Honour-Bound Groom / Cinderella & the CEO: Honour-Bound Groom
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Loren hesitated on the stairs and looked around her, but of course there was nothing there but the gallery of portraits of successive heads of the family over the past many years. She injected a little more urgency in her step as she reached the bottom of the staircase and headed to where she remembered the salon to be.
The murmur of deep male voices, punctuated by the sound of laughter, was comforting as she approached the room where Alex had said to meet. Loren quashed the lingering effects of the sense of disquiet that had hit her earlier and focused instead on the prospect of an evening with the man she’d loved for as long as she could remember. Nothing could go wrong now, nothing. Her life was finally what she’d always dreamed it would be.
With a smile on her face, she entered the salon and was treated to the impeccable manners of four gentlemen rising from their seats to welcome her. Loren nodded in greeting to Reynard and Benedict, each easily recognizable and, she noted with some surprise, unaccompanied by female adornments.
Alex stood a little to one side. His hair, still wet from a recent shower, was slicked back off his forehead, giving him a sartorial edge that went well with the black suit and shirt he’d donned for the evening. But the serious set to his mouth and his darkened jawline made him appear unapproachable.
His dark eyes caught hers and burned beneath slightly drawn brows. She felt her smile waver a little under his gaze, but then he smiled in return and it was as if another giant weight had been lifted from her.
“You look beautiful,” he said, his eyes glowing in appreciation.
A flood of pleasure coursed through her at his words, warming her all the way to her toes.
“Come, say hello to Abuelo. He has been impatient to see you.”
She crossed the room, straight toward the silver-haired figure nearest the fireplace. Despite the fact it was May, a fire roared in the cavernous depths, throwing heat into the room and adding a cheerful ambience that chased the last of the lingering shadows from Loren’s mind.
From his proximity to the fire she deduced Alex’s grandfather felt the chill far more than he used to, and she couldn’t help noticing the slight droop to one side of his face and the way he leaned heavily on an ebony cane. It saddened her to see he’d aged so much since she’d left, but one look at the spark in his eyes showed her that Abuelo was still very much the patriarch and very much in control.
Her lips curved in genuine pleasure as she placed her hands in his gnarled ones and leaned in to kiss him on the cheeks.
“Bienvenido a casa, mi niña,” he murmured in his gruff voice. “It is past time you were back.”
“It is so good to be home, Abuelo,” she replied, using the moniker he’d insisted she call him back when she was a child.
“Come, sit by me and tell me what foolishness has kept you from us for so long.”
The old man settled back into his easy chair and gestured to the seat opposite.
“Now, Abuelo, you know that Loren’s mother insisted she move to New Zealand with her,” Alex said, coming to stand behind Loren’s chair and resting one hand upon her shoulder. “Besides, you cannot monopolize her when she is here to see everyone.”
Loren felt the heat from his palm against her bare skin and leaned into his touch, relishing the sizzling contact.
“I do not see any ring upon her finger, Alexander. You cannot monopolize her while she is yet a free woman.”
“Ah, but that is where you are wrong, Abuelo,” Alex teased in return. “Loren is most definitely mine.”
A fierce pang of joy shot through her, catching her breath, at his words. If she’d had any doubts, they were now assuaged.
Loren felt Alex’s hand slide down the length of her arm, to her left hand. Clasping it, he drew her upright to face him. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she saw the intensity in his dark eyes. Alex was a man who obviously thought deeply, not sharing those thoughts with many, but if the possessive fire she glimpsed burning bright in his gaze was any indicator, she had no doubt that he was about to stake his claim to her before his family.
Alex slipped his free hand into his jacket pocket and withdrew it again.
“This is a mere formality, as Loren has already consented to be my wife, but I want you, mi familia, to witness my pledge to marry her,” Alex announced as he revealed the ring in his hand.
“That’s if she hasn’t taken one look at us and changed her mind,” Reynard taunted his elder brother and was rewarded with a quelling glare.
“I h-haven’t. I w-wouldn’t,” Loren stuttered slightly as she saw the exquisitely beautiful, smooth, oval ruby set in old gold.
