A Price Worth Paying - By Trish Morey Page 0,32

made his way across the room towards them, knowing it was right to have decided what he had, already anticipating the pleasures that were to come. Finding a smile came easily, so easily in fact that she looked up at him and frowned and he realised he’d already forgotten about his little chat with Ezmerelda.

That made his smile widen even further.

Anticipation was a fine thing.

There must have been something in his eyes, for the other men drifted away, back to their own women, leaving only Markel, who snagged his arm as soon as he came close. ‘You are a lucky man, Alesander. Simone is not only a beautiful woman, but she is clever and entertaining. Promise me you will not deprive us of her company in the future.’

‘You’re in luck, Markel, as it happens,’ he said, sliding a proprietorial arm around Simone, who looked more confused than ever. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything—it is your birthday celebration after all, but there will be another party very soon and one to which you’re invited, because a little earlier tonight Simone agreed to become my wife.’

‘Your wife?’ Markel blinked his surprise. ‘But this is wonderful news!’

‘I hoped you’d think so. I know Isobel and your wife had other plans.’

Markel waved the younger man’s concerns away before laying his hand on Alesander’s shoulder. ‘As much as I would love to have you as my son-in-law, it was clear to me it was never going to happen. There was never any spark between you two. I tried to tell Ezmerelda that.’ He shrugged. ‘She chose not to listen. Her mother had put all kinds of fanciful notions into her head and she preferred to believe those.’

‘I’ve already spoken to her tonight to let her know before she heard via other means.’

‘Bueno. That was thoughtful of you.’ Markel sighed wistfully. ‘And perhaps it is good you are getting married because now she will forget her foolish dreams and finally see that there are other men in the world. I can only hope.

‘As for you two,’ he said, taking both their hands in his meaty hand, ‘I wish you every success and many, many fine sons.’

‘How did Ezmerelda take it?’ she asked when they were in the car and heading towards Getaria. ‘Was it rough?’

He changed gears to take a bend, the car sticking to the road like glue. ‘She cried.’

‘Oh.’

‘And then she pleaded.’

‘Ah.’

‘And then she wished us all the best in our married life.’ He didn’t tell her the rest, that she’d said she’d noticed they had a connection from the moment she’d seen them together and that was why she’d followed Simone to warn her off, because she’d never before felt so threatened. There were some things that sat uncomfortably with him. There were some things that Simone didn’t need to know.

‘That was nice of her, in the circumstances.’

‘Sí, but it was good of you to think of telling her. That would not have occurred to me. It shows a generous spirit.’

She laughed at that. ‘I don’t know about that. I just wish we didn’t have to deceive everyone this way. I never thought it would be so complicated. I was thinking only of Felipe when I came up with this plan and I never realised other people might get hurt by it. Like Markel. He’s a nice man. I like him.’

‘Markel is a good man.’

‘I’m truly sorry he’s going to be disappointed.’

‘You mean because of the marriage ending?’

‘Yes.’ She sighed. ‘But also because of all those fine sons you’re not going to have.’

He smiled. He was in too good a mood not to. Tomorrow he would ask Felipe for Simone’s hand in marriage. He didn’t expect the old man to be happy about it, but he’d come around, just as soon as he realised it would mean the Otxoa family fortunes finally shifting in the right direction.

And then, as soon as he’d secured his agreement, he’d tell Simone he was changing the terms. She might not like it—no, more like it, she would hate it—but by then it would be too late.

And she would be his, in every sense of the word.

‘What’s the rush?’ demanded Felipe at lunch the next day. ‘You barely know each other.’

The three of them were sitting outside, the table set under an ancient pergola creaking under the weight of overgrown vines, sunlight filtering through the dense forest of leaves while far below them the sunlight turned the sea sparkling. Alesander had come over ostensibly to do some