Public Marriage, Private Secrets - By Helen Bianchin Page 0,4
and she became conscious of the pulse at the base of her throat kicking into a quickened thud.
Every cell in her body seemed to blaze into life, and she hated that he knew.
‘Tell me, dammit.’
His eyes darkened measurably. ‘A few weeks ago Teresa was diagnosed with inoperable cancer.’
For a few seemingly long seconds she was lost for words. ‘Teresa made no mention of illness in any of her letters,’ she managed at last—for affection, trust and mutual respect had developed into a genuinely warm friendship between both women. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Yes, I believe you are.’ His eyes held her own, and she almost swayed at the intensity of his gaze. ‘Enough,’ he continued quietly, ‘to fulfil one of her dearest wishes?’
She schooled her voice to remain calm in spite of the premonition that she wasn’t going to like what he intended to say. ‘If it’s possible,’ she managed with instinctive caution.
‘Teresa has requested the pleasure of your company.’
Gianna froze, the colour leaching from her cheeks, revealing starkly pale features as she contrived to control the onset of nerves threatening to play havoc with her emotions.
‘In Madrid?’ An unnecessary query, when she already knew the answer before he could confirm it.
‘Initially.’
CHAPTER TWO
MADRID.
The city where Raúl resided and ruled his late father’s multibillion-dollar consortium.
A silent scream rose and died in her throat at the mere thought of seeing him, pretending politeness whenever he visited to spend time with Teresa.
As he would…often.
She couldn’t do it.
Amend that… She didn’t want to be anywhere near Raúl. She especially didn’t want to be placed in a position over which she had little control.
‘You can’t be serious?
His eyes held hers, compellingly intent. ‘Very serious.’
A host of conflicting thoughts swirled through her brain.
If she agreed…
Are you insane?
She had a business to run. She couldn’t just pick up and leave at a moment’s notice.
‘A few weeks of your time, Gianna,’ Raúl pursued, his voice dangerously soft. ‘Is that too much to ask?’
Her first instinct was to offer a resounding yes…even as her head reeled at the mechanics involved.
She’d need to appoint Annaliese as interim manager, employ another staff member, organise stock, orders…
A silent groan rose and died in her throat.
Oh, hell, why was she giving it consideration? The whole thing was impossible.
Raúl caught a glimpse of each fleeting emotion on her expressive features and was able to divine every one of them.
‘Teresa looks upon you as her daughter,’ he offered quietly. ‘Irrespective of our estrangement. There are a few special items…heirlooms…she wants to gift to you in person.’
No. The negation rose and died in her throat.
Please don’t do this to me.
‘I couldn’t possibly accept them.’
‘Why not?’
‘They should belong to you,’ she said quickly. Too quickly. The words tumbled without thought. ‘Your family. Your wife.’
Oh, God, what had she said?
With a sense of horrified dismay she saw one eyebrow slant with a hint of humour. ‘You are my wife,’ Raúl reminded her silkily. ‘Or had you forgotten we’re still legally married?’
Forgotten? How could she forget, when never a day went past when his image didn’t come to mind? Or night…when he managed to invade her dreams.
‘You can’t expect me to agree,’ she managed at last.
‘There is a valid reason why you can’t?’
Several, she longed to fling, truly torn as she mentally weighed her loyalty to a genuinely kind woman who had gifted unconditional support at a time when she’d needed it most.
To give in would mean revisiting painful memories, not the least of which took the form of the indomitable man who now stood before her.
A man whose physical impact affected every nerve in her body, heightening tension to an electrifying degree.
Three years, she agonised silently, and nothing had changed.
‘There’s a lover you’re reluctant to leave?’
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his assumption. As if. Any man she’d encountered after Raúl didn’t come close, for there was no spark, no quickening of her pulse…nothing.
Yet how many lovers had he taken since she’d walked out on their marriage? Sierra Montefiore…had she quickly resumed her former place as one of them?
The mere thought sent a shaft of pain arrowing through her body.
‘Yes,’ she revealed with unaccustomed flippancy, knowing it to be false…unless Jazz, the black-and-white moggy she’d adopted from an animal rescue centre, counted. Male, he curled up on her bed every night, his warm, furry feline body a welcome comfort.
Raúl’s eyes darkened, then narrowed a little so fleetingly she almost missed it.
‘I’m sure he can exist without you for a few weeks,’ he drawled with dispassionate coolness.
Gianna pretended