The Holiday Escapes Collection. Sandra Marton

the guilt ate away at him, and he told my mother the truth. He wanted to know if she could forgive him. She cried and wailed and screamed. She told him to get out and he went to Angela—the baby was almost due. He assumed my mother would tell her family, that she would turn to them. Except she did not. When she had the car accident and died my father returned and soon realised no one knew he had another son. Instead they welcomed him back into the company.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Soon they will find out the truth.’

      ‘Angela said that you blamed yourself for your mother’s death?’

      ‘That is all you need to know.’ He looked over to her. ‘Your turn.’

      ‘I don’t know what to tell you.’

      ‘Why you lied?’

      ‘I didn’t lie.’

      ‘The same way my father didn’t lie when he didn’t tell me had another son? The same way Angela didn’t lie when she failed to tell mention her son, Luka, was my brother?’ He did not want to think about that. ‘Okay, if you didn’t outright lie, you did deceive.’

      He watched her swallow, watched as her face jerked away to look out to the ocean.

      ‘I wanted an experienced woman.’

      ‘Sorry I don’t know enough tricks—’

      ‘I wasn’t talking about sex!’ Raúl hurled. ‘I wanted a woman who could handle things. Who could keep to a deal. Who wasn’t going to fall in love…’

      ‘Again you assume!’ Estelle flared. ‘Why would I fall in love with some cold bastard who thinks only in money—who has no desire for true affection? A man who tells me what to wear and whether or not I can tan.’

      Her eyes flashed as she let out some of the anger she had suppressed over the past few days while every decision apart from her wedding dress had been made by him.

      ‘Raúl, I would not have a man choose my clothes or dictate to the hairdresser the style of my hair, or the beautician the colour of my nails. You’re getting what you paid for—what you wanted—what you demanded. Consider my virginity a bonus!’

      She dug her heels deep into the sand and almost believed her own words. Tried to ignore that last night, as she’d been falling asleep in his arms, foolish thoughts had invaded. Raúl’s doubts about her ability to see this through perhaps had merit, for he would be terribly easy to love…

      She turned around and faced him.

      ‘I’m here for the money, Raúl.’ And not for a single second more would she allow herself to forget it. ‘I’m here with you for the same reason I was with Gordon.’

      He could not stand the thought of her in bed with him—could not bear to think about it. But when he did, Raúl frowned.

      ‘If you were with Gordon for money, how come you were trying to change the sheets before the maid got in.’

      ‘I was never with Gordon in that way. I just stood in for Ginny.’

      ‘You shared his bed,’ Raúl said. ‘And we all know his reputation…’

      ‘Unlike you, Gordon didn’t feel comfortable going to a wedding alone,’ Estelle said carefully.

      ‘So he paid you to look like his tart?’ Raúl checked. ‘What about Dario’s…?’ His voice trailed off and he frowned as he realised the lengths Gordon had gone to, then frowned a little more as realisation hit. ‘Is Gordon…?’ He didn’t finish the question—knew it was none of his business. ‘You needed the money to help out your brother?’

      She conceded with a nod.

      ‘Estelle, it is not for me to question your reasons—’

      ‘Then don’t.’

      Her warning did not stop him.

      ‘Andrew would not want it.’

      ‘Which is why he will never find out.’

      ‘I know that if I had a sister I would not want her—’

      ‘Don’t compare yourself to my brother. You don’t even have a sister, and the brother you do have you don’t want to know.’

      ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

      ‘We’re two very different people, Raúl. If I discovered that I had a brother or sister somewhere I’d be doing everything I could to find out about them, to meet them—not plotting to bring them down.’

      ‘I’m not plotting anything. I just don’t want him taking what is rightfully mine. Neither do I want to end up working alongside him.’

      She looked at the seductive eyes that invited you only to bed, at the mouth that kissed so easily but insisted you did not get close.

      ‘You miss out on so much, Raúl.’

      ‘I miss out on nothing,’ Raúl said. ‘I have everything I want.’

      ‘You have everything money can buy,’ Estelle said, remembering the reason she was here. ‘Including me.’

      When he kissed her it tasted of nothing. It tasted empty. It was a pale comparison to the kiss he had been the recipient of last night. And when he took her top off he knew she was faking it, knew she was thinking of the boat and of people watching, knew she was trying not to cry.

      ‘Not here,’ Raúl said for her.

      ‘Please, Raúl…’

      Her mouth sought his. She was still playing the part, too inexperienced to understand that he knew her body lied.

      He wanted it back, the intimacy of last night, which meant taking care of her.

      For now.

      Surely for a couple of days he could take care of her. They could just enjoy each other and break her in properly. The last thing he wanted was her tense and teary, feeling exposed.

      He had glimpsed her toughness, admired the lengths she would go to for her family, and he believed her now—she did not want his love

      ‘Later.’ Raúl pulled his head back from her mouth. ‘I’m starving.’

      He helped her with her bikini, used his chest as a shield as he did up the clasp, just in case any passing fish were having a peek, or telescopes were trained on them. But rather than making him feel irritated, her coyness now made him smile.

      Especially when he thought of her unleashed.

      ‘Come on,’ Raúl said, despite the ache in his groin. ‘Let’s head back.’

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      ‘WE WILL GO and shower and get dressed for dinner,’ Raúl said as they boarded and Alberto took the jet ski. ‘Do you want me to ask Rita to come down and do your hair?’

      ‘Rita?’

      ‘She is a masseuse and a beautician. If you want her to come and help just ask Alberto,’ Raúl said, heading off to the stateroom.

      Estelle called him back. She could smell the food and was honestly starving. ‘Why do we have to get dressed for dinner?’ Estelle did not notice the twitch of his lips, though Alberto did. ‘It’s only us.’

      ‘On a yacht such as this one, when the chef…’ Raúl began. But he was torn, because etiquette often had no place on board and it seemed petty to put her right. ‘Very well.’ He turned to Alberto, who was already on to it.

      ‘I’ll let the chef know.’

      They rinsed off under the shower on deck and then took their seats.

      Raúl was rather more used to a well-made-up blonde in a revealing dress sitting