The Billionaire's Cinderella Contract Page 12

  The champagne opened and poured, Celeste thrust a flute in Mia’s hand, cast her eyes around the table for everyone’s attention, then raised her own flute. ‘Salud!’

  Mutters of ‘Salud’ rang out obediently.

  Lunch passed at a glacial pace. Fresh fish and salad dishes were served and heartily consumed by the men and picked at by the ladies, apart from Mia who was starving. Celeste held court over the conversation, directing most of it at Mia. ‘You must tell me, where did you two meet?’

  ‘Damián came to a show I was performing in.’

  ‘Oh, yes, that’s right—you’re an actress!’ Celeste raised her glass to Damián. ‘So you’ve learned there’s more to life than numbers and spreadsheets? Congratulations, mijito.’ She turned back to Mia. ‘What show was it?’

  ‘My Fair Lady.’

  ‘Did you play Eliza?’ At Mia’s answering nod, Celeste clutched her chest dramatically. ‘No one can better Audrey in that role. I’m sure you were very good too, but Audrey was a goddess. What other roles have you played?’

  Stifling another urge to laugh, Mia listed the few professional roles she’d undertaken. Celeste had seen them all, and all the characters had been played by actors who ‘illuminated the stage’. Although she was sure Mia was very good too.

  The torture seemed to go on for ever, but then, when the last of the dishes had been cleared away, Celeste’s phone beeped and she rose to her feet. ‘I’ve booked us a table in the restaurant at the casino for nine o’clock.’

  ‘Which one?’ Emiliano asked. They were the first words he’d spoken since their introduction, although a secretive amused smile had played on his lips in the times when he hadn’t been sending darts of loathing in his brother’s direction.

  ‘The one at the Carlucci. Everyone be ready for eight-thirty. I have appointments so do not disturb me before then.’ Then she leaned forward to pinch Mia’s cheek. ‘You are adorable. I will tell Gaynor to expect you in an hour for your first treatment.’

  She swished away, leaving a cloud of silence behind her.

  Emiliano was the first to break it. ‘Well, that was fun,’ he commented wryly. Rocking to his feet, he patted his thigh and the dogs burst out from under the table. Saluting at the table in general and throwing another wink at Mia, he strode away, his happy hounds at his side.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘WHERE, EXACTLY, IS the cubbyhole?’ Mia asked when they walked back into Damián’s suite. Celeste wasn’t to know but her insistence that Mia have spa treatments had been a gift.

  According to Damián, there were a dozen secret cubbyholes located throughout the villa. The documents could be in any of them. Or they could be in Emiliano’s room. Or... In all honesty, they could be anywhere, which made their task seem daunting, but Damián had shortlisted the most likely places. The spa’s cubbyhole was near the top of the shortlist. Emiliano took full advantage of the spa whenever he was at the villa.

  ‘It’s behind the towel cupboard on the right side of the door,’ Damián said as he unlocked his bureau and removed the black case containing his spyware. He carried it to the marble table, sat on the sofa and put the combination in. ‘The cupboard isn’t fixed but it’s heavy.’ He lifted his gaze to her and stared for a moment before pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘It might be better for me to look in that one.’

  ‘I’m stronger than I look,’ she said lightly. ‘Besides, you’ll only draw attention to yourself if you book in for a massage.’ Damián had never used the spa.

  He held her gaze for another moment before nodding and looking back at the laptop. As soon as his fingers began tapping at the keyboard, Mia quietly got on with changing into a bikini in preparation for her task and kept quiet while he worked. This was the moment when they discovered if the instructions he’d been given by his security expert to hack into the villa’s security system worked.

  She had donned her bikini and monogramed Delgado robe, which had been left in clear wrapping in the bathroom for her, when Damián suddenly punched the air.

  ‘You’re in?’

  He met her stare and smiled, relief writ large on his face.

