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Claimed For The De Carrillo Twins - Эбби Грин - Читать любовный роман онлайн в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
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Грин Эбби
Claimed For The De Carrillo Twins
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Three months later. Solicitor’s office.
TRINITY’S HEART STOPPED and her mouth dried. ‘Mr De Carrillo is joining us?’
The solicitor glanced at her distractedly, looking for a paper on his overcrowded desktop. ‘Yes—he is the executor of his brother’s will, and we are in his building,’ he pointed out redundantly.
She’d been acutely aware that she was in the impressive De Carrillo building in London’s bustling financial zone, but it hadn’t actually occurred to her that Cruz himself would be here.
To her shame, her first instinct was to check her appearance—which of course she couldn’t do, but she was glad of the choice of clothing she’d made: dark loose trousers and a grey silk shirt. She’d tied her long hair back in a braid, as much out of habit when dealing with small energetic boys than for any other reason. She hadn’t put on any make-up and regretted that now, fearing she must look about eighteen.
Just then there was a light knock on the door and it opened. She heard Mr Drew’s assistant saying in a suspiciously breathless and awestruck voice, ‘Mr De Carrillo, sir.’
The solicitor stood up, immediately obsequious, greeting Cruz De Carrillo effusively and leading him to a seat beside Trinity’s on the other side of his desk.
Every nerve came to immediate and tingling life. The tiny hairs on her arms stood up, quivering. She lamented her uncontrollable reaction—would she ever not react to him?
She sensed him come to stand near her, tall and effortlessly intimidating. Childishly, she wanted to avoid looking at him. His scent was a tantalising mix of musk and something earthy and masculine. It was his scent now that sent her hurtling back to that cataclysmic evening in his house three months ago, when she’d realised just how badly Rio had betrayed her.
The shock of knowing that Rio obviously hadn’t told him the truth about their marriage was still palpable, even now. And the fact that Cruz had so readily believed the worst of her hurt far worse than it should.
It had hurt almost as much as when he’d looked at her with dawning horror and self-disgust after kissing her to within an inch of her life. It was an experience still seared onto her brain, so deeply embedded inside her that she sometimes woke from X-rated dreams, tangled amongst her sheets and sweating. Almost two years later it was beyond humiliating.
Trinity dragged her mind away from that disturbing labyrinth of memories. She had more important things to deal with now. Because three months ago, while she and Rio had been driving home from Cruz’s house, they’d been involved in a car crash and Rio had tragically died.
Since that day she’d become lone step-parent to Mateo and Sancho, Rio’s two-and-a-half-year-old twins. Miraculously, she’d escaped from the accident with only cuts and bruises and a badly sprained ankle. She had no memory of the actual accident—only recalled waking in the hospital feeling battered all over and learning of her husband’s death from a grim and ashen-faced Cruz.
Gathering her composure, she stood up to face him, steeling herself against his effect. Which was useless. As soon as she looked at him it was like a blow to her solar plexus.
She’d seen him since the night of the accident—at the funeral, of course, and then when he’d called at the house for brief perfunctory visits to check that she and his nephews had everything they needed. He hadn’t engaged with her beyond that. Her skin prickled now with foreboding. She had a sense that he’d merely been biding his time.
She forced herself to say, as calmly as she could, ‘Cruz.’
‘Trinity.’
His voice reverberated deep inside her, even as he oozed his habitual icy control.
The solicitor had gone back around his desk and said now, ‘Espresso, wasn’t it, Mr De Carrillo?’
Trinity blinked and looked to see the older gentleman holding out a small cup and saucer. Instinctively, because she was closer and because it was good manners, she reached for it to hand it to Cruz, only belatedly realising that her hand was trembling.
She prayed he wouldn’t notice the tremor as she held out the delicate china to him. His hand was masculine and square. Strong. Long fingers...short, functional nails. At that moment she had a flash of remembering how his hand had felt between her legs, stroking her intimately...
Just before he took the cup and saucer there was a tiny clatter of porcelain on porcelain, evidence of her frayed nerves. Damn.
When he had the cup she sat down again quickly, before she made a complete fool of herself, and took a quick fortifying sip of her own cup of tea. He sat down too, and she was aware of his powerful body taking up a lot of space.
