Claimed For The De Carrillo Twins. Эбби Грин

story—he had been all but abandoned by his own parents—had again chimed with echoes of her own. And because he’d agreed to help her fulfil her deepest ambitions—to go to university and get a degree, thereby putting her in a position to forge her own future, free of the stain of her ignominious past.

      Rio hadn’t revealed the full extent of his ambitions until shortly before the accident—and that was when she’d realised why he’d taken such perverse pleasure in marrying her. It had had far more to do with his long-held simmering resentment towards his older half-brother than any real desire to forge a sense of security for his sons, or to shake off his playboy moniker...

      The solicitor was speaking. ‘As you’ll see, it’s a relatively short document. There’s really no need to read through it all now. Suffice to say that Mr De Carrillo bequeathed everything to his sons, Mateo and Sancho, and he named you their legal guardian, Trinity.’

      She looked up. She’d known that Rio had named her guardian. Any concerns she’d had at the time, contemplating such a huge responsibility had been eclipsed by the overwhelmingly protective instinct she’d felt for the twins. And in all honesty the prospect of one day becoming their guardian hadn’t felt remotely possible.

      She realised that she hadn’t really considered what this meant for her own future now. It was something she’d been good at blocking out in the last three months, after the shock of the accident and Rio’s death, not to mention getting over her own injuries and caring for two highly precocious and energetic boys. It was as if she was afraid to let the enormity of it all sink in.

      The solicitor looked at Cruz for a moment, and then he looked back to Trinity with something distinctly uncomfortable in his expression. She tensed.

      ‘I’m not sure how aware you are of the state of Mr De Carrillo’s finances when he died?’

      Trinity immediately felt the scrutiny of the man to her left, as if his gaze was boring into her. His accusatory words came back to her: ‘You’ve single-handedly run through almost every cent my brother has to his name in a bid to satisfy your greedy nature. Now you’re realising Rio’s fortune isn’t a bottomless pit...’

      She felt breathless, as if a vice was squeezing her chest. Until the evening of Cruz’s party she hadn’t been aware of any such financial difficulty. She’d only been aware that Rio was growing more and more irrational and erratic. When she’d confronted him about his behaviour, they’d had a huge argument, in which the truth of exactly why he’d married her had been made very apparent. Along with his real agenda.

      That was why Trinity had wanted to talk to Cruz—to share her concerns. However, he’d comprehensively shut that down.

      She said carefully now, ‘I was aware that things weren’t...good. But I didn’t know that it was linked to his financial situation.’

      Mr. Drew looked grim. ‘Well, it most probably was. The truth is that Rio was bankrupt. In these last three months the sheer extent and scale of his financial collapse has become evident, and it’s comprehensive. I’m afraid that all he left behind him are debts. There is nothing to bequeath to his children. Or you.’

      Trinity hadn’t married Rio for his money, so this news didn’t have any great impact on her. What did impact her, though, was the realisation that Cruz must have been putting money into the account that she used for day-to-day necessities for her and the boys and Mrs Jordan—the nanny Rio had hired once Trinity had married him, when her job had changed and she’d been expected to accompany him to social functions. Something she’d never felt comfortable doing...

      The solicitor said, ‘I’m sorry to deliver this news, Mrs De Carrillo, but even the house will have to be sold to cover his debts.’

      Before she could absorb that, Cruz was standing up and saying, in a coolly authoritative tone, ‘If you could leave us now, Mr. Drew, I’ll go over the rest with my sister-in-law.’

      The solicitor clearly had no issue with being summarily dismissed from his own office. He gathered some papers and left, shutting the door softly behind him.

      Trinity’s mind was reeling, as she tried to take everything in, and revolving with a sickening sense of growing panic as to how she was going to manage caring for the boys when she didn’t have a job. How could she afford to keep Mrs Jordan on?

      Cruz walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the large desk, showcasing an impressive view of London’s skyline.

      For a long moment he said nothing, and she could only look helplessly at his broad shoulders and back. Then he turned around and a sense of déjà-vu nearly knocked her off her chair. It was so reminiscent of when she’d first met him—when she’d gone to his house in Holland Park for an interview, applying for the position of maid in his household.

      She’d never met such an intimidating man in her life. Nor such a blatantly masculine man. Based on his reputation as one of the world’s wealthiest bankers, she had assumed him to be older, somewhat soft... But he’d been young. And gorgeous. His tall, powerful body had looked as if it was hewn from pure granite and steel. His eyes had been disconcertingly unreadable...

      ‘Miss Adams...did you hear my question?’

      She was back in time, caught in the glare of those mesmerising eyes, his brows drawn into a frown of impatience. His Spanish accent had been barely noticeable, just the slightest intriguing inflection. She’d felt light-headed, even though she was sitting down.

      ‘I’m sorry...what?’

      Those eyes had flashed with irritation. ‘I asked how old you are?’

      She’d swallowed. ‘I’m twenty-two. Since last week.’

      Then she’d felt silly for mentioning that detail—as if one of the richest men in the world cared when her birthday was! Not that she even knew when her birthday was for sure...

      But she’d survived four rounds of intense interviews to be there to meet the man himself—evidence of how he oversaw every tiny detail of his life—so Trinity had gathered her fraying wits, drawn her shoulders back and reminded herself that she had hopes and dreams, and that if she got this job she’d be well on her way to achieving a life for herself...

      ‘I have to hand it to you—you’re as good an actress as you were three months ago when you first feigned ignorance of Rio’s financial situation. But you must have known what was coming down the tracks. After all, you helped divest my brother of a small fortune.’

      The past and present meshed for a moment, and then Trinity realised what Cruz had just said.

      She clasped her hands tight together on her lap. ‘But I didn’t know.’

      ‘Did the accident affect your memory, Trinity?’ His voice held more than a note of disdain. ‘Do you not recall that illuminating conversation we had before you left my house on that fateful night?’

      She flushed, remembering it all too well. ‘I don’t have any memory of the accident, but, yes, I do recall what you said to me. You’re referring to your accusation that I was responsible for Rio’s financial problems.’

      Cruz’s mouth compressed. ‘I think ruin would be a more accurate word.’

      Trinity stood up, too agitated to stay seated. ‘You’re wrong. It’s true that Rio spent money on me, yes, but it was for the purposes of—’

      Cruz held up a hand, a distinct sneer on his face now. ‘Spare me the details. I looked into Rio’s accounts after he died. I know all about the personal stylist, the VIP seats to every fashion show, the haute couture dresses, private jet travel, the best hotels in the world... The list is endless. I curse the day that I hired you to work for me—because, believe me, I blame myself as much as you for ruining my brother.’

      At that damning pronouncement Trinity felt something deep inside her shrivel up to protect itself. She had not been prepared for Cruz’s vitriolic attack.

      But then, this was the man who had wiped her