  She sat beside him and found herself staring at a split screen, one side showing the corridors of the spa area, the other the corridors outside their own suite. She hardly had time to blink before Damián showed her the images from the other cameras placed throughout the villa. The only people to be seen were staff.

  ‘You’re sure there aren’t any cameras or bugs in the rooms themselves?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m positive. Celeste has never liked them being in the corridors but accepts it as a necessary evil.’ Damián caught the way Mia was chewing her bottom lip and recognised her anxiety.

  ‘I have a spare detector.’ He reached into the case and removed it for her. Now that they were here and their task had become real, he would not take any chances. Not with Mia. There was no danger for either of them if they were caught. The worst that would happen would be Celeste banishing them. And yet...

  The thought of Mia being cornered made his guts cramp.

  ‘Take it with you,’ he ordered. ‘When you’re alone, cover the surfaces with it like you saw me doing earlier. If there’s anything there, it will flash.’ He plucked out the diamond stud earrings from the case and handed them to her. When she’d put them on and he’d put the microphone cufflinks on, he sent her to the bathroom. ‘Close the door behind you,’ he instructed.

  When the door was closed, he whispered, ‘Can you hear me?’

  The door burst back open and, a beaming smile on her face, Mia came charging back out. ‘Yes!’

  * * *

  The hunt for the missing documents got off to a dismal start. Mia’s beauty treatments had been great but she’d been unable to relax properly, waiting for the call Damián had promised would come, which would see the beautician excuse herself long enough for Mia to search the hidden cubbyhole. When the call had come, a huge burst of adrenaline had shot through her and she’d sprung into action. Damián had watched the surveillance cameras outside the rooms on his laptop, his voice constantly in her ear. But the cubbyhole had been empty.

  Never mind, she thought with a sigh as she paced the suite while waiting for him to finish shaving; tomorrow the villa would be packed with hundreds of staff setting up for the party and they would be able to search properly, hidden in plain sight.

  It would be the last full day they spent together but it would be spent surrounded by people, with little time to be alone. As lovers, this was their last real day together.

  Needing a distraction from the surge of fierce panic this thought induced, she shakily picked up a framed photo on the piano that had caught her eye earlier. It was a picture of Damián and his father.

  Eduardo Delgado looked exactly as she imagined Damián would in forty years: a handsome silver fox, a man who would always command attention.

  The bathroom door opened and Damián stepped out, neck and jaw shaved, goatee trimmed, and as sexy as she’d ever seen him. ‘Shouldn’t you be getting dressed...? What are you looking at?’

  Knowing there was no time to make love before they left for the evening, Mia contented herself with leaning into him and filling her lungs with his scent before handing him the photo.

  He smiled sadly and rubbed his thumb over his father’s face. ‘This is my favourite picture of us.’

  ‘You look so much like him.’ She looked again at it. ‘It’s strange but I can’t see anything of Emiliano in him.’

  His brows drew together in obvious surprise. ‘Emiliano wasn’t his biological child.’

  That took her aback. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Didn’t it come up in any of your searches?’

  ‘I only searched your name.’ And she’d been too greedy to learn everything about Damián to do more than give a cursory glance at any information not directly conc
erning him.

  ‘My father adopted him when he married Celeste. His father was an Argentinian polo player called Alessandro. Celeste married him when she was twenty but he died in a freak horse accident when Emiliano was a few months old. Celeste married my father a year after that.’

  ‘How come you’ve never mentioned it? You always refer to him as your brother, never your half-brother.’

  ‘Because I never think about it like that. To me, he is my brother.’ His tone became grim. ‘He thinks differently though. He’s always hated me.’

  ‘Always?’

  He gave a tight nod.

  ‘But why?’

  ‘I think Emiliano resented me for being Father’s biological child, which is ludicrous because when we were growing up he was as distant and remote with me as he was with Emiliano. It’s just the way Father was. If anyone should be resentful it’s me—Celeste never denied loving Emiliano more than me.’

