Chapter Two

Helen quickly locked the battered door to her studio flat behind her and slumped against the cold interior wall. She was breathless after racing up three flights of dark narrow stairs. They were far too dank and sinister to hang around in. Perhaps on reflection she had been stupid to agree to living out. This was a dark and dangerous area at night for a woman by herself. She had to admit to feeling genuinely unsafe, but the Condesa had made it obvious that she didn’t want Helen living under the same roof as her. Helen knew why—the entire household did—but she was in no position to judge what her employer got up to with her young, buff protégés.

A loud knock on the door shattered the silence and a surge of adrenaline ripped through her. “Who’s that?” Helen said. Her hands were trembling. The rent had been paid up two weeks in advance so she wasn’t due for an unpleasant visit from her landlord yet…

“It’s me.

Ricardo. Open up before I get mugged out here, will you?”

Helen exhaled a tiny laugh, relieved it wasn’t her greasy landlord, and rattled the heavy key in the door to admit a large angular mass of Spanish male. Ricardo slid lithely in before it was even properly open.

“Dios, this place is a dump!” He quickly looked around the tiny living room. “How much are you paying for this?”

“It’s the cheapest I could find.” The half smile on her face disappeared as she followed his eyes around the shabby interior. “I’ve been waiting for my day off to have a bit of a tidy up.”

“I don’t think there’s much you can do with it, frankly,” he said, flicking the flat of his hand roughly across her back.

“Damn!” she exclaimed when she registered what he was doing. “I must remember not to touch the walls. There’s bloody paint peeling off everywhere in here.”

“It would appear so,” he agreed, allowing his hand to rest a moment longer than necessary on her shoulder.

“So, er, did I leave something in the car?” She picked up a pile of mail and pretended she was sorting through it. “It could have waited until tomorrow, I’m sure.”

“No, it couldn’t. It’s been a long day and I’m starving. I wondered if you’d like to go for something to eat.”

“Oh.” She hesitated a moment. It was a tempting offer. “That’s very kind of you, but no, I really—”

“You really planned a lavish meal at home?” He flung open the battered fridge with one hand and a Formica cupboard door with the other sending her a withering look. “A tin of sardinas, some rather dubious looking bread, and I’ll bet there’s not a drop of wine in the place.” He slowly closed each door and turned to face her. “I think you just ran out of excuses, so are you coming or not?”

He had her cornered. And she was hungry. “Okay, I’d love to.” There was no going back now. “But we split the bill.”

“Go halves?” Ricardo sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Do you think I’m poor? Or mean?”

“Neither,” she said flatly with a warning glare of defiance. “I’d prefer it that way, that’s all.”

“You really are annoyingly independent, aren’t you?” He looked around the shambolic kitchen area once again. “As you wish, pay the whole bill if you must, but let’s get out of here. I need to eat.”

…

Helen felt herself being eased through the glazed wooden doors of a small Italian restaurant with Ricardo’s large hand at the base of her spine. A thrill ricocheted through her as their bodies came into contact, and she had to sharply remind herself that this was chivalry and good manners. Nothing else.

A jovial man in his seventies noisily embraced Ricardo. “Hey Ricardo! Il molto tempo nessun vede! Long time no see!” He reached up and grabbed him by both cheeks and then wobbled his head from side to side between slab-like hands.

“For God’s sake, Alfonso, take it easy on the hair, will you? I don’t want to end up as bald and ugly as you.” Ricardo flinched as the old man cuffed him playfully around the ear.

“No one but an Almanza could speak to me like that and still get a table. You are a very bad boy, Ricardo. You notice I speak the English for you, eh?” He then winked conspiratorially. “Fabiana has been beside herself with excitement since I told her you wanted a table for two. She’d get me with the filleting knife if I sent you away before she got a look at your British girlfriend.”

“This is Senorita Helen Marshall. I’m showing her a few of the sights.” Ricardo was oblivious to the embarrassment that prickled her face. “And before you and Fabiana get any silly ideas, please be aware that she speaks very good Spanish. You won’t get away with anything.”

“I also speak Italian,” Helen said bluntly.

Ricardo forced a tight smile as they followed their host through the restaurant. “And Mandarin.”

