HELEN BIANCHIN - Public Marriage, Private Secrets

Annaliese accepted the managerial position with remarkable ease, and together they conducted the interviewing, trial and selection of a new team member for Bellissima, choosing a capable salesperson with an impressive CV and a pleasant personality. Gianna elected to retain another applicant on call, should the need arise for back-up.

By week’s end most everything was in place, and when the weekend—the boutique’s busiest days—passed without a hitch, there seemed no logical reason not to contact Raúl.

There were, of course, any number of the illogical kind…most of which she’d considered and discarded several times in any one day.

Except she’d given her word and, failing an accident or illness, in a matter of days she’d board a private jet en route to Madrid, with Raúl in attendance.

Something she’d give almost anything to avoid.

Oh…suck it up, she chastised herself in silent admonition.

He was CEO of the Velez-Saldaña conglomerate. A man who worked long hours and travelled extensively.

Two weeks. Why, she’d probably only see him a few times, and then she could excuse herself on the pretext of giving mother and son quality time.

Raúl had only phoned once since the evening they’d shared dinner. And then the conversation had been a brief, matter-of-fact request for an update with a view to fixing a departure time.

So she made the call, and ignored the faint shivery sensation that slithered down her spine at the sound of his deep faintly accented drawl.

‘Gianna.’

Why should she be surprised he had her number listed on his caller ID register? Except it was recorded as a private listing, and only essential business colleagues and close friends had been given it.

For a moment she felt inclined to pull him up on it—except he had sources, influence and possessed the manipulative power to acquire almost any information he wanted.

Cool? She could do cool. ‘I can be available to leave Wednesday.’

‘I’ll have a car waiting outside your apartment complex at six Wednesday morning.’

Her back stiffened. ‘I’d prefer to take a taxi and meet you at the airport.’

‘Your bid for independence is admirable. Although totally unnecessary. given we’ll both be heading in the same direction.’ He paused imperceptibly. ‘Six, Gianna.’

She heard the faint click as he ended the call, and she tamped down the faint growl threatening to emerge from her throat.

‘Problems?’

She schooled her expression at the sound of Annaliese’s voice and summoned a faint smile. ‘No.’

None that she couldn’t deal with, she assured herself silently as she prepared to leave the boutique at midday on Tuesday. She needed to collect Jazz and deliver him to the boarding cattery, alert Reception she’d be absent from her apartment for two weeks, then pack.

At some stage she also needed to eat. And clear her refrigerator of any food liable to expire before her return.

Just do it.

Don’t allow yourself to think.

It was late when she finally made it to bed, and she set the alarm, then prepared to sleep…only to toss and turn and wake at dawn, aware that the last thing she remembered was the digital clock read-out signalling 2:15 a.m. in luminous green.

The urge to bury her head beneath the pillow was difficult to ignore. Although the risk of sleeping through the alarm proved a sufficient deterrent, and she determinedly threw back the bedcovers.

Coffee, hot, strong and sweet, then she’d shower, do a final check of the apartment, her travel documents, dress…

It was almost six when Gianna took the elevator down to Reception, and it came as no surprise to see Raúl’s tall figure positioned in the adjoining lounge area.

For a few timeless seconds his eyes locked with hers, and she determinedly ignored the slow curl of nerves set on causing havoc deep within, even while she silently damned them to hell.

His sexual alchemy proved a powerful force—something of which he was surely aware. How could he not be? she thought cynically. Women of all ages vied for his attention…openly flirting while issuing silent and not so silent invitations in a bid to discover for themselves if his reputation between the sheets held true.

To Gianna’s knowledge he never took up with any of them. Except how could she know for sure?

Absent this morning was the corporate business suit, buttoned shirt and tie. Instead he’d chosen casual attire—tailored black trousers, black butter-soft leather jacket, and a white chambray shirt unbuttoned at the neck.

An overall look which emphasised his blatant masculinity and gave Gianna pause to question her sanity.

Two weeks, she reminded herself stoically. Fourteen days…most of which would pass without her seeing him at all.

So what is the problem? Begin as you mean to go on, she cautioned herself staunchly as he crossed to her side.

‘Good morning.’ Her voice sounded matter-of-fact, and for a second she thought she caught a glimpse of wry humour in his dark eyes before he returned the greeting.

‘Ready?’

As she’d ever be, she assured herself silently as she deliberately summoned a slight smile. ‘Yes.’

Except she wasn’t quick enough to release her bag as Raúl reached for it, and something deep inside her quivered as his fingers came into brief contact with her own before she snatched her hand away.

So much for remaining cool, calm and collected. They hadn’t even reached the airport, let alone left Australia, and already she was twitchy.

Oh, great. She had to get through a long flight before she’d be free of him. Hours… Too many of them, she perceived as she preceded him out to the car.

