The Billionaire's Cinderella Contract Page 16

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s what the Brits say.’

  ‘Oh.’ He sat back down, took another swig out of the bottle then passed it over.

  Emiliano’s head suddenly lifted. ‘Where’s your Brit gone?’ His eyes peered around the room, as if Mia might have spent the past three days hiding in there.

  ‘Gone.’

  ‘Gone where?’

  ‘Home.’

  ‘Which home?’

  ‘Give me the bottle.’

  ‘Not until you tell me which home. One of yours or hers?’

  ‘Hers. Now, give me the bottle.’

  Emiliano passed it to him. ‘Why her home?’

  ‘She doesn’t live with me.’

  ‘How long have you two been together?’

  ‘We’re not together.’

  ‘You looked like you were together.’

  ‘I paid her.’

  ‘What?’ Emiliano, who’d snatched the bottle back and put it to his lips, now missed his mouth and spilled the amber liquid over his chin. ‘I thought she was an actress?’

  ‘She is an actress.’ A superb one. Wasting her talent in provincial theatres for fear of what fame could do to her family. ‘I paid her to pretend to be in love with me.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I needed help finding Father’s will. I thought you’d hidden it somewhere.’

  Emiliano’s face puckered. ‘I guessed Celeste had taken it.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘You were hardly likely to have hidden it, were you?’

  Damián shrugged. ‘I can’t believe she burned it.’

  ‘I can.’ Now Emiliano shrugged. ‘You’re single-minded when you want something. She knew you’d find it if she didn’t destroy it.’

  ‘Do you know what else I can’t believe?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That I’m sitting here and getting drunk with my brother.’

  ‘Strange, huh?’ Emiliano passed the bottle back. ‘We should do this more often.’

  Damián raised the bottle in agreement and took another swig.

  ‘So when are you going to see her again?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Your actress.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘The job’s done.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘You’re nuts.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve spent my life studying you and I have never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her.’

  ‘I was acting too.’

  ‘Whatever, Pinocchio. I know what I saw between you two and that was not fake...’

  Emiliano’s voice drifted out of focus as a memory of calling Mia Pinocchio sprang back to him. Why had he called her that? His addled brain couldn’t remember. Didn’t want to remember. He didn’t want to remember. No. Must. Keep. Her. Out.

  ‘Earth to Damián.’ Emiliano leaned over and clicked his fingers in front of Damián’s face.

  He blinked.

  ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘Mia.’ Her name slipped off his tongue. ‘I sent her away.’

  ‘Call her back. She’s fun.’

  ‘No.’ He clamped his lips together to stop his tongue spilling anything else.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t want his brother to hear it. More that he didn’t want to hear it himself. He wanted to lock her away in a compartment in his brain and never let her out again.

  If he allowed himself to remember the harsh words of their parting he was afraid...

  He didn’t know what he was afraid of. Only knew that he had to keep her locked away far from the memories in his brain and never let her out.

  * * *

  ‘Fancy joining us for some lunch?’

  Mia blinked and focused on Tanya, standing before her. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she said, conjuring a tired smile.

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Okay... Well, see you at the next one.’

  The next audition. For another provincial theatre. In her hand sat a theatre magazine that had listings for open auditions. A young company that was making a real name for itself was hosting auditions for actors for a production of the musical Annie. Mia quite fancied trying out for the role of Miss Hannigan. She was fed up of only trying for ‘nice’ characters. It used every acting skill she possessed to be happy and cheery, left her exhausted and more miserable than ever. But the show would be in the West End. The company had a buzz about it. It would be guaranteed to get press attention.

  She rested her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.

  Maybe Damián was right. Maybe it was time to talk to her mum and sister. She needed to give them more credit for the progress they’d made with their lives instead of living in fear of the dark days. Amy was a goodhearted woman now, not a grieving self-destructive teenager. Her mum had regular therapy. They both loved her. She needed to let them decide how equipped they felt to cope if the spotlight ever did fall on Mia, and the potential repercussions that might come with it. It was a conversation they needed to have.

  Whatever the outcome of the conversation, Mia’s family came first every time. The Delgados were the antithesis of what a family should be, each concerned with only their own selfish desires.

  She just wished she’d seen that about Damián before giving him her...

  She whipped her head forwards and clutched at her hair. Why was she still giving that man room in her head? The way things were going, she was going to have to start charging him rent.

  She hadn’t seen or heard from him in nine days. She hadn’t expected to. But she’d found her fingers hovering over her phone numerous times, ready to call him and offer her support since all the stories had surfaced. The spectacular fallout between the uber glamorous and fabulously rich Celeste Delgado and her two gorgeous billionaire sons at her high society party had been gossip fodder for three days. Speculation was rife as to the cause of it. Rumours were flying around about doubts over the death of Eduardo Delgado. Maybe, the gossips all said, his death wasn’t as natural as had been presumed.

