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Anna’s brain tried to unscramble the words. The big wedding, the model, the event that had sent her mother into such a spin she had summoned both her daughters to her side, the event her mother was counting on to restore the hotel’s fortunes. The mess the island was in might be down to her mother’s mismanagement, but how could Anna let the idyllic playground of her childhood, her beloved grandparents’ legacy, fade away? Whoever this man was she had to try and persuade him not to give up on the island. ‘You’re the bride’s brother?’
He barely paused. ‘Sí.’
Casting a look around for help and coming up blank, Anna realised with a sinking heart that it was up to her to persuade him not to tell his sister to cancel the booking. Breaking into a light jog, she followed him up the path, breathlessly braking as she reached his side. ‘Look, señor, I know the island is in a bit of a state, but, I promise you, it will be perfect for your sister’s wedding.’
Halting, he turned a scathing look on her. ‘How? You have an army of elves?’
‘No. No army.’ How did one get an army of elves? Maybe some could write her book for her while they were here. ‘We’re a little behind, I admit, but I always meet my deadlines, señor, and this is no different. Give us the opportunity and I promise your sister will have the wedding of her dreams.’
Her words echoed round her head. ‘I always meet my deadlines’, her stomach lurching with the same sickening jolt it always gave when she thought about her agent’s increasingly urgent emails. But she held her head high and met his thoughtful gaze, that same unwanted zing zipping through her body as his attention focussed on her. ‘Please,’ she said again, not too proud to beg, holding her breath while she waited for him to reply. ‘Just give me a chance to prove it to you.’
* * *
Leo stared at the tall woman as she stood imploringly opposite him, hands clasped before her. He’d been surprised when she’d spoken to him in English, her accent so clear cut she could only be a native of that damp island. With her thick mass of dark hair and clear olive skin she looked like some kind of mythological Mediterranean nymph, her eyes, fringed with long dark lashes, the colour of the sea, her lips the pink of a summer sunset.
‘Are you the owner?’ Not that it made any difference. He needed to get back to the boat, phone Valentina and warn her this venue was a no go.
It wasn’t as if his half-sister had no other choices for her wedding. Her fiancé’s mother had offered the couple her Victorian house on Martha’s Vineyard, but his sister had nixed that suggestion in no uncertain terms. ‘She wants to make the wedding all preppy and tasteful,’ she’d complained, scorn in her voice. Valentina’s brand was all about exuberance and she wanted to make sure her wedding reflected that—and what Valentina wanted she usually got. That determination had propelled her from part-time model and socialite to online queen and supermodel. Her willingness to share every instant of her life, complete with the perfect filter and hashtag, was partly what had elevated her above all the other pretty-girl wannabes, but it was hard work and a cool business brain that had turned her into a global brand.
Leo didn’t understand how Valentina could bear to live her life through millions of screens, but he didn’t have to. All he wanted was for her to be happy, to make up for her childhood, for the neglect from his side of her family. Which was why, after he’d heard that a fire had destroyed her previous choice of wedding venue, he offered to head to La Isla Marina and check out why they could accommodate a lavish wedding at such short notice.
It had taken approximately five seconds to reach an answer. The island was completely unsuitable—and yet here he still was. Gaze still fixed on the sea nymph, feet still fixed to the ground, still wondering exactly what shade of pink her plump lips were.
‘No, I’m not the owner, I’m her daughter. Look. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but everything is under control.’
But her eyes couldn’t quite meet his as she said the words. Leo folded his arms and regarded her sardonically, watching the faint blush of colour spread over her cheeks. ‘You’re an experienced wedding planner? Or maybe you’re an events co-ordinator? A hotel manager? A plumber and builder? All of the above?’
She blinked. ‘Well, no...’
‘No? What do you do?’
‘I’m a lecturer, I don’t see...’
‘A lecturer? In plumbing?’
Her colour heightened. ‘In European history. I mostly look at history from a feminist perspective...’ She caught his eye and stopped.
‘That will be very useful, I’m sure. I don’t think I need to see any more.’ There was no point in staying, no matter how pretty the help. He turned, ready to leave when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out. Valentina. ‘Hola.’
‘Is it amazing? I wish I could be there with you. I have to fly to Japan tomorrow, and then I’m off to Australia for a week and there’s a shoot booked in here in New York after that so it’s impossible for me to get there before the wedding, but, Leo darling, I am so grateful that you are there making sure everything is perfect. Is it perfect? Just as I remember?’