Helen was irritated that he hadn’t corrected the old man on his “girlfriend” assumption. No doubt Ricardo was so self-absorbed he hadn’t even noticed her squirm, but she slipped politely into the chair he held out for her. Their table was in a discreet corner. The place had a homely feel with copper pans on one wall and a hodgepodge of faded prints on the other. Tattered Italian soccer posters mingled with an eclectic mix of ceramics, and the warm air was heavy with garlic and olive oil.

“I assume it is Senorita?” Ricardo asked quietly. “It was presumptive of me, but Alfonso can be quite a nuisance when it comes things like that. If he thought for one second I was out with a married woman he’d have slung us into the street.”

“Has that happened before?” Helen whispered in alarm.

Ricardo dipped his chin and leveled his sharp eyes with hers. “I don’t do married women.” His expression was serious. “So am I safe?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. Ricardo poured her a glass of red wine from a stubby carafe. Finding it impossible to maintain eye contact with him any longer, she took a sip from her glass. “Presumably Alfonso’s moral code extends to both parties?”

“If you’re asking me if I’m married, then the answer is a definite no.” He leaned back into his chair and smiled lazily. “Would you be here if I was?”

“I don’t see why not,” Helen said brightly. “We’re only having dinner. It’s not as if anything sordid is going on between us, is it?”

“No, no it isn’t.”

For the next hour Helen enjoyed a selection of the day’s special dishes, made to order using the freshest seasonal produce from the market each day. Helen nibbled first on fragaglie, deep-fried baby fish, and they were so delicious she ate the lot as Italian opera played subtly in the background. Consequently, she struggled to finish her exquisitely charred pizza. Ricardo had no such difficulty and not only demolished his pizza, but managed to finish a steaming bowl of pasta and a whole mozzarella di bufala as well.

“Dessert?” he said as Helen dabbed her napkin to her lips.

“You’re kidding. I’m fit to burst.”

“I can see you need some practice when it comes to eating five course meals. It’s no wonder you’re so skinny.”

“Hardly!” Helen said, but was secretly pleased at the compliment. She’d never been skinny, and never would be. Her genes wouldn’t allow it.

“Okay, shall we take our coffee outside? It’s quieter and less crowded out there.” He stood and gestured for her to follow, but not before she saw Alfonso leaning out of the kitchen door, winking at Ricardo. “Ignore the old fool. He’s trying to embarrass me. He’s been doing things like that since I was a teenager.”

The tiny courtyard was surrounded by high stone walls that looked centuries old. It was illuminated by lanterns and a spot-lit fountain that trickled pleasantly in the darkness. The perfume of jasmine flowers and basil filled the night air as she followed Ricardo to a round table.

“It’s lovely.” Helen closed her eyes in appreciation. “I can’t believe we’re the only ones out here.”

“And I have seen to it that it stays that way,” Ricardo murmured.

The hairs stood up on the back of her neck as his eyes fixed her with a strange intensity. “What do you mean?”

“I have a proposition for you, and I don’t want it to be the talk of the Balearics by morning. Not until I choose it to be, anyway.”

“Go on,” she whispered, trying to hide the excitement in her voice.

“You need money, yes?”

“I’ve already told you that.”

“You didn’t tell me how much though, did you?”

Helen began to feel nervous. “It’s not any of your business.”

“It could be.”

“I’m not following you, Mr. Almanza, and I now think it’s time I went home.”

“You can’t possibly call that hovel down the street home. And the other place? The place you call home in England? You can’t go back there until you’ve put your hands on enough money to satisfy whatever squalid needs you have there. I’ve deduced that much.”

“How dare you! You know nothing about me or my circumstances.”

“Maybe not, and I’m not the least bit interested in your life in England, but you need money fast and I’ve got lots of it.”

“So? Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“Please be quiet and listen. I also need something quickly, and I think you’re the perfect person to help me out.”

Helen went to get up. She wanted to walk away from the bizarre discussion. She’d heard enough. “This conversation is over.”

“I will pay you one million euros if you agree to work with me for three months.”

Her hands froze on the tabletop. “As what, might I ask?”

“As my wife.”

Helen stared at him in horror for a second, and then she began to smile. “Oh, very clever. How long did it take for you to cook that joke up with Alfonso? Was it when you were quietly discussing the house red? Or was it when I went to the loo? Well, I must say I’m relieved, because for one awful moment I thought you’d brought me out here to sell me a dodgy franchise. Or a timeshare.”

