CELIA’S IDEA OF the perfect honeymoon involved white sands and blue sea and lazy cocktails on a beach and being somewhere where you could easily imagine that the rest of the world didn’t actually exist. Even after she and Martin had parted company, she could remember guiltily and longingly gazing at faraway destinations in magazines, where sun, sea and sand were the only ‘S’s to be had, without that other one, stress, rearing its ugly head and spoiling everything.
By the time they’d returned to London the previous afternoon, stress at whatever Leandro had planned had definitely been high on the agenda as she’d churned over in her head the prospect of going on a pseudo honeymoon with him.
She’d made an effort to find out what he had in mind, but he had told her to just make sure her passport was up to date and her summer wardrobe was up and running.
Then he’d looked at her, a quick, sidelong glance as his powerful car ate up the motorway miles, and said thoughtfully, ‘I think a shopping trip might be in order.’
Why fight it?
The consequences of accepting his offer of marriage had been beginning to sink in.
The altruistic rightness of doing the best for the baby they now shared hid a network of uncomfortable realities.
His wealth was staggering and while she had every intention of continuing her own business, adapting and adjusting as necessary, she would essentially be the recipient of immense financial comfort.
How could she dig her heels in and fight that? He wanted the best for his child and she would be tugged along in the undertow.
‘Really?’ She’d greeted his pensive observation with a half-hearted lack of enthusiasm. ‘I have summer clothes.’
‘What?’
‘I said I already have perfectly fine summer clothes.’
‘No. What summer clothes do you have?’
Celia had bristled, but had then remembered what her summer wardrobe consisted of and said, truthfully, ‘I think I have some shorts and a couple of dresses.’ The truth was that she had the sort of clothes designed to hide behind. Baggy shirts and loose-fitting dresses and everything in muted colours that allowed her to fade into the background.
‘We’re going to be getting married,’ Leandro had pointed out. ‘You’re going to have to dress the part.’
‘Dress the part? Do you think I’m some kind of Barbie doll, Leandro? What world do you live in where you really imagine that women should dress to fit in with a guy?’
‘Actually...’ Leandro had been sidetracked ‘...you’d be surprised how many women enjoy shopping for expensive clothes. They rarely have to be forced into it kicking and screaming. But,’ he’d continued reasonably, ‘that wasn’t what I was getting at.’
‘No?’
‘If we go anywhere expensive, you’re going to be ill at ease in clothes that make you feel self-conscious. Besides, has it occurred to you that I might actually want to treat my bride-to-be to a new wardrobe? Jewellery? Holidays? A new car...?’
Bride-to-be in name only, Celia had thought. ‘I don’t need a new car.’
‘Stop arguing with me all the time.’
‘If I don’t happen to agree with what you’re saying, it doesn’t mean that I’m arguing with you.’
At which point he’d burst out laughing and told her that he would collect her the following morning at ten sharp from her house.
So here she was now. She was no wiser as to the destination of this honeymoon and locked into a morning shopping with Leandro.
She was far from beginning to show yet but, even so, her first words as she settled into the back of his chauffeur-driven car were, ‘It’s silly to spend a lot of money on clothes that are only going to fit me for a few weeks—by the time summer rolls round over here, I’ll be as big as a whale.’
‘And a good morning to you as well, Celia. Good night’s sleep? I wouldn’t have to do this trip out if you’d simply listened to me and moved into my place. It’s not like your parents’ house where you would be forced to share a bed with me. You would be able to have your pick of rooms.’
When he had suggested that, Celia had instantly turned him down on the grounds that there was no need.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she now asked and he grinned.
‘You make that sound as though I’m ferrying you for a day out of pure torture.’
‘I hate shopping.’
‘I believe you’ve mentioned that to me once.’
‘Have I?’
‘It may have been post-coital conversation in the early hours of the morning when we were in Scotland.’ His voice was husky and amused. When he thought of those intimate moments in the stillness of a snowy night, when they had talked about anything and everything, he could feel his libido rising to the occasion and reminding him of just how much he was going to enjoy seducing her back into his bed.
