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Her heart thudded at the strangeness of this arrangement. She shouldn’t have agreed to come. He didn’t need her help at all—what had Jasper been worrying about?
‘I’m sorry if I’ve inconvenienced you,’ she said politely, still trying to get over the smarting hurt that he’d not remembered her.
‘I will ensure there is a room ready for you,’ he replied and left her.
She watched as he left. Not big on small talk, was he?
The kitchen was beautiful and scrupulously clean and she realised she needed food. She’d think better if she warmed up. She’d prepare something and then speak to Jasper.
She checked the cupboards. There were barely the staples in the pantry. She opened the freezer and found a stack of containers—single-serve portions—labelled with the dish and the date it had been made, but also the date for him to eat. Someone had prepared enough for him to last the next few days. Who had done that, when Jasper had insisted that Tomas’s housekeeper had walked out suddenly, leaving him in the lurch?
Someone had organised this for him. She frowned. So why had Jasper been so insistent she come then, if he’d already been taken care of?
Her frown deepened as she looked in the fridge. There was milk and another—uneaten—prepared whole meal, but no raw ingredients.
But the meal he was supposed to have eaten last night was still in there. So was the container labelled as his lunch. She glanced at the counter and the sink again; there wasn’t even a drop of water from the tap in the bottom of the sink. If he’d prepared anything for himself, he’d not left a single sign of it.
She shrugged, telling herself not to care. But she would make herself—and him—something to warm up.
She took off her jacket and scrabbled round in the bottom of her shoulder bag and found the bar of plain chocolate she had there. Thank goodness she’d not eaten it on the drive down. She found a copper pan and gently warmed the milk on the stovetop and grated the chocolate in. As she stirred it to melt the slivers she couldn’t stop the memories from tormenting her. She’d made him coffee that morning, served it with her special lemon-slice cake—that first recipe she’d ever tweaked.
‘He’s here to invest in the casino—don’t screw it up. Stay out of sight as much as possible.’
By then she’d got good at staying out of sight. Her uncle’s temper had been worsening by the day and she was the easiest person for him to vent it on. So she knew when to avoid him, but that day he’d needed her skills.
She’d been the only child of doting parents who’d died when she was just twelve. Her only living relative had flown in to console her. Uncle Charles had said he lived on a luxury yacht in Antigua and ran a casino. He’d sold her parents’ home and told her she’d love it on his boat, with his glamorous second wife.
But that wife had walked out ten months later, fed up with the chauvinistic abuse he served up twenty-four-seven. She’d left teenaged Zara there alone to witness the drinking and womanising and gambling and sleaze.
Her uncle had blamed her for his wife’s departure. In the end everything was her fault. That flashy ‘home’ had offered no relief from isolation and grief—it only exacerbated it, because she didn’t fit the mould.
She’d been nothing but a disappointment to her uncle and he’d let her know it. She’d been so scared and lonely she’d let him stomp all over her—had shut herself away like some sad Cinderella. She’d been so stupidly quiet and shy.
She’d never been able to live up to the expectations he had of her. He’d told her time and time again she was useless. He refused to send her to school and begrudged the correspondence-school paperwork she requested.
She’d retreated below deck. Len, the Scottish chef he employed, became her one true friend and mentor. Over the next few years he’d taught her everything he knew. But then Charles sacked Len and told Zara to take over the food prep full time. At the time she’d thought it had been to spite her, but in hindsight she realised it was one of several signs of the financial failure he was verging on.
By then she’d long since lost contact with her school friends. She was isolated, lonely and trapped; her uncle held her passport and was the sole trustee of her finances—and the money her parents had left her?
All gone. Didn’t she know how much it had cost her uncle to house her? Wasn’t she grateful for that?
Her uncle Charles had been embarrassed that she’d had to wait on his unexpected, important guests. She wasn’t decorative enough—not thin enough, not perfect enough. Not for investment guru, Tomas Gallo, and his lawyer, Jasper Danforth. She was the useless, mousy niece he’d inherited and had never wanted.
But for that business meeting she’d had to be the hostess as well as prepare the coffee and cakes. When she’d caught sight of Tomas Gallo as she’d carried the tea tray into the room, she’d nearly dropped everything.
He’d not appeared to notice when she spilt some of the coffee, but he’d eaten some of the lemon slice. Two pieces in fact.