“I am serious.”

“Yeah, sure you are. I might be unsophisticated, but I’m not a complete fool.”

“Let’s hope not, because I get very tired of the sound of my own voice saying the same thing over and over again.” He leaned forward across the table, his fingertips pressed together in a tent shape. “My offer is genuine. A marriage in name only for, say, three months and you get one million euros. Go away and think about it for twenty-four hours. Don’t say another word now or you may regret it. Believe me, I do deals like this all the time.”

“I’ll just bet you do,” she said, pushing her coffee cup with a scraping noise to the center of the table. “I can only begin to imagine what sort of a woman you think I am, but don’t expect things to go your way this time. I’m not one of the local whores you can pay to do your bidding.”

“You do me a disservice. I’m only marrying to satisfy an outstanding matter of honor, not to slake some perversion, and you’re perfect for the job. Attractive, intelligent, the perfect trophy wife.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“You also want to leave for home within six months, divorced by then obviously, so we both win. This is a once in a lifetime offer. The last thing I want to do is get married, but I need to before I’m thirty or I’ll lose a long-standing bet. A very big bet.”

“A bet? My God, you really are as shallow as a puddle. I can never see a time where I’d willingly enter a contract of marriage with such an arrogant, spoiled, and insensitive man. The only way I’ll ever consider marriage is when I fall in love, so the answer is no. Double plus no. And now,” she said with a flourish as the chair tipped over behind her, “I’m leaving.”

.

Early morning sunshine cut through the dirty windowpane and seared across Helen’s eyelids. She had slept badly, and as she forced herself out of bed, the nausea of extreme fatigue washed over her. She eyed the magnum of champagne Ricardo had quietly left outside her door the previous night. The expensive bottle looked extremely out of place on the aluminum sink, and memories of shouting at him to leave came flooding back. She shook her head and groaned, realizing the events of the night before really hadn’t been a dream.

Ricardo Almanza must be out of his arrogant mind thinking he could pay her to marry him! The idea was ridiculous, and he certainly had too much time and money on his hands if he spent his life getting involved in bizarre wagers. He’d even had the nerve to push his flashy business card under the door before he left. She brushed her teeth roughly in the rust-tinged sink, and it wobbled as she turned off the tap. The entire plumbing system was vintage 1960s by the look of it, air bubbles clattering around the building like loose marbles.

While drying her face, her cell phone began to ring and she considered not answering it. “Go away!” she muttered into the towel. It was probably the Condesa wanting her to bring something particular from the market for her breakfast. It had been goji berries the day before. She’d seen them featured on TV overnight and had become like a woman possessed until she had some.

Helen scooped the cell phone up in one hand and swore as she fumbled and dropped it, buzzing like a hornet, on the floor. “Hello?” She managed to answer calmly and then felt the blood drain from her hands when she heard her mother’s strained voice.

“The bank’s brought everything forward. If we don’t come up with the money in one week, we’re out.”

Helen’s breath caught. “They can’t! Not just like that. Can they?”

“Apparently they can.” The connection crackled. “We’re set to lose everything in five working days time.”

“But, Mum, we had six months.” Helen squeezed her eyes shut to quell the panic.

“There’s nothing to be done now, love,” her mother said. “I thought I’d better call you about your things before the bailiffs get hold of them. Your dad and I are running out of places to send everything. Is there a friend who can look after them until you get back?”

There was a moment of silence as Helen sensed her mother was thinking exactly the same she was: back to what exactly?

Her head began to pound. “I can’t believe they’re doing this. Can’t we hold them off for another month? Perhaps by then we can find a way to meet the minimum payment—”

“It’s too late,” her mother blurted. “They won’t budge. We have to accept the inevitable. If there was any hope I wouldn’t be ringing you like this.”

Helen fisted her free hand to stop it shaking. “How’s Dad taking it?”

“Not so good. The doctor upped his heart pills yesterday.” Her mother’s voice sounded distant. “He blames the whole mess on himself.”

“He was only trying to protect us, Mum.”

“I know, darling, but if we’d known the legal fees would eventually outstrip the value of our land and property we’d have given in to the Skiptree Estate’s demands a lot earlier. At least that way we would have something left, somewhere to live at least. But we don’t have enough cash to fight the court case any longer. We have to give up.”