More and more, he got the tantalising sensation that what she wanted to box away was still there, a simmering physical pull that matched his. Why was she so keen to deny it? Was it because she’d come to the conclusion that to indulge in sex with him was no longer acceptable despite the situation they were in because she needed an emotional attachment he was incapable of giving? Had she succumbed once and decided that once was enough? Had she thought it through at all? Underneath all that speculation lay the uneasy notion that she subconsciously saw herself walking away from a marriage in search of the fairy-story ending, maybe not immediately but sooner rather than later.
Was he being over-imaginative? Leandro didn’t know because she was the very essence of everything that was mysterious about the opposite sex even though she could be as transparent as a pane of glass.
If she wanted to lock those memories away then he’d determined that he wasn’t going to let her and he wished he could see her face now as he dropped that perfectly innocuous remark in a voice that was easy-going, casual and reeking of innocence, but he didn’t want to make a point of it.
‘Don’t worry. I guarantee you’ll enjoy the experience and to answer your question—Selfridges.’
Celia lapsed into silence. Post-coital conversation... She wished he hadn’t reminded her of those because how she had luxuriated in them, loving the darkness and the quiet and the lazy chat that was so easy and languid in bed, naked bodies pressed together, warm and content.
Overwhelmed by a sudden wave of sadness for having made the mistake of falling crazily in love with a guy who was incapable of loving anyone, she blinked and stared out of the window at yet another grey day.
She wasn’t aware of Leandro reaching out until she felt the curl of his fingers around hers and when she swung round to look at him, she was bowled over by the gentleness on his face.
‘It’s going to be okay,’ he said roughly.
In that very instant, Celia made her decision.
She would never find the love she wanted with Leandro but she would have support and affection. It might not have been on her wish list when she was young and filled with dreams about her future, but she was going to marry him and they were having a baby and it could have been a whole lot worse.
And if he didn’t and never would love her?
The option of pulling back, of trying not to go further down the road of giving him her heart, now seemed naïve and futile. What would happen in that scenario? He would eventually drift away from her. He would turn to other women to find physical closeness. She had debated telling him that she wouldn’t marry unless he promised not to stray, but had known that that would have been crazy unless they became lovers once again. Not knowing what to do, she had remained paralysed, but now...?
Those fingers entwined with hers would have to be enough. She would never tell him how she really felt because she would always want to hang onto her dignity, but she could no longer fight the hold he had over her.
Was it the same for him?
He hadn’t come near her since they had left Scotland, but if she didn’t risk finding out whether there was any semblance of attraction left between them, then she would regret the omission for ever.
She squeezed his hand without looking at him and then left her fingers linked with his. Finally, she turned and smiled weakly.
‘If you say so.’
‘We’re here.’ He nodded to the busy entrance.
Celia breathed in long and deep and together they headed into the department store.
She’d reached a crossroads and was going to make the very best of where she was. She was going to love this man and if he hurt her, then she would accept the body blow.
They went directly to the designer floor. Celia had only been into Selfridges a couple of times and never anywhere near the designer section, which was out of bounds moneywise for her.
He held her hand and moved with confidence, ignoring eager looks on salespeople’s faces, asking her what sort of things she liked to wear and then telling her that anything baggy was out of the question.
‘Why?’
‘Why would you hide your figure?’ He slid appreciative eyes across to her and she blushed. ‘It’s amazing.’
She remembered the way he’d made her feel. Sexy and beautiful and provocative. He’d opened up a whole new side to her and it was exciting to think that she might go down that road again.
Would she?
She could feel his body language and it made her bloom somewhere deep inside with the slow burn of desire.
‘Can I ask you something?’ Celia stopped and looked up at him, suddenly anxious to find out why, having been so scrupulous in avoiding touching her ever since she’d shown up, he was now giving off signals that he wanted her after all.
Had he reconciled himself to taking what he thought might now be on offer? Even though he might have been happy to shrug her off before? Easy come, easy go?
She wanted him. She was in love with him. But was she so in love and did she want him so much that she would be happy to be considered as better than nothing? Would her self-esteem ever recover? But then she thought of them living separate lives, growing more and more distant from one another over time, holding herself in a state of frozen limbo because she didn’t want to have sex with someone who couldn’t give her the love she craved. How satisfying would that be?
There were few people around them, but she still shuffled him away from the main drag and towards the side.
‘Do I have a choice of answer?’ Leandro asked cautiously and Celia chewed her lower lip and shook her head, which was honest enough.