While Mr. Drew engaged Cruz De Carrillo in light conversation, before they started discussing the terms of Rio’s will, Trinity risked another glance at the man just a couple of feet to her left.
Short dark blond hair gave more than a hint of his supremely controlled nature. Controlled except for that momentary lapse...an undoubtedly rare moment of heated insanity with someone he’d seen as far beneath him.
Trinity crushed the spike of emotion. She couldn’t afford it.
Despite the urbane uniform of a three-piece suit, his impressive build was apparent. Muscles pushed at the fabric in a way that said he couldn’t be contained, no matter how civilised he might look.
His face was a stunning portrait of masculine beauty, all hard lines and an aquiline profile that spoke of a pure and powerful bloodline. He had deep-set eyes and a mouth that on anyone else would have looked ridiculously sensual. Right now though, it looked stern. Disapproving.
Trinity realised that she was staring at him, and when he turned to look at her she went puce. She quickly turned back to the solicitor, who had stopped talking and was now looking from her to Cruz nervously, as if he could sense the tension in the room.
He cleared his throat. ‘As you’re both here now, I see no reason not to start.’
‘If you would be so kind.’
Trinity shivered at the barely veiled impatience in Cruz’s voice. She could recall only too well how this man had reduced grown men and women to quivering wrecks with just a disdainful look from those glittering dark amber eyes.
The half-brothers hadn’t been very alike—where Rio had been dark, with obsidian eyes and dark hair, Cruz possessed a cold, tawny beauty that had always made Trinity think of dark ice over simmering heat. She shivered...she’d felt that heat.
‘Mrs De Carrillo...?’
Trinity blinked and flushed at being caught out again. The solicitor’s impatient expression came into focus. He was holding out a sheaf of papers and she reached for them.
‘I’m sorry.’ It still felt weird to be called Mrs De Carrillo—it wasn’t as if she’d ever really been Rio’s wife.
She quickly read the heading: Last will and testament of Rio De Carrillo. Her heart squeezed as she thought of the fact that Mateo and Sancho had now lost both their parents, too prematurely.
As bitter as her experience had been with Rio in the end, after Trinity had been sickened to realise just how manipulative he’d been, and how naive she’d been, she’d never in a million years have wished him gone.
She’d felt a level of grief that had surprised her, considering the fact that their marriage had been in name only—for the convenience of having a steady mother figure for the boys and because Rio had wanted to promote a more settled image to further his own ambitions.
Trinity had agreed to the union for those and myriad other reasons—the most compelling of which had to do with her bond with the twins, which had been forged almost as soon as she’d seen them. Two one-year-old cherubs, with dark hair, dark mischievous eyes and heart-stopping smiles.
Her heart had gone out to them because they were motherless, as she had been since she was a baby, and they’d latched on to her with a ferocity that she hadn’t been able to resist, even though she’d known it would be more professional to try and keep some distance.
She’d also agreed because Rio’s sad personal 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 taste off his mouth and looked at her with disgust when he’d realised that he’d lowered himself to the level of kissing his own maid.
Trinity bitterly recalled the intimate dinner party he’d hosted the following evening—when the gaping chasm between them had been all too apparent.
Cruz had welcomed a tall and stunningly beautiful brunette, kissing her warmly on both cheeks. As the woman had passed her fur coat to Trinity, not even glancing in her direction, Trinity had caught an expressive look from Cruz that had spoken volumes—telling her to forget what had happened. Telling her that this woman was the kind of woman he consorted with, and whatever had happened between them must be consigned to some sordid memory box, never to be taken out and examined again.
That was when she’d been unable to hold her emotions in, utterly ashamed that she’d let her crush grow to such gargantuan proportions that she’d let him actually hurt her. And that was when Rio, Cruz’s half-brother, who had also been a guest that night, had found her outside, in a hidden corner of the garden, weeping pathetically.
He’d come outside to smoke and had sat down beside her, telling her to relax when she’d tried to rush back inside, mortified. And somehow...she still wasn’t sure how...he’d managed to get her to open up, to reveal what had happened. She hadn’t told him of her burgeoning feelings for Cruz, but she probably hadn’t had to. It must have been emblazoned all over her tearstained face.
‘Tell me what your price is for signing away your guardianship of my nephews?’
Trinity blinked and the painful memory faded.
As she focused on his words she went cold all over. ‘What did you just say?’
