Mills & Boon Stars Collection: Passionate Bargains. Michelle Smart

cheeks flushed at the unexpected compliment.

      She hadn’t expected that.

      She became even more flustered when Vittore carefully refolded her plans along the seams she’d made and tucked them into his large carry-case. ‘Next time, you roll them.’

      ‘Sorry?’ She didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about.

      ‘Next time you create plans, roll them, don’t fold.’

      She bit into her bottom lip to stop the smile that fought to spread over her face. Vittore was a renowned architect with over twenty years’ experience and he was complimenting and advising her as if she were, if not an equal, then a promising student.

      So stunned was she that the rest of the conversation passed her by, right until the moment came for them to leave.

      While Raul and Vittore headed outside, she gave the place one last look, imagining how bright and fabulous it would be when the renovations and subsequent decoration were complete. Her heart swelled to think of the children’s faces when they saw it for the first time.

      The humidity outside hung heavy like a damp cloak and Charley was grateful to get back in the helicopter, where the air conditioning ran at full blast. She caught the tail end of the men’s conversation and Vittore saying he would bring a team over on Monday. He smiled encouragingly at Charley and added to Raul, ‘Your wife’s plans have made our job much easier.’

      ‘You are going to follow them?’

      ‘As much as we can. They make a lot of sense.’

      Raul’s gaze caught hers. ‘My wife has hidden talents.’

      His tone and expression were so inscrutable she didn’t know if he was being serious or mocking her.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      SOON THEY WERE back in Barcelona making the short drive to the villa. Saturdays in the city were always busy, especially in summer, and today was no exception, so, while traffic was calmer during the weekend, the number of pedestrians more than made up for it.

      The villa was empty when they got in; the household staff all took weekends off.

      During their marriage Charley had lived for the weekends. Sharing a home with staff was something she’d never got used to. One of many things she’d struggled with. Going from a tiny two-bedroom flat in a high-rise block of flats in south-east London to an eight-bedroom villa by the sea would have challenged anyone.

      She thought of Raul’s parents’ household with a shudder. They had live-in staff on call seven days a week.

      ‘Vittore was impressed with your plans,’ Raul commented as he headed into the kitchen and found the capsules to slot into the coffee machine.

      She managed a nod, still stunned at the praise she’d received from the architect.

      Other than entertain kids, she’d never done anything in her life that warranted praise before. It was a heady feeling to know she didn’t have to fail at everything she set her mind to.

      She thought back wistfully to the businesses she’d tried so hard at but for which she’d never been able to find the magic quality Raul possessed with all his businesses. She’d so badly wanted to make him proud and for him to see her as his equal, and all she’d done was mess it up, over and over again. The pressure had been too great to bear.

      ‘Where did you learn how to do it?’ he asked.

      ‘I did a search on the Internet on how to create plans. The estate agent did a scale floor plan so I worked from that.’

      He pulled two china cups out of the cupboard, placing one in the slot of the machine. ‘I’m sorry I dismissed your plans the other day.’

      Her heart jolted at this unexpected apology. She hadn’t thought the word sorry was in his vocabulary.

      ‘That’s okay,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I’m used to it.’

      He looked at her curiously. ‘What do you mean by that?’

      ‘You used to cross-examine me about everything to do with my businesses. I always knew you didn’t take my plans or ideas seriously.’

      ‘I took them seriously enough to give you a lot of money to pay for them.’

      She sighed. ‘But I always knew you were humouring me.’

      Raul punched the button on the machine at the same moment a swell of anger cut through him. ‘I was not humouring you. I wanted you to succeed and I believed you could. But, Charlotte, you left school without any qualifications. All I did was give you the benefit of my knowledge and experience. It was when you chose to ignore my advice that your businesses floundered.’

      It had been hard for him to watch her throw them all away, discarding them as if they were toys that had lost their sparkle after their first few uses. But he’d kept his patience, as hard as it had been. A part of him had admired her guts in dusting herself off and starting again.

      It wasn’t until he’d lost that tolerance and witnessed her immediate horrified refusal to have a child that he’d realised her businesses had failed because she’d treated them like toys. They’d been something for her to play with so she could put off the moment she confessed to not wanting his child that bit longer, enabling her to milk him and their lifestyle for all it was worth.

      He’d understood all this the night she’d left him and still he’d asked her to stay.

      What sickened him more than anything was knowing he would have taken her back, right up until the divorce papers had landed on his doorstep.

      He’d almost lost control of himself that day too, had taken his car for a drive, not knowing where he was going and somehow ending up in Valencia. Before he’d known it, he’d been at the street listed on the divorce papers.

      The fog had lifted and he’d slammed on his brakes before he could seek her house out, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin.

      He was certain the tyre marks at the entrance of her street had been made by him when he’d spun the Lotus round and screeched away.

      Thinking about how she’d played him sent another spike of fury through him. He tempered it by the skin of his teeth.

      ‘It was hard for me,’ she said quietly, leaning against the wall by the door and folding her arms across her chest. ‘I was desperate to impress you.’

      ‘What for? You were my wife. I wouldn’t have married you if I wasn’t already impressed by you.’

      ‘You were impressed with my body,’ she answered with a hard laugh.

      ‘It was more than that and you know it,’ he cut in. ‘I admired your spirit.’ Something which, he had to admit now he thought of it, had disappeared during the latter years of their marriage.

      How had he not noticed?

      Seeing that spirit return now, that zinging feistiness, sent the most peculiar feeling of déjà vu tearing through him.

      ‘I wanted you to be impressed with my mind and my abilities,’ she said, a rueful twinge to her voice. ‘But it was so much harder than I thought it would be. Call me naïve but I wanted to do things my own way, to prove I could do it, but I put so much pressure on myself that I crumbled. It didn’t help that I didn’t speak the language.’

      ‘You’ve mastered it well enough since we separated.’ He’d employed a tutor to help her with Spanish but after a few months she’d put a stop to the lessons, saying they were too hard. Like driving a car, she’d mastered Spanish after she’d left him and without his help. ‘I suppose reading Marta’s books helped.’

      ‘Not much. It was working