This means nothing. He hates you. He thinks you’re a gold-digger. He didn’t even want to hear how you felt during your marriage, he cared only about getting you naked.
She pushed the thoughts away, refusing to acknowledge the way her heart felt as if someone had grabbed hold of it and given it a mighty squeeze.
Silently he returned, climbed back under the sheets and pulled her into his arms. He dropped a kiss to her forehead.
Her heart twisted as she listened to his deepening breaths, his hand remaining buried in her hair as he fell into sleep.
It didn’t matter what he believed or that he hadn’t listened to her. It wasn’t as if they were intending to give their marriage another go in the proper fashion.
She was here for his pleasure, nothing more. And that meant her pleasure too.
Things were already different between them. It felt different and not just because she’d been blackmailed into being here. The dynamic between them had changed. In a sick kind of way, it was better like this, more honest. She didn’t have to mask who she was any more; her fear of disappointing him was gone.
She should be celebrating. Four months of physical bliss without having to pretend to be someone she wasn’t?
In other words, exactly what their marriage should have been.
* * *
Charley was sitting at her desk in the office adjoining Raul’s, trying to read a book on finance while nibbling at a biscuit.
‘You look as if you have a headache,’ he said, walking through the open doorway to join her, two cups of coffee in his hands.
‘Just trying to get my head around it all.’ She wiped the crumbs off her blouse onto her desk, then swept them into her hand and into the bin.
Raul had been as good as his word. All week she’d been chained to his side. Monday and Tuesday had been spent in his office, Wednesday and Thursday in France where he was involved in negotiations to have a base for his air fleet in Paris. He’d been incredibly busy, in and out of meetings, most of which he’d insisted she come along to, working at a pace that made her dizzy.
Today they were back in Barcelona and, while the pace seemed no less frantic, there was an air of calm about the place, his staff more relaxed. It was probably that Friday feeling, she guessed. It had infected her too, that sense of the working week being almost over and a couple of days of relaxation to look forward to.
She hated to admit it, but the thought of a weekend alone with him sent a thrill through her.
Making love to Raul was as addictive as the packet of biscuits she’d been munching her way through. Having his throat, so strong and golden, in her eyeline right now as he took the seat opposite her...
‘This book might as well be gibberish,’ she said, closing it with a snap and pushing it over to him.
He raised a dark brow and loosened his tie. ‘The main reason your businesses went bust was because you didn’t take care of the bottom line. Unless you want the same thing to happen at Poco Rio, I suggest you pay attention carefully.’
‘But Poco Rio is different,’ she protested.
‘A business is a business. Catering for children is no different from any other business—the bottom line is still the same.’
‘Not in this case...’
Her phone went off, jumping with the vibrations from the alert. She snatched it up.
‘Who is it?’
‘My dad.’
‘What does he want?’
‘He’s replying to a message I left for him last week.’ She winced at her slip that she’d been waiting a week to hear back from him and hurriedly added, ‘I wanted to know when he’s free for lunch.’
His expression was even. ‘Are you forgetting our deal? Your place is by my side.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Not for a second. That’s why I suggested he choose a weekend.’
‘You’re still by my side at weekends.’
‘Even prisoners are allowed visitation rights.’ She took a sip of her coffee.
A pulse worked at his jaw.
‘You’re not seriously thinking you can stop me visiting my family?’ she asked. ‘Because that would make you even more hateful.’
His eyes crinkled at the edges. ‘You didn’t think I was hateful last night when I made you come with my tongue.’
‘You’re very talented,’ she responded sweetly, wishing her face didn’t flush at the memory.
‘Why don’t you sit on my lap and I’ll show you how talented I am with something other than my tongue?’ He placed his chin on his hand and held his blue eyes on her, a lascivious glimmer in them.
‘Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to distract me again? We were talking about my dad, not about having sex in your office.’ She had to admit, the thought of doing something here, in the heart of his empire, sent the most erotic charge racing through her.