“Then this is for you,” Alex murmured, sliding the ring upon her engagement finger.
The gold felt warm against her skin and the ring fit as if it was made for her and her alone. She’d recognized it immediately when he’d drawn it from his pocket. The del Castillo betrothal ring, handed down from firstborn son to firstborn son, had been in the family for centuries. The last woman to wear it had been Alex’s mother.
The gold filigree on each shoulder of the ring had been crafted into delicate heart shapes and the stone appeared to take on a new glow against her skin.
“It’s beautiful, Alex. Thank you,” she said, lifting her eyes to meet his. “I’m honored to accept this.”
“No, Loren, you honor me by agreeing to become my wife.”
“I’ve always loved you, Alex. It’s no more than I’ve ever wanted.”
The air between them stilled, solidified, almost becoming something corporeal before Benedict interrupted them with two glasses of champagne. He thrust one at each of them.
“This calls for a toast, yes?”
He passed another glass to their grandfather before raising one of his own.
“To Alex and Loren. May they have many happy years.”
A look passed between the brothers, something unspoken that hovered in the air as they connected silently with one another, then as one lifted their glasses to drink. Whatever it was, it was soon gone as sibling rivalry and teasing took over the atmosphere, leading even Abuelo to laugh and admonish them gently, reminding them of the lady in their midst.
Now she really belonged, Loren thought as she smiled and sipped the vintage French champagne, letting the bubbles dance along her tongue much as happiness danced through her veins. And, as the subtle lighting in the room caught the ruby on her finger, she knew that no matter how distant Alex had been today, everything was now perfect in her world.
Four
“I see he’s given you that old thing.”
Loren forced her shoulders to relax and her instincts not to bristle at Giselle’s throwaway remark. It was three days after her arrival at the castillo and the first time she’d been forced back into Giselle’s company. Days that had been filled with dress fittings and learning her responsibilities toward the staff at the castle. At least in the matter of her wedding dress she’d been able to choose for herself. As far as the wedding ceremony and reception went, Loren had been forced, with so little time left, to refrain from making any changes.
She chewed over Giselle’s comment about the ruby. Clearly the woman wanted to belittle both her and Alex’s gift, but she’d chosen the wrong target. What would the other woman know, or even begin to understand, of del Castillo tradition and the importance and validation behind having received the ring Alex had given her?
“I’d have asked for something more modern myself,” the other woman continued.
Giselle lifted one hand from the steering wheel of the car in which she’d just picked Loren up from the castillo. Shafts of sunlight caught on the diamond tennis bracelet she wore on one wrist.
“Something more like this.”
Loren merely smiled. “Your bracelet is beautiful, but I prefer knowing that there is only one of this ring and understanding the history behind it. I feel privileged to be chosen to wear it.”
And she did feel privileged. Being given the family heirloom had cemented her place at Alex’s side, no matter how emotionally and even physically distant he had remained since that night. She was confident that in time their emotional distance would close and eventually disappear altogether, especially if their reaction to one another was anything to go by. She closed her eyes and momentarily relived the pressure of his mouth against hers as he’d said good-night at the door to her suite on the night he’d given her the ruby. She’d all but ignited under his masterful lips and tongue.
She’d wanted to clutch at the fabric of his shirt and pull him toward her, to feel the length of his body imprint against hers as it had when he’d kissed her back in New Zealand. But he’d stepped away slightly—only allowing their lips to fuse, their tongues to duel ever so briefly, before pulling away and wishing her a good night’s rest.
What would he have done, she wondered, if she’d taken him by the hand and pulled him into her suite and closed the door firmly behind them? Would he have taken her to her bed and finally taught her the physical delights of love that she’d only read about?
Her timidity frustrated her. What kind of woman was she, coming to marriage to a man of the world such as Alex with no experience beyond a few unsatisfying furtive fumblings and clumsy kisses? She was eager to learn from Alex, but anxious at the thought of disappointing him.
