Nina Milne - Rafael's Contract Bride

‘That’s not your worry. Loosen up. Life is full of opportunities. Take this one.’

‘I’m not keen on opportunity.’

The hint of bitterness in her voice didn’t elude him, and a small stab of unexpected sympathy jabbed him even as he filed the information away.

‘You don’t have to take the opportunity,’ he pointed out. ‘You only need to consider it. What have you got to lose? Worst-case scenario: I tell you the job, you say no, and you’ve benefited from a trip to Spain and lunch with me.’

‘Yay...’

Despite the sarcastic inflexion he was sure there was a smidgeon of a smile in her voice.

‘Come on. Enjoy the day. When’s the last time you took a day off?’

A long time if the slightly peaky look of her skin and the smudges under her eyes were clues.

‘The temperature in La Rioja is twenty-two degrees. Plus it is an incredibly soothing place to be. Snow-capped mountains, leafy vineyards, vast blue skies, medieval villages...’

Enough, already.

An exhalation puffed from her lips and she relaxed back in the seat. ‘OK. I’m sold. But just so we’re clear upfront, this won’t make me swoon at your feet. Or make me want to work for you.’

‘Understood.’ He winked at her as he started Lucille. ‘I love a challenge.’

And this one was a doozy.

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU HIRED A private jet?’ Cora gazed around the interior of the plane as further misgivings heaped up. This was a bad idea. There was no way that Rafael Martinez would go to these lengths to hire her as an administrator. That was fact.

Mad thoughts filtered through her mind—maybe he was part of a drug-smuggling gang and this was an attempt to dazzle her with his wealth as part of a recruitment drive. Maybe the whole holiday venture was a cover-up. Maybe he was part of the Spanish mafia.

Maybe she should curb her over-active imagination.

‘Is that a problem?’

‘Yes, it is!’

Though higher in the problem stakes was the whirl of emotion that unfortunately wasn’t only to do with the sheer insanity of proceedings. Ever since she’d set eyes on Rafael Martinez the previous day she’d been restless—edgy, even. The couple of hours she’d spent researching him probably hadn’t helped either. Had only ensured that his image had haunted her dreams.

‘Nobody hires a private jet for something like this.’

‘Well, I do. Otherwise it would have taken us all day to get to La Rioja.’

Oh, no fair. The way he said the Spanish syllables evoked a strange sensation inside her and she had to force her feet to adhere to the floor of the jet. So he spoke fluent Spanish? No big deal. The man owned a Spanish vineyard, and for all she knew he was Spanish.

Her research hadn’t been clear on that point—it had simply told her what the world already knew: Rafael Martinez had been a teenage phenomenon, a millionaire by the time he was twenty, and he had developed a technological app that had taken the business world by storm. But right now that wasn’t the point.

‘But the expense...to say nothing of the carbon footprint...’

‘I don’t use a private jet every day. I do understand about the carbon footprint, but I also understand about the pilots who work for this company, the beauty of this aircraft, the mechanics who work on it. And I enjoy the luxury of not having to queue up at the airport, change flights and hire a car. I like the idea of not being spotted by some celebrity-spotter who then announces my destination on social media.’

The words arrested her—come to that, she wouldn’t be too keen on recognition either. Her family knew she was safe, but they didn’t know where she was or what she was doing—and right now she wanted to keep it that way. Wanted time and space to lick her wounds. More than that, there was her pride to consider. Next time she saw her parents she wanted to be in a position to hand over at least a fraction of the money she owed them.

Rafael Martinez was giving her five thousand pounds towards that goal, so maybe she should stop carping at his use of a private jet. Especially when in reality it suited her.

‘Fine. I just feel bad that you’re expending all this money on a losing prospect.’

As the roar of the engines signalled their departure he sat down on a chocolate-coloured leather chair that yelled luxury. ‘Why are you so adamant that you don’t want to work for me?’

It was a fair question, she supposed—and not easy to answer.

You’re too good-looking, too arrogant, too successful, too dangerous...

Whilst true, that all sounded stupid. Then there were the fast cars, the private jets, and worst of all that aura that unsettled her more and more with every passing second.

‘I have got to know the Caversham brand very well and I like working for Ethan and Ruby. I only have contacts in the company, and there is also the fact that I know nothing about wine.’

Her eyes narrowed as he shook his head at her. ‘Very good, Cora. Top marks for politeness. Now tell me the real reasons. Tell you what...’ He pulled his laptop towards him. ‘How about I transfer your fee for today into your account now? Then you can feel free to say whatever you like to my face.’

A flush touched her cheeks. ‘That’s not necessary.’

‘Then tell me the truth. Unvarnished. I can take it.’

There was that smile again—the tilt of his lips that somehow indicated that he knew he would win her over.

He tipped his palms upward. ‘How can I hope to persuade you to work for me if I don’t know what I’m up against?’

‘Fine.’

If he wanted straight shooting she’d give it to him. After all, right now she didn’t have to be a lady, and he’d given her carte blanche to be honest. Better for him to understand that her desire not to work for him was genuine and absolute. This was a man who went for what he wanted, and for unfathomable reasons he wanted her—Cora Brookes. Not Lady Cora Derwent.

