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She followed him up onto the deck, trying to ignore the fact that he had fully stripped off as she took off her espadrilles and dropped her sarong.
‘Take off your top.’
‘In a moment…’
He could sense rather than see that she was upset, and it made him furious. He was actually wishing his father dead, just so this might end.
‘Take off your top,’ he said again. Because if she thought she was here to discuss the passing scenery, or for them to get to know each other better, then she was about to find out she was wrong.
Estelle might have taken him for a fool.
He wasn’t one.
Her face was one burning blush as her shaking hands undid the clasp, and she sank beneath the water as she removed it and placed the bikini top on the edge.
‘Good morning!’ The skipper made his way over. Naked breasts were commonplace on the Costa Del Sol—and especially on Raúl Sanchez Fuante’s boat. He had no trouble at all looking Estelle in the eye as he greeted her. She, though, Raúl noted, was close to tears as she attempted to smile back.
‘We are heading towards Acantilados de Maro-Cerro Gordo,’ Alberto said, and then turned to Raúl. ‘Would you like us to stop there tonight? The chef is looking forward to preparing your dinner and he wondered if you would like us to set up for you to eat on the bay?’
‘We’ll eat on the boat,’ Raúl said. ‘We might take a couple of jet skis out a little later and take a walk.’
‘Of course,’ Alberto said, then turned to Estelle.
‘Do you have any preferences for dinner? Any food choices you would like the chef to know about?’
‘Anything.’
Raul heard her try to squeeze the word out through breathless lips.
‘It’s a beautiful bay we are stopping at.’ Albert happily chatted on. ‘It’s not far at all from the more built-up areas, but soon we will start to come into the most stunning virgin terrain.’
He wished them a pleasant afternoon and headed off.
‘I’ve already explored the virgin terrain…’ Raúl drawled, once he was out of earshot.
Estelle said nothing.
‘Here.’ Annoyed with himself for giving in, but hating her discomfort, he threw her the bikini top. ‘Put it on if you want.’
She really was shaken, Raúl thought with a stab of guilt as he watched her trembling hands trying to put the damp garment on. Going topless was nothing here—nothing at all—but then he remembered last night: her shaking, her asking him to be gentle. Pleas he had ignored.
He strode through the water and turned her around, helping her with the clasp of her bikini top. Then, and he didn’t know why, he pulled her into his arms and held her till she had stopped shaking—held her till the blush had seeped from her skin.
And then he made her burn again as he dropped a kiss on her shoulder and admitted a truth to her about that virgin terrain.
‘…and it was stunning.’
CHAPTER TWELVE (#ue4fb7f4b-f225-5bd8-ad39-f5f44306e235)
NORMALLY RAÚL'S YACHT sailed into the busiest port, often with a party underway.
This early evening, though, they sailed slowly into Acantilados de Maro-Cerro Gordo. The sky was an amazing pink, the cliffs sparkling as they dropped anchor near a secluded bay.
‘The beaches are stunning here,’ Alberto said, ‘and the tourists know it. But this one has no road access.’ He turned to Raúl. ‘The jet skis are ready for you both.’
Only as they were about to be launched did Raúl remember. He turned and saw her pale face, saw that she was biting on her lip as she went to climb on the machine, and his apology was genuine.
‘Estelle, I’m sorry. I forgot about your brother’s accident.’
‘It’s fine,’ she said through chattering teeth. ‘He was showing off…mucking around…’ She was trying to pretend that the machine she was about to climb on didn’t petrify her. ‘I know we’ll be sensible.’
Raúl had had no intention of being sensible. He loved the exhilaration of being on a jet ski and had wanted to share it with her—had wanted to race and to chase.
Instead he was taking her hand. ‘It’s not fine. You don’t have to pretend.’
Oh, but she did. At every turn she had to pretend, if she was to be the temporary woman he wanted.
‘Come on this one with me,’ Raúl said. ‘Alberto, take her hand and help her on.’
They rode towards the bay in a rather more subdued fashion than Raúl was used to.
The maid who was setting up the dinner table caught Alberto’s eye when he came to check on her progress and they shared a brief smile.
His bride and the effect she was having on Raúl was certainly not one they had been expecting.
‘I think I might go and reorganise his DVD collection,’ the maid suggested and Alberto nodded.
‘I think that might be wise.’
Estelle held tightly onto Raul’s waist as the jet ski chopped through the waves, and because her head kept knocking into his back in the end she gave in and rested it there, not sure if her rapid heart-rate was because she was scared by the vehicle, by the questions she would no doubt soon be facing, or just by the exhilaration.
Making love with Raúl had been amazing. She was sore and tender but now, feeling his skin beneath her cheek, feeling the ocean water sting her and the wind whip her hair, she could not regret a moment. Even her lie. Feeling his passion as he had seared into her was a memory she would be frequently revisiting. For now, though, Estelle knew she had to play it tough—had to convince him better than she had so far that she was up to the job he had paid her for.
He skidded into the shallows and she unpeeled herself from him and stepped down.
‘It’s amazing…’ She looked up at the cliffs, shielding her eyes. ‘Look how high it is.’
He did, but only briefly. Estelle was too busy admiring the stunning view to notice his pallor.
‘What did Angela say to you at the wedding?’ Raúl asked.
She had been expecting a barrage of questions about her lack of experience, and was momentarily sideswiped at his choice of topic for conversation, but then she reminded herself his interest in her was limited.
‘She wasn’t sure whether or not we were a true couple,’ Estelle said.
‘You corrected her?’