  For a man as private as Damián, this intrusion must be horrific and, though she knew in her heart that it was folly, she longed to reach out and tell him she would always be on his side and always be there for him, that she knew his cruel words to her had come from a place of deep, deep pain.

  But he didn’t want her. He didn’t want anyone.

  And she didn’t know what to do with herself. She went through the motions of living but inside she felt dead. She’d gone out last night with a group of friends. She’d drunk some shots and thrown herself with abandon onto the dance floor but she might as well have been a humanoid for all the emotion she’d felt. She’d acted the whole night away, smiling and happy on the outside, dead and cold inside. She needed to find a way through this. She needed to move on. Her head accepted that she and Damián were over—her head had accepted it before they’d even started—but her heart...

  Oh, her heart ached for him. It ached for the pain he was going through and it ached at his rejection. She’d given it to him, her whole heart, not even realising she’d gift-wrapped it for him until it was too late to take it back.

  She wished she could hate him. Maybe this pain would be easier to endure then.

  So lost in her thoughts was she that it wasn’t until the casting director stopped to ask if she was okay did she realise the auditions were over and they were closing up.

  She nodded, too tired now to even fake a smile.

  Slipping her bag over her shoulder, she trudged to the exit. When she stepped outside it was to a hail of camera lenses flashing in her face.

  * * *

  It was good to be home. It felt like a lifetime had
passed since he’d last been in Buenos Aires rather than a mere fortnight.

  Damián headed straight to his bar and poured himself a Scotch, the first alcoholic drink he’d had since he’d got so drunk with his brother that the pair of them had fallen asleep on the sofa and he’d woken to find Emiliano’s feet in his face. What a mess they’d got into. Both of them. But it had been necessary. A lifetime of antipathy, ten years of which had been spent as real enemies, could not be breached overnight. Words for men as proud as the Delgado brothers did not come easily. Sometimes alcohol helped to loosen lips.

  He switched his phone on, checked his emails, replied to the few that mattered then opened his news app, filtered so only business news was fed into it. He had no wish to read the spurious speculation about his family currently entertaining the world.

  He read a report on one of his clients, a shipping magnate, and his plans for five new cargo ships. It was a huge relief to know he could still call him a client. The six months from his father’s death had passed and Emiliano had inherited everything. That same day, Emiliano had signed the Delgado Group and all its holdings over to Damián. Agreement between the brothers had come easily—Emiliano would keep their father’s personal assets, Damián the businesses.

  That was the only good thing in this whole mess, he thought. He finally had the makings of a proper relationship with his brother and, for the first time, he understood where Mia’s deep need to protect her sister came from and why she would make the same sacrifice. Now, if he was given the choice of the business or his brother, he would choose his brother. Every time. He should have chosen his brother ten years ago and fought his corner with their father. That he hadn’t, and that he’d allowed their estrangement go so far, was something he would regret for the rest of his life.

  If Mia had been in his life back then, she would never have allowed it to go so far. She would have talked sense into him, made him talk to his brother, forced him to listen rather than condemning him straight away.

  He sucked in a sharp breath. He would not think of Mia. They had known from the start they had no future together. How could they?

  But Dios, the pain in his heart whenever her face floated before him. The pain was becoming constant. The more he tried to lock her away, the stronger her image grew and the stronger the pain in his chest. And it was always the image of her beautiful face crumpling at the cruel words he’d thrown at her.

  Why had he been so cruel? And to her? The one person in the whole world who’d truly been on his side.

  He would never forgive himself for the way he’d ended things between them.

  He could only hope that one day soon the throbbing in his heart would lessen and he would find a way to stop thinking about her. And stop missing her so much.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  MIA PRESSED HER fingers to her ears to drown out the hammering on her door. Whoever it was should have taken the hint when she’d ignored the first quieter knock. She’d thought these people, with the assistance of an official harassment complaint, had finally got the message that she wouldn’t speak to them.

  The hammering got louder. She switched her television on and turned the volume up.

  Her phone buzzed. With a sigh, she picked it up. It wouldn’t be her mum or Amy. Her mum had gone away for the weekend with friends and Amy was working.

  And then she saw the name on the screen and her heart almost punched out of her ribcage.

  Her hand shook as she swiped to read the message.

  I know you are home. Please let me in. I will only take a few minutes of your time. D

  It seemed to take forever for the spinning in her head to slow enough for her to get to her feet. Feeling as if she’d been drugged, she walked to her front door and put her eye to the spyhole.

  She rested her forehead to the door, clutched her chest and breathed deeply.

  She wasn’t prepared for this.

  And then Damián’s deep voice vibrated through the door, penetrating straight into her. ‘Please, Mia. I need to talk to you. I swear I won’t stay long, but please just let me say what I need to say to you.’

  She took one more huge breath for luck and opened the door.