‘Valentina.’ He tried to interrupt her, but his sister babbled on.
‘This feels right, Leo. It is such a shame about the villa, but I spent such happy summers on La Isla Marina, that has to be a good omen, doesn’t it? It will be like coming home in some ways. Todd won’t know what’s hit him,’ she added. ‘I know the Vineyard is beautiful, but I want this wedding to reflect me, to be as un-New York as possible.’
Leo paused. Valentina was extremely well off now, and she was marrying into serious old New York money, but she had been brought up on the edge of poverty thanks to his father’s nasty habit of discarding his mistresses and their offspring as soon as their demands got too inconvenient. While Leo had been brought up in the solitary, austere luxury of the castillo, she had spent her childhood years in a tiny apartment in the rougher side of the city. Who could blame her for wanting to live the fairy tale she’d been denied? She was the daughter of a conde after all, even if the illustrious Lord refused to acknowledge her.
Leo looked around, assessing the island with fresh eyes. It was battered, sure, but it didn’t need a fortune to bring it up to scratch; it needed some time and care. Leo could easily make that happen. It could be his wedding gift to the sister he had spent too many years not knowing. ‘It needs some work, but nothing that can’t be easily fixed. Don’t panic.’
‘How can I panic when you’re there taking care of things for me, mi hermano? Will you keep an eye on it until I can get there? I don’t need it to be perfect for the sponsors or all the people who will be watching and judging. I just want it to be perfect for me. For Todd.’
‘It will be,’ Leo promised. He snapped his phone shut. His options were clear: find his sister another whimsical Spanish island wedding venue able and willing to accommodate over one hundred bright young things in a month’s time or make sure this place was transformed into the venue of her dreams. Besides, what else did he have to do? He fixed the nymph with a hard stare. ‘Pass me that notebook,’ he said. ‘We have a lot of work to do.’
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_4c519dee-94f4-5f93-8b02-c73cfacd5762)
THE NYMPH CLUTCHED her notebook tightly and glared. ‘We?’
‘We,’ Leo confirmed. ‘Right now this hotel is only fit for a Halloween-themed wedding. I’m sure your knowledge of European feminist history will be very useful when it comes to sorting out the dripping showers, but just in case it isn’t I am intending to stay and oversee.’
‘Really?’ The bright blue eyes were hard. ‘And you know how to fix a dripping tap, I suppose?’
‘I can fix a tap, tile a wall, paint woodwork. Can you?’ It was all true, not that many people knew that. It would ruin his carefully cultivated, trust-funded euro-playboy image if anyone knew just how handy he was with a spanner, just as no one knew that every penny that slipped so seemingly carelessly through his fingers he had earnt. His father had cut him off at eighteen expecting a repentant and obedient son to beg for the purse strings to be reinstated. He was still waiting.
It drove him mad, not having the financial control he yearned for over his son, drove him to distraction that he had no idea where or how Leo obtained the funds for his extravagant lifestyle. And the lifestyle he saw his only son, the future Conde de Olvares, choose to lead drove him craziest of all. Every photo of Leo at another party, in a new casino, with a new model on his arm guaranteed it, Leo made sure of that. In the Conde de Olvares’s rulebook appearances were everything, vices were to be hidden away.
Leo had taken his father’s rule and reversed it. Every vice on the surface for everyone to see, the virtues hidden far beneath. Truth was he barely attended any parties any more—and when he did usually stayed just long enough to be photographed. Valentina had taught him well. Perception was everything.
The nymph tilted her chin defiantly. ‘I’m sure I can learn. I can follow instructions.’
‘That’s good to know,’ Leo said softly and her cheeks burned a deeper red.
‘Look. I can see why you’re worried.’ Her gaze slid over to the nearest bungalow. ‘But I have assured you, repeatedly, that everything is under control.’
Leo followed her gaze. The bungalow was dirty, the white paint peeling off the external walls, the trees and flowers growing so close it was only a matter of time till nature recolonised the building. It needed nails in the roof, a lick of paint and a damn good clean. Hot, sweaty, hard manual work.
His eyes narrowed. Maybe the work would help fix the melancholy he couldn’t quite shake. Leo wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced real, unadulterated happiness, but for the past twelve years he had managed something resembling content; always on the move, always making money, always his own man. But ever since Valentina had announced her engagement, that contentment had become elusive, her glowing happiness a sharp contrast to his darkness.
