The passion she could never forget...

When fiercely independent Sienna Newman’s memory is lost, she’s transported back to those blissful nights with her ex-boss, powerful Argentinean Emiliano Castillo! And with the news of her pregnancy sending shock waves through them both, she tentatively accepts Emiliano’s invitation to his luxurious private island...

When Emiliano realizes Sienna has no idea how they were torn apart, he knows it’s a race against time to secure his claim on his child—and Sienna!—before her memories return. Can the seduction of a lifetime convince her that she’s where she belongs...in his bed?

A deep tremble overtook her as Emiliano closed the gap between them and slid strong fingers into her hair.

‘You’re mine now, Sienna Castillo,’ he murmured against her lips, with a deep relish in his tone that escalated her trembling.

‘As you are mine,’ she replied, somehow noting the importance of establishing equal ownership.

‘Sí, that is exactly so.’

His voice throbbed with possessive and binding forces, binding her even more strongly than the new ring on her finger.

One Night With Consequences

When one night...leads to pregnancy!

When succumbing to a night of unbridled desire, it’s impossible to think past the morning after!

But, with the sheets barely settled, that little blue line appears on the pregnancy test and it doesn’t take long to realise that one night of white-hot passion has turned into a lifetime of consequences!

Only one question remains:

How do you tell a man you’ve just met that you’re about to share more than just his bed?

Find out in:

The Shock Cassano Baby by Andie Brock An Heir to Make a Marriage by Abby Green The Greek’s Nine-Month Redemption by Maisey Yates Crowned for the Prince’s Heir by Sharon Kendrick The Sheikh’s Baby Scandal by Carol Marinelli A Ring for Vincenzo’s Heir by Jennie Lucas Claiming His Christmas Consequence by Michelle Smart The Guardian’s Virgin Ward by Caitlin Crews A Child Claimed by Gold by Rachael Thomas The Consequence of His Vengeance by Jennie Lucas Secrets of a Billionaire’s Mistress by Sharon Kendrick

Look for more One Night With Consequences stories coming soon!

The Boss’s Nine-Month Negotiation

Maya Blake

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MAYA BLAKE’s hopes of becoming a writer were born when she picked up her first romance at thirteen. Little did she know her dream would come true! Does she still pinch herself every now and then to make sure it’s not a dream? Yes, she does! Feel free to pinch her, too, via Twitter, Facebook or Goodreads! Happy reading!

Books by Maya Blake

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

Signed Over to Santino

A Diamond Deal with the Greek

Married for the Prince’s Convenience

Innocent in His Diamonds

Rival Brothers

A Deal with Alejandro

One Night with Gael

The Billionaire’s Legacy

The Di Sione Secret Baby

Secret Heirs of Billionaires

Brunetti’s Secret Son

Seven Sexy Sins

A Marriage Fit for a Sinner

The Untameable Greeks

What the Greek’s Money Can’t Buy

What the Greek Can’t Resist

What the Greek Wants Most

Visit the Author Profile page

at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

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To Carly, for making my stories shine!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

One Night With Consequences

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

NOTHING HAD CHANGED in six years.

Emiliano Castillo was mildly surprised at himself for entertaining the thought, even for a second, that things would be different. Wasn’t ‘the old way or no way’ one of the endless tenets forming his family’s foundations and beliefs?

Wasn’t that rigid clinging to tradition one of his reasons for turning his back on his family?

He kept his gaze dead straight, refusing to turn his head to glance at the miles of rolling paddocks that usually held his family’s prized thoroughbreds and foal training ground. Even then, he couldn’t help but notice, as his chauffeur drove him towards his ancestral home, that the normally teeming landscape was now curiously empty, the dozen or so gauchos usually in each corral nowhere in sight.

He brought his wandering thoughts back under control. There would be no indulging in nostalgia on this visit. In fact, Emiliano intended the trip to the renowned Castillo Estate just outside Cordoba, Argentina, to be as brief as the summons that had brought him here.

He had only come out of respect for Matias, his older brother. Had Matias been in a position to speak, Emiliano would’ve made sure his brother relayed his refusal of the summons he’d received in London loud and clear to their parents.

Sadly, Matias wasn’t in a position to do any such thing.

The reason for that tightened his jaw, even as a brief tinge of sadness assailed him. Thankfully, there was little time to dwell on it as the car drew up in front of the extensive luxury villa in which several generations of proud, intractable Castillos had lived.

Oak double doors opened as he stepped out of the car.

Emiliano tensed, for a moment forgetting that neither his father nor his mother had deigned to open doors of their own accord for as long as he could remember. Not when they had servants to do it for them.

Mounting the steps, he nodded curtly at the ageing butler’s greeting. This particular member of staff wasn’t one he remembered and for that he was marginally thankful. He wanted no more memories triggered, or to go down the lonely, dismal path he’d done his best to try to forget.

‘If señor would like to come with me, Señor and Señora Castillo are waiting in the drawing room.’

Emiliano allowed himself the briefest of glances at the walls that surrounded the home he’d grown up in, the sturdy bannister he used to slide down as a child, the antique cabinet he’d crashed into and earned himself a long-since-healed fracture on his collarbone.

