that initial thrust, repeating the action until she took all of him.

Dear heaven. Danielle swallowed painfully against the feeling of complete enclosure as her muscles contracted around him, causing waves of sensation she was unable to control.

Then he began to move, slowly at first, and she twisted her head from one side to the other as the sensation intensified.

She was conscious of him watching her, and, unbidden, her gaze locked with his as he slowly rocked back and forth, increasing the pace until she was able to accept each long thrust.

It happened again, that powerful, almost excruciating, exquisite spiralling sensation that took her so high she felt as if she was going to fall off the edge of the world.

His climax followed soon after, and she witnessed his attempt at control, watched as he lost it, then marvelled at the extent of his passion.

Nothing she’d experienced came close to the primitive emotion he’d managed to arouse. Raw, spell-binding pleasure meshing with complete fulfilment.

It said much for the man who only hours ago had placed his ring on her finger. Was the seduction deliberate? Or was this his usual modus operandi in the bedroom?

If so, she decided shakily, it was little wonder women sought him out.

Seconds later she gasped in shocked surprise as he rolled onto his back, carrying her with him. His eyes were impossibly dark and slumberous with sated desire, and her own widened as his fingers tangled in her hair.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Removing the band from your hair.’

Free, its length spilled down onto her shoulders, and her eyes widened as he finger-combed the thick mass, then he cupped her face and brought it down to angle his mouth to her own in a kiss that tore at the very foundation of her emotions.

So, he could kiss, part of her brain registered dimly. On a score of one to ten, she’d have to accord him a twenty. And then some. Sensual skill…he had it in spades, aware just which buttons to press to achieve a desired effect.

This is a man you profess to hate, remember? For any number of reasons. Uppermost, the diabolical scheme he’d devised, waiving a considerable debt in exchange for several years of her life…and the gift of a child.

With a muted groan she wrenched her mouth away from his and used her hands to push against his chest.

‘I’d like to get some sleep.’ She’d had as much of him as she felt she could handle for one night.

Yet even as she voiced the words she felt him swell inside her, his arousal stretching and expanding until he filled her completely.

He couldn’t, surely? Not so soon?

‘So you shall,’ Rafe drawled as his hands moved from her waist to shape her breasts. ‘Later.’

He teased the tender peaks, brushing his knuckles back and forth, then he traced a feathery path over her midriff, her stomach, to where they were joined.

Her body jolted as sensation flared, and she clutched his chest as he gently rocked his hips in the first of several undulating movements, each more active than the last until she became lost in an electrifying ride that had her crying out as she reached the brink, then tumbled over the edge in a sensual free-fall.

She felt the breath tearing from her throat as she endeavoured to control it, and she had no idea that her skin was flushed with sexual heat, or that her eyes held a dreamy almost witching moistness in the aftermath of passion.

Rafe wanted to roll her over onto her back and take his own pleasure in a series of long hard thrusts that would surely shock. Except he tamped down the desire, equally sure it would leave her hurting.

Unless he was mistaken, she’d had few partners, and unimaginative ones at that.

Or she was a superb actress. Something he very much doubted.

With care he disengaged, then slid to his feet and lifted her from the bed. ‘Let’s go shower.’

Danielle looked at him blankly for a few seconds, then realisation sank in. ‘I’m not sharing a shower with you.’

‘Yes,’ he drawled softly. ‘You are.’

He didn’t give her the option to protest further, merely swept an arm beneath her knees and carried her into the adjoining en suite.

‘Put me down!’

Danielle smote a clenched fist against his shoulder as he reached into the capacious tiled cubicle and adjusted the water-temperature dial.

‘Don’t you dare,’ she warned sibilantly as he calmly stepped in beside her and closed the glass door.

He was too close, too intimidating, too much. After what they’d just shared she didn’t want him in her face, and she particularly didn’t want to have him administer to her in any way.

‘Isn’t anything sacred…even my privacy?’ she demanded seconds later as he picked up the soap and began lathering her skin.

‘Get used to it,’ Rafe drawled as she attempted to twist away from him.

Without success, and she sent him a venomous glare that had no effect whatsoever. ‘I hate you!’

Hard fingers closed over her wrist before the fist she aimed at his ribcage could connect. ‘Don’t,’ he warned. ‘You won’t win.’

He had the height, the strength, to beat her at anything she chose to fling at him. Although she did possess an advantage or two…one she didn’t hesitate to use, only to have him block it in an instant.

A cry of outrage escaped her lips as he lifted her high against him and curved her legs around his waist.

Gone was any hint of amusement. In its place was hard implacability, and she felt a moment’s instinctive unease.

‘You want to play?’

The query held a silent warning she was too angry to heed, and without thought she lowered her mouth to his shoulder…and bit him hard.

Danielle heard his angry hiss at the same time she tasted blood, and she cried out as he hauled her high, her scream of pain very real as he rendered a love-bite to the tender underside of her breast.

When he lifted his head her stunned gaze locked with his for seemingly long seconds, then with deliberate intent he took her mouth with his own in a kiss that was almost savage in its intensity.

Hungry, brazen, he ravaged a primitive assault that lashed at her soul.

Any movement was limited as she was held locked close against him. In desperation she flailed fists against his shoulders, his ribcage, anywhere she could connect…without effect.

How long did it last? Danielle had no idea. It seemed like forever, but could only have been minutes before he released her mouth.

He filled her vision, to the extent there was nothing else, only him. Features harsh in their chiselled perfection, his eyes dark as sin. Compelling, ruthless.

Was this the same man who had indulged her in an evocative journey beyond her experience? A lover who’d fostered her reticence and gifted something so wildly sensuous her body still throbbed from his possession?

She was suddenly conscious of the fine needle-spray of water beating down against his back, her own irregular breathing.