Leo had always thought that they were cut from the same cloth, but now his baby sister was proving braver—or more foolhardy—than him. Either way Leo was left in her wake. It was an uncomfortable place to be.
His original intention had been to make a few phone calls and get a team of labourers despatched to La Isla Marina then return in a month’s time to enjoy the wedding, but maybe a few weeks getting his hands dirty on a beautiful island with a beautiful girl was exactly what he needed. Time out from his usual regime.
Turning, he held out his hand. ‘Leo di Marquez y Correa,’ he said and braced himself. There was no flare of recognition in her blue eyes, no rise of her straight, no nonsense brows. Nearly everyone Leo met had already formed an opinion of him. Most people either disapproved of him, wanted to party with him or wanted to sleep with him. A very few, those in the know, wanted his investment. He rarely, however, met with blank politeness bordering on disdain.
It would be an interesting challenge to turn that disdain to desire. His blood stirred at the very thought; he did have a few weeks with no plans after all...
‘Anna Gray,’ she said after a moment, making no move to take his hand. ‘Dr Anna Gray.’
‘A doctor as well as an expert on feminism in Europe’s history?’ He smiled to show he was joking, turning on the full force of his charm to see if he could tempt those pink lips to smile.
She didn’t respond in kind, folding her arms defensively. ‘I have a PhD from Oxford, not that it’s any of your business. Look, Señor di Marquez...’
‘Leo.’
‘I appreciate that things look a little ramshackle right now, and I know your sister’s wedding is going to get a lot of publicity...’
‘Publicity which will benefit you.’
‘But I assure you, we are quite capable of getting everything ready in plenty of time...’
‘Then I’m very sure another pair of hands will come in very useful. I’ll make it easy for you, Dr Gray. I’ll sleep on my boat and work for food alone. I won’t even tell my sister just how much needs to be done here. Tell me, are you really in a position to refuse?’
* * *
Anna hugged her notebook tighter, her mind working furiously. She should be snatching Leo’s offer with both hands, but something held her back. She didn’t know whether it was the sardonic look in his dark eyes, the smirk playing about his mouth or the teasing tone in his voice. It didn’t help that he was one of the most insanely handsome men she had ever seen in the flesh. Oxford wasn’t exactly short of overconfident men thinking they could win using their charm alone, but the city didn’t run to Spanish pirates, nor was she used to conducting conversations with practically bare-chested men.
It also didn’t help that her knees weakened every time he fixed that intense gaze on her, that she could feel her pulse speeding up faster and faster. Her friends had been telling her to get out and date more. This must be her body’s way of agreeing if one hard-eyed, hard-chested man could have this effect on her.
Anna dragged her thoughts away from Leo’s chest and back to the matter at hand, her eyes narrowing as she considered his far-too-good-to-be-true offer. ‘Don’t you have a job to go to? How will you manage to take a month off work with no notice?’
‘I work for myself and I am a famously forgiving boss.’
Lucrative boss if that boat was anything to judge by. ‘It’s not up to me,’ Anna said finally. ‘My mother owns the island.’
‘Then lead on. I’ll present my credentials to your leader.’
Anna tried to hold his amused gaze, but to her frustration her own dropped first. She could stand up in front of a full lecture theatre without breaking a sweat, turn overly confident undergraduates into shaking shadows of their former selves with one disbelieving arch of an eyebrow, but in front of this man her defences crumbled. ‘Fine,’ she said tightly. ‘Follow me.’
As she led him along the overgrown paths, Anna was aware of Leo’s keen gaze taking in every crack, every break in the path and the surrounding buildings and worry shivered through her once again. Had the resort been on the road to such dilapidation when her grandparents were still alive? They had been pretty old, after all, their staff of a similar age. It would have been too easy for things to start to slide unnoticed by them. Her mother, though, had little excuse. She’d been living here for nearly a decade, ever since she had drifted away from the family home for a holiday, a holiday that bled into an extended stay, which in turn became a separation. The same old frustration bubbled up and Anna curled her hands into loose fists. No doubt her mother had just employed her usual mantra of mañana, never worrying that one day she would have to deal with the rapidly escalating problems.
Well, she wasn’t dealing, was she? Anna was here dealing for her. As usual.