“And let that Skiptree woman bully us until she gets what she wants?” A hot tear slid over her bottom lashes, and Helen wiped it angrily away. “We can’t let her drive us out of our home!”

“Pride comes at a too high a price, I’m afraid. Not only has Lidia Skiptree exhausted every penny we have by dragging out the litigation, she’s also started to get to our customers. Orders have dropped off, and now, well, we simply can’t continue. Even if sales bounce back, we can’t afford to implement the latest health and safety requirements that were thrown at us last week. The sterilizing equipment’s packed up and we have to pour the milk down the drain.” Her mother’s voice rose a pitch. “She’s got us just where she wants us—reduced to selling a few eggs at the gate.”

“Damn the woman,” Helen snapped. “What idiot said money can’t buy you happiness? It’s getting her just about everything her dark little heart wants, even down to that ludicrous off-the-shelf title. Lady. She’s the furthest you could get from one. She’s a monster.”

“We aren’t the only ones.” Her mother sniffed. “She’s railroaded the sale of at least three other farms since she came back down from London. She’s determined to push this development of hers through.”

“Oh no …”

“We can’t fight her anymore. I’m sorry, my darling, but we have to face facts. It’s over.”

“No it isn’t, Mum.” Helen scraped the back of her sleeve over her sore eyes. “I won’t let her do this. It’s about time someone stood up to her and gave her a taste of her own medicine. There has to a way we can save Primrose Farm, and I’m going to do everything I can to give Lidia Skiptree a bloody nose.”

The line fell silent for a few seconds. “Don’t come rushing back, Helen. There’s nothing that can be done at this late stage, and I’ve already started packing things up anyway. You’re young and free and shouldn’t be having to worry about all this. You should be having fun, not looking out for your foolish old parents.”

“I think we can still sort this mess out, I really do.” Helen looked over to the business card next to the champagne bottle and swallowed hard before squeezing her eyes shut and crossing her fingers. “Look, I know this isn’t the best time to mention it, but I’ve met someone. He’s Spanish. His name’s Ricardo.”

.

“So you’ve come to your senses.” Ricardo lounged in an armchair on his stepmother’s terrace, his long legs stretched out in the sun. “I thought you’d put up some resistance for a day or two, but I’m pleasantly surprised that you’ve come round to my idea so quickly.”

Helen calmly picked up the glassware on the table and loaded it onto a tray. She was grateful there was no way he could hear how hard her heart was beating. “You’re assuming I came out here specifically to see you and not just to clear away the remains of last night’s cocktail party. Some might call that arrogance.”

He looked up from his newspaper and smiled coldly. “Do I assume correctly, or is it time to start turning the screw a little? If I was sensible I’d start reducing the fee by a hundred thousand for each day you make me wait.”

She put the tray down on the table. “I wouldn’t risk it, Ricardo. You might end up looking a bit silly.”

“Might I? How so?”

“Because the fee has gone up. I want two million, and I’d like half of it paid up front within five days.”

He was silent, and his stern tiger-eye gaze flashed dangerously until she was forced to turn away. Clasping her hands tightly under her armpits, she stared out over the balcony at the panoramic view of Ibiza town below. A blistering heat haze shimmered over the rooftops and the piercing blue sea made her squint. “Cat got your tongue?” She felt like sandpaper was lining her mouth.

“Not only has she got my tongue, she seems to be after all the cream as well. What a greedy girl you’re turning out to be.”

“Well, I figure that if I have to marry you, I might as well make it worth my while. I doubt if it will be an experience I’ll want to repeat. In that way I’m a lot like you, a loveless marriage isn’t something that’s ever interested me.” Helen could hardly believe what she was saying. “So we can be quite business-like about the whole thing. I will marry you, in three months it will be annulled, and I will disappear from your life forever.”

“Not quite.” His chair scraped back and within seconds she felt his presence close behind her. “You doubled the price. So the small print changes.”

She suppressed a shiver. “Meaning?”

“For two million, I want more. A lot more. There will be no annulment. The only way our marriage will end is in divorce.” She felt his large palms close around her shoulders, and a finger began to stroke the soft flesh on the side of her neck. “My inflated ego could never stand the public humiliation of an annulment. Our union will be consummated.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

He turned her to face him, his smile hard and merciless as he began to twirl a lock of her hair around his forefinger. “You walked straight into very deep water trying to out-bargain me, Helen. It’s annoyed me. You will walk up the aisle, smiling as if your life depended on it, and then share my bed. For three months you will be my beautiful, obedient, compliant, willing wife in every way imaginable.”