‘You haven’t...come near me ever since I told you about the pregnancy...’
‘Come again?’
‘I got the impression...that...er...’ His look of bewilderment made her stumble over her words but then his expression cleared and he looked at her seriously.
‘You made it clear that you weren’t interested in prolonging what we had,’ Leandro said bluntly. ‘I got the message loud and clear so when you showed up, I was hardly going to take that as a green light to start making a move on you, was I?’
He tilted her chin so that she was looking at him, her clear green eyes hesitant.
‘Do you know what my mission in life is?’ he asked, his voice teasing, which brought all sorts of tingly sensations racing through her, making her squirm in a very pleasurable way.
‘What?’ Her voice was breathless and she was mesmerised by the glint in his eyes.
‘To just get you to feel more confident about yourself.’
‘Of course I’m confident!’
Leandro looked at her wryly. ‘How could you think that I would want you one minute and then be so turned off you the next that I don’t want to come near you?’
Celia shrugged. ‘Men change their minds.’
‘I don’t. There’s such a thing as respecting someone’s choices.’ He was tempted to ask her why she had found it so easy to dismiss what they’d enjoyed but he already knew. She’d been looking for Love and happy to relegate the fun they’d had to the history books.
Except fate had had other things in mind.
But he still turned her on and maybe she was seeing things from his point of view now. A baby and a marriage and the bonus of great sex to keep the wheels oiled.
Love might not be part of the equation but that didn’t mean that everything then became a lost cause. Life was seldom a case of all or nothing.
She’d forgotten the value of fun somewhere along the line and he was surprised at how relieved and frankly overjoyed he felt at the thought that she had come round to his way of thinking.
‘So,’ he purred silkily, ‘shall we get down to the drudgery of shopping for an entire new wardrobe for you? Money no object?’ He wagged his finger sternly at her. ‘And don’t even think about quibbling about that one...’
Celia had always loathed the business of buying clothes. Of course, Leandro had a point. When you lacked confidence in your body, when you looked in the mirror and mostly saw room for improvement, then trying on clothes became a chore.
But now she was imbued with such a sense of heady sexiness that she threw herself into the task with gusto. She forgot about the fact that most of the stuff came with price tags that made her eyes water.
Anticipation at what she had given herself permission to do gave an edge to the remainder of the day. Every sideways glance was thrilling, every brush of his hand against her sent a rush of adrenaline through her system.
Celia could barely remember what exactly she had chosen for herself because her mind had been racing ahead to what lay in store.
A night with Leandro, wrapped in his arms, her body singing to the drumbeat of his love-making.
She knew she stocked up on three dresses, some shorts, some tee shirts that were as soft as silk and even some strappy shoes and sandals. She bought stuff she would never have chosen for herself in a million years, tops that showed off her generous breasts and dresses that skimmed her thighs and delicate shoes that reminded her that she had very pretty feet and slender ankles.
They held hands, had some lunch and, in true billionaire style, he had his chauffeur stop so that the shopping could be dumped in the boot of his car. No inconvenient traipsing through the store weighed down by bags.
They were in the back of his car and heading to her place so that she could fling a few things in a suitcase and make it quick because he was going crazy when it occurred to Celia that he still hadn’t told her where, exactly, they would be going.
‘Dubai.’
‘I’ve always wanted to go,’ she confessed.
‘It’s busy. Had I known that we would...’ he eyed the closed partition and lowered his voice to a seductive purr ‘...be spending a week removing one another’s clothing and getting reacquainted with what’s underneath, I would have definitely opted for something a little less frantic.’
‘Thank you,’ Celia said simply, then she looked away because there was way too much her eyes could tell him that her head warned her not to say.
The casual purchase of a wardrobe of designer clothes, a shopping trip where price tags weren’t consulted because money didn’t matter, should have prepared her for the lavish experience of travelling with a billionaire a mere three days later, but Celia was still shocked at the mind-blowing opulence of luxury travel.
They flew first. People fawned and practically pleaded to bring food and drink, whatever they wanted. There were massages on tap should they want...manicures and pedicures at the snap of a finger...
The sofas strewn here and there in artful symmetry were deep and comfortable and there were USB ports everywhere because nearly everyone in the spacious, airy lounge was a businessperson.
