His words were swirling through her brain, filling her with relief and happiness. He was staring at her, silently begging her to respond. And so she nodded. Her words were thick with emotion. “I know.”
“You know?” His eyes scanned her face; hope sprung through him. “What does that mean?”
She twirled the ring around her finger; it was a perfect fit. “It means that I love you.” She bit down on her lip, but the smile was breaking through. “It means that I want to be with you. It means that I need you. As a lover, and as a friend.”
“And one day a husband.”
Her smile was radiant. “One day.”
“And every day until then and after will feel just as magical as this day, because all that matters is that I have you with me.”
She nodded slowly. It was all so perfect but already the practicalities of making it work were sinking in. “I need to be in Rome …”
“And I will be here with you. I can travel and work from anywhere. You are my priority, Saphire. You. You beautiful, wild, wonderful, sexy, funny woman. I love you.”
“You don’t know how good it feels to hear you say that …”
“I love you,” he said simply and she knew, without an inkling of doubt, that he was telling the absolute truth. Their love wasn’t a matter of perspective, nor was it a question of opinion. It was a fact. It was a truth. And it was for keeps.
Epilogue
Two years later.
“You look nervous,” Thaddeus observed as he glided the boat effortlessly toward its pontoon.
Saphire’s eyes were lodged on the mansion in the distance. It glowed in the dusk light; inviting, yet so full of memories.
She nodded jerkily. Her smile was hesitant. “We haven’t been here since … last time I left I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Did you really think that?” He stalled the engine and threw the rope around the moor head. It latched first time. His arms were strong and capable as he pulled on it hard to bring the boat in tight against the dock.
She shrugged. “I did. Then.”
“You were wrong and I’m glad.” He put a hand out to help her onto the deck and them jumped athletically up behind her. She stood, staring contemplatively at the house.
“You wanted to come here,” he reminded her.
“I do. I know. I love this place.” She smiled at him, but there was worry in her eyes.
He put an arm around her. His eyes followed her gaze then he squeezed her shoulder tight, comfortingly. “I no longer remember the pain.”
She blinked up at him. “With me, you mean?”
His smile was grim. “Any of it. What part does pain play in my life now I have you?”
A frown tugged at her lips. “History isn’t something you should forget.”
“I haven’t forgotten it,” he promised thickly. “I learned from it.” He kissed her hair; a breeze passed and lifted it, carrying the scent of her into the island. It seemed to sigh with profound relief. She was back, and everything was right in the world once more.
“You did, huh?” She teased, loving his arrogance for all that it at times infuriated her.
“I was too proud to make my peace with Aristotle.” It was a serious contemplation. His eyes were deep with the memories of his grandfather, as he regarded the iconic family home. “I was angry and childish, and I never bothered to try to fathom the reasons behind his decisions.”
“You don’t know his reasons,” she pointed out. “Only that he cut your father off for falling in love.”
“Yes.” Thaddeus shrugged. “And if my father felt for my mother what I feel for you then I see what a useless gesture Aristotle’s was.”
Saphire’s heart turned over.
“I would lose my fortune and my birthright a thousand times over to have you, Saphire. I would sacrifice anything for you.”
She stood on the tips of her toes to brush a kiss against his cheek. Her voice was hoarse with emotion. “That’s not a choice you have to make.”
“No. But my father did. And he made the right choice. The only choice he could have made.” He shook his head, as if to clear the thoughts. “But I should not have let it estrange me from Aristotle. I wish … and it is entirely futile to have such a foolish desire … but if I could have that time again, I would handle it differently.”
She put her head on his chest and listened to the strong beating of his good, kind heart.
“In this way, I have changed,” he said decisively. “I loved you, Saphire, and I almost let pride ruin it. I cannot believe that I came so close to letting you go.”
“You didn’t,” she reminded him, almost hating to think back to a time when their future had not yet been assured.
“No. When Rocco called to tell me that he’d seen you … I felt like I’d been given a thousand gifts.”
A shiver danced down her spine. “Can you imagine what would have happened if he hadn't been at that party?”
“I do imagine it,” Thaddeus promised, self-anger evident in his tone. “Or if you hadn’t taken that job, or if your boss had not been ill and you had not therefore been so visible at the event.” He kissed her head again, lingering now against her fine, soft hair. “And I curse my stupidity for leaving the most important decision of my life up to fate.”
Saphire wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. “I don’t know,” she said simply. “I don’t think it was fate.”
“No?”
“You came to Rome. You told me you loved me. You made sure I understood just how much you love me. That’s not fate. That’s just … meant to be.”
“Meant to be,” he agreed, dropping his hand and linking his fingers through hers. “Yes. That is most certainly true. From the moment I saw you walk onto the plane in London, something flicked inside of me.”
“Even then?” She laughed unsteadily. “I was a mess.”
“You were perfect,” he contradicted.
“Imagine if I hadn’t found them in bed together.” Now a shiver of revulsion slid along her body. “I could still be married to him, living my life in a half-sleeping state.”