She cast a sideways glance at Giselle. No doubt she’d never faced such a conundrum. The woman looked as if she’d been born ready to take on the world and all its challenges. She also didn’t look like the kind of woman to whom Loren could confide her insecurities.
She wondered who’d given Giselle the bracelet she wore so proudly. No doubt some man who’d found her particular brand of confidence and self-assurance as sexy as her lush figure and thick, cascading blond hair. She probably had an array of jewelry like it.
As if suddenly aware of her scrutiny, Giselle flicked her a glance.
“Where would you like to start today? Alex said you’re to spare no expense on your trousseau. I imagine you were limited for choices where you lived in New Zealand.”
“A little, yes, but aside from the usual imported labels we have access to our own wonderful designers, too. I just rarely had the necessity to dress up all that much.”
Loren shifted in her seat, a little uncomfortable with the unspoken suggestion that her wardrobe lacked for anything. Had Alex said as much to Giselle? Did he even trust her to choose her own clothing? The answer was obviously no. Why else would he have insisted Giselle come with her today, when she’d already hinted she’d prefer to spend her time with him, not his assistant?
Besides, everything she owned was of excellent quality, even if the outfit she’d chosen today lacked the European flair of Giselle’s tailored trousers and open-necked silk blouse.
“Well, that will all change as Alex’s wife, you know. You’ll need a good range of items that can take you through any occasion. We frequently entertain royalty and overseas celebrities at the resort and Alex likes us to keep a personal touch with those special guests.”
Giselle’s casually possessive use of the words we and us struck Loren as more than accidental. Was she hinting that she had acted at Alex’s side in a role as something more than merely his employee? They’d certainly have made a striking couple—he with his dark good looks and she with her golden beauty. Loren silently chastised herself for the pang of envy she felt. Giselle was Alex’s right-hand person—of course she’d have escorted him on company business.
She took a steadying breath before replying, “Yes, we pride ourselves on that level of care at the station, too. You’d be surprised at the caliber of guests we have entertained there. But that was nothing new to me. As you know, I grew up here and my father was also a prominent member of Sagradan society. I’m well used to moving among royalty and celebrity and I look forward to accompanying Alex in the same regard. Now, with the shops, I think we should start from the skin out, don’t you? I love lingerie shopping.”
“Good choice. I know just the right shop to start at and Alex already has an account there.”
Loren stiffened. There was no avoiding it. Alex kept an account at a lingerie store, which meant he was well accustomed to purchasing women’s lace and finery—from the skin out. Taking a deep breath, Loren reminded herself that there could be an innocent reason for why he kept such an account—perhaps for those special guests that Giselle had already alluded to. Luggage went missing, or was delayed, every day around the world, and things were occasionally lost or damaged in hotel laundries. It would make perfect sense for him to hold an account, Loren rationalized silently.
But in spite of the logic of that explanation, a bitter taste settled in her mouth. Yes, Alex probably used the account for business reasons—but she was a fool if she thought that was the extent of it. Of course he was a man of the world and had no doubt had multiple lovers. Even as a teenager, she’d noticed the way women flocked to him. At the time, she’d dealt with it by trying to scare them all off, but she hadn’t been naive enough to believe that she’d succeeded. And now she had proof. She didn’t have to like it but she was going to have to learn to live with it, one way or another.
Unconsciously she twisted the heavy ruby ring on her finger. She hadn’t expected any words of love from him when he’d given it to her, even though she’d expressed them herself. How could he have learned to love the person she was now, anyway? She’d changed so much from the sometimes petulant and demanding child he remembered. But they had plenty of time for him to learn to love her. They were to be married and she was going to do everything in her power to make it a long and loving marriage.
At the lingerie store Loren was overwhelmed by the multiple arrays of delicate fabrics and colors on offer. She fingered a satin-and-lace nightgown of the sheerest oyster pink. There was a matching wrap that had an exquisitely detailed lace panel in the back. She knew she had to have it.
“Oh, that’s pretty,” Giselle commented over her shoulder. “But I wouldn’t waste too much money on things like that. Alex isn’t keen on night wear.”
