The Holiday Escapes Collection. Sandra Marton

never once took advantage of you. I kept to our agreement and released you from our bargain after six months, and you left. With all the money I promised you,” he said. “You keep forgetting the money I gave you.”

      She clenched her teeth. “Because I didn’t spend it.” She hadn’t been able to. Leaving him, or more to the point, his family and the city that had started to feel like home, had felt too awful. And she’d felt, for the first time, every inch the dishonorable person she was. “If you want your ten thousand dollars, it’s in a bank account. And frankly, it’s pennies as far as I’m concerned at this point.”

      “Oh, yes, you are very successful now, aren’t you?”

      She didn’t feel it at the moment. “Yes. I am.”

      Eduardo advanced toward her. “You are good with finances, investments.”

      “Financial planning, strategies, picking stocks. You name it, I’m good at it.”

      “That’s what I want from you.”

      “What? Financial advice?”

      “Not exactly.” He looked out the window, his expression inscrutable. “My father died two years ago.”

      An image of the hard, formidable, amazing man that Eduardo had been blessed enough to call his father swam before her eyes. Miguel Vega had been demanding. A taskmaster. A leader. He had cared. About his business, about his children. About his oldest son, who wasn’t taking life seriously enough. Cared enough to back him into a corner and force him to marry. It was a heavy-handed version of caring, but it was more than Hannah had ever gotten from her own father.

      Eventually, that man, his wife, Eduardo’s sister, had come to mean something to her. She’d loved them.

      “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice muted now, a strange kind of grief filling her heart. Not that Miguel would have missed or cared about her. And she didn’t deserve it. She’d lied to him. And as far as he was concerned, she’d left his son.

      “As am I,” Eduardo said. “But he left me in charge of Vega Communications.”

      “And things aren’t going well?”

      “Not exactly.” A muscle in his jaw ticked. “No, not exactly.”

      “Do you need me to look at your books? Because I can do that after I marry Zack.”

      He shook his head, his dark eyes blazing. “That can’t happen, tesoro.”

      “But it can,” she said, desperation filling her again. It was past bridal-march time. She could just picture the hotel, all decked out in pink ribbon and tulle. Her beautiful pink wedding cake. It was her dream wedding, the dream she’d had since she was a little girl. Not some traditional wedding in a cathedral, conducted entirely in Latin. A wedding that was a show for the groom’s family. A wedding that had nothing to do with her.

      It was a wedding with a groom who didn’t love her, but at least liked her. A groom who didn’t find the idea of taking vows with her to be a joke. He at least wanted her around. Being wanted on a personal level was new for her. She liked the way it felt.

      “Sorry, Hannah. I need you to come back to Spain with me.” He looked out the window. “It’s time I brought my wife back home.”

      “No is the same in both of our languages, so there should be nothing lost in translation when I say no.” Hannah took a step back; her calf connected with the soft edge of the mattress, her dress rustling with the motion.

      “Sorry, but this isn’t a negotiation. Either you come with me now, or I march you down the aisle at the hotel myself, and you can explain, in front of your guests, and your groom, exactly why you can’t marry him today. How you were about to involve him in an illegal marriage.”

      “Not on purpose! I would never have done this to him if I would have known.”

      “Once the extent of your past history is revealed, he may not believe you. Or, even if he did, he may not want you.” His lips curved up into a smile, his eyes absent of any humor. And that was when she had the very stark, frightening impression that she was looking at a stranger.

      He was nothing like the Eduardo she’d once known. She didn’t know how she’d missed it. How it hadn’t been obvious from the moment she’d seen his eyes in the rearview mirror. Yes, he had the same perfectly curved lips, the same sharply angled jaw. The same bullheaded stubbornness. But he no longer had that carefree air he’d always conducted himself with. There were lines by his eyes, bracketing his mouth. A mouth that looked like it had forgotten how to smile.

      Maybe the death of his father had taken a serious toll on him. But she didn’t care. She couldn’t afford to care. She had to look out for herself, just as she’d been doing all of her life. No one else would. No one else ever had.

      “Bastard,” she spat.

      “You’re getting repetitive,” he said dryly.

      “So what? You expect me to come back to Spain and just…be your wife?”

      “Not exactly. I expect you to come back and continue to act as my wife in name only while you help me fix the issues I’m having with Vega Communications.”

      “Why?”

      “Because I don’t need anyone to know there are issues. Not my competitors, I don’t need them smelling blood in the water. Not my mother, she has no need to worry. My sister…I don’t want to worry her, either. No one can know.” There was an edge to his voice, evidence of fraying control. She could work with that. She could definitely work with that.

      The pieces started falling into place in her mind. “So you think it can look like a reconciliation five years in the making. Your wife is suddenly back in Barcelona and hanging on your arm. Rather than letting anyone in on the fact that you needed to bring in outside consultation to help straighten up your finances?”

      “That’s the sum of it,” he ground out.

      It made sense now. All fine and good for him to sweep in like a marauder and demand her cooperation. But all that sweeping was hiding very real problems.

      And those problems meant she had a lot more power than she’d thought she’d possessed thirty seconds earlier.

      Her lips curved into a smile, the heated adrenaline she always felt when presented with a battle spreading through her chest, her limbs. “You need me. Say it.”

      “Hannah…”

      “No. If I’m going to even consider doing this, you admit it. To me, and to yourself. You never would back then, but now…now I’m not a scared college student trying to hold on to my position at school.” She met his eyes without flinching. “Admit that you need me.”

      “You were never a scared college student,” he bit out. “You were an angry one. Angry you’d been caught out and desperate to do anything to keep it secret.”

      “Well, now you’re sounding a little desperate.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and cocked her hip to the side. “So, at least say please.”

      His lip curled into a sneer, a muscle in his jaw ticking. He was weighing his options. “Please.”

      She tilted her chin up and smiled, the sort of smile she knew would make his blood boil. “Good boy.”

      The feral light in his eyes let her know that she’d just about gone too far. She didn’t care. He couldn’t screw up her day any more than he already had.

      He didn’t move for a beat. She could see him, calculating, making decisions. For a moment she thought he might reach out and grab her. Take her in his arms and…strike her? Certainly not. No matter what Eduardo was, he wasn’t a monster. Kiss her?

      That he might do. The thought made her stomach tighten, made her heart beat faster.

      She saw him visibly relax. “A