He’d had time to do all that because he hadn’t been the firstborn son. His time had been his own to use or misuse as he pleased, because only one person had counted in this household: Matias. But it was only as he’d entered his teenage years that he’d grown to fathom exactly what that meant.

Securing the button on his single-breasted suit, he refocused his gaze and followed the butler into the wide, sunlit reception room.

His parents were seated in twin wing-backed chairs that wouldn’t have been out of place in the throne room at the Palace of Versailles. But, even without the heavy accoutrements and almost-garish displays of wealth to punctuate their success, Benito and Valentina Castillo carried themselves with near-royal pride.

They both eyed him now with equal expressions of hauteur and indifference—both expressions he was used to. But Emiliano glimpsed something else beneath the brittle exteriors.

Nerves. Desperation.

He tucked that observation away, walked forward and kissed his mother on both cheeks.

‘Mama, I hope you are well?’

Her expression twitched only for as long as it took for her to give him a once-over, before settling back into prideful superiority. ‘Of course. But I would be better still if you’d bothered to answer us when we first reached out to you. But, as usual, you choose to do things in your own time, when it suits you best.’

Emiliano gritted his teeth and curbed the urge to remind them that it was the legacy of forgetful indifference they’d bestowed on him which had dictated his actions. Instead he nodded to his father, received a curt nod in return and selected an armchair to settle in.

‘I am here now. Shall we get on with why you summoned me?’ he said, then refused the offer of a drink from the butler.

His father’s mouth twisted. ‘Sí, always in a rush. Always, you have somewhere else to be, don’t you?’

Emiliano slowly exhaled. ‘As a matter of fact, I do.’ He was in the middle of a bidding war for a revolutionary social media programme back in London. The programme’s creators were being courted by at least half a dozen other venture capitalists. Despite his company being the biggest and most powerful of them all, he reminded himself that he’d been the underdog once, before a daring move had set him on his way to stratospheric success. This wasn’t a time to take his foot off the pedal.

He also had to approve the finishing touches for the birthday celebration his event planner had put together for Sienna Newman.

His vice-president of Acquisitions.

His lover.

Thoughts of the woman whose intellect kept him on his toes by day and whose body thrilled his by night fractionally allayed the bitter memories of his childhood. Unlike his past liaisons, she hadn’t been an easy conquest, her reluctance even to give him the time of day beyond the boardroom was a challenge that had fired his blood in the months before she’d even agreed to have dinner with him.

In his quiet moments, Emiliano still silently reeled at the changes he’d made in his life in order to accommodate his lover. The few who presumed to know him would agree—rightly, in this instance—that this behaviour wasn’t like him at all. His own disquiet in the face of the reservation he sometimes felt from Sienna made him question himself. But not enough to disrupt the status quo. Not yet, anyway. Although, like everything in life, it, too, had a finite shelf life. It was that ticking clock which made him even more impatient to be done with whatever this summons was all about and get out of this place.

He stared at his parents with a raised eyebrow, letting the silent censure bounce off him. He’d long ago learned that nothing he said or did would ever change their attitude towards him. He was the spare they’d sired but never needed. His place would be on a shelf, fed, clothed, but collecting dust and nothing else. So he’d left home and stopped trying.

‘When was the last time you visited your brother?’ his mother enquired, her fixed expression breaking momentarily to allow a touch of humanity to filter through at the mention of Matias.

The question brought to mind his brother’s current state. Comatose in a hospital bed in Switzerland with worryingly low signs of brain activity.

Emiliano weathered the punch of sadness and brushed a speck of lint off his cuff. ‘Two weeks ago. And every two weeks before that since his accident four months ago,’ he replied.

His parents exchanged surprised glances. He curbed the urge to laugh. ‘If this is all you needed to know, you could’ve sent me an email.’

‘It isn’t. But we find it...reassuring that family still means something to you, seeing as you abandoned it without a backward glance,’ Benito stated.

The fine hairs on Emiliano’s nape lifted. ‘Reassuring? I guess it should be celebrated that I’ve done something right at last, then? But, at the risk of straying into falsehoods and hyperbole, perhaps let’s stick to the subject of why you asked me here.’

Benito picked up his glass and stared into the contents for a few seconds before he knocked it back and swallowed with a gulp. The action was so alien—his father’s outward poise a thing so ingrained it seemed part of his genetic make-up—that Emiliano’s jaw threatened to drop before he caught himself.

Setting the glass down with a brisk snap, another first, Benito eyed him with fresh censure. Nothing new there.

‘We’re broke. Completely destitute. Up the proverbial creek without a paddle.’

‘Excuse me?’ Emiliano wasn’t sure whether it was the bald language that alarmed him or his father’s continued acting out of character.

‘You wish me to repeat myself? Why? So you can gloat?’ his father snapped. ‘Very well. The polo business, the horse breeding. Everything has failed. The estate has been sliding into the red for the past three years, ever since Rodrigo Cabrera started his competing outfit here in Cordoba. We approached Cabrera and he bought the debt. Now he’s calling in the loans. If we don’t pay up by the end of next month, we will be thrown out of our home.’