  It felt as if a truck had been slammed into her. There was the face she’d dreamed about every night since their parting. The face she thought about every minute of the waking day. As darkly handsome as she remembered. But more gaunt. The toll of everything he’d been through these past few weeks was etched right there.

  For the longest time they just stared at each other.

  Eventually she dragged one syllable out. ‘Hi.’

  His throat moved. ‘Hi.’

  Wrapping her oversized fluffy wrap tightly around her so he couldn’t see the black vest she wore beneath it, which she hadn’t changed out of for two days, she stepped aside to admit him into her home. His exotic scent filled her senses with such acute familiarity that she pressed herself against the wall and ground her toes into the floor.

  She thought back to the first time she’d let him into her home. She’d wanted to throw the roses he’d brought her in his face, terrified even then of the feelings he evoked in her.

  She should have paid better attention to those feelings. Protected herself better. Sealed her heart up.

  He led the way to her living room. ‘May I sit?’

  She nodded and carefully curled herself into the armchair, letting him have the sofa. Too late, she realised she had the newspaper cuttings all over the coffee table.

  He followed her gaze and his brow creased. ‘What is this?’

  ‘Our affair.’

  Shocked eyes met hers. ‘The press know?’

  ‘They’ve known for four days. One of your guests tipped them off. They had a photo of us together.’

  He muttered a curse. Such a familiar sound. It had always made her laugh, the way he cursed, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it out loud. As with the familiarity of his scent, hearing it felt like a knife in her heart.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’ He raised his shoulder and looked her in the eye. ‘I’ve been avoiding everything but business news. My staff had instructions not to talk of the gossip about my family with me.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. They’ve gone now.’

  ‘The press have been here?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She managed something she hoped looked like a smile. ‘I’ve been offered TV work off the back of it. The Damián Delgado effect worked as you said it would.’

  He kneaded his temples. ‘I’m sorry. I know it isn’t what you want. Have there been repercussions?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Her next smile came a little easier. ‘I think they’ve got the message that I won’t speak to them. And I had a heart-to-heart with Mum and Amy the other day. They want me to push forward with my career and stop holding myself back for their sake. If anything from the past gets dredged up, we’ll deal with it then.’

  ‘That’s good to hear. You’re too talented not to reach for the stars.’

  She couldn’t hold the smile up any longer. ‘Why are you here?’

  Damián put more pressure on his temples. Being here with Mia was even harder than he’d thought it would be. So many powerful feelings ran through him, all threatening to overwhelm him. Underlying it all was a sense of devastating loss at what could have been.

  ‘I am here to apologise.’

  She closed her eyes. ‘You don’t have to apologise.’

  ‘I do.’ He sucked a breath in to gather his thoughts. If he didn’t say what needed to be said he feared he would never sleep again. The guilt and despair had grown too big. ‘What I said to you... Mia, it was unforgiveable.’

  Her eyes opened. To see them glisten with unshed tears only cut the gaping wound in his heart deeper.

  ‘Whenever I think back to that night, I want to grab
hold of myself and stop the words from forming. I was out of my mind. I didn’t want to believe my own mother could do something so evil. I knew she didn’t love me as she loved Emiliano but...she couldn’t have loved me at all. The woman who gave me life feels nothing for me. I don’t see how she can feel anything for anyone, even Emiliano.’

  The wound in his heart slashed wider to see Mia’s chin wobble and her chest heave. Even after all the cruel things he’d said to her, her compassion blazed from her eyes as strongly as ever.

  Why had he been such a fool to think any of it had been fake?

  ‘We will never be able to prove it, but she killed our father. How can someone do that? To live with someone for thirty-seven years and bear his child and build a life together and then take that life without a cent of remorse.’

  Needing another moment to compose himself, he covered his face. When he looked back at her, Mia had huddled tighter into herself, her cheeks now damp with tears.

  ‘And then I think of their marriage. How separate they were. They married each other for power and money. Love and feelings had nothing to do with it. I always thought it worked well but I didn’t understand how badly I misjudged it because I had never experienced love for myself. If I were married to you I would want to be with you always. I would do whatever it took to be with you. If that meant giving up the business and living in London permanently, then I would do it because I love you and when you love someone you do whatever it takes to make them happy and protect them. You taught me that.’ He swallowed. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been here to protect you from the press. If I had known, I swear to you I would have been. For you, I would do anything.’

  Something hot burned the back of his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply, trying to hold it back. ‘I need you to know that I will always be in your debt. What you have given to me is immeasurable. Until I met you, I always thought success was valued in monetary terms. In assets. Now I see it comes from cherishing the ones you love and taking pride in watching them thrive. In protecting them. I should have protected you that night, as I should have been here to protect you from the press. Instead, I lashed out, and I lashed out at the one person who, more than anyone in the world, did not deserve it. I took my pain and my grief and I threw it at you. At the time, all I could think was what were you doing there? How could you try to comfort me? Why would you try and comfort a man whose own mother didn’t love him?’