“I won’t!”

“You will,” he murmured, pulling her tightly against his hard body. “Because you won’t be able to help yourself.”

His mouth easily silenced her protest. She felt the power in his muscles as she grabbed at his biceps to push him away, but her own arms became weak as the kiss intensified. His tongue explored as he held her tight and her struggle grew half-hearted as she found herself responding to him. Warm lips, sharp stubble, her breasts crushed against his broad chest—she shouldn’t let him…

His hands skimmed her bottom, and pulled her so close she could feel the hard ridge of his erection. Head spinning, she touched the bare triangle of flesh below his throat and the shock of such intense awareness made her lungs freeze.

Ricardo drew his mouth away. “I knew you’d see sense, but we mustn’t spoil our wedding night by getting carried away.” He lightly touched her breasts through the thin cotton of her T-shirt, brushing her tight nipples with the pads of his thumbs. “It will be worth the wait, I promise you.”

Helen’s eyes opened to find him grinning down at her. He had her exactly where he wanted her now that her body had been so treacherous. She’d gone up in flames the minute he’d touched her, and the ache between her thighs was like nothing she had ever experienced. Desire. Raw animal desire, but he wouldn’t get the better of her. She was no whore.

“I won’t sleep with you. It’s not going to happen.”

“This afternoon, my lawyer will come with the paperwork,” he whispered throatily, his breath feathering along her jaw. “And I’m considering making you an appointment with my doctor.”

“Your doctor?”

“Yes.” He eased away and gripped her shoulders firmly. “I need to be sure you are clean before I sign my money away, don’t I? There’s no way of knowing where you’ve been before.”

“How dare you!” Helen gasped, flicking away his hands with the sides of her wrists. “How bloody dare you speak to me like that. As if I’m dirt.”

“You must see it from my point of view—”

“Then get your damn lawyers to write it into a clause!”

He cocked his head to one side, showing no apparent concern for her wounded feelings. “There’s also the matter of contraception. I hate to be crude, but we don’t want any accidents prolonging this marriage, do we? I don’t anyway. We can’t afford to take any risks.”

“You’re not listening to me, I will not sleep with you, so there are no risks and it’s my body, not yours, so I’ll do what I want with it.”

“In that case, I’ll have my lawyers draft a clause to cover that too, because I don’t think you’ll be able to resist temptation and I never leave anything to chance. Three months and we both go our separate ways.” He ran his fingertips along the square ridge of his jaw. “We’ll be thoroughly sick of each other by then.”

“You can’t force me to agree to any of this.”

“I wouldn’t dream of forcing a woman to do anything.” His expression was dark, his slow smile lethal. “If you don’t like the terms and you don’t want the money after all, then…walk away.”

“This is monstrous!”

“This is a business deal that’s very much skewed in your favor, so you’d be advised to stop complaining and hand in your notice here immediately.”

“I can’t! I have to give a month’s notice. I’ll lose my reference—”

“Then I’ll sort this little problem out for you too as we have no time to waste. I’m astonishingly kind after all, don’t you think?”

“You’re mad.”

“And once we’ve dealt with Antonella I need to pay someone a visit, tell him our good news. He’ll be so pleased…”

“So you have at least two friends?”

“This one’s more of an acquaintance. The guy who bet me I’d never settle down and marry before I was thirty.” He laughed to himself. “Want to come along for the ride, or wait until the big day before you meet?”

“I’ll pass on that.”

Ricardo turned his head to look at her and smiled like he’d been injected with Botox—cold and without genuine expression. “Of course…you’re still employed to clear up Antonella’s mess until I secure your release, aren’t you? You’d better be a good girl and get all this stuff to the kitchen then.” He flicked a hand towards a congealed-looking Margarita. “It’s attracting flies.”

.

Helen watched a mosquito hover around the mirror for a few seconds, and as soon as it strayed over the tiled bathroom backsplash she swatted it with the back of her hand. She noticed that cold bathrooms had a certain smell to them, and a silent, still aura. A sanctuary. But only for a few moments. Ricardo was waiting for her to join him and the Condesa by the pool. Bloody Marys at eleven with pimento almonds. The Condesa loved that ritual. Sometimes it was cashews and Fino sherry, but always at eleven once the hairdresser had finished and left.

