seemed to prove that you had a drug habit. But it is now clear to me that you take motherhood seriously.’
‘My commitment to Harry has never been in doubt,’ she said furiously. ‘But you refused to believe he was your son when I first told you.’
His jaw hardened but his response was controlled, as if he was forcing himself to remain calm in the face of her angry condemnation. ‘I now have proof that Harry is mine, and tomorrow evening I will make it public knowledge that I am his father. You do not need to worry that I am one hundred per cent committed to my son.’
* * *
Cortez smiled at the CEO of a brandy production company which was an important client of Felipe & Cortez Vineyards, and realised that he had no recollection of the conversation he’d had with the other man for the past ten minutes. Over Señor Santana’s shoulder he watched Elin chatting to another client, and he gritted his teeth when he noted that the guy looked dazzled by Elin. Cortez understood how that felt.
Desire had jack-knifed through him when he had knocked on her bedroom door fifteen minutes before the guests were due to arrive to escort her downstairs. The day before, he had suggested that he could order an evening gown for her from an exclusive boutique in Jerez, but she had declined his offer, saying she’d brought a dress with her from London that was suitable to wear to the party.
Elin’s idea of suitable was not the same as his, Cortez brooded as his eyes followed her obsessively when she moved around the room, stopping frequently to speak to guests. Her long sapphire-blue dress was a deceptively simple silk sheath with a diamanté belt that showed off her tiny waist. The halter-neck style left her shoulders and back bare and her blonde hair was swept up into a chignon, revealing the slender column of her white throat. In truth, the gown was elegant and sensual rather than overtly sexy, but Cortez hated the fact that every man in the room was looking at her and no doubt fantasising about her. He would feel happier if she were wearing a shroud. This possessive feeling was new and unwelcome and he felt irritated that she was the only woman who had such an effect on him.
When she had opened her bedroom door and given him one of those cool smiles of hers that never failed to set his teeth on edge, he had come worryingly close to sweeping her into his arms and carrying her over to the bed. He had wanted to strip her dress from her body and kiss her mouth and her breasts until he heated her up and she turned into the sensual siren who a year ago had begged him in a throaty whisper, that still haunted his dreams, to make love to her.
He forced his mind to the present when his PA came over and told him that everything was ready for him to make a statement to the press. He had asked the nanny to bring Harry downstairs when the baby woke for his ten p.m. feed. Barbara walked into the ballroom and Cortez strode over and took his son from her. As he lifted Harry into his arms, Elin materialised at his side. Her tension was almost tangible.
‘Let me hold him,’ she muttered. ‘He hasn’t long been fed, and he might be sick on your tuxedo.’
‘I don’t give a damn about my jacket.’ He stared at his son and Harry stared right back with his big, dark eyes flecked with gold. The baby’s rosebud mouth curved into a smile of recognition and Cortez silently repeated his vow that he would willingly sacrifice his life to protect his little boy.
The room fell silent as he made his way to one end of the ballroom, where a group of journalists were assembled in front of a microphone. There was a ripple of interest from the audience as he stepped onto the podium holding the baby in his arms. He held out his hand to Elin and she hesitated before she walked up to stand beside him.
He had given prior instruction that the press conference would be conducted in English for Elin’s benefit. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the continued success of Felipe & Cortez, which is reflected in the latest rise in profits, makes me very proud. But I am even prouder to introduce my son, Harry Ramos.’
The news was met with murmurs of surprise and interest from the guests. Cortez’s PR team had arranged that the press could ask a few pre-arranged questions, but as the session drew to an end a journalist stood up and asked an unplanned question.
‘Do you have any plans to marry your son’s mother? And, if so, when will the wedding be?’
Cortez smiled to hide his irritation with the journalist. ‘Miss Saunderson and I are not prepared to make a statement with regard to our personal situation yet,’ he said smoothly.
‘Miss Saunderson is English, and I am sure that your shareholders would like to know if you will continue to live in Spain, Señor Ramos, or if you plan to move to England to be with your son and his mother.’
‘Felipe & Cortez’s shareholders can be assured that I will continue to be based in Spain and my commitment to the company and also to my role as CEO of Hernandez Bank is unchanged.’
‘Will your son also live in Spain?’
‘Of course. Harry is my heir and when he is older I hope he will develop the same passion that I have to grow the best grapes and produce the best sherry for which F&C is renowned.’
‘But you do not intend to get married and your son will remain illegitimate?’ the journalist persisted.
‘As I have already stated, I do not intend to make any further announcement about my private life right now,’ Cortez said tersely. ‘All I will say is that the current situation regarding my son’s legitimacy will be resolved in the very near future.’
He signalled to his PA that the press conference was over and stepped down from the podium. As he carried Harry out of the ballroom Elin hurried after him, and he guessed from the staccato beat of her stiletto heels on the marble floor that her temper was simmering.
‘What did you mean by that last vague reply you gave to the journalist?’ she demanded after Cortez handed Harry to the nanny so that she could take him back upstairs to the nursery. The entrance hall was full of guests who were preparing to leave now that the party was over, and he led Elin into his study and locked the door to ensure their privacy. She put her hands on her hips. ‘How can Harry’s legitimacy be resolved?’
He waited a heartbeat. ‘By us getting married.’
‘Very funny,’ she snapped. ‘But I’m not in the mood for jokes.’
‘It wasn’t a joke. I’m serious.’ In his mind Cortez heard the journalist say that Harry was illegitimate, and he was hurtled back in time to when he had been taunted by other boys in the village where he had lived with his mother. ‘Malparido!’ they had shouted at him. The word meant bastard in English. Worse had been when they had called his mother a puta—a whore. Cortez had retaliated to the boys’ insults with his fists. He hadn’t cared what they called him, but he had fought to defend his mother’s honour. Working in the vineyard from an early age had made him physically strong, and after a while the boys had stopped calling him names to his face because they knew he would retaliate with punches.
Attitudes had changed in the thirty-four years since he had grown up among villagers who had held traditional values and sneered at him because his mother was unmarried. But the journalist’s comments showed that there was still a stigma attached to being illegitimate. He would not allow his son to be called a malparido.
He looked at Elin’s mutinous expression and knew he would have a battle on his hands to persuade her to marry him. But she wanted Harry as much as he did and Cortez was prepared to play dirty to get everything he desired.