Emiliano realised his jaw was clenched so tight he had to force it apart to speak. ‘How can that be? Cabrera doesn’t know the first thing about horse breeding. The last I heard he was dabbling in real estate. Besides, Castillo is the foremost polo-training and horse-breeding establishment in South America. How can you be on the brink of bankruptcy?’ he demanded.

His mother’s colour receded and her fingers twisted the white lace handkerchief in her hand. ‘Watch your tone, young man.’

Emiliano inhaled sharply, stopped the sharper words that threatened to spill and chose his words carefully. ‘Explain to me how these circumstances have occurred.’

His father shrugged. ‘You are a man of business...you know how these things go. A few bad investments here and there...’

Emiliano shook his head. ‘Matias was...is...a shrewd businessman. He would never have let things slide to the point of bankruptcy without mitigating the losses or finding a way to reverse the business’s fortunes. At the very least, he would’ve told me...’ He stopped when his parents exchanged another glance. ‘I think you should tell me what’s really going on. I’m assuming you asked me here because you need my help?’

Pride flared in his father’s eyes for a blinding moment before he glanced away and nodded. ‘Sí.’ The word was one Emiliano was sure he didn’t want to utter.

‘Then let’s have it.’

They remained stoically silent for several heartbeats before his father rose. He strode to a cabinet on the far side of the room, poured himself another drink and returned to his chair. Setting the glass down, he picked up a tablet Emiliano hadn’t spotted before and activated it.

‘Your brother left a message for you. Perhaps it would explain things better.’

He frowned. ‘A message? How? Matias is in a coma.’

Valentina’s lips compressed, distress marring her features for a brief second. ‘You don’t need to remind us. He recorded it before his brain operation, once the doctors gave him the possible prognosis.’

Emiliano couldn’t fault the pain in her voice or the sadness in her eyes. And, not for the first time in his life, he wondered why that depth of feeling for his brother had never spilt over for him.

Pushing the fruitless thought aside, he focused on the present. On what he could control.

‘That was two months ago. Why are you only telling me about this message now?’

‘We didn’t think it would be needed before now.’

‘And by it, you mean me?’

His mother shrugged. Knowing the iron control he’d locked down on his feelings where his parents were concerned was in danger of breaking free and exploding, he jerked to his feet. Crossing the room to his father, he held out his hand for the tablet.

Benito handed it over.

Seeing his brother’s face frozen on the screen, the bandage around his head and the stark hospital furniture and machines around him, Emiliano felt his breath strangle in his chest. Matias was the one person who hadn’t dismissed him for being born second. His brother’s support was the primary reason Emiliano had broken away from the glaringly apathetic environment into which he’d been born. He knew deep down that he would’ve made it, no matter what, but Matias’s unwavering encouragement had bolstered him in the early, daunting years when he’d been floundering alone on the other side of the world.

He stemmed the tremor moving through him as his gaze moved over his brother’s pale, gaunt face. Returning to his seat, he pressed the play button.

The message was ten minutes long.

With each second of footage that passed, with each word his brother uttered, Emiliano sank further into shock and disbelief. When it was over, he lifted his gaze and met equal stares that were now less indifferent and more...concerned.

‘Are you... Is this for real?’ he demanded.

‘You’re hearing the words from your brother’s lips and still you doubt it?’ his father asked, a trace of shame lacing his stiff demeanour.

‘I don’t doubt what Matias is saying. I’m questioning whether you truly gambled away millions that you knew the company couldn’t afford!’

His father slammed his hand on the table. ‘Castillo is my company!’

‘It’s also Matias’s birthright! At least, that’s what you drummed into him from the day he was born, was it not? Wasn’t that the reason he all but broke his back to make it a success? Because you pressured him to succeed at all costs?’

‘I am no tyrant. What he did for Castillo, he did willingly.’

Emiliano barely managed to bite back the swear word that hovered on his tongue. ‘And for that you repay him by frittering away the profits behind his back?’

‘The deal we made with Cabrera was supposed to be a sure thing.’

‘A sure thing? You were duped by a man who spotted an easy score a mile away.’ He stared down at the screen, still unable to believe the tale Matias had told. Bankruptcy. Destitution for his parents. Absurd promises made. Regret that the burden now fell on Emiliano’s shoulders.

The naked plea in his brother’s eyes and solemn tone not to let the family down.

That last entreaty, more than anything else, was what kept Emiliano from walking out the door in that moment. Even though what Matias was asking of him—the request to honour the deal his parents had struck with Rodrigo Cabrera—was so ludicrous, he wondered why he wasn’t laughing his head off.

Because every single word was true. He could tell just from looking into his parents’ eyes.

‘You really are serious, aren’t you? You struck this bargain that Matias would marry Cabrera’s daughter if the deal went south and the loans became due?’ he rasped with renewed disbelief. ‘Isn’t she still a child?’

A brief memory of a little girl in pigtails chasing around the ranch during family visits flitted through his mind. Matias, as usual, had been patient and caring with Graciela Cabrera, but Emiliano, fully immersed in dreams of escape, could barely remember her, save for a few exchanges at the dinner table.