Helen would have preferred to do the whole resignation thing alone, but her reason for leaving was so preposterous, so bizarre, she didn’t think the Condesa would believe her. Ricardo could deal with the utter insanity of their deal. He was presumably unhinged enough to pull it off without a second thought. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror just as she had the day before. She looked the same, yet harder, as if liquid steel had been injected into her veins. A glaze of ice had layered over her eyes. She had sold her soul to the devil with this fake marriage deal, but she had no choice if she was to save everything she had ever loved. There were mirrors all over the villa, like eyes, windows into the soul asking who was the fairest of them all? There was no question—Antonella, the wicked witch. Only sycophants need apply for Helen’s job once she’d gone.

“Oh, there you are!” the Condesa said in a sing-songy voice when Helen approached the pool. “But empty handed?”

“Er, yes.”

“But it’s eleven o’clock, dear.”

“Yes, I know but—”

“We have something to tell you, Antonella,” Ricardo said with a voice so calm it made her shiver. He did “in control” so well. He’d be a terrifying enemy. Maybe that was why her heart was pounding so hard. She didn’t need another enemy. She didn’t need a husband, either, except…bizarrely, now she did.

“Something to tell me?” Her tanned crepe chin wobbled as she twisted a string of pearls between her fingers. “Intriguing…”

“Helen and I are to be married, so she will be leaving your employ with immediate effect.”

The Condesa rolled her kohl-rimmed eyes to the sky and made an inelegant snorting noise. “How preposterous.”

“Make no mistake, madrastra,” Ricardo replied, his voice diamond hard. “We are engaged. We will be married quickly. There will be minimal fuss.”

“Fuss?” The Condesa’s black eyebrows arched like a cat stretching. “You’re an internationally renowned Lothario, you stupid boy. Of course there will be fuss! And speculation…”

“I can deal with that.”

“I would ask whether your new fiancée is with child, but considering you only met yesterday—”

“I’m not pregnant,” Helen said. “We’ve not even—”

“We’ve not even set a firm date or venue.” Ricardo took Helen’s hand in his. “And I need to ask her father for her hand, so we’d appreciate your discretion for now.”

“My discretion?” The Condesa blinked and took a long breath before fixing Helen with a cold stare. “Naturally, discretion.”

“Excellent. So would you like me to replace your Girl Thursday, or is that something you’d like to arrange yourself?”

“I’m not senile if that’s what you’re inferring. What I need right now is a Bloody Mary.”

“Perhaps I can fix it for you one last time?” Helen shot Ricardo a pleading look.

“That would be most welcome.” The Condesa sent a sharp glance in Ricardo’s direction. “You’ve just perfected the mix. I’d appreciate it.”

Ricardo paused, took his phone from his pocket and checked it before saying, “Very well. I have an important call to make anyway. Say your farewells. Helen, I’ll be in the car when you’re finished.”

He turned on his heel and the two women watched him disappear through a stone arch in the direction of the courtyard where his car was parked.

The Condesa’s voice had an edge to it Helen hadn’t heard before. “Do you think you can handle him, Helen?”

“I’m not sure. I guess I’ll have to.”

“You’re smart. I think you probably can if you want to badly enough.”

“You must be shocked.”

The Condesa shrugged. “For a moment I was, but then I remembered he’s just like his father—impetuous, impulsive.”

“He is?”

“His father proposed to me within three hours of us meeting for the first time. Said it was love at first sight. Such behavior must be genetic.”

“I see.”

“No you don’t,” she said sharply. “But no matter. Can I give you some advice?”

The Condesa’s advice was the last thing Helen wanted, but she was determined to part on good terms. “I would welcome it,” she said quietly.

“I’ve no idea what’s going on between you two, and I don’t want to know either, but I’m not stupid. Protect yourself financially and emotionally. Men bore easily and we women age in the end. He’ll drop you like a stone when he’s had enough, so make sure he buys you plenty of jewelry to see you through your old age.” She lifted her hand and admired the large emerald glinting on her middle finger. “And don’t fall in love with him, whatever you do. Almanzas destroy their lovers given half a chance. Believe me, I know.”