There was an air-conditioned limo with privacy windows waiting for them when they landed and they were ushered out with the sort of respect reserved for visiting dignitaries.
‘I guess you come here often? Why do people know who you are?’
‘No need to whisper, Celia. We’re not in a library. And this is just the level of service that happens when you get to a certain financial position. Admittedly, I’ve met the Sheikh a few times in the course of business. You’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve turned down his dinner invitation at his palace. We’re here for a week and I intend to spend every second of the week in your company and your company alone.’
Leandro meant every word of that. He had barely been able to focus on work because having her back in his bed had taken up all his waking thoughts.
Sex had never ruled his life. He had never had a problem prioritising what was important, which was the thing that gave him financial security, the thing that saved him from the fate of his father. He had discovered, to his bemusement, that that paled into insignificance with Celia back on the scene.
He felt that it was all tied up with the fact that she was having his baby. No woman had ever occupied that spot in his life before and, while he had never thought about it, he now felt a depth of protectiveness that overruled everything else.
He couldn’t stop looking at her. Right now, she was pink from the surge of heat outside the airport and her hair was in its usual disarray, rebelling against the clips she had pushed in to control it, begging to be released.
There was not an ounce of artificiality about her. She looked left to right and left to right as the limo left the airport towards the five-star hotel his PA had booked for him.
He reached to clasp her hand and she shot him an open, delighted smile.
‘This is amazing,’ she confessed. ‘There weren’t a huge amount of holidays growing up and when I left home to open my business, there just wasn’t the cash to indulge in going abroad.’
‘I never went on holiday either, as a child,’ Leandro confided. ‘It’s why I never take any of this for granted, however much I’m used to it. I was propelled into private education thanks to Charles and I learned quickly how to survive in that small pond where the rich and famous swim.’
‘How?’
‘You need to have a killer instinct and when you come from nothing, you need to be better, faster and smarter than the kids who come from moneyed backgrounds. You have to make sure you don’t give anyone an advantage over you.’
‘A lonely life,’ Celia murmured and Leandro flushed and looked away for a few seconds.
‘I’ve never considered myself lonely,’ he said crisply, holding her gaze for a moment and then briefly looking down. ‘If anything, when I went to boarding school, I would say there were way too many people around.’
Celia half smiled and reached to squeeze his hand. ‘I’ll bet.’
Her eyes were warm and, suddenly disoriented, Leandro heard himself say gruffly, ‘I admit I was lonely...sometimes.’ Then he shrugged, astonished at that confidence. ‘Kids adapt.’ He dealt her a gentle smile. ‘I’m just glad ours won’t have to.’
‘I might need to do a lot of adapting.’ Celia laughed. ‘I never saw myself living anywhere but a modest little house with a bit of a garden and enough space for a decent workroom.’
So the conversation moved on. They arrived not long after at the resort, which turned out to be a breathtakingly elegant compound located on the crisp white shores of Jumeirah Beach. It was big enough to get lost in and yet they were greeted, once out of the car, with impeccable efficiency. Celia lagged behind, awestruck by the opulence. Acres of marble floor and a dazzling abundance of chandeliers and gold-leaf ceilings nudged alongside warm earthy tones, a visual reminder that this palatial five-star resort owed its existence to the splendour of the sand and desert in which it resided. The searing heat was left behind as it was beautifully cool inside and busy with people coming and going. Many were tourists but many were also locals, wearing the impressive, traditional dress, white tunics and headscarves.
She half listened to the spiel the hotel receptionist was imparting as she went through the formalities of checking them in, then she smiled and said, deferentially, that perhaps Mr Diaz already knew what there was to know as he had been there already.
‘And our esteemed Royal Highness, the Sheikh, sends you his best,’ she murmured, eyes lowered.
This was like no hotel Celia had ever been in, not that she had been in very many, and she followed Leandro in a daze as he confidently led the way to the bank of lifts purring up and down, disgorging people into the plush foyer and transporting ones on their way back to their rooms.
She could understand why he had chosen this place for a honeymoon that wasn’t supposed to have been a real honeymoon. If the aim had been for them to get to at least know one another a bit better, without any atmosphere of romance to muddy the waters, then it couldn’t have been better. Lavish and big enough to be impersonal, vibrant without the danger of intimacy lurking in secluded corners and cosy nooks and crannies.