‘She’s twenty-three years old,’ his mother supplied. ‘She may have had a few wild escapades that have left her parents with more grey hairs than they wish, but she is more mature now. Matias was her favourite, of course, but she remembers you fondly—’

‘I don’t care how she remembers me. What I care about is that none of this set-up rang any alarm bells for you!’ He seethed, unwilling to rise to the subtle dig. ‘From a supposed family friend!’

For the first time, his father had the grace to look embarrassed. But the expression didn’t last long. He regrouped, as was the Castillo way. ‘We are where we are, Emiliano. The burden of our family’s fortunes now rests with you. And don’t bother taking out your chequebook. Cabrera has made it clear he wants only one thing. You either marry Graciela Cabrera or you can sit back and watch your mother and me lose everything.’

CHAPTER ONE

SIENNA NEWMAN STEPPED out of the shower, finished drying off and eased her black hair from the tight bun it’d been in all day. Swiping her hand across the steamed-up vanity mirror, she couldn’t resist smiling at herself.

Sister Margaret from the orphanage where Sienna had spent most of her childhood had often told her to count her blessings. Of course, counting those blessings while smiling goofily at herself in the mirror would’ve been met with a frown. The orphanage matriarch certainly wouldn’t have approved of the illicitly carnal thrill that went through her as she smoothed expensive and luxurious lotion over her skin, her senses revving up in anticipation of what the evening ahead held for her. It was a good thing therefore that Sister M, as the children had referred to her, wasn’t here to see this tiny fall from grace. Because, even with the old biddy’s beady eyes on her, Sienna didn’t think she could’ve stopped smiling.

Today, her twenty-eighth birthday had started in spectacular style. Four giant bouquets of calla lilies and white roses, her favourite flowers, had been delivered to her desk on the hour between nine o’clock and midday, each time with a jaw-dropping present wrapped in white silk paper and black velvet bows. The stunning beauty of the diamond tennis bracelet delivered at eleven o’clock had only been topped by the magnificent sapphire teardrop necklace with matching earrings at midday. But even more special than all the presents had been the handwritten notes from Emiliano accompanying each gift. The scrawls had been as bold and domineering as the man, nowhere near flowery, but the intimate words of desire and felicitation had touched her deeply.

The afternoon had taken a different but nevertheless incredible turn, with culinary delights from edible-gold-dusted chocolate to caviar to a single pink-and-silver frosted cupcake with a lit candle for her to wish on and blow out.

She’d made a wish all right. One that had stealthily sprung into her heart and taken root about three months ago, around the time it had dawned on her that she’d been in a relationship with a hitherto unattainable man for almost a year.

Extreme self-preservation born of painful past experiences had fuelled her need to ignore the growing wish, but with each day that passed she’d began to hope rejection wasn’t on the cards for her this time, as it had so often been.

As Sienna re-entered the bedroom, her smile dimmed a touch.

The only slight downside to her fantastic day had been the need to once more be evasive in the face of interest from colleagues about her love life and the knowledge that, although his extravagant birthday surprises had been thrilling to experience, Emiliano had once again run roughshod over her need to keep their relationship private.

The last time she’d touched on the subject, they’d rowed, Emiliano’s Latin temper erupting in a torrent that had included his adamant refusal to ‘skulk around in shadows’ or ‘pretend I’m not into you when we’re in public.’

After a heated back-and-forth on the subject they’d retreated to the not-so-neutral zone of their bedroom, where he’d expressed his extreme displeasure passionately.

Sienna blushed in recollection, but her smile remained elusive, her heart skidding again as a different issue interrupted her happiness.

Another thing that would’ve made her birthday perfect was Emiliano’s presence. Or, barring that, a simple phone call.

All she’d received was an email wishing her happy birthday and a single line to say he was aboard his plane, flying back home from Argentina. Although she’d been relieved that the unexpected extension of his overseas trip by four more days was finally over, she’d yearned to hear his voice. So much so, she’d called him straight back the moment she’d got home, only to have her call go to voicemail. Same as most of her calls the last three days. The one time he’d picked up, he’d been brusque to the point of monosyllabic.

She curbed the tiny spurt of anxiety and pulled on her underwear before sliding on the dress she’d shopped for for hours before discovering it in a tiny shop in Soho. The blood-red sleeveless gown showed off the slight tan she’d gained from their recent weekend away in St Tropez. Fastening her new necklace and earrings, she brushed out her shoulder-length black hair and stepped into black stilettos. The added height would be nowhere near Emiliano’s six-foot-three-inch frame, but the confidence boost was nevertheless welcome.

Exhaling, she pushed away the insidious voice that wouldn’t remain silent, reminding her that everything in her life—bar her career—thus far, had been ripped from her. That what she had with Emiliano would follow suit. After adding the finishing touches of perfume, clutch and wrap, she headed for the door.

She didn’t want to, but Sienna couldn’t stop the nerves that assailed her, or the equal amounts of excitement and dread that fluttered through her stomach at the notion of going out in public with Emiliano tonight. Even though they’d never resolved their argument, he’d grown increasingly possessive of her in public recently, his bold caresses almost baiting her to protest. Unwilling to provoke another disagreement, she hadn’t, and in her quiet moments even admitted to enjoying those displays. Nevertheless, the butterflies in her stomach grew, their wings beating so loud she almost missed her phone buzzing with a text message.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Emiliano’s name on her screen.