  Mia blanched. ‘Please tell me you’re joking.’

  His head shook slowly. Grimly. ‘Celeste is never anything less than honest. Brutally so. Alessandro was the love of her life. When he died she poured that love into Emiliano. He’s the reason she married my father.’

  ‘Your father knew that?’

  ‘Neither of my parents married for love. My father was a bachelor until he was forty-five because he was wary of gold-diggers. Trust me, there are many of them around. Celeste comes from an old, noble Spanish family with great wealth. Her upbringing was very strict and controlled. When Alessandro died, her parents wanted her back under their roof but she’d had a taste of freedom and refused. As I’m sure you’ve seen for yourself, Celeste is not a passive woman and despises being pigeonholed by her sex. She knew she would never love another man but she wanted a father for Emiliano and a husband who would give her freedom and treat her as his equal, and that’s what my father offered her. She never hid her reasons for marrying him, just as Father never hid his reasons for marrying her—he wanted someone with breeding, independent wealth and proven fertility. My father took great care in his selection of a wife and Celeste took great care in her selection of husband number two. Their marriage worked. They were a formidable team.’

  ‘Is that what you want in a wife?’ she asked softly.

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t care about breeding. That’s an outdated notion. But I do want a wife with independent wealth and intelligence.’

  To cover the heavy weight in her heart his honesty provoked, Mia adopted an airy tone. ‘I suppose someone wealthy but dim would bore you.’

  His eyes actually crinkled with amusement. ‘God forbid I marry someone who bores me.’

  What did she expect? she thought as she gazed into his eyes and tried not to let her sudden despondency show. A marriage built on love and passion was not for a man with Damián Delgado’s upbringing.

  Frightened of the wrenching in her heart at the knowledge that the most a woman like her could hope for from a man like him was something akin to mistress status, she found herself needing to fill the growing silence.

  ‘Have you ever spoken to Emiliano about his issues with you?’

  ‘It’s not easy to speak to someone who looks at you as if you’re something they’ve trodden on.’

  ‘I know that feeling. That’s how Amy used to look at me when she was going through her destructive phase.’

  ‘That’s how he’s looked at me since I was old enough to form memories.’

  ‘It’s never too late,’ she said softly. ‘Maybe you should think about forcing him to talk and open up about why he hates you. It’s too simplistic to blame it on biology. Talking with him might pave the way to you two making an agreement about the business, especially if we don’t find the documents.’

  ‘We will find them.’

  ‘Even so...’

  His stare became shrewd. ‘If I were to talk to him, would you be prepared to sit down with your mother and sister and talk to them?’

  ‘What for?’ she asked, thrown by the question.

  ‘About the fact that you’re still paying the price for the sacrifice you made all those years ago.’

  She tried not to bristle. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Yes, you are. The world could be yours if you allowed yourself to reach for it. From what you tell me, your sister and your mother have both found happiness. Would they not want that for you too?’

  Happiness? That was something Mia hadn’t felt in a long time. Not true happiness of the kind when you woke in the morning and sunshine blazed in your heart regardless of the weather outside. The kind of happiness she’d found these past days with Damián...

  ‘They already think I’m happy,’ she whispered while her heart made another huge wrench.

  ‘Are you?’

  I’m happy with you. Happier than I have ever been.

  She closed her eyes to stop his astute gaze from reading them. ‘It’s always there in the back of my mind, what we went through. When I see them, when I speak to them...it always feels like I’m performing, keeping up the happy face.’

  She never had to perform for Damián, she realised. With him, she was never anything but entirely herself. Until she’d been pulled into his world, she hadn’t known how much she wanted someone to see her and not the roles she played or the happy face she displayed to her family.

  ‘You are scared it will upset them to see you as vulnerable?’

  Damián had seen her vulnerable. He’d seen her angry. He’d seen her scared. In the short time they’d been together, he’d seen all the components that made her Mia, the good and the bad.