They were whooshed out into a huge, ornately carpeted corridor with just a handful of doors guarding the most expensive of the suites.
‘Wow.’ That was all Celia could say as the heavy door was pushed open and she walked into a vast open space, all white, from the sprawling U-shaped leather suite to the pale rug on which it sat.
To one side, there was a magnificent circular glass table, big enough to seat eight, and directly in front was a bank of glass to which she was drawn.
The city twinkled far and away and beneath them. She rested her hands on the floor-to-ceiling glass and looked out and then shivered as she saw Leandro’s reflection behind her.
He reached, flattening his palms on either side of hers, locking her in and sending goosebumps racing through her.
The thrill of flirting and the anticipation of where all that flirting was going to lead made her weak at the knees. She turned within the loop of his outstretched arms so that her back was against the glass and she stared up at him, breathing fast, her mouth parted in invitation.
He was wearing a light-coloured shirt, cuffed to the elbows, and low-slung chinos and she undid the buttons of the shirt and pushed her hands to feel the hardness of his chest, roughened with dark hair. She circled her fingers over his flat nipples and felt his sharp intake of breath. She tugged the shirt free of the trousers. His dark eyes held hers and she liked that because she could see the heat of desire burning in the depths, turning her on, fuelling her with the confidence that had been shorn away when she had thought that he no longer wanted her.
‘I’ve wanted to touch you all day,’ he rasped, one hand still planted on the glass while the other did to her what she was doing to him, pushed under the silk blouse to find the front clasp of her bra, which he undid with proficiency.
Her breasts fell full and soft, released from their restraints, and Leandro flung back his head, nostrils flared, eyes half closed as he cupped her breasts in his hands and massaged them.
With a groan he roughly undid the buttons, tugged her blouse free of the matching silk culottes, felt her wriggle against him, unzipping and pulling down, as frantic as he was.
They barely made it to the bedroom.
Clothes were shed on the way, a trail of discarded items that followed them into one of the three rooms, which was dominated by a super-king-size bed complete with drapery.
Celia vaguely took stock of all of this. Yes, she was aware of the size of the bedroom, the pale voile at the windows, the lush deep blue of the carpet and the sleek glossiness of the built-in furniture, but that was all on the periphery of her vision.
Really, she only had eyes for the man who was now standing back, looking at her with such hot longing in his eyes that she wanted to swoon.
They were both naked. She dimly remembered kicking off her panties. The cool air-conditioning made her nipples stiffen.
‘I’ve missed you,’ Leandro half moaned.
My body, Celia knew. Where she missed his familiarity and the wonderful essence of him, he missed her body, missed the sex.
It was something she would have to accept and accept it she would.
Her love was so entwined with lust and desire that she knew that they could never be untangled.
She sighed softly and her eyelids fluttered as he curved his hands smoothly over her waist and then he knelt at her feet and breathed her in.
He smoothed his hand over her belly and kissed it and then he gently eased her legs apart.
Oh, how she had missed this!
She arched back and reached out to clutch at one of the wooden posts of the bed. Then she lifted her leg, resting it on the mattress so that she could accommodate his exploring tongue working its way along her clitoris, teasing it into stiff arousal.
Her fingers curled into his dark hair. When she looked down with slumberous eyes, she was further turned on by the sight of him, moving against her, between her thighs.
He eased a finger into her, two fingers, and between his tongue and his mouth and those fingers, Celia could no longer hold on.
She came fast and hard, spasming against his mouth, her whole body convulsing with the mind-blowing pleasure of her orgasm. She barely recognised the guttural sounds leaving her mouth, but she could feel the hot, prickly flush of the blood rushing through her, as searing as fire.
The strength of her orgasm left her as weak as a kitten but she was still startled when he lifted her off her feet, as though she weighed nothing, and gently put her on the bed.
Their eyes tangled and she could feel her body begin to shift back into gear, could feel that want seep through her. It was an ache between her legs that made her want to rub them together.
‘You are every man’s dream,’ Leandro husked, bending to suckle on one nipple, which turned want back into mindless craving with supersonic speed.
‘That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.’ She laughed softly and tugged him so that they were looking at one another. Then she kissed him. A long, lingering kiss. ‘And it’s your turn now because I’ve missed you too...’