As soon as she’d been given access to his bank account, her style had changed dramatically, her wardrobe suddenly full of impeccable designer items.
Tonight, her long, thick hair had been dyed a warm blonde but he had no doubt it would be a different colour in a few weeks. Her hair changed more frequently than her ever-shifting career choices.
Her perfectly made up green eyes blinked rapidly as she pulled her generous lips into a tight white line. She reached out an imploring hand before quickly letting it drop. ‘You’re the only one who can help me. I’ve finally found a bank prepared to invest in the project but they’ll only give me the rest of the funds if you act as guarantor.’
‘What the...?’ He bit away the oath that jumped on his tongue and glared at her, ignoring the plea ringing from her eyes. ‘That’s even worse than asking me for money outright. You must be mad if you think I would guarantee money on any business venture you embarked on. After all, I threw away millions of euros during our marriage on your failed ventures—’
A thought occurred to him. ‘Why would the bank manager request I act as your guarantor? We’ve been separated for two years. Our divorce, which I remind you has come at your instigation, will be finalised in a few weeks.’
Her teeth sank sharply into her bottom lip and she cast her eyes down in a decidedly shamefaced manner. ‘I...’
‘What did you do?’ His wife was nothing if not impulsive. She could have done anything.
‘I...I told him we’d got back together.’
‘You did what?’
She met his gaze with a cringe. ‘I didn’t know what else to do...’
‘Let me get this straight—you told a bank manager we were back together so you could get investment on your latest hare-brained project?’
‘It is not hare-brained,’ she protested hotly, displaying the first real hint of fire since she’d gatecrashed the party. ‘Without the funding, the children have nowhere to go.’
‘That is not my problem.’ The anger that had been simmering within him pushed to the surface. ‘I don’t care what lies you’ve told, I want nothing to do with it and nothing to do with you. This is your mess and your responsibility to sort out. Goodbye.’
Leaving her standing there open-mouthed, he strode away. He hadn’t got more than a few metres before she called out to him.
‘It isn’t too late for me to sue for a slice of your fortune, you know.’
He came to an abrupt halt.
Now the truth of this meeting was revealed.
‘Our divorce isn’t final yet. I can call my lawyer Monday morning and tell him I’ve changed my mind and now want the large settlement he said I could have.’
Slowly he turned to face her, heart thundering, his brain burning. She dared to threaten him?
He did not take threats from anyone, especially not the woman who’d shared his bed for three years and milked him for everything she could before walking out on him.
‘Yes, you can call your lawyer and, yes, a court will probably compel me to give you some of what you ask for. I’ve always been generous with you—it was your choice not to ask for more than I’d already given.’ He’d been suspicious to find she didn’t want more of his wealth than the ten million euros. Probably she’d seen all the zeros in her account and assumed it would last for ever. He was surprised it lasted as long as it had.
Somehow he found himself right back in front of her with no memory of his legs having moved.
‘Any court case will take months, if not years, to settle so will come too late to save your latest business.’ He allowed himself a smile as he leaned down to place his face inches from hers so she could follow his lips and their meaning more closely. ‘In the meantime, you will have ample time to consider the folly of your extravagant ways and the consequences of your lies.’
This time he walked away without her calling him back.
As he rejoined the party the sight of her hurt, shocked face played heavily on his mind.
His date, Jessica, stared at him coolly, taking a long drag of her cigarette. ‘What was that about?’
He looked at her. They’d been dating for almost a month, his first foray into the dating world since Charley had walked out.
Jessica was tall, lithe and beautiful, regularly featuring at the top of sexiest women polls. She was poised, cool and considered, and looked fantastic on his arm.
Charley was inches shorter and considerably curvier. She was warm and impulsive with a laugh that warmed you to hear it. She smelled of fresh vanilla.
He could still smell her now.
‘Well?’ Jessica demanded, crunching her cigarette out in the ashtray.
Charley had always smelled gorgeous, especially first thing in the morning when the vanilla had turned to musk and mingled with the scent of their night’s lovemaking.
He hated the smell of smoke. Was it any wonder he’d been loath to even kiss Jessica?
A dart of red crossed the periphery of his vision. He turned his head to see Charley hurry back into the hotel. Even from this distance he could see the dejection in her demeanour.
Forcing a smile at Jessica, he ignored her question. ‘One more drink and then we’ll make a move.’
Not giving her the chance to respond, he headed back into the hotel and the heaving function room. As he fought his way to the bar, bypassing the waiting staff and their trays of champagne—he needed something much stiffer than that to drink—he kept an eye out for a vision in red but she was nowhere to be seen.
Charley had gone.
CHARLEY FORCED A polite smile and an even politer adiós, and left the bank manager’s office. Her chest felt so tight she struggled to breathe. Swallowing in a vain attempt to open her airways, she stepped into the lobby of the enormous building that housed her bank and a dozen other institutions, and headed straight to the ladies’ room, locking herself in the nearest cubicle.
It was over.
The manager had been as good as his word. Without Raul to act as guarantor, there would be no loan.
She’d known her chances of getting the manager to change his mind had been slim but had refused to be defeated. Slim was a better chance than zero.
And now it was all over. That last glimmer of hope had died. Zero chance had become reality.
Clamping a hand over her mouth, she stifled a sob.
Despite all her efforts, Poco Rio would lose its home and close.
Those poor children. Whatever