  ‘Something like that.’ She met his stare. ‘When Mum saw the damp on my walls I was so worried that she’d start worrying that I made a big joke about buying a hazmat. I could never tell her about the times I was terrified I wouldn’t meet my mortgage payments. I never tell them anything that could make them worry.’

  And yet she could tell this stuff to Damián. She could tell him anything.

  He gently smoothed a stray strand of her hair off her forehead. ‘If you’re always looking after them and protecting them, who’s out there looking after you?’

  She wished his question didn’t make her want to cry. ‘I’m a big girl. I look after myself.’

  ‘You should talk to them, mi vida. If they love you as much as you love them, they will want to support you as you have supported them.’

  She rested a hand against his freshly smooth cheek. ‘I’ll talk to them if you’ll talk to Emiliano.’

  ‘Let’s see how tomorrow unfolds.’ He looked at his watch. ‘You should get dressed. We leave for dinner in fifteen minutes.’

  ‘I’ll be ready in five,’ she promised.

  * * *

  Mia thought she’d never felt as glamorous as she did in her glorious red dress which swept over one shoulder and ruched beneath the other, cinching at the waist and falling gracefully to mid-calf. She’d definitely never been anywhere as glamorous as the Carlucci. And never in her entire life had she dreamed she would watch people gamble thousands of euros on the spin of a ball or the turn of a card, give a nonchalant shrug when they lost and then gamble thousands more on the next game.

  The evening had started off awkwardly, with Celeste insisting everyone travel to the hotel casino in her stretch limo. Making Damián and Emiliano share a confined space was, in Mia’s opinion, asking for trouble. However, Celeste ignored the frostiness in her own inimitable way, enthusing over Mia’s much improved appearance at the hands of her beautician and admiring her dress, which was, ‘Just like one I had when the boys were small. You do carry if off well, even though your waist is thicker than mine was back then.’

  How small had Celeste’s waist been? The size of a baby courgette?

  A critical eye had then passed over Mia’s obviously too-thick waist before Celeste had encouragingly said, ‘I wil
l put you in touch with my personal trainer. Two hours of yoga a day will soon knock that puppy fat off you.’

  Damián had immediately come to her defence. ‘Mia is perfect as she is,’ he’d said in a voice that made even Mia quail.

  Celeste had laughed. ‘No one is perfect, mijito. Not without work.’

  Damián had replied to this in their native language. Whatever he’d said to his mother did the trick for she’d kept her mouth shut for the rest of the journey, with the expression of someone sucking a particularly sour lemon.

  By the time they’d taken their seats for dinner, Celeste had forgotten to be cross with Damián and held court in the same manner she had over lunch. Mercifully, Mia was seated between Damián and one of his cousins so was saved from Celeste’s attention. Less mercifully, she sat opposite Emiliano, so spent much of the meal trying not to flinch at the appraising glances he kept throwing at her and the daggers he kept throwing his brother.

  Where Damián reminded her of a panther, Emiliano brought to mind a cheetah: sitting there, saying nothing, simply biding his time until he pounced. She didn’t need to know the brothers’ history to guess it would be Damián’s jugular he’d aim for.

  If Damián was bothered by his brother’s coldness, he didn’t show it. But then, after a lifetime, he would be used to it.

  Mia shivered. She would die if Amy ever showed such coldness to her again. And she would die if her mum were to say, however nonchalantly, that she loved Amy more than her.

  The one thing she was looking forward to after this weekend was never having to see or speak to Celeste again. She just could not comprehend the casual cruelty of telling your own child you loved their sibling more. It made her want to weep for Damián and the small boy he’d once been. No wonder he was so cynical.

  Money really did not buy happiness.

  And then the meal had finished and everyone split up to see who could blow the most of their fortune in one night. Damián placed a hand in the small of her back and gave her a tour of the casino and a brief rundown on how each game was played.