Only, who was she to cast aspersions? Wasn’t she doing exactly the same thing with her book? Hoping that somehow something miraculous would happen and it would all fall into place. Running away from her problems...
‘So tell me, what does being a Professor of European history with a feminist slant entail these days?’ Anna started, guiltily. It was as if Leo had read her mind. ‘You seem very young to be a professor.’
‘You’re not the first to say that.’ Although most people also snidely insinuated her renowned historian father had helped her climb the academic ladder faster than usual, that her name was responsible for her success, not her credentials. Or they looked down at the success of her first book, convinced a popular history book couldn’t be as well-researched, as important, as an academic paper read only by other specialists in her field. It had been easier to hold her head high when she hadn’t doubted herself, when she had been sure that the academic life was all she needed.
‘I’m sure I’m not. Is it all libraries and lectures?’
‘Mostly,’ she admitted. ‘There’s a huge pressure to publish papers as well as teach.’
‘And do you?’
‘Papers, books. A book,’ she amended, trying not to think about the mess that was book number two.
‘An author? How impressive. Would I have read your book?’
‘Only if you’re interested in a rehabilitation of Joanna the Mad from a feminist standpoint, looking at how difficult it was for intelligent women to thrive in a male-dominated world.’
‘I definitely missed that one. Joanna the Mad? Is she the one who carted her dead husband’s body all over Spain?’
‘That’s one of the myths my book works to dispel.’
‘Pity, I’ve always felt that if I got married I’d want my wife to love me enough to keep my corpse by her side at all times.’ Anna shot him a quick glance. Joanna’s husband had been famously known as Philip the Handsome, but surely even he would have paled into plainness next to the rugged good looks of Leo di Marquez. She caught his eye and felt her cheeks heat up yet again. What on earth was wrong with her? She’d never been a blusher before. If she carried on at this rate they could save money on an electrician and use her face as a lamp.
To Anna’s relief they finally reached the villa. Leo looked at the ornate, white building, more like a Moorish palace than a hotel reception and office, and whistled. ‘Nice.’
Despite herself Anna felt the old ripples of pride. As a child she had always felt so special, so chosen, to be part of the island’s heritage, to spend her summers in her little turret room surveying the island like some kind of medieval queen. ‘It’s not as old as it looks. It’s a turn-of-the-last-century reproduction built by my great-grandfather as a wedding gift for his bride,’ she explained. ‘This was their own private island, but when my grandfather inherited, he couldn’t afford to keep it as a second home. He and my grandmother turned the island into a resort. At one time, back in the fifties, this was one of the most exclusive resorts in the Mediterranean.’ Anna looked up at the veranda’s cobweb-infested ceiling and tried not to sigh. It was hard to imagine the island in its glamorous heyday right now.
‘And now?’
‘It’s been a while since I visited,’ Anna admitted. ‘Things are a little less glamorous than they used to be.’
The problem was the island was expensive to run. Her grandfather had often bemoaned the price of labour and food, all of which needed shipping out; the mainland might be just a few hundred metres away, but the island was still only accessible by boat. Maybe they needed to think differently, turn the island into an event destination rather than a hotel, for weddings and other special occasions?
They? She pursed her lips. There was no way her mother would be capable of running that kind of business, and it was unlikely Rosa would want to stay in one place and help. Maybe, much as the idea broke Anna’s heart, her mother should sell the island to someone who could look after it.
She’d broach the subject after the wedding. There was no point getting embroiled in a family drama before.
She led Leo through the grand hallway, now a hotel reception area, a board behind the huge desk holding the big iron keys that still unlocked the bungalow doors—no flimsy key cards here—and along the wooden panelled hallway until they reached the vast kitchen where her mother was still sorting crockery.
‘Mama?’
Piles of brightly painted terracotta plates, bowls and cups covered every surface and most of the floor. In the middle of the chaos Sancia stood swaying, her hair falling out of its customary loose bun, her eyes closed as she sang along to the ear-piercingly loud music blaring from the radio. Anna winced, unable to even glance in Leo’s direction.
The scene was all too reminiscent, a flashback to her teenage years. She’d soon stopped bringing friends home, no idea what would greet them once they walked through the front door into the untidy hallway. Sancia was usually at home, but she would be preoccupied with her current fad; dancing, painting, sculpting, cooking. Whatever it was tended to take over the whole house, a chaotic tangle of colour and mess. It was all about the creative journey, Sancia would say, whenever Anna or her father suggested she keep her artistic endeavours confined to one room. Which was a good thing as usually the end result was good for nothing at all. Anna preferred to spend her after-school time at her friends’ houses instead, in ordered, peaceful homes where everything had its place and routines ruled.