Slight change of plan. We’ll dine at home. Restaurant delivery is taken care of. Let me know if that suits? E.

Her smile burst forth anew, her heart squeezing with happiness as she quickly answered.

That more than suits. Can’t wait to see you! XXX

Hitting Send, she stared at the little faint bubble that said her message was being read. Then waited. He didn’t answer.

Swallowing, she returned her phone to the clutch and left the bedroom.

The restaurant they were supposed to dine at was a mere two miles away from the Knightsbridge penthouse she shared with Emiliano. And, if Emiliano had already contacted her favourite chef, then the meal was most likely already on its way.

She walked down the stunningly decorated hallway and through the vast sitting room to find Alfie, their young live-in butler, setting the table in the dining room.

He looked up and smiled when he saw her. ‘Good evening, miss.’

She returned his smile and nodded at the table. ‘Looks like Emiliano has given you the heads-up on the change of plan?’

‘Indeed. He’s also given me the night off,’ he replied with a grin. ‘I’ll just wait for the delivery to arrive then I’ll leave you two alone to enjoy your birthday.’

She fought the blush that threatened, recalling the butler’s wry comment months ago about how he’d become the grateful recipient of many sudden nights off since she’d moved in with Emiliano. ‘Thanks.’

Alfie nodded and went back to laying the table. Not wishing to intrude, she drifted back into the living room. Decorated with luxury and deep comfort in mind, the slate-coloured sofas, matching tables and the white walls were interspersed with dark-gold throw pillows and rugs that added welcoming warmth to the large room. A dominating fireplace was aglow to complement the November autumnal weather.

Sienna strolled to the mantel, picked up the single picture adorning it and stared down at the selfie she’d taken of herself and Emiliano three months ago. It had been a rare moment of throwing caution to the wind and all the more special for it. On a late-afternoon stroll in the park across from the penthouse, after a morning and afternoon spent making love, she’d confessed to sadness at not having photographic mementos of a childhood spent in foster care, no matter how wretched. Emiliano had insisted she seize the moment to make a memory. And, even though he’d refused to look into the camera, his years of avoiding the glare of the paparazzi’s lens deeply ingrained, he’d posed for the picture. The end result was Emiliano staring at her while she looked into the camera, flushed and self-conscious from his brazenly hungry scrutiny.

He’d taken a look at the photo, pronounced himself satisfied and promptly printed and framed it for the mantel.

Sienna stared at the profile of the man who commanded her days and nights, the boss who’d changed his own company’s rules, despite her many blithely ignored protests, in order to date her. Her heart skipped another beat, and with it the secret wish lurking in her heart.

Emiliano Castillo had done more than amend his company’s rules. He’d gone on to trigger a few more firsts, as she’d found out in the months following the start of their relationship. For a start, he hadn’t been one for relationships. Certainly not one with a vice-president of his venture capitalist firm. Most of his liaisons only lasted a couple of months. He’d also never lived with a lover. And he’d certainly never lived with one for going on six months!

Which was why Sienna was daring to believe that theirs was more than a supercharged physical affair. It was why she’d found herself hoping for more. They had never talked about a family, largely because the subject had been strictly off-limits for both of them, save for unavoidable instances that filtered through their lives.

As far as she knew, his relationship with his parents was strained at best, but she’d seen his devastation when his brother had been seriously injured in a car accident four months ago. And, with each trip she’d accompanied him on to the state-of-the-art medical facility in Switzerland where Matias was being cared for after his brain surgery had left him in a coma, she’d witnessed Emiliano’s distress and sadness.

Hers was a different story. She had no past to discuss, so she never did.

The desolation she’d learned to live with overpowered her for a single moment before she pushed it back into its designated box. Today was her birthday. She was lucky she had a date to celebrate. But she’d also worked hard to make a life for herself, and she was determined it wouldn’t fall victim to rejection and heartache.

So celebrate she would.

She returned the picture to the mantel in time to hear the penthouse door’s electronic lock disengage.

Expecting it to be Alfie, taking delivery of their food, her heart leapt into her throat when Emiliano walked in.

He was supposed to have been gone for two days. He’d been gone for six. She hadn’t comprehended just how much she’d missed him until he handed over the food boxes to Alfie and walked tall and proud into the living room. A rush of longing and happiness overtook her as her gaze met his.

At six foot three, with a powerful but streamlined physique, Emiliano Castillo gave the term ‘tall, dark and handsome’ full, visceral meaning. But he also carried an extra edge that ensured that heads, and hearts, turned whenever he graced humanity with his presence. His wasn’t a flawless face, to start with. A scar sustained along his right jawline from a horse-riding accident as a teenager evoked a sense of illicit danger, if you just looked at him. Bold slants of jet eyebrows over brooding, dark, coppery eyes and a full and sensual mouth sculpted for long, steamy lovemaking nights made him very difficult to look away from.