The day, its significance, Rafe…it all seemed too much, and she fought against the moisture threatening to well in her eyes.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, she silently begged…don’t cry. Tears, even one, would be a sign of weakness she refused to condone.

Yet she was powerless to still the escape of two lone rivulets that rolled in a warm trail to her chin, and she glimpsed a muscle bunching at the edge of his jaw.

Pride kept her from escaping, and she stood still, fighting the tide of emotion that threatened to fragment any remaining shred of composure.

In seeming slow motion he lifted a hand and smoothed a thumb-pad over one cheek, then the other.

Her mouth felt swollen and slightly numb, and she didn’t move as he traced its contours before dropping his hand down to his side.

‘Get out of here, mi mujer,’ he directed huskily.

His voice was the catalyst that set her limbs in motion, and she didn’t waste a second stepping out from the shower. Her need to be free of his disturbing presence prompted her to snag a towel and fasten it around her damp form before escaping into the bedroom.

There, towelled dry, the T-shirt in place, she spared the large bed a cursory glance with its tangled sheets, dislodged pillows, and made the decision to sleep elsewhere.

‘Don’t even think about it.’

Danielle turned at the sound of that silky drawl, and watched him move into the room.

‘I don’t want to sleep with you.’ Bald, brave words, spoken with quiet determination.

‘Correction…you don’t want to have sex with me.’ He waited a beat. ‘In this instance, sleep is the operative word. And we share the same bed.’

‘No.’

‘I wasn’t aware I gave you an option.’

Anger flared anew. ‘Go to hell!’

His gaze speared hers. ‘Believe you don’t want me to take you there.’

‘Oh?’ She was like a runaway train on a track leading to disaster. ‘And what—’ she flung an arm in the direction of the en suite ‘—was that happening in there? A guy thing? Or a lesson in subjugation?’

‘You have a foolish mouth,’ Rafe warned with chilling softness.

‘If you wanted a meek, subservient wife you should have married someone else.’

‘Instead, I chose you.’ He paused, spearing her angry gaze with hateful ease. ‘The purpose is specific…or have you forgotten so soon?’

Danielle tore her gaze away from his. ‘If you touch me again tonight I’ll—’

‘Fight me to the death? Scratch my eyes out?’ He leant over the bed, straightened the pillows and hauled up the bedcovers. ‘Be warned, I’m a light sleeper.’

‘What does that have to do with anything?’

‘A warning, should you decide to go sleep somewhere else in the middle of the night.’

‘You can’t—’

‘Watch me.’

‘You’re nothing but a tyrannical bully!’

He unfastened the towel knotted at his waist and tossed it aside. ‘I’ll wear only so many insults.’ He slid in beneath the covers. ‘Get into bed, Danielle.’

‘What if I don’t?’

Dark eyes pierced hers. ‘I’ll put you there.’

A lock of hair fell forward onto her cheek, and she tucked it back behind her ear in an involuntary gesture.

Capitulation was born out of wisdom…for now. Although she didn’t feel particularly wise as she reluctantly slid into bed. In a final gesture of defiance she turned her back towards him and hugged the edge of the mattress.

Something that gave her little satisfaction, for he merely snapped off the light, plunging the room into darkness, and she lay there tense, listening to his breathing slow into a steady rhythm.

How could he slip so easily to sleep? Too much practice in the face of danger? Or a finely tuned mechanism that permitted him to wake at the slightest sound, the faintest move?

What had he witnessed in his youth to have created such a hard exterior? Had fate dealt him such a difficult hand that he had no heart?

Could the right woman change his perspective? Could she?

Dear lord, what was she thinking? Her sole purpose in his life was to produce a child, then, following the requisite time span, move on.

Besides, what woman would willingly welcome a man of Rafe Valdez’s calibre into her life?

Many, she admitted with obvious reluctance. The size of his cheque-book guaranteed obsequious adoration from the trophy wife prepared to be both gracious hostess and a seductive mistress. In all probability, willing to gift him a child.

So why her, when he could have chosen any one of several young women?

Because she refused to conform, and frequently opted for confrontation? Even to her detriment?

Or was it simply circumstance, as he’d claimed? Let’s not forget the d’Alboa lineage, she added silently.

Did it really matter?

With a faint sigh she attempted to ease her tense body. Curled into a tight ball on the edge of a mattress was not her normal sleeping position.

She was already beginning to feel the tightness in several muscles. And she hurt, inside and out. Her breast ached from his retaliatory bite, and she ran her tongue over the tissues inside her mouth where he’d heartlessly ground them against her teeth.

It would be so easy to indulge in a crying jag. Wasn’t there some analogy that credited weeping as a release to soothe the soul?

One solitary tear spilled and ran warmly down her cheek, and she brushed it away in angry rejection.

It was a while before she slipped into an uneasy sleep, from which she stirred to Rafe’s touch as early dawn fingered the day’s first light through the shuttered windows.

His sexual appetite ran to night and morning? Maybe if she simply lay there…

Fool, she accorded minutes later as warmth flooded her veins. He played her like a finely tuned instrument, seeking an unbidden response that had her clinging to him like a craven wanton.

Afterwards she slept, and when she woke it was morning, the space in the bed beside her empty.

CHAPTER FOUR

DANIELLE rolled over, checked the time on the digital bedside clock, then she slid swiftly to her feet, collected her cellphone and punched in the requisite digits to connect with her mother.

‘Good heavens, darling. I don’t expect you to come in this morning,’ Ariane protested. ‘I can manage quite well on my own.’

‘With two of us, we’ll be able to sort the stock in half the time,’ Danielle said lightly as she crossed to the walk-in wardrobe, selected jeans and a singlet top, then she tossed them onto the bed before collecting fresh underwear.

‘Are you sure Rafe won’t object?’

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