“I would have found you,” he said simply. “Somehow, some way, somewhere, we would have met.”
She laughed softly. “You know, for a billionaire tycoon, you have an incredibly soft side.”
His nod was grave. “Only for you.”
She smiled. “I know.”
“And Anita? Is she still trying to befriend you?”
Saphire nodded, but her features were composed. “I feel sorry for her, but I can’t see us becoming what we were ever again.”
“I imagine you’d have trust issues,” he drawled. “As would she, given that Jordan did the exact same thing to her as he did to you.”
“Obviously it’s just in his nature.” She shook her head. “It’s a shame, because there is enough in him to lead me to believe that he could be a really great guy. If he could just keep it in his pants.”
Thaddeus laughed. “His loss, in this instance, will forever be my gain. I owe him a debt of enormous gratitude for the fact that he was such an idiot he let you go.”
She lifted her gaze to his handsome face. “As do I.”
“Well, Mrs Konstanides? Shall we?”
The last lingering doubt rolled out to sea with the gently swelling waves. She flashed him a bright smile and then took a step towards the house. The first step towards the rest of their lives.
“Well, it is our honeymoon,” she murmured and she was so focused on the house in their path that she didn’t see the way her new husband’s face glowed with the kind of happiness that could never be expressed in words. It was a happiness that could simply be lived; and they intended to live it every day for the rest of their lives.
Seducing the Spaniard
1
Six years ago.
Even though he was technically her step-brother, there was no escaping it. Gael Vivas was, without a shred of doubt, the epitome of roguish charm
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Carrie studied him surreptitiously from beneath her thick brown fringe. He’d just arrived from Spain that morning. She knew, because she’d heard her mother Alexandra giving instructions to the housekeeper to prepare a guest bedroom. To prepare it especially well for this important visitor. After all, Gael never visited. And he was certainly important. And special.
Apart from the odd social mixer, Carrie was woefully inexperienced with boys. The prestigious girls’ college she’d been accepted into on a full academic scholarship was hardly fertile ground for learning about matters of the heart. What she knew she’d gleaned from magazines, movies and courtesy of her friend Juanita, who’d had no problems attracting the attention of any boy she deemed worthy of her time.
But none of Juanita’s crushes were like Gael.
Her step-father’s son wasn’t a silly, childish boy. He was a man. With twenty-nine years of life experience, and the body of a brave, fearless warrior.
The English summer was getting on with a bang. It was early August and the sun was shining, the breeze was slight. Gael had dressed accordingly, in a pair of low-slung jeans and a black shirt.
Carrie’s breath caught in her throat as he lifted his hands in the air, stretching his muscular arms after the flight to London, and the drive out to the country estate. The action caused his cotton shirt to rise a little, exposing a perfectly tanned expanse of muscled chest. Ripples of defined abdominals were visible and Carrie experienced the first rush of desire, deep in her abdomen. She wrapped her arms around her chest, but she could not look away.
His expression was nuanced. She tried to understand the emotions that flitted across his face as he scanned the elegant country mansion. Alexandra had won it in the divorce from Carrie’s father - Alexandra’s first husband. There’d been two more since then, and now there was Husband Number Four, Diego Vivas.
Did Gael like the house? Carrie hoped he did, though she couldn’t have said why it mattered so much to her. After all, he had chosen to remain distant from them; and on some level, despite her inexperience in adult matters, she suspected it had to do with a disapproval of Alexandra and Diego’s hasty marriage.
Yes, it was definitely disapproval, she thought, watching his lips twist into a grim line as he continued his slow inspection of the property. Forrest View was a stately country home, built in the early renaissance but improved on greatly in the nineteenth century. For her part, Carrie adored it. In a childhood ruptured by divorce, death and instability, Forest View had been a rock. A place of steadfast support and reliable comfort.
She adored coming back in the holidays, though Alexandra had made that difficult since marrying Diego.
For the briefest moment, Carrie’s own expression reflected the same disapproval she saw in Gael’s. But she smothered it quickly.
She loved her mother.
Alexandra was all she had. No father. No grandparents. Friends who seemed to move at a different pace to her; friends she was convinced she would lose contact with quickly enough, now that school had finished. University loomed, and with it, uncertain futures. Beyond Alexandra and Forrest View, Carrie had no idea what life had in store for her.
“Is she here?” On the one other occasion she’d met Gael, his voice had sent shivers down her spine. The spicy timbre of his tone and the gentle husk of his mysterious accent were unlike anything she’d ever known in real life. Coupled with the glint in his almost-black eyes, and the permanently sardonic expression on his strong-featured face, he was surely the most desirable man ever created.
Her heart gave a corresponding tremor as, for a brief moment, she imagined he was inquiring after her. What would it be like to have this man at your beck and call? To have this man care about you, and ask after you? She bit down on her full lower lip, wishing beyond measure that he would look at her as he had the supermodel he’d brought to the wedding.
She leaned against the building, taking comfort from the ancient stone wall. He walked with an economy of movement that was innate to him; a stealthy, powerful gait that spoke of a contained strength ready to be unleashed. He crossed the courtyard and the white gravel crunched beneath his custom-made leather shoes.