Loren stiffened again. And she’d know that snippet of information how? Okay, so maybe the other woman’s earlier comments could have been misconstrued but there was no doubt that Giselle had ceased to be subtle about her allusions to things about which she appeared to have a very personal knowledge.
A needle of pain worked deep into Loren’s chest. So, Alex had indulged in an affair with his beautiful assistant. May indeed still be doing so, for all she knew. Did he plan for it to continue even after their marriage? Loren swallowed against the bile that rose, sudden and foully bitter, in her throat.
Giselle still hovered at her side, her green eyes narrowed slightly as if gauging the result of her comment on Loren. Loren knew she had to say something—anything to get through the next few minutes—but she also knew that she dare not show any sign of weakness. A woman like Giselle would capitalize on that weakness and run with it and there was no way Loren was about to let that happen.
“Hmm,” she murmured calmly, nodding slowly. “Good to know. Thanks, but I think I’ll get it anyway.”
She was rewarded with a sharp look from her companion, puzzlement followed swiftly by acceptance, as if Giselle realized that she’d made her point but had failed to rattle Loren as she’d so obviously intended.
It was a hollow victory.
The rest of the day stretched ahead interminably for Loren. The mere thought of absorbing and defusing more comments from Giselle extinguished every last moment of pleasure she’d anticipated in the day.
Loren suggested they take a break with a coffee at one of the harborside cafés. Once they were settled at their table and had placed their orders she sat back and let the warmth of the late spring sunshine seep into her body. She took a deep, steadying breath. She knew what she had to do.
“Giselle, look, I appreciate that you’ve taken time out of your day to help me with my shopping but I think I’d like a little time to myself and see if I can’t catch up with some old school friends instead. You head back to the resort, I’m sure you have plenty of work you’d rather be doing. I’ll just get a cab back to the castillo later today.”
“Alex specifically asked me to assist you today. I can’t leave you just like that,” Giselle protested.
“Come on, let’s be honest here. You don’t want to spend time with me any more than I do with you. You’ve made it clear that you and Alex have a history. I accept that. But it is now very firmly in the past.”
So back off, the unsaid words hung in the air between them.
Loren’s heart hammered in her chest. She wasn’t used to confrontation of any kind—avoided it like the plague on most occasions, to be honest. But when shoved hard enough she always stood her ground and right now she’d drawn her demarcation line.
“So you’re sending me back to be with him? A bit risky, don’t you think?”
The smile on Giselle’s face was predatory.
“Risky? Well, it was me he traveled half the world to visit and asked to marry, wasn’t it?”
Giselle snorted inelegantly. “Nothing more than the fulfillment of his duty to allay an old man’s concerns and create some strong publicity for the del Castillo business empire. You can ask Alex about that yourself if you don’t believe me.” She bent and collected her handbag and rose gracefully from her chair. “Well, I can see I’m no longer wanted here. Far be it from me to stay where I don’t belong.”
Loren sat and watched Giselle walk away, the clear insult about Loren’s presence on Isla Sagrado, in Alex’s life, echoing in her ears.
But Giselle was wrong, Loren had no doubt about that. If anything, Giselle was the intruder here, not Loren. Not when Loren had been born and raised here. Not when Alex had brought her back. Her hands curled into tight fists in her lap. She did belong here, Loren repeated silently in her mind. She did.
When Alex returned to the castillo that night Loren half expected him to mention something about Giselle returning to the office early, or even insist that she avail herself of the other woman’s expertise. She’d prepared at least a dozen responses to him by the time she’d finally returned home herself, her arms laden with parcels after a full afternoon of shopping on her own. Her feet ached with the miles she’d walked but inside she’d reached a state she could finally call happy. No matter what Alex said to her about Giselle, she wouldn’t let it bring her down.
The number of people who’d recognized her, the old friends she’d indeed bumped into who had been excited to see her—all had made her feel so thoroughly welcomed back.
As it transpired, she hadn’t needed a single one of her arguments. Alex was distracted all through the evening meal, letting Abuelo direct most of the conversation and listening to her tell him of all she’d seen and done during the day.