Cruz snapped his fingers, displeasure oozing from his tall, hard body. ‘You heard me—how much will it take, Trinity, for you to get out of my nephews’ lives, because I don’t doubt you have a price.’
Horror curdled her insides at the thought of being removed from Mateo and Sancho. Only that morning Sancho had thrown his arms around her and said, ‘I love you, Mummy...’
She shook her head now, something much hotter replacing the horror. ‘There is no price you could pay me to leave the boys.’
‘I am their blood relation.’
‘You’ve only met them a handful of times!’
Cruz snorted. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you could care for them more than their own flesh and blood? You’ve just been using them as a meal ticket. And now that Rio’s left nothing behind they’re your only hope of keeping your nest feathered—presumably by extorting money out of me.’
Trinity gasped. ‘I would never—’
Cruz lifted a hand. ‘Spare me.’
Trinity’s mouth closed as she struggled to process this. All her protective hackles were raised high now, at the suggestion that she would use her stepchildren for her own ends. She would never leave them at the mercy of a cold-hearted billionaire who didn’t even really know them, in spite of that flesh and blood relationship.
Impulsively she asked, ‘What qualifications could you possibly have for taking on two toddlers? Have you ever even held a baby? Changed a nappy?’
Cruz’s jaw clenched. ‘I do not need qualifications. I’m their uncle. I will hire the best possible staff to attend to their every need.’
His gaze narrowed on her so intently she fought against squirming under it.
‘What possible qualifications could you have? When you came to work for me you’d left school after your A-levels with not much work experience.’
His remark went right to the heart of her and stung—badly. It stung because of the way she’d longed to impress this man at one time, and had yearned to catch his attention. It stung because of the very private dreams she’d harboured to further her education. And it stung because in all the foster homes where she’d lived through her formative years she’d instinctively found herself mothering any younger foster children, as if drawn to create what she didn’t have: a family.
She pushed down the hurt at Cruz’s sneering disdain now, cursing her naivety, and lifted her chin. ‘I’ve been caring for them since they were a year old. No one is qualified to be a parent until they become one. From the moment I married Rio I became their step-parent, and I would never turn my back on them.’
‘Very noble indeed. But forgive me if I don’t believe you. Now, we can continue to go around in these tiresome circles, or you can just tell me how much it’ll take.’
He gestured to the table and she looked down to see a chequebook.
‘I will write a cheque for whatever you want, Trinity, so let’s stop playing games. You’ve done it. Your impressive act of caring for children that aren’t your own is over. You can get on with your life.’
The sheer ease with which Cruz revealed his astounding cynicism angered Trinity as much as it shocked her.
She balled her hands into fists by her sides. ‘I am not playing games. And those boys are as much mine as if I’d given birth to them myself.’ It hit her then—the enormity of the love she felt for them. She’d always known she loved them, but right now she’d lay her life down for them.
The thought of Cruz taking the boys and washing his hands of them the way Rio had done—abdicating all responsibility to some faceless nanny—made her feel desperate. She had to try and make him believe her.
She took a deep breath. ‘Please listen to me, Cruz. The marriage wasn’t what you think... The truth is that it was a marriage of convenience. The twins were primarily the reason I agreed to it. I wanted to protect them.’
Trinity could feel her heart thumping. Tension snapped between them.
Then, showing not a hint of expression, Cruz said, ‘Oh, I can imagine that it was very convenient. For you. And I have no doubt that my nephews were front and centre of your machinations. I know my brother was no saint—believe me, I’m under no illusions about that. But, based on his first choice of wife, it stretches the bounds of my credulity that he would turn around and marry a mere nanny, for convenience’s sake. He was a passionate man, Trinity. You are a beautiful woman. I can only imagine that you used every trick in the book to take it beyond an affair between boss and employee. After all, I have personal experience of your methods. But, believe me, the only “convenience” I see here is the way you so conveniently seduced your way into his bed and then into a registry office, making sure you’d be set for life.’
Trinity ignored Cruz’s ‘you’re a beautiful woman’ because it hadn’t sounded remotely complimentary. She longed to reveal that no such affair had taken place, but she felt suddenly vulnerable under that blistering gaze, all her anger draining away to be replaced with the humiliation she’d felt after that ‘personal experience’ he’d spoken of.
