wasn’t wrong. By the time the weekend was over Maggie found she had booked herself on a European coach tour.
Her mum had mixed feelings about her choice.
‘But, Maggie, there will be nobody under forty on a coach tour.’
‘Mum, I’m not looking for romance.’
‘What about fun?’
It was a question that Maggie considered on more than one occasion over the next few weeks.
Maybe, she mused, she ought to put sensible on hold and try spontaneous, though not as spontaneous as her friend Millie had suggested when she heard the news of the broken engagement. Fun was one thing but, as she told Millie, the idea of a casual fling with a stranger did not appeal to her.
She had responded with a mystified shake of her head to Millie’s suggestion that she might not have met the right stranger yet.
What Millie didn’t get was that she simply wasn’t a very sexual person.
CHAPTER TWO
RAFAEL worked his way across the room crowded with members of two of the most ancient and powerful families in Spain, brought together to celebrate the baptism of the twin boys who were the result of the marriage that had joined the two dynasties.
His cousin Alfonso, a frown on his face, approached.
Rafael arched a dark brow. ‘A problem?’
‘I’ve just been speaking with the manager, Rafe.’
Rafael nodded encouragingly.
His cousin shook his head and said quietly. ‘I can’t let you pay for this, Rafael.’
‘You don’t think I’m good for it?’
His cousin laughed. The extent of Rafael’s fortune was something that was debated in financial pages and gossip columns alike, but even the most conservative estimates involved a number of noughts that Alfonso, who was not a poor man himself, struggled to get his head around.
Like all the Castenadas family members present, Alfonso was old money, though like many of the old families, including his wife’s, the Castenadas family were not the power they once had been.
Except Rafael, the family maverick whose massive fortune was not down to inherited wealth.
When Rafael’s father died in a sailing accident he did leave his son an ancestral pile and several thousands of acres, but the land that hadn’t been sold off had been mortgaged to the hilt and the ancestral pile had been sadly neglected.
The estancia had needed a massive investment of, not just cash, but enthusiasm and expertise to bring it into the twenty-first century.
Rafael had both.
In the last year Rafael-Luis Castenadas had added a newspaper and a hotel chain to his already wide-ranging holdings. It was a long way from the disgrace Alfonso’s uncle had always predicted his son would bring to the family name.
‘If he was still with us Uncle Felipe would have been proud of all you’ve achieved.’
Rafael raised a dark slanted brow to a satirical angle. ‘You think so?’
Alfonso looked surprised by the question. ‘Of course!’
Rafael shrugged, recalling his father describing his career choice as a ‘passing phase.’
‘All things are, I suppose possible.’ All things except his ability to please his father, Rafael mused, unable to recall the exact moment he had realised this, but able to recall the sense of release he had got when he’d finally stopped trying.
Following this revelation there had been a short interval when out of sheer perversity he had adopted a lifestyle guaranteed to embarrass his father.
He had rapidly outgrown the rebellion, but he was still paying the price for this youthful self-indulgence, those early colourful bad-boy antics had attracted the attention of the press at the time, and Rafael had never totally shaken that youthful reputation or the interest of the media.
‘But surely…’ Alfonso protested.
Rafael’s lips curved into a sardonic smile.
‘My father was an elitist snob—being a Castenadas was his religion.’ How anyone could think an accident of birth made him somehow better than his fellow man had always seemed bizarre to Rafael.
The lack of emotion in the dry delivery, as much as the sentiment, made his cousin stare.
Reading the shock and disapproval Alfonso struggled to hide reminded Rafael that, though he had always got on well with his cousin, who was the epitome of a decent guy, when it came to family pride they were not reading from the same page.
‘You will allow me to give my godsons this gift.’
Responding to the charm in Rafael’s smile—very few did not—Alfonso grinned back. ‘Gift? What were the cases of vintage wine?’
Rafael’s arm moved in a dismissive gesture. ‘Wine is a good investment and I managed to locate some rare vintages.’
‘I’ll say, and I’m grateful on the boys’ behalf but that’s not the point, Rafael.’
‘The point is I wish to do this for my godsons. They are, after all, my heirs.’
Alfonso laughed. ‘I won’t raise their hopes. You’re thirty-two, Rafael—I think you might manage an heir or two of your own,’ he observed drily.
‘I have no interest in marriage.’ Why perpetuate a flawed formula?
He was surrounded by failed marriages, unhappy marriages and expensive divorces. If marriage were a horse it would have been put down years ago on compassionate grounds, but it was a product of wishful thinking and people, it seemed, needed dreams.
Rafael was content with reality.
He rarely had a relationship that lasted more than a couple of months, which was as a rule about the time when he started hearing ‘we’ a lot. It was also generally around this time he began to find the qualities that had first attracted him to a woman irritating.
He was not waiting to find his soulmate.
‘I will leave the domestic bliss to you and Angelina. I do not buy a restaurant if I want a meal and I do not intend to take a wife in order to have sex.’
Alfonso winced and said, ‘Nice analogy.’
‘I do not have a reputation for niceness,’ Rafael reminded him. He did, however, have a reputation for being utterly ruthless and single-minded when he pursued a goal. It was debated whether it was this ruthlessness, his sharp analytical mind or a combination of the two that accounted for his success.
Rafael, not given to introspection, had never attempted to analyse the formula; he did what he did because