So she stared, transfixed, heart slamming against her ribs, as he walked slowly towards her. He stopped several feet from where she stood. Electricity crackled through the air as they stared at one another. Then slowly, his eyes traced her body from head to toe, lingering, possessing, and back again.

Expecting him to stride forward and sweep her into his arms in that overwhelmingly possessive and blatantly male way he employed, she braced herself, her every sense leaping with excitement.

But he remained where he stood.

‘Happy birthday, querida. You look exquisite.’ His voice was deep, laced with the Spanish intonation he carried proudly. But the words, despite being felicitous and complimentary, were a touch grave. As were the hands he shoved deep into his pockets instead of using them to reach for her as he normally did when they’d been apart this long.

Her heart skittered, but Sienna pushed away the fizzle of anxiety. ‘Thank you. It’s great to have you back,’ she replied, with her tongue lightly slicking lips gone nervous and dry.

His eyelids descended for a moment, then his head tilted slightly, dark eyes resting on her, seeming to absorb her every expression. ‘Have you had a good day?’ he asked.

The reminder of how her day had gone brought a smile. His breath seemed to catch as her smile widened. ‘It was wonderful, Emiliano. I’m not sure how you planned everything without my knowledge but I loved every second of it. Thank you so much for these...’ She caressed her necklace and earrings. ‘I should be angry with you for forcing me to field questions, though.’ She deliberately infused lightness into her tone, but her reluctance to incite another row didn’t mean she was damping down what was important to her.

‘No doubt you found your usual diplomatic way to deny my existence despite it being an open secret,’ he returned with a distinct edge to his tone.

Sienna’s breath snagged in her lungs. Yes, the subject was definitely still a sore one. But one she intended to tackle soon. Maybe tonight...

‘I’ve never denied your existence. Merely not fuelled workplace gossip. There’s a difference.’

His upper lip curled slightly, his jaw flexing a touch. ‘If you say so.’

She floundered for a moment, the ground beneath her feet shaking a little. Was her continued denial of their relationship outside the privacy of their penthouse causing more damage than she realised?

Inhaling deeply, she widened her smile.

‘I do say so. And it would’ve been perfect if you’d been here, regardless of who knows about us.’ Sienna knew she was offering a tentative olive branch, while subtly digging for answers to questions she wasn’t completely certain were wise to pursue, but the worry that had taken root between her ribs was growing by the second.

‘I’m sorry. The situation couldn’t be helped.’

She wasn’t surprised at the slightly cryptic answer. The enigma that was Emiliano Castillo operated at optimum capacity, always. She’d learned the hard way that to gain his attention she had to meet her lover and boss toe to toe. It was what had brought her to his attention in the boardroom. It was why their chemistry remained sizzling hot in the bedroom. A chemistry that had stunned and bewildered her in the beginning and continued to overawe her even now. It was the reason she checked herself now from leaving the safety of the mantel to close the seemingly yawning distance between them, even though every muscle strained to be in his arms.

Denying herself the pleasure, she remained where she was, sensing the deep, puzzling tension within him as a muscle jumped in his shadowed cheek. But even from a distance she experienced the jolt of electricity that lanced through her when his eyes remained fixed on hers. ‘You didn’t elaborate on what was going on. Is it Matias?’ she asked.

A shadow drifted over his face. ‘In a way, yes.’

‘Is he okay? Has there been any improve—’

‘His condition remains unchanged,’ he interrupted.

Her gaze dropped, drifting over his lower lip. He inhaled sharply, gratifying her with his reaction. But his hands remained in his pockets.

‘So you spent all six days with your parents?’

Another clench of his jaw. ‘Sí.’ The word was chillingly grave.

Her heart dropped. ‘Emiliano... I... Is everything okay?’

He finally breached the gap between them and grasped her hand in his. Lowering their linked hands, he stared at her upturned palm for several seconds before he released her. ‘No, everything is not okay, but it’s nothing that won’t resolve itself eventually.’

She opened her mouth and started to demand more information. But he’d turned away.

‘Come, the food will be getting cold.’

She followed him into the dining room and pinned the smile on her face as he held her chair and saw her seated. Again she anticipated his touch on her bare shoulders, a drift of his sensual mouth across her temple. She received neither.

She watched him take his own seat, the neutrality of his expression underlined with a grimness that lodged a cold stone in her stomach.

‘Emiliano...’

‘I belayed ordering oysters. I didn’t want them to be ruined in transit. We’ll have your second favourite.’

She waved him away as he opened the first of the specially packed gourmet dishes. ‘It’s fine. I don’t care about the food. We can have oysters some other time.’ Her blush at the mention of oysters and the special significance they held for them was suppressed beneath the blooming disquiet. Even then she couldn’t help but be disturbed that he’d made the order without speaking to her first. ‘Tell me what’s going on.’

His firm mouth thinned for a split second and the eyes that met hers were closed off, bordering on cold. ‘Querida, I don’t wish to upset your birthday celebration.’

She frowned. ‘Why would telling me how your trip went ruin my birthday? What happened?’ she pressed.