‘Mama!’ she said again, this time loudly and sharply, and Sancia’s eyes flew open, fastening onto her daughter reproachfully.
‘Querida, there is no need to shout.’ She switched her gaze over to Leo and her dark eyes widened, her still-full mouth curving into a smile. ‘Hola.’
Anna’s heart sank; she recognised that particular flirtatious smile. It was her mother’s default smile for any reasonably attractive man and Anna had seen it used, always to great effect, on friends of her father’s, and on her own friends’ fathers. No girl should have to grow up seeing grown men reduced to red-faced boys by her own mother. Anna knew it wasn’t conscious, that warm smile of appreciation, it wasn’t meant with malice or intent or even deliberate flirtatiousness, but it was all the more devastating for that.
Leo didn’t seem to be immune, his own smile wide as he bent over Sancia’s outstretched hand. ‘Hola,’ he answered, his voice so low it was a cross between a purr and a growl, a deep rumble Anna suspected was used as often as her mother’s smile and with a similar effect—only she was pretty sure Leo di Marquez knew exactly what he was doing.
Sancia preened. ‘Who is your charming amigo, Anna?’
Anna made a concerted effort not to grind her teeth. ‘Mama, this is Señor di Marquez, he is Valentina’s brother and he’s come to check the island is suitable for his sister’s wedding.’
Sancia turned her smile up another watt. ‘What a lucky girl to have such an involved brother.’ She gazed up at Leo as if he were edible and Anna tried not to follow her mother’s gaze, especially as she seemed fixated on Leo’s half-bared chest.
‘Your resort is beautiful, señora,’ Leo said, a smile still playing around his beautifully sculpted mouth.
‘Gracias, and please, call me Sancia. Señora always makes me feel so old. I trust you’re happy with everything? We are so looking forward to welcoming Valentina and her fiancé in a month’s time.’
Anna stared at her mother in disbelief. Did she really think anyone would be happy with the state of the island? After all, it wasn’t as if she didn’t know what a huge task she had in front of her—she had called both her daughters to beg them to drop everything to come and help. Maybe now Anna was here Sancia considered her own job done. She had always relied on Anna to look after the dreary practicalities in the past. ‘That’s my sensible, organised girl,’ she would say, as if sensible and organised were things to be tolerated, to be pitied, not to emulate.
By the way Leo’s mouth quirked he was evidently amused by Sancia’s blind optimism. ‘Obviously you are not quite ready for the season,’ he said. Why was he being so diplomatic with Sancia when he hadn’t minced one of his words with Anna? ‘As you know Valentina needs everything to be perfect and so I have promised to help you prepare the island for her wedding. I trust this is acceptable?’
If Sancia’s eyes grew any wider they would fall right out of her head. As it was she was currently resembling a cartoon character more than a real human being. ‘That is so kind of you.’
Anna couldn’t stop her toe tapping impatiently on the tiled floor. Was her mother going to look at this practically in any way? Check that Leo was who he said he was, that Valentina wanted his input and, most importantly, that his presence here for a month wouldn’t result in any reduction of the lavish payment Valentina had offered in return for a week’s exclusivity? She took her mother’s arm and steered her through the piles of bowls and plates to the open back door, lowering her voice and doing her best to ignore Leo’s sardonic glance. ‘Mama, don’t you think you should check with your client first, and make sure this doesn’t mean there will be any renegotiation on the price? That Leo is who he says he is.’ But she knew she was wasting her breath.
‘Querida, the fates have brought you a handsome young man and you want to check his references? Live a little, Anna. You’re getting hunched, all that time over a keyboard, and you look positively sallow. A few weeks in the sunshine with some agreeable company is exactly what you need.’
‘I’m not here for my health, Mama. I’m here to help you...’
‘And thanks to Señor di Marquez your job will be a lot easier. After all, Anna, you’re not the most practical of people, are you?’ And while the gobsmacked Anna was still trying to formulate an articulate response her mother stepped away, turning back to Leo. ‘We have plenty of space here in the villa, Señor di Marquez. I would be very happy to accommodate you.’