She’d sat in the corner, mute, suffering silently as her uncle had made joke after joke at her expense. She’d been bowled over by Tomas’s appearance and the bottomless depths of his eyes. He was the most striking man she’d ever seen but he and Jasper had appeared amused, as if they’d agreed with every one of her uncle’s words. And she’d died that bit inside to see that someone so gorgeous could be so cruel.
Almost an hour had passed when Tomas had dropped the bombshell.
‘Sorry, Charles, I don’t think the casino is the right fit for us at this time.’
Her uncle had been beyond furious at losing the investment. He’d been unable to contain his rage, venting it on her down in the galley while the two guests upstairs were readying to leave. She’d stared at the floor as he’d berated her in a bitter hoarse whisper.
‘You’re worse than useless. If you were attractive you could have seduced him. But as if any man would ever want you. You’re a millstone, you ungrateful, lazy little cow. You can’t even pour a coffee properly.’
The blow had come sudden and hard. It had stung so much.
She’d run from the galley only to collide in the corridor with Tomas Gallo. She’d gasped, appalled that he was down there—that he might have heard...
* * *
Firm hands held her upper arms and she flinched when she looked into his thunderous face. He quickly stepped back into the side room, lifting her with him and swiftly closing the door behind them.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ he muttered harshly.
But the lethal anger in his eyes told her he was so very much more dangerous than her uncle. He visibly made himself relax and force a small smile. That was when she realised his fury was not for her.
‘He hit you.’ He tilted her chin and inspected the red of her upper cheek.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ She wanted him to leave before her uncle found out he was down here and made everything worse.
‘It always matters,’ he replied curtly.
Her heart was his in that second.
Tomas released her and she dashed the tears away with the back of her hand, willing him to go back up to the deck and leave with his lawyer. But he didn’t.
‘You’ve lived here how long?’ he abruptly asked. ‘How long?’ he prompted when she didn’t answer.
‘Almost ten years,’ she whispered.
‘You have money?’
She shook her head.
‘Passport?’
‘My uncle...’ She trailed off hopelessly.
‘I see.’
* * *
Yes, she’d known he saw more than she’d ever wanted anyone to see—not only had he seen through her uncle’s ‘joking’ façade to the emotional abuse that it was symptomatic of, he’d witnessed the occasional physical violence her uncle subjected her to. She’d hated that she hadn’t the strength or resources to leave, she’d loathed the depth of her dependence on her uncle. Flushing with mortification, she’d made to push past Tomas but he’d grabbed her arm again. She’d been forced to meet his gaze. There she’d read the steel and the concern, the sympathy and—to her shock—empathy.
It was as if he’d understood, because he’d been there himself.
But that had to have been her own projection. She’d wanted out for so long, but she’d become so trapped by imposed gratitude, felt so beholden and been so downtrodden, she hadn’t known which way to turn or how to get herself out of it. She’d had no money, no chance to study, or to work. She’d been made to feel as if she owed Uncle Charles everything.
* * *
‘Do you want out?’ Tomas asked bluntly.
‘Out?’ She blinked uncomprehendingly. ‘You mean do I want to leave?’
‘Yes. Do you want me to help you?’
His question was brusque and unexpected. She instinctively knew he wasn’t going to wait for her to um and ah. He wasn’t going to cajole or try to convince her. This was a single offer and she had a single second to decide.
She nodded.
‘Follow my lead.’ He let her go and turned towards the stairs. ‘No matter what.’
Back up on deck Jasper was standing with his briefcase in hand. Her uncle was attempting to hide his anger and disappointment by talking incessantly about the tourism boom. Zara stood terrified at a distance, knowing her uncle would be even angrier that she’d returned to the deck.
‘Sit back down, Jasper,’ Tomas said with deceptive softness. ‘I’ve had some time to think about things some more while freshening up.’
‘You have?’ The glow of bitterness in her uncle’s eyes morphed to avaricious excitement. ‘Go fetch more drinks, Zara. Now.’
‘No, I want her to stay,’ Tomas overruled him firmly. ‘She’s a crucial detail to this possible deal.’
Cold sweat slid down Zara’s spine. Surely he wouldn’t call her uncle out for hitting her? She sent Tomas a desperate look, but he wasn’t looking at her at all.
‘I want your niece,’ Tomas said bluntly. ‘I’ll invest in your casino operations, but only if I have Zara.’
Zara’s heart stopped. She couldn’t have heard right.
‘You want Zara?’ Her uncle narrowed his eyes. ‘You can’t want—’
‘Those are my terms.’ Tomas didn’t let her uncle continue. ‘Without Zara there will be no investment.’