His gaze swept away from hers, back to the dish in his hand. Shutting her out. ‘My parents happened.’ He looked up, tawny-gold eyes piercing her. ‘And since they come under the numerous subjects we don’t discuss, perhaps we can drop it?’ he drawled.

The statement hurt a little, but Sienna couldn’t deny that it was accurate. There were swathes of their private lives they avoided, their common threads of familiarity were business and the bedroom. Again she experienced the ominous sense of shifting sands, prompting her to go against her better judgment.

‘Maybe...this one time we can make an exception? And, before you bite my head off, I only request it because I can see that whatever happened is affecting you, Emiliano.’

‘You are kind, querida, but I would also caution you against making those sorts of statements. There are some things you can’t take back. Besides, I believe you’re exaggerating things a little.’ He dished the seafood salad starter onto her plate, served himself and poured them both glasses of chilled white wine.

‘You think I’m exaggerating things?’ She hated herself for the tiny catch in her voice and the needy words that spilled in the bid to make her point. ‘Then why haven’t you kissed me since you walked in the door? Usually, you can’t keep your hands off me, yet you haven’t so much as touched me. And, if you clench your jaw any tighter, it’ll snap.’

‘I’ve told you, you look breathtaking. I’ve wished you happy birthday. I showered you with presents all day, even in my absence. Perhaps I’m saving the rest for later. I know how much you love the anticipation,’ he drawled before he raised his glass to her and took a large gulp.

Sienna caught a glimpse of the banked desire in his eyes. Her heart resumed its erratic thumping, but she couldn’t dismiss the other, more terrifying feeling residing beneath her breast. Because there was something else lurking in his eyes. Something cold, bracing and soul threatening.

‘Six days of anticipation is more than enough. “One day is too long.” Isn’t that what you said last month when you returned from that two-day business summit in Athens?’ That she had to remind him of that was even more shocking, the unusual recounting of gestures received but never spoken about making her reel.

‘Careful, Sienna, or you’ll have me thinking these declarations you’ve previously led me to believe are over the top are in fact secretly yearned for.’

A flush crept up her neck to stain her cheeks but she didn’t drop her gaze. ‘As I said, perhaps I wish to make an exception.’

His shrug was almost...bored. ‘There is no need. I’ve had a long and turbulent flight, amante. Right now, I want to relax and see you sated with food. Is that too much to ask?’ His voice held a definite bite. A warning to leave well enough alone.

She shook her head, convinced more than ever that something was seriously wrong. ‘Whatever it is that’s bothering you, I...I want to help.’ Throwing caution to the wind, she abandoned her glass and, in a first move that made her insides quake, she initiated touch by placing her hand over his.

He tensed, his nostrils flaring as he gazed down at her hand.

Then he removed his hand from under hers.

Her heart stopped as another thought sliced through her mind.

‘Emiliano? Is it me?’

The eyes that held hers were completely devoid of emotion. ‘Sienna, leave this alone...’

‘Oh, God, are you annoyed with me for finalising the Younger deal without you?’

‘What?’

‘You gave me carte blanche, remember? You said I should go ahead and offer whatever we needed to land the deal. And that’s what I did. I know it was another five million more than we initially agreed, but I did the figures and judged that it was worth it.’

His brow clamped in a frown as he yanked his tie loose with his free hand. ‘Santo cielo, not everything is about business—’ He ruthlessly checked himself and drew in a breath. ‘Rest assured, I’m not annoyed with you about the deal. Without your quick thinking and acting, we’d have lost it. I believe I had Denise send you an email commending you for it today.’

She’d seen the email from his executive assistant, and again wondered why Emiliano hadn’t contacted her himself. ‘Okay, but—’

‘You want further commendations from me? More flowers? More accolades on top of the presents you’ve already received? Is that what this show of neediness is about?’

Shock and anger scythed equal swathes of pain through her. ‘Excuse me?’ Despite having called herself the same only minutes ago, the label stung badly.

He drained his glass and set it down with more force than necessary. Charging to his feet, he rounded the table. His impressive height and bristling demeanour would’ve made a lesser woman cower. Hell, she’d seen grown men wither beneath the look displayed on his face now.

But she’d never been one of them.

Surging to her feet, she faced him, their untouched food abandoned. ‘Did you just call me needy?’

‘Am I wrong? Now that we’re behind closed doors, where your precious reputation isn’t at risk, do you not need something from me? Have you not been full of needful words since I walked in the door?’ he accused.

‘Don’t twist my words. I just want to talk to you, find out what’s—’

‘I don’t want to talk, querida. You’re usually adept at picking up simple cues like that. Has my absence affected you that much, or is there another agenda going on here?’ he taunted.

The tightly furled subject she’d tentatively intended to broach with him tonight knotted harder, congealing into stone that chafed against her heart. Incisive eyes dragged over her face, probing her expression and then widening upon witnessing the evidence she couldn’t quite disguise.

‘Sí, another agenda,’ he bit out. ‘Do I get three guesses or shall I strike for gold and deduce that you’re breaking your unique mould to broach the predictable “where do we go from here?” conversation women feel the need to have at the most inappropriate times?’