For a second the idea held a fascination and, yes, a lure all of its own...

Time for a mental shakedown. The words fascination and lure were not apposite, and it was time to prove to Rafael and herself that she had no intention of calling him her boss. Ever. All her life she’d been surrounded by people like him, and for the past few years she’d worked for her parents—she knew what it was like.

‘I don’t like the way you think your wealth and your looks entitle you to—’ She broke off at the sudden flash of something that crossed his face.

‘Entitle me to what?’ he asked, his voice smooth as silk.

‘Entitle you to whatever you want—glamorous women, fast cars, private jets, endless favours... I don’t like the sense of superiority...’

‘My wealth entitles me to whatever I can afford, as long as I’m not hurting anyone or doing anything illegal.’ There was no sign of a smile now, no hint of charm or allure.

‘It doesn’t entitle you to feel superior.’

Any more than her family’s bloodline entitled them to do that.

‘I don’t feel superior.’

‘But you do feel entitled.’

‘To what? To buy a sports car? To hire a private jet? Yes.’

‘What about the women?’ Because, in all honesty, that was what stuck in her craw the most. ‘They are flesh and blood—not carbon fibre or titanium.’

‘I know that, and I’m thankful for it.’

The amusement in the tilt of his arrogant lips made her palm itch.

‘I get that—but you still see them on a par with the car and the jet. As accessories.’

How many pictures had she seen of Rafael with a different model, actress or celebrity on his arm?

Rafael opened his mouth and then closed it again; a flush touched the angle of his cheekbones. ‘I don’t see women as accessories.’

Aha! ‘Do I sense a touch of defensiveness there?’

‘No.’ A scowl shadowed his face and his dark eyes positively blazed. ‘I don’t accessorise myself with women. I don’t collect them and I make it very clear upfront that my maximum relationship span is a few days and that I don’t believe in love.’

Although the heat had simmered down in his eyes every instinct told her she’d hit a nerve.

‘But you do admit these women all have to look good?’

‘I admit I have to be attracted to them.’

For a second she saw the smallest hint of discomfort flash across his expression.

‘But that would be true regardless of my wealth.’

‘I think you’d find that without your wealth and looks you would have to lower your standards.’

‘In which case the women I date are as shallow as I am.’

‘And you don’t have a problem with that?’

‘Nope. I see no need to apologise for dating beautiful women.’

‘What about the fact you only go out with beautiful women?’

‘I don’t force them to go out with me, and I make them no promises.’

‘But even you admit it’s shallow?’

‘It’s called having fun, Cora. I believe in fun. As long as no one gets hurt. I’ve earned my money fair and square and if I choose to spend it on living life to the full then I won’t apologise for it.’

‘So the whole fast cars, beautiful women, party lifestyle is all you want from life?’

Why did it matter so much to her?

Because she wanted to shout, What about women like me? Don’t we rate a look-in? What about those less endowed with natural charm and grace? People like me, who knock things over, say the wrong thing or—worse—say nothing at all. The ones who haven’t been touched by the brush of success. What about us?

‘Not all I want, no.’ His lips were set to grim and a clenching of his fist on the mahogany tabletop suddenly made him appear oceans apart from shallow playboy.

‘What else do you want?’

‘I want to make Martinez Wines a success, I want to run the London Marathon, to climb Ben Nevis, travel the world with a backpack, sail the oceans... I want to live life to the full and set the world to rights.’

Cora stared at him, unsure whether he meant it or was mocking her.

‘What do you want, Cora?’

The question was smooth, but laced with a sting.

What did she want right now? A vast amount of money—enough to repay her parents for the loss of the Derwent diamonds, stolen thanks to her naïve stupidity.

What did she want from life? She wanted the impossible—approval, love, acceptance from her parents, who had shown nothing but indifference to the child they perceived as surplus to requirements.

For an instant she envied Rafael Martinez his brash desire to live his life as he wanted, by his own rules. He wanted to live life to the full and she wanted...

‘I want... I want...’ Her voice trailed off. ‘I want to get on with my life. Be happy.’

But as she stared at him, so handsome, so arrogant, smouldering, for an instant she wanted him—wanted to be one of those gorgeous women he was attracted to. She wanted, coveted, yearned for Kaitlin’s looks and her presence—that elusive ‘It’ factor her sister possessed in abundance. How shallow was that? Clearly the atmosphere was affecting her and it was time to get a grip.

‘Are you happy now?’ he asked. ‘Do you enjoy being an administrator?’

‘It’s what I need to do.’

It had been a cry for approval. Another step on her quest to be a useful daughter. She had slogged through a business studies degree and offered to help manage the Derwent estate. Had been doing just that when she had messed up—big-time. Following the diamond heist her parents had told her they could no longer trust her to carry out her job ‘with any level of competence’. The memory of the ice-cold disdain in her mother’s tone brought back a rush of humiliation and guilt. Reminded her of her imperative need to repay her debt.