‘I need your help,’ she said with a helpless shrug, gazing intently into the pale blue eyes she’d once adored. The very first time she’d caught a glimpse of him it had felt as if her heart expanded enough to consume the rest of her. The high cheekbones, the full lips offset by a firm jaw...
She blinked and looked away. Raul’s intense masculinity that bordered on beauty had turned her brain to mush before. She needed to keep her head together, not plunge back five years to a time when her libido did her thinking for her. This was her one chance to convince him to help her. ‘Did you get my letter and the finance report I put with it?’
His throat emitted a sound of disgust. ‘Are you talking about the begging letter I received a couple of days ago?’
She rubbed an eye and immediately wished she hadn’t. She’d spent an age applying her make-up, unpractised after almost two years of not wearing it, and in one frustrated rub had probably ruined it. But she needed to look the part, not just to gain access to the party but to convince Raul to take her pleas seriously. Image was everything to her estranged husband. Regardless of what occurred behind closed doors, the public face had to be perfect.
‘So you’ve read it?’
Raul had taken one look at the girlish handwriting on the envelope and known immediately who it was from. Charley’s writing was undeveloped, as if she were stuck at age twelve.
It suddenly struck him that her handwriting was something she’d always been embarrassed about. She must have been really desperate to get in touch with him in this manner.
At the time he’d received her letter, though, he hadn’t been thinking of anything like that. Seeing her handwriting there before him had hit him low in his gut, churning up so many emotions he’d screwed the envelope into a tight ball and thrown it at the wall. A good hour had passed before he’d retrieved it and taken a look at the content of her letter. He’d barely got a third of the way through before screwing it back up again. The finance report—and he used that term loosely—had gone straight in the shredding pile.
‘I read enough to know you’re after more of my money.’ He’d transferred ten million euros into her account not long after she’d left, a reminder to her of everything she was giving up. He’d fully expected her to come crawling back. He’d still been expecting her to come crawling back a year later when the divorce papers had landed on his doorstep.
But now those millions had dried up and here she was, dressed to the nines, trying to get her greedy hands on more.
‘I’m not after your money. Did you read the bit about the Poco Rio day care centre?’
‘Yes.’ It was as far as he’d got before the words had blurred in his eyes.
Poco Rio day care centre. Those five words had been the reason his hands had fisted the letter into a ball the second time. It had been his estranged wife’s refusal to have a child with him that had killed their marriage.
He’d pumped an endless supply of money into her failed business ventures and now she had the nerve to ask him for money to fund yet another business, this one involving children, when she’d strung him along for three years with the promise of one.
He’d never thought of her as a sadist.
‘Then you know how important this is. I’ve found the ideal premises but the owner won’t hold onto them for ever. Either I complete the sale in the next month or he’s pulling out. Please, Raul, there isn’t time to find new premises. We’ve got four months left until we’re kicked out of our current home and—’
‘None of this concerns me. This is your problem.’
‘But I’m running out of time! The place I’ve found is perfect. The grounds are enormous and, once all the renovations are done, the building itself will be ten times better than the one we’re currently in and we’ll be able to double the number of children.’
‘As I said, this is your concern, not mine.’
‘But without you I can’t get the rest of the funding. I’ve tried everything...’
‘Then try harder. Maybe this time you’ll actually see something through to the end rather than giving up halfway through.’
She sucked in her cheeks at his home truth but met his gaze head-on. ‘I won’t give up this time. I can’t. But no one’s prepared to invest.’
‘Then either your business plan needs working on or you need to change your résumé. Maybe you should consider changing the truth into lies and hope no one bothers to check it.’ He backed away and nodded his head. ‘I’ve given you enough of my time—my date will be feeling neglected. I trust you can see yourself out?’
She blanched at the mention of his date.
He waited for gratification to hit him but all he felt was something akin to guilt, although why that should be the case he couldn’t begin to fathom. Charley had left him. After three years of his lavishing his money on her, helping her to improve herself, supporting her, giving her everything she desired...she’d refused him a child.
After three years of stringing him along, dangling the promise of a child over his head, she’d finally admitted the truth. She didn’t want to have his baby.
Their whole marriage had been a lie, reduced to nothing but a cauldron of recrimination and hate.
And now she had the nerve to ask for his help.
Yet, staring at her now, her skin as pure as alabaster under the moonlight, Raul had to clench his hands into fists and hold them tightly to his sides to prevent them reaching out to touch her.
The first time he’d met her, he’d just taken over the running of the Cazorla Hotel chain, the family business run by his father until he’d suffered a major stroke. Despite having his own successful, unconnected business to run, Raul had stepped up to the plate and taken over. The stroke had left his father physically disabled and unable to speak but he’d perfectly conveyed the disgust he felt at this occurrence. Raul had known it was the thought of him taking over rather than his new physical situation his father had hated the most. He knew his father despised the roaring success he’d made of the business since.
Back then, he’d been in Majorca to inspect the Cazorla hotel there, as he’d done in turn with the whole chain, refamiliarising himself with the business. This hotel had been markedly different from the others, having turned into a family hotel over the years rather than a luxury resort as the others in the chain were famous for. Charley had been employed by an outside Spanish company as one of the entertainers there.
He’d first seen her late in the evening, leaving the complex, dressed in shorts, a shimmering top and flip-flops, long honey-blonde hair flowing around her shoulders. She’d been laughing at something a friend had said, a deep, throaty laugh without inhibition that had made him smile to hear it. He’d spotted her again the next evening. She’d been on the stage running a game show that involved audience participation. She’d been funny and energetic and had the guests, young and old alike, eating out of her hand. He’d sought her out when the show finished, about to head out with her colleagues to party the rest of the night away. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to get her to change her plans and join him instead.
Appearancewise, she couldn’t have been
