wife he had wanted for himself but she would be the perfect mother for their child.
Sophie would protect and love their child in a way that would make it hardly aware of its father’s remoteness.
‘I need you to understand that if you won’t have a nanny then you have to be prepared to do it all yourself,’ he warned her. ‘I’m not going to be one of those modern hands-on fathers. I am not designed that way and I work too-long hours.’
The light in her eyes dimmed a little more. ‘Being hands-on would be good for you.’
‘I doubt that and I doubt it would be good for the baby. I’ll pay for any help you need but I won’t be doing any of the work myself.’
Seeing she was prepared to argue, he cut her off. ‘Carina, we have months until the baby comes. I’ve had five very long days in the company of sharks and now I want nothing but to go for a swim and have some dinner.’
Her brows drew together. ‘Did the trip not go well?’
Her obvious concern sliced through him. ‘It was successful. The deal was signed.’
But the negotiations had been a lot tougher than he’d anticipated.
The Casillas brothers had always negotiated together. It had not felt right without Luis there, as if he were negotiating with an arm tied behind his back and a leg missing.
Luis had always been the counterpoint to him, charming the people who mattered, willing to play the game when Javier would rather cut his toes off than schmooze.
This time he’d had to play the role of good cop and bad cop in one.
He had managed it though.
His successful negotiations had been the proof he needed that he didn’t need his brother in his life in any capacity.
‘Will you have to spend a lot of time in South Africa when the development starts?’
‘Yes. There will be occasions when I’m away for weeks at a time.’
He only just managed to cut himself off from suggesting that she accompany him on some of the trips.
The light in her eyes dimmed into nothing. Her lips drew tighter but then she hugged her arms around her chest and took a step back. ‘I have something to show you.’
‘What?’
‘I have to show you, not tell you.’
He stared at her quizzically, then shrugged. ‘Go on, then.’
He followed her down the stairs. As they walked, she kept up a light chatter about the nursery. ‘I’ve also hired a local carpenter to make some bespoke furniture for it but he can’t start working on it for a few weeks yet.’
‘He had some scruples, did he?’ he asked drily, wondering why she suddenly seemed so nervous.
She laughed but it sounded forced. ‘I discovered that not everyone can be bought.’
You can’t, he thought. In a world where money ruled he had married perhaps the only person on it who could not be paid for.
His thoughts turned to a blank when he stepped through the door Sophie opened that led into the smallest of his huge living rooms.
Lying on his solid oak floor, which he had treated twice a year to keep it in immaculate condition, fast asleep on a plastic oval bed heaped with blankets that dwarfed its tiny size, was a dog.
‘What the hell is that?’
As he spoke, the dog opened its eyes and clambered to its feet.
‘A puppy.’
He glared at her. ‘I can see that. I meant what the hell is it doing in my house?’
‘Our house.’ The dog had padded to her feet and was scratching at her knee. She scooped it up and held it protectively in her arms. ‘You said I should treat it as my home.’
‘That does not give you licence to buy a dog.’
‘I didn’t buy it. I found it by—’
‘You’ve brought a stray dog into my house?’ he interrupted. ‘What’s wrong with you? Who knows what diseases it has?’
‘He has no disease. I found him bleeding outside the gates of the house and took him to the vet. He was covered in puncture wounds, so we think he was mauled by another dog. The vet treated his wounds. Other than being terrified and in pain from the mauling, there’s nothing wrong with him.’
‘Why hasn’t he been returned to his owner?’
‘He isn’t microchipped and no one’s claimed him. It’s likely he’s been abandoned.’
He knew her intentions immediately. ‘No.’
‘Yes.’
‘No. We are not having a dog.’
‘We’re not, I am. If the owner doesn’t declare him or herself by the end of next week Frodo will be registered as mine.’
‘Frodo?’
‘He looks like a Frodo. He already answers to it.’ Putting her nose down to the black rug in her arms’ nose, she said, in word-perfect Spanish, ‘You already know your name, don’t you, Frodo?’
‘Since when do you speak Spanish?’ he asked in amazement.
‘I’ve lived here for almost two years.’
‘You’ve never spoken it before.’
‘I made my wedding vows in Spanish. Besides, I haven’t needed to with you,’ she said, reverting back to her native language. ‘Your English is much better than my Spanish. I speak Spanish with the staff.’
Realising he’d been distracted from the conversation at hand, he steered it back. ‘He’s not staying. We are not having a dog. You have enough to cope with.’
She could not argue with that logic.
Turned out she could.
‘The baby’s not due for five months. That’s plenty of time to train it before the kumquat’s born. He’s only a puppy. The vet thinks he’s about three months old.’
‘What do you know about training a dog?’
‘I grew up with dogs. And cats and guinea pigs and stick insects. I told you before you left for Cape Town that I always wanted to be a vet.’
Dios, the infuriating woman had an answer for everything.
But he would not be swayed.
‘No. This is not a house for a dog. Think of the mess it will create. I have antiques and artefacts worth millions.’ In