Was he aware how unsettled he made her feel?

For sure, Gianna conceded wryly as she slid into the passenger seat while he stowed her bag in the boot.

What did one discover as a suitable topic of conversation with an ex-lover who also happened to be her husband? Soon to be ex, she amended, for the path to divorce was merely a formality.

The weather? The state of world affairs? She pondered as Raúl took the ocean-front route to the airport.

What would his reaction be if she aimed straight for the jugular and queried him sweetly about his ex-lover, the self-possessed Sierra Montefiore, who’d sensed a slender crack in Gianna’s marriage and closed in for the kill?

Not a good way to begin the day, the flight, or a two-week sojourn in Mallorca. So sticking to the prosaic seemed safe, not to mention wise.

Pretend, Gianna bade silently. And she did…with polite charm and considerable poise. She even played Gold Coast host by pointing out new high-rise apartment buildings, and proposed ventures in the pipeline for the rapidly growing tourist city.

Conversation carried them the thirty-minute drive to the airport, where, given Raúl’s private Lear jet, passage through Customs proved a mere formality before they were cleared to board.

There were introductions to the pilot and flight staff, whereupon Raúl discarded his jacket, turned back his sleeve-cuffs, they took their seats and all too quickly were in the air.

Gianna reached down into her carry-on bag and extracted a thick new release by a favourite author, and spared Raúl a glance.

‘Please don’t feel you need to entertain me.’ She even managed a faint smile. ‘I’ll be perfectly happy reading.’

‘Breakfast will be served in about an hour.’ Was that her imagination, or did the edge of his mouth twitch in amusement? ‘You have no objection if I work?’

She met his dark eyes with equanimity. ‘Not at all.’

Raúl inclined his head, extracted a laptop, and set to work, wrapping up configurations on screen, then transferring data from various files to update various graphs.

The ability to achieve total focus had been something he’d acquired during university studies. That and a photographic mind had ensured a smooth passage as he earned one degree after another, choosing employment for three years in New York before returning to Madrid to join his father in the Velez-Saldaña conglomerate.

On his father’s demise Raúl had assumed the position of CEO and developed the firm into a worldwide conglomerate, accumulating a personal fortune which included prime real estate in several cities around the world, industrial holdings—you name it.

He had it all…amend that to nearly all. One thing was missing. Perhaps the most important, he mused. The love of a good woman… family.

Not any woman. Gianna…who had been his, until life had thrown a curve ball and she had walked.

Divorce hadn’t been on his agenda. Nor hers, apparently. Yet.

Circumstance had presented him with a two-week window in which to ensure she would never consider it an option.

Flight staff served a full breakfast an hour later, from which Gianna selected muesli, fruit and coffee.

Given the time zone, she calculated they were due to arrive in Madrid late Tuesday, thereby gaining almost a full day.

‘Won’t it be an imposition to arrive at Teresa’s villa at such a late hour?’ The query held no validity, for, although the villa was fully staffed, Raúl would naturally possess the relevant keys to gain access.

He regarded her thoughtfully as he reached for his coffee. He drained his cup and refilled it from the carafe. ‘We’ll stay overnight at my apartment, then fly to Mallorca tomorrow morning.’

His apartment? Not in this millennium.

Her eyes sparked brilliant blue fire. ‘I’ll book into a hotel.’

‘Afraid, Gianna?’

‘Of you? No. ’

‘In which case you have no reason for concern,’ he drawled in response.

Sure, she decided silently. And pigs might fly.

It was relatively simple to pretend an intense interest in the book she was reading—except in truth she barely retained a paragraph or two on each page she turned. The plot was predictable, but she was a fan of the author’s style and individual voice.

Raúl’s presence provided a distraction, one she found impossible to ignore, and after a while she simply secured a marker, closed the book, then, feeling strangely restless, stood to her feet and stretched her legs by covering the length of the jet several times.

He, on the other hand, didn’t appear a wit disturbed as he worked throughout the flight, logging in the hours as if it was a normal day at the office…his focus total.

Did he even notice she was there ?

Somehow it annoyed her, the fact that he might not—which hardly made any sense. What was wrong with her?

Something she silently questioned as the hours wound down to arrival time, and the nerves in her stomach began tightening into a painful ball as the jet began to lose altitude in preparation for landing.

There was something vaguely surreal about disembarking in the night hours after a long flight, and seeing Raúl’s driver, Carlos, move forward to meet them as they entered the arrivals lounge.

Within a matter of minutes they were comfortably seated in Raúl’s luxury Mercedes, their luggage stowed in the boot, and the car eased towards an exit.

Gianna leaned forward a little. ‘Could you please check hotel accommodation and book a room for me, Carlos?’

She glimpsed the driver’s questioning look via the rear vision mirror. ‘Señor?’

‘The apartment,’ Raúl countered smoothly.