‘You want...’ Her uncle just stared at him in shock. ‘How do I know you’re serious?’
‘I’ll marry her,’ Tomas answered bluntly. ‘How soon can we arrange that, Jasper?’
It took five seconds for Charles to collect himself and shut his dropped jaw.
Terrified, she stared from Tomas to Charles to Jasper. The lawyer’s face was utterly impassive while he checked data on his tablet, as if his boss made outrageous queries every day. He’d said to follow his lead, but this was almost barbaric.
‘It seems...er...that you can marry today if you really want to,’ Jasper said, sending his boss a covert look. ‘There’s no notice or stand-down period required. Just the fee, two witnesses and passports.’
‘Good,’ Tomas said, ignoring that warning plea in the tone from his lawyer. ‘So we can leave now.’
Zara stared at her uncle, trying to read his reaction. Surely he’d say no to such a preposterous suggestion? Surely he’d have some compunction?
But a greedy light entered his eye. ‘You’ll be my nephew-in-law.’
‘That’s right.’ Tomas nodded. ‘We’ll be family.’
A prickle ran down Zara’s spine at something in Tomas’s tone. There was something so very cold when he said that word.
Uncle Charles smiled. ‘She can cook.’ He nodded, as if suddenly approving of her skills. ‘She’s a virgin too, you know.’ His proud smile made her skin crawl. ‘She’s been very sheltered.’
She closed her eyes, engulfed in scalding shame and mortification. He was talking about her as if she were a thing to be traded. And as if her sexual experience were anything that mattered?
‘Then it’s decided. Zara, go pack your bag.’ Tomas issued the order without even looking at her.
Sickened to her soul, she knew she had no choice. If she stayed she’d be her uncle’s skivvy and, increasingly, his punchbag, for the foreseeable future. His temper would only worsen the more his business failed. And now she knew how he really saw her. How he’d trade her for some stupid business deal.
‘Wait.’ A suspicious twist tightened her uncle’s mouth. ‘I’ll come with you to the register office.’
‘Of course,’ Tomas said unblinkingly, staring her uncle down. ‘You’ll want to witness the wedding. Go and pack now, Zara.’
Her uncle hadn’t even bothered to ask her how she felt about it. He was acting as if he owned her. But then, that was how he’d always acted. She meant absolutely nothing to him. She’d been a source of money—and when that had gone, she’d become little more than another of his staff. Only he hadn’t had to pay her.
She left the room without a word. And then she ran.
* * *
Zara poured steaming-hot chocolate into two mugs and blinked back the tears at the recollection of how little her uncle had cared for her. But she was away from him now—and so much stronger.
She sprinkled a hint of cinnamon on the top of each. She found a half-empty packet of biscuits at the back of the cupboard and added a few to a small plate and loaded the wooden tray she found in a cupboard.
It had all happened so quickly it was almost a blur. Yet those moments were seared in her mind. There she’d stood in the council offices shivering in a cheap sundress and make-up covering the mark from where her uncle had hit her.
The ceremony had been ridiculously brief. Uncle Charles had witnessed it. Jasper had been the other signatory and given Tomas a ring to slide onto her frozen finger. Heaven knew where he’d found it so quickly.
She could have said no. She could have tried to tell the officials that it was all a farce and that her uncle was insisting she marry a stranger. But she didn’t. She’d just said yes.
There’d been no photos. No glasses of champagne. No speeches. And no kiss. Tomas had given her a cool peck on her cheek when the official had given the corny ‘you may kiss the bride’ permission. She’d pushed away that fleeting feeling of disappointment, reminding herself it wasn’t real.
Her uncle had stood practically rubbing his hands in glee as she married the wealthiest man either of them had ever met. But Tomas Gallo had flipped the tables on Uncle Charles completely. He’d waited until they returned her uncle to the marina before dropping the bomb. He’d told her to remain in the car, but she’d opened her door already and could hear every word between the two men now eyeballing each other.
* * *
‘I’ve changed my mind about the deal,’ Tomas said coolly. ‘I’m not going to buy into your company.’
‘But you just—’
‘We signed nothing and there was no formal agreement,’ Tomas continued, ignoring the interruption. ‘Jasper, Zara and I are leaving now and you won’t see us again.’
‘You...you...’
For the first time she saw her uncle lost for words. Suddenly he spun towards her, his face contorted with rage.
‘You manipulative little...’ He lunged for her through the open car door but Tomas stepped in front of her like an avenging angel.