She watched him disappear from sight and flipped backwards, pressing her spine against the building while she waited for her breathing to return to its usual speed.
Her skin deepened to a rosy hue as she contemplated going inside to see him. But what would she say? Would he even remember her? Mortification at the possibility that he might not sent a jangle of anxiety running along her spine. They’d danced together at the wedding, the year before. It had been a month to the day after her sixteenth birthday, and she’d then considered herself quite the adult. After all, wasn’t that the threshold of womanhood?
Her cheeks flamed as she remembered the way his hard body had felt against her own soft, generous flesh. His hands had held her lightly, impersonally, and her heart had pounded in her chest. She’d barely been able to speak, for the way his touch had sent her nerves rioting.
And now?
She’d find out soon enough.
She moved up the stairs slowly, trying to conceal the way her legs were unsteady beneath her. She’d changed into a flowing dress when she’d overheard Alexandra’s stern instructions to the housekeeper. It was a beautiful dress, though it did little to conceal her over-full waist and rounded bottom. She had always wanted to be reed-thin like her mother, but it was not her natural shape. And, as Alexandra was fond of pointing out, never would be if Carrie continued to indulge her penchant for creamy pastas and sitting around studying. So what if achieving her excellent academic results had required hours of sedentary desk-time? Alexandra had never taken much pride in Carrie’s scholastic achievements. She’d wished, frequently and obviously, for a daughter who followed after her, in terms of looks.
And that was certainly not Carrie.
Her lips twisted wistfully as she walked purposefully past a photograph of her mother, taken at the height of her modelling fame. She had been one of the top-paid supermodels of the eighties; renowned for her slender, fragile beauty and enormous pale blue eyes. Now, in her early fifties, Alexandra was no less beautiful, and no less vain.
“Carrie.”
She froze in her tracks, halfway down the stately corridor. So he did remember her, at least. She turned, trying to affect an expression of nonchalance on her heart-shaped face.
“Gael,” she responded, cursing inwardly at the slight tremor in her breathy voice. She forced a smile to her face, as she looked up into his stormy dark eyes. “Welcome to Forrest View.”
He nodded, though it was obvious that he was making an effort to relax his stern expression. “Thank you. I’m only here briefly. Where is my father?”
Carrie couldn’t help the sympathetic grimace. “He spends most of his time in bed.”
“I see. And your mother?” Carrie knew she wasn’t imagining the slight curl of disdain that coloured his words.
She regarded him sharply, confusion making her eyes linger a little on his face. “She’ll be back soon. She had some business in town.”
“I see.” His lips were just a line in his face. “Do you know which room I’m to use?”
“Of course,” she nodded nervously. “I suspect you’re tired after your journey.”
His face relaxed completely, and he actually smiled at her properly now. “Not especially. I am hungry, though.”
“Hungry? Why don’t you … I mean … why don’t you come to the kitchen and I’ll fix you a sandwich.”
He grinned and shrugged. “Sure.” He fell into step beside her, and matched his stride to her shorter one. “My father tells me you have done extremely well at school.”
Her heart turned over at the idea of Gael expressing an interest in her. Even in something as benign as her academic achievements. She nodded modestly. “I was lucky with my final exams.”
He shot her a droll look of amusement. “I doubt luck had anything to do with it.”
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Her smile was genuine. “Of course it plays a part. The questions catered well to my knowledge.”
“Knowledge you obtained by studying long and hard.”
She dipped her head forward in a silent concession. Her brown hair fell like a curtain.
“What do you intend to study at university?”
“I’ve been accepted into English at Oxford, and Economics at Cambridge.”
“Economics and English? Two vastly different courses. Which is your preference?”
She shrugged. “I like the idea of both. I just want to learn. I can’t wait to get to university.” Her smile was overflowing with enthusiasm. “I can’t imagine what it will be like to be surrounded by people who are smart and motivated and totally wrapped up in academia.”
He walked quietly beside her, his brain ticking over. “But surely of the two you have an area that interests you most?”
Carrie bit down on her lip. “I don’t know. I mean, I love both. And for different reasons. I’m going to tour the campuses and then make my choice.” She slowed her pace and tilted her face to look at him. “What do you recommend?”
“Me?” Gael was not comfortable advising her. He scanned her face thoughtfully, unsure exactly what it was about this young English woman that made him uneasy. “I couldn’t say.”
“But you studied economics, didn’t you?” She pushed.
He let out a slow sigh. “I did.”
“And are you glad?”
“Am I glad?” His brow furrowed. “It serves me well. But I did not attend university for enjoyment; I studied as a means to an end.”
“Right. To run your father’s company.”
His laugh was a humourless tone in the cavernous hallway. “No. To avoid running my father’s company.”
It fascinated her. She knew that he’d taken over as chairman of Vivas Industries straight out of college, and that it was still one of the companies that was controlled under the umbrella of his own corporation. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand?” She prompted, her interest undisguised.