After their meal, Alex walked her to her suite as he did every night. As she unlocked the door he put out a hand to cover hers.
“Would you mind if I come in with you this evening?” His voice was deep and the sound caressed her ears like a lover’s touch.
“Not at all,” she answered with a smile as she swung the heavy door open and stepped inside. “Please, come in.”
Loren’s heart fluttered in her chest. Had Alex decided not to wait for their wedding night? Nerves, plaited with a silken thread of longing, pulsed deep inside, slowly stoking a furnace of heat within her. Her skin grew sensitive. So sensitive, even the newly bought gown she’d worn to dinner felt too heavy against her.
She turned to him, aware that her cheeks were warm and no doubt bore a flush of color quite at odds with the elegance of her appearance tonight. Her eyes raked over him. Ah, she never tired of drinking in the sight of his masculine beauty. Of the breadth of his shoulders as they filled the designer suit he wore with such effortless grace and style. Of the press of his chest against the crisp white cotton of his shirt. Even the way his throat moved above the knot of his silver-and-black striped silk tie mesmerized her.
Her mind filled with the prospect of placing her lips to that very point where she could see the beat of his pulse—of pressing her lips into his skin, allowing her tongue to caress that spot and taste him, tasting so much more.
She clenched her thighs against the sudden thrum of energy that coiled there. But instead of lessening the sensation, it only intensified it, sending a small shock of pleasure through her and driving a tiny gasp past her lips.
She felt as though she was poised on the balls of her feet, ready to move into the shelter of his arms and feel once more the press of his body against hers. Her whole body was attuned to the man only a few short feet away from her.
“There is something I need to discuss with you,” Alex said, the abruptly businesslike tone of his voice quelling her ardor as suddenly as if she’d been drenched by a rogue wave on the rocky bay beneath the castle.
Was he now going to take her to task for her dismissal of Giselle today? Loren felt the lingering remnants of desire slowly flicker and die. She swallowed and took a steadying breath.
“Well then, would you be more comfortable sitting down? Perhaps I can pour you a drink?”
“Yes, thank you. A cognac I think. And pour one for yourself, too.”
Did he think she’d need it? Suddenly Loren wished he had simply stuck with their usual routine. Even a noncommittal kiss at the door was bound to have been better than being castigated for rejecting his assistant’s company. Not that she was going to take any criticism of her choice today without putting up a decent protest of her own. But was she ready to face the truth if she asked him about his relationship with Giselle?
She crossed the sitting room of her suite to the heavily carved dark wooden sideboard against one wall. She took two crystal snifters from within and then lifted the cut-crystal stopper from one of the decanters on the edged silver tray that sat on the polished surface. Alex’s warm hand closed over hers.
“Here, let me pour, hmm?”
A fine tremor ran through her as his touch sent a sizzle of electricity coursing up her arm.
She pulled away from him and forced her suddenly uncooperative legs to take her over to one of the two-seater couches. She lowered herself onto the richly upholstered fabric, yet couldn’t bring herself to sit back and relax against the cushioned back, instead perching on the edge.
Alex crossed the room and handed her one of the glasses. Loren bent her nose to the rim, taking a deep breath of the aroma of the dark amber liquid before lifting it to her lips and allowing the alcohol to trickle over her tongue and down her throat. She never normally drank hard spirits, but she had the distinct feeling that tonight she was going to need it.
She swallowed, welcoming the burn the distilled liquor left in its path, and watched as Alex sat down opposite her. He unbuttoned his jacket and reached inside, drawing out a folded paper packet. He carefully placed the packet on the coffee table between them, then took a sip of his cognac.
The liquid left a slight sheen upon his lips, capturing her gaze with the inevitability of a moth to a flame. He pressed his lips together, dissipating the residue, allowing her to look away.
“Is that what you want to discuss?” Loren pressed as he made no effort to explain the papers he’d laid before them.
“Yes. It’s a legal document I need you to read and sign before we are married. Someone can take you into the notary’s office tomorrow for it to be witnessed.”