She found the words to inform him that Rio hadn’t been remotely interested in her lodging in her throat. The reality was that one brother had rejected her and another had used her for his own ends. And the fact that she was letting this get to her now was even more galling. She should be thinking of Mateo and Sancho, not her own deep insecurities.
She stood tall against the biggest threat she’d ever faced. ‘I’m not going anywhere. I am their legal guardian.’
Cruz folded his arms. ‘I won’t hesitate to take you to court to fight for their custody if I have to. Do you really want that to happen? Who do you think the courts will favour? Their flesh-and-blood uncle, who has nothing but their best interests at heart and the means to set them up for life, or their opportunistic stepmother who systematically spent her way through her husband’s wealth? Needless to say if you force this route then you will receive nothing.’
Trinity felt her blood rush south so quickly that she swayed on her feet, but she sucked in a quick breath to regain her composure before he could see it. ‘You can’t threaten me like this,’ she said, as firmly as she could. ‘I’m their legal guardian, as per Rio’s wishes.’
Cruz bit out, ‘I told you before—I’m not interested in playing games.’
‘Neither am I!’ Trinity almost wailed. ‘But I’m not letting you bully me into handing over custody of Matty and Sancho.’
Cruz looked disgusted. ‘Matty? What on earth is that?’
Trinity put her hands on her hips. ‘It’s what Sancho has called him ever since he started talking.’
Cruz waved a hand dismissively. ‘It’s a ridiculous name for an heir to the De Carrillo fortune.’
Trinity went still. ‘What do you mean, heir? Surely any children you have will be the heirs...’
* * *
Cruz was close to reaching boiling point—which wasn’t helped by the fact that his libido seemed to be reaching boiling point too. He was uncomfortably aware of how Trinity’s breasts pushed against the fabric of her seemingly demure silk shirt. It was buttoned to her neck, but it was the most provocative thing he’d ever seen. It made him want to push aside the desk and rip it open so he could feast his gaze on those firm swells...
Which was an unwelcome reminder of how he’d reacted that night when he’d found her in his study—supposedly looking for a book—testing the very limits of his control in not much more than a vest and sleep shorts, with a flimsy robe belted around her tiny waist.
It had broken the limits of his control, proving that he wasn’t so far removed from his father after all, in spite of his best efforts.
Cruz had had her backed up against the wall of shelves, grinding his achingly hard arousal into her quivering body, his fingers buried deep in slick heat and his mouth latched around a hard nipple, before he’d come to his senses...
Cursing her silently, and reining in his thundering arousal, Cruz said, with a coolness that belied the heat under the surface, ‘Mateo and Sancho will be my heirs, as I have no intention of having any children.’
Trinity shook her head. ‘Why would you say such a thing?’
Already aware that he’d said too much, Cruz clamped down on the curious urge to explain that as soon as he’d heard Rio was having children he’d felt a weight lift off his shoulders, not having been really aware until then that he’d never relished the burden of producing an heir for the sake of the family business.
He’d learnt from a young age what it was to have to stand by helplessly and watch his own half-brother being treated as nothing just because he was the result of an affair. He’d experienced the way parents—the people who were meant to love you the most—sometimes had scant regard for their offspring. Cruz might have been the privileged legitimate heir, but he’d been treated more like an employee than a loved son.
He’d never felt that he had the necessary skills to be a father, and he’d never felt a desire to test that assertion. However, his nephews had changed things. And the fact that Rio was no longer alive really changed things now. And the fact that this woman believed she could control their fate was abominable.
Cruz was aware that he barely knew his nephews—every time he saw them they hid behind Trinity’s legs, or their nanny’s skirts. And until Rio had died he hadn’t felt any great desire to connect with them...not knowing how to, in all honesty. But now an overwhelming instinct to protect them rose up in him and surprised him with its force. It reminded him of when he’d felt so protective of Rio when he’d been much smaller, and the reminder was poignant. And pertinent. He hadn’t been able to protect Rio, but he could protect his nephews.
Perhaps Trinity thought she’d get more out of him like this. He rued the day she’d ever appeared in his life.
Curtly he said, ‘I’ll give you tonight to think it over. Tomorrow, midday, I’ll come to the house—and trust me when I say that if you don’t have your price ready by then, you’ll have to prepare yourself for a legal battle after which you’ll wish that you’d taken what I’m offering.’
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