‘Of course,’ Estelle said. ‘She seems to think that if I love my husband, then I should encourage you to make peace with your father while there is still time.’ She glanced over to him as they walked. ‘She wants us to go there and visit.’
‘It is too late to play happy families.’
‘Angela said that she doesn’t want you to suffer any guilt, as you did over your mother’s death…’
‘Misplaced guilt,’ Raúl said, but didn’t elaborate any more.
He stopped and they sat on the beach, looking out to the yacht. She could see the lights were on, the staff on deck were preparing their meal. It was hard to believe such luxury even existed, let alone that for now it was hers to experience. It was the luxury of him she wanted, though; there was more about Raúl that she needed to know.
‘I didn’t know how to answer her,’ Estelle admitted. ‘You said there was more you would tell me. I have no real idea about your family, nor about you.’
‘So I will tell you what you need to know.’ He pondered for a moment on how best to explain it. ‘My grandfather—my mother’s father—ran a small hotel. It did well and he built another, and then he purchased some land in the north,’ Raúl explained.
‘In San Sebastian?’ Estelle asked.
He nodded. ‘On his death the business was left to his three children—De La Fuente Holdings. My father and mother married, and my father started to work in the family business. But he was always an outsider—or felt that he was, even though he oversaw the building of the San Sebastian hotel. When I was born my mother became unwell. In hindsight I would say she was depressed. It was then he started to sleep with Angela. Apparently Angela felt too much guilt and left work, moved back to her family, but they started seeing each other again…’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘My father told me the morning I met you.’
It was only then that Estelle fully realised this was almost as new to him as it was to her.
‘Angela got pregnant, the guilt ate away at him, and he told my mother the truth. He wanted to know if she could forgive him. She cried and wailed and screamed. She told him to get out and he went to Angela—the baby was almost due. He assumed my mother would tell her family, that she would turn to them. Except she did not. When she had the car accident and died my father returned and soon realised no one knew he had another son. Instead they welcomed him back into the company.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Soon they will find out the truth.’
‘Angela said that you blamed yourself for your mother’s death?’
‘That is all you need to know.’ He looked over to her. ‘Your turn.’
‘I don’t know what to tell you.’
‘Why you lied?’
‘I didn’t lie.’
‘The same way my father didn’t lie when he didn’t tell me had another son? The same way Angela didn’t lie when she failed to tell mention her son, Luka, was my brother?’ He did not want to think about that. ‘Okay, if you didn’t outright lie, you did deceive.’
He watched her swallow, watched as her face jerked away to look out to the ocean.
‘I wanted an experienced woman.’
‘Sorry I don’t know enough tricks—’
‘I wasn’t talking about sex!’ Raúl hurled. ‘I wanted a woman who could handle things. Who could keep to a deal. Who wasn’t going to fall in love…’
‘Again you assume!’ Estelle flared. ‘Why would I fall in love with some cold bastard who thinks only in money—who has no desire for true affection? A man who tells me what to wear and whether or not I can tan.’
Her eyes flashed as she let out some of the anger she had suppressed over the past few days while every decision apart from her wedding dress had been made by him.
‘Raúl, I would not have a man choose my clothes or dictate to the hairdresser the style of my hair, or the beautician the colour of my nails. You’re getting what you paid for—what you wanted—what you demanded. Consider my virginity a bonus!’
She dug her heels deep into the sand and almost believed her own words. Tried to ignore that last night, as she’d been falling asleep in his arms, foolish thoughts had invaded. Raúl’s doubts about her ability to see this through perhaps had merit, for he would be terribly easy to love…
She turned around and faced him.
‘I’m here for the money, Raúl.’ And not for a single second more would she allow herself to forget it. ‘I’m here with you for the same reason I was with Gordon.’
He could not stand the thought of her in bed with him—could not bear to think about it. But when he did, Raúl frowned.
‘If you were with Gordon for money, how come you were trying to change the sheets before the maid got in.’
‘I was never with Gordon in that way. I just stood in for Ginny.’
‘You shared his bed,’ Raúl said. ‘And we all know his reputation…’
‘Unlike you, Gordon didn’t feel comfortable going to a wedding alone,’ Estelle said carefully.
‘So he paid you to look like his tart?’ Raúl checked. ‘What about Dario’s…?’ His voice trailed off and he frowned as he realised the lengths Gordon had gone to, then frowned a little more as realisation hit. ‘Is Gordon…?’ He didn’t finish the question—knew it was none of his business. ‘You needed the money to help out your brother?’
She conceded with a nod.
‘Estelle, it is not for me to question your reasons—’
‘Then don’t.’
Her warning did not stop him.
‘Andrew would not want it.’
‘Which is why he will never find out.’
‘I know that if I had a sister I would not want her—’
‘Don’t compare yourself to my brother. You don’t even have a sister, and the brother you do have you don’t want to know.’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’
‘We’re two very different people, Raúl. If I discovered that I had a brother or sister somewhere I’d be doing everything I could to find out about them, to meet them—not plotting to bring them down.’
‘I’m not plotting anything. I just don’t want him taking what is rightfully mine. Neither do I want to end up working alongside him.’
She looked at the seductive eyes that invited you only to bed, at the mouth that kissed so easily but insisted you did not get close.
‘You miss out on so much, Raúl.’
‘I miss out on nothing,’ Raúl said. ‘I have everything I want.’
‘You have everything money can buy,’ Estelle said, remembering the reason she was here. ‘Including me.’
When he kissed her it tasted of nothing. It tasted empty. It was a pale comparison to the kiss he had been the recipient of last night. And when he took her top off he knew she was faking it, knew she was thinking of the boat and of people watching, knew she was trying not to cry.