…

Ricardo watched Helen turn the key in the lock of the green door to her flat once more. This would be the last time he’d leave her here to fend for herself. Their impending marriage may be a sham, but he had no intention of allowing her to slip back into the side streets and alleys where feral cats and other unsavory creatures roamed.

He revved the engine as he pulled off. It was immature, but he didn’t care. The noise took his mind off the meeting he was about to have. It was going to be an unpleasant experience, and right now he felt like a child who’d been sent to the headmaster to be punished for something he hadn’t done. Sent by a teacher who’d taken a dislike to him for no good reason. His “head teacher” was Jerardo Capella: his father’s ex business partner and his enemy.

“I have an appointment with your boss.” Ricardo tossed his car keys to the uniformed flunky who’d met him on the steps of an imposing glass-fronted building fenced in by parking restrictions. “It won’t take long. Shift the car if the police take an interest, will you?”

He didn’t wait for an acknowledgment before taking two steps at a time and shoving his way through a rotating glass door. He stalled the open-mouthed receptionist by saying, “I’m seeing Capella. He’s expecting me. I know where to find him and I’ll take the stairs. I’m faster than the elevator.” Ignoring her protests he was on the third floor within a minute and turning the handle of a heavy wooden door.

“So it’s true,” said a white-haired man sitting behind an enormous desk opposite a panoramic view of the Ibiza harbor. “I had assumed it was some kind of practical joke when my secretary said you wanted to see me.”

“This is no joke.” Ricardo crossed his arms and glowered down at the older man.

Jerardo Cappella slowly lifted his head, his face showing no emotion. “Then what is so important that you had to come here in person when we both have lawyers to communicate for us?”

“Your wager. I’ve come to call time on it. I want my father’s property back.”

A breath of amusement hissed through his nostrils. “The department store, you mean? And those decaying warehouses? I can’t imagine why you’re so desperate to win the bet and get it all back. You hardly need the income these days, do you?”

“You know damn well it was my father’s dying wish that it was reclaimed for the Almanzas. I told you that the day after his funeral, remember? And it was then you refused an offer of millions to hand it over and turned the whole matter into a childish bet, trivializing his last moments. You were laughing in my face before Antonella’s tears were even dry.”

The older man nodded and smiled. “But, my dear Ricardo, the bet was that you wouldn’t be able to abandon your extravagant ways, settle down and wed before your thirtieth birthday. Nothing’s changed. I’ll only consider signing that real estate back once you’re married.”

“You stole it from my father in the first place, you bastard.”

“That’s slander, be careful.” He frowned and passed a pen back and forth between his fingers. “Your dear papa was of sound body and mind when he signed those conveyance papers and they were witnessed by two sets of lawyers.”

“He signed under duress, Capella, and you promised you’d get him out of jail if he did. And then you betrayed him.”

Capella’s fist came down hard on the desk. “Your father betrayed me first, at the same time he betrayed your mother and everyone else who trusted him. He had to pay.”

“So that’s why you set him up as well as taking his assets? Why you got your gangland cronies to frame him for theft, murder, and fraud?”

“More slander?” The older man stood up, a foot shorter than Ricardo, and cracked a reptilian smile. “There’s no proof, and your father was a thief, murderer and fraudster anyway, wasn’t he? He’d just never been caught.”

Ricardo gritted his teeth and stared at the wall for a few seconds to compose himself. He wanted to pulp the man he’d once considered an uncle. “I’m not here to rake all over this again, Capella. Just get the paperwork drawn up, because I’m getting married. I win the bet.”

“But I actually win,” Capella said, bad teeth filling the gap between his thin lips. “The Almanza playboy heir forced into the institution he despises. The misogynist son shackled to a brood mare against his will. You’re settling down… It will make you the most miserable man in Spain.”

“And that will bring you joy?” Ricardo shook his head. “What did I ever do to you to deserve such hatred? There was once a time when you treated me like your own son.”

“That time ended when your father took everything I loved. The sins of your father are being visited upon you, Ricardo. It’s my last act of revenge on him.” His dark eyes clouded over and he looked away. “I will attend your wedding and then it’s over between us. My honor and dignity will be restored. For what it’s worth, your torment will bring me no joy. I did once love you like my own son.”