Sienna wasn’t sure whether it was his uncanny acuity or the abrasive tone that alarmed her more. ‘You’re turning this around on me, Emiliano. We were talking about you.’

‘A subject I’ve clearly expressed my abhorrence for. Now, are we to go around in circles, or are we going to eat?’

She lifted her chin, the distress and foreboding she’d staunched so fiercely blooming into life within her chest. ‘I’ve lost my appetite.’

He took another dangerous step closer, swallowing the gap between them, extinguishing the very air that sustained them until only pure, sizzling electricity remained. Soot-coloured lashes swept down and paused, the heat in his eyes branding her mouth for endless seconds before his gaze rose again.

‘For food? Or for everything else?’ His voice was thicker. Deeper. His nostrils flared in blatant, carnal hunger.

‘Why are you so angry with me?’ she whispered, unable to stem the dread crawling over her skin.

An enigmatic expression blanketed his face for a blind second, his eyes blazing with a light she couldn’t fathom. ‘Perhaps I’m tired of being compartmentalised in your life, of being put on a shelf and taken down and dusted off only when your needs get the better of you.’

She gasped. ‘What? I’ve never—’

The firm finger that drifted over her lower lip stemmed her answer. ‘I wish to get off this merry-go-round. So I ask you again, what have you lost your appetite for?’

Lust, need, anger and hurt strangled her in equal measures. With a few pithy words, he’d reduced her to a needy female eager to sink her talons into a man she wanted to possess. With one label, he’d reminded her of the one thing she’d vowed never to be again.

Dependent.

They’d had disagreements before, but nothing like this. Sienna couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t stem the hurt that flowed like a bloodied wound. But with each second that passed, with each intake of his breath and exhalation of hers, a different emotion surged forth. Familiar. Overwhelming. Devastating.

A deep tremble seized her, shaking her from head to toe. He saw her reaction and triumph coated his features, his eyes darkening as he watched. Waited.

‘Emiliano...’

‘Sí, Sienna?’ he whispered against her mouth, but holding himself a breath away, taunting her with his proximity.

Her breath shook out. ‘Something’s going on. Don’t make me think I’m crazy or that I’m overreacting. Please, just tell me—’

‘Stop. You know better than to push a closed subject. You’re an expert on closed subjects, after all. So do not let tonight be the moment you change your tune, querida, hmm?’

Another bolt of shock went through her. Her gaze collided with his. The hunger was still there, but everything else was just...wrong. ‘Who are you? Why are you speaking to me this way?’

‘You’re the one who insists on incessant discourse,’ he bit out at her.

‘You don’t want me to talk? Fine!’ She grabbed his tie and pulled it free. One vicious twist of her wrist sent it flying across the polished table. Then she attacked his shirt. Buttons turned into tiny missiles launched across the room, the depth of unbelievable hurt and lust tearing through her and making her irrational.

Her actions felt surreal, an out-of-body experience that sent shockwaves through her other self, the one observing what she was doing from a safe distance.

The live, breathing one initiating hot-headed moves swallowed hard at the first sight of Emiliano’s tanned, chiselled chest and gave a helpless groan, her body weakening and surging with desire at the same time.

Emiliano’s breath hissed out when she reached for his belt buckle. ‘Querida—’

‘No! If I don’t get to talk, neither do you,’ she insisted, probably because she was terrified that talking now would force her to think about what she was doing, and the possible reason behind Emiliano’s behaviour. Which was wrong, but she couldn’t help it. Not in this instance. Not when a mere hour ago she’d felt on top of the world.

Her fingers gained renewed power. Tugging the belt free, she jerked it away and heard it whistle through the loops on its way across the floor. Her fingers brushed the powerful erection behind his fly and a powerful shudder rocked him.

‘Dios mio, Sienna...’ His voice was thick, his arousal present and potent.

‘Unless, of course, you’re going to tell me I’m crazy to think you want me?’ She kicked away her shoes and reached for the zipper of her dress. Lowered it. Watched the tops of his sculptured cheekbones flush with raw need.

His lips parted, his breath emerging in shallow pants as he watched her dress loosen and drape, secured only by her heaving breasts.

But, as quickly as the alien bravado had risen, it died, leaving her once again flailing, distraught.

What on earth was she doing?

Dropping her hands, she hiked up the skirt of the gown and took one step back, then another. He followed, tracking her with the calculated steps of a ravenous predator.

They moved like that, locked in their erotic dance, out of the dining room. Somewhere along the way, the top part of her dress dropped, exposing her.

Emiliano stumbled. Then cursed under his breath. At any other time, Sienna would’ve smiled a wicked, teasing smile. Not now. Now each breath was weighted with desire, yes, but also with a fearful heaviness that left little room for hilarity.

‘Am I crazy, Emiliano?’ she pressed, even though part of her desperately urged herself to remain silent.

Long seconds ticked by as he prowled after her. Her back touched the bedroom door, swinging it open. Momentarily, his gaze flicked past her to the king-sized bed they’d shared insanely passionate moments in for six months. The eyes that returned to meet hers were heavy with need and regret. Whether it was for their argument or for something else, she didn’t know. Although, with the ache in her chest she couldn’t quite shift, she suspected the latter.

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