she whispered.
His jaw turned to stone beneath her fingers. With a thick grunt, he pulled out of her body, flipped her onto her stomach and surged back into her. Brushing her hair out of the way, he sank his teeth into her nape, roughly tasting her, branding her. Raw pleasure ploughed through her, leaving her clawing at the sheets as another orgasm surged high.
Behind her, she heard his rough breathing, his own impending climax bearing down on him. She wanted to hold him in her arms, look into his eyes and be reassured that everything was all right between them. Or as near enough as possible.
Because, although it had hurt to have him point it out, she knew their relationship had a few inescapable flaws. Flaws that seemed to gape wider with each passing second. Flaws she needed to address.
But he had her pinned, six feet three inches of superior masculinity spread all over her delivering sensation she never wanted to end. So, closing her eyes, Sienna gave in, diving headlong into pure heaven as stars exploded across her vision.
Endless minutes later, when their bodies had cooled and their breathing calmed, he slid off her and gathered her in his arms.
Strong fingers slid into her hair, the movement unusually jerky. His gaze was hooded when it met hers, hiding his expression.
‘Happy birthday,’ he rasped.
‘I...’ She floundered for a second, wondering whether to go back on her resolution and tread the dangerous waters swirling beneath her feet.
‘Emiliano...’
‘These look exquisite on you.’ He pulled her closer, his fingers slipping down to trace the skin beneath the diamond necklace even as the forbidding force of his stare punched holes in her resolve.
Tomorrow, she decided once again. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured.
Tilting her head up, he placed a hard, short kiss on her swollen lips. ‘Sleep now,’ he ordered.
In the aftermath of bliss and even with her mind churning, Sienna couldn’t hold back the drugging effect of that command. So she gave in.
* * *
What felt like only minutes later, she jerked upright, her heart hammering. Beside her, Emiliano was lost in slumber, one muscled arm curved over his head. Heart twisting, she studied him, vainly trying to decipher what was wrong. In sleep, his breathtakingly handsome face was less forbidding, his jaw slightly slack and his forehead smooth. She didn’t deem him any less intimidating but at least she could stare at him now without the bracing force field that usually surrounded him. She even dared to lift a hand to his full lower lip, tracing the velvet-smooth skin. He exhaled harshly in his sleep and she froze. Withdrawing her fingers, she lay back, knowing sleep was out of the question with her mind once again in churn mode.
Half an hour later, she gave up and rose from the bed. At 5:30 a.m. in early November, it was still dark outside. Going for a run outside in the dark without Emiliano would incur his displeasure, as she’d found out on the one occasion she’d attempted to do so. In fact, he’d completely banned her from running outside without him. But she needed physical exertion to prevent her from waking him up and demanding to know what was going on.
Quietly tugging on her running gear in the large dressing room adjoining the master suite, she silently let herself out and took the lift down to the basement, where the top-line gym reserved for the exclusive use of the penthouse owners was located. Plugging in her earbuds, she hit the treadmill, running at her top speed for a solid hour before her leaden legs forced her to slow down.
When she stepped off the machine, her resolution was firmly back in place, her mind no longer racing. Emiliano valued her professionally because she wasn’t afraid to go after tough, seemingly unattainable deals. It was what had seen her rise from junior fund manager to junior vice-president in the three years she’d been with his venture capitalist firm.
While privately her lack of sexual experience placed her somewhat on a back foot, she’d never let Emiliano cow her. She was also brave enough to admit her new but secret emotions also factored in whatever situation was brewing between them. Which was why she would tackle it now.
Setting down the bottle of mineral water she’d rehydrated from, she left the basement via the stairs. She would pick up the newspapers and magazines they had delivered to the penthouse to prevent their talk from being interrupted by the concierge.
She reached the ground floor and crossed the polished marble foyer to the concierge desk. Exchanging a greeting with the manager, she accepted the stack and crossed to the lift. The other tiny secret she’d been harbouring for several weeks lightened her heart a little as she entered the carriage and pressed the button.
Having witnessed the pleased light in Emiliano’s eyes whenever she’d responded in Spanish to a simple question, she’d embraced the idea to take it further.
She hadn’t divulged her attempt to learn Spanish to Emiliano because she’d wanted to approach the outskirts of proficiency before she told him. Privately, she’d devoured Spanish newspapers and magazines in her spare time in the hope of quickly learning her lover’s mother tongue, and even admitted that it had become a guilty pleasure to gorge on all things Argentinian.
Unfortunately, it was the reason the headline screaming from the front page of the glossy celebrity magazine made perfect sense to her once she fished it out of the pile.
Stumbling out of her lift, she froze to a halt, her heart dropping to her toes. Unable to catch her breath, she stared, first at the photo, then back at the headline.
A Castillo-Cabrera Union!
The rest of the papers fell out of her hand, her useless limbs unable to hang on to anything but the evidence of all her whys spelled out in bold white letters. Her shocked eyes dropped to the smaller print.
The Polo Match Made in Heaven!
Emiliano Castillo to Wed Graciela Cabrera.
There were other words, such as wedding of the year... Dynastic union... Valentine’s Day wedding...
But her vision was blurring, her heart refusing to pump properly. She was going to pass out. She was sure of it. She wasn’t sure whether to view her present state as a blessing. What she did know was that she wanted to block out the sight of Emiliano and the drop-dead gorgeous caramel blonde sitting at the intimate candlelit table, her hand on top of his, her smile holding a thousand delicious secrets as she stared at him.
And he stared back at her.
He wasn’t smiling—Emiliano never smiled in the presence of a camera, especially one wielded by a paparazzo. Most of the time he glared at the intrusion. He wasn’t glaring this time. The expression on his face was even...accommodating. Fond.
Lungs burning, Sienna forced herself to take a breath. Turn the pages. Her world turning to ash, she stared at glossy page after glossy page of Emiliano and his new amor. On the fifth page, she stared, tears surging into her eyes, at the ring on the finger which announced Graciela Cabrera as the brand new fiancée of Emiliano Castillo.
To add insult to injury, her heart tripped to a stop when she saw what Emiliano was wearing. If there was even a shadow of a doubt that this picture was a terrible, cruel hoax, it was wiped clean when she saw the tie. She’d gifted that tie to him on his birthday two months ago—had
