Nina Milne - Rafael's Contract Bride

‘So no catch? Nothing nefarious? Everything above board?’

‘No, no and yes.’

Rafael allowed his most reassuring smile to come to the fore but to no avail. Instead of bringing reassurance, his legendary charm seemed to have made her even jumpier.

‘It just seems a little OTT.’

Not given the enormity of his plan.

‘That’s not your worry. Loosen up. Life is full of opportunities. Take this one.’

‘I’m not keen on opportunity.’

The hint of bitterness in her voice didn’t elude him, and a small stab of unexpected sympathy jabbed him even as he filed the information away.

‘You don’t have to take the opportunity,’ he pointed out. ‘You only need to consider it. What have you got to lose? Worst-case scenario: I tell you the job, you say no, and you’ve benefited from a trip to Spain and lunch with me.’

‘Yay...’

Despite the sarcastic inflexion he was sure there was a smidgeon of a smile in her voice.

‘Come on. Enjoy the day. When’s the last time you took a day off?’

A long time if the slightly peaky look of her skin and the smudges under her eyes were clues.

‘The temperature in La Rioja is twenty-two degrees. Plus it is an incredibly soothing place to be. Snow-capped mountains, leafy vineyards, vast blue skies, medieval villages...’

Enough, already.

An exhalation puffed from her lips and she relaxed back in the seat. ‘OK. I’m sold. But just so we’re clear upfront, this won’t make me swoon at your feet. Or make me want to work for you.’

‘Understood.’ He winked at her as he started Lucille. ‘I love a challenge.’

And this one was a doozy.

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU HIRED A private jet?’ Cora gazed around the interior of the plane as further misgivings heaped up. This was a bad idea. There was no way that Rafael Martinez would go to these lengths to hire her as an administrator. That was fact.

Mad thoughts filtered through her mind—maybe he was part of a drug-smuggling gang and this was an attempt to dazzle her with his wealth as part of a recruitment drive. Maybe the whole holiday venture was a cover-up. Maybe he was part of the Spanish mafia.

Maybe she should curb her over-active imagination.

‘Is that a problem?’

‘Yes, it is!’

Though higher in the problem stakes was the whirl of emotion that unfortunately wasn’t only to do with the sheer insanity of proceedings. Ever since she’d set eyes on Rafael Martinez the previous day she’d been restless—edgy, even. The couple of hours she’d spent researching him probably hadn’t helped either. Had only ensured that his image had haunted her dreams.

‘Nobody hires a private jet for something like this.’

‘Well, I do. Otherwise it would have taken us all day to get to La Rioja.’

Oh, no fair. The way he said the Spanish syllables evoked a strange sensation inside her and she had to force her feet to adhere to the floor of the jet. So he spoke fluent Spanish? No big deal. The man owned a Spanish vineyard, and for all she knew he was Spanish.

Her research hadn’t been clear on that point—it had simply told her what the world already knew: Rafael Martinez had been a teenage phenomenon, a millionaire by the time he was twenty, and he had developed a technological app that had taken the business world by storm. But right now that wasn’t the point.

‘But the expense...to say nothing of the carbon footprint...’

‘I don’t use a private jet every day. I do understand about the carbon footprint, but I also understand about the pilots who work for this company, the beauty of this aircraft, the mechanics who work on it. And I enjoy the luxury of not having to queue up at the airport, change flights and hire a car. I like the idea of not being spotted by some celebrity-spotter who then announces my destination on social media.’

The words arrested her—come to that, she wouldn’t be too keen on recognition either. Her family knew she was safe, but they didn’t know where she was or what she was doing—and right now she wanted to keep it that way. Wanted time and space to lick her wounds. More than that, there was her pride to consider. Next time she saw her parents she wanted to be in a position to hand over at least a fraction of the money she owed them.

Rafael Martinez was giving her five thousand pounds towards that goal, so maybe she should stop carping at his use of a private jet. Especially when in reality it suited her.

‘Fine. I just feel bad that you’re expending all this money on a losing prospect.’

As the roar of the engines signalled their departure he sat down on a chocolate-coloured leather chair that yelled luxury. ‘Why are you so adamant that you don’t want to work for me?’

It was a fair question, she supposed—and not easy to answer.

You’re too good-looking, too arrogant, too successful, too dangerous...

Whilst true, that all sounded stupid. Then there were the fast cars, the private jets, and worst of all that aura that unsettled her more and more with every passing second.

‘I have got to know the Caversham brand very well and I like working for Ethan and Ruby. I only have contacts in the company, and there is also the fact that I know nothing about wine.’

Her eyes narrowed as he shook his head at her. ‘Very good, Cora. Top marks for politeness. Now tell me the real reasons. Tell you what...’ He pulled his laptop towards him. ‘How about I transfer your fee for today into your account now? Then you can feel free to say whatever you like to my face.’

A flush touched her cheeks. ‘That’s not necessary.’

‘Then tell me the truth. Unvarnished. I can take it.’

There was that smile again—the tilt of his lips that somehow indicated that he knew he would win her over.

He tipped his palms upward. ‘How can I hope to persuade you to work for me if I don’t know what I’m up against?’

‘Fine.’

If he wanted straight shooting she’d give it to him. After all, right now she didn’t have to be a lady, and he’d given her carte blanche to be honest. Better for him to understand that her desire not to work for him was genuine and absolute. This was a man who went for what he wanted, and for unfathomable reasons he wanted her—Cora Brookes. Not Lady Cora Derwent.

For a second the idea held a fascination and, yes, a lure all of its own...

Time for a mental shakedown. The words fascination and lure were not apposite, and it was time to prove to Rafael and herself that she had no intention of calling him her boss. Ever. All her life she’d been surrounded by people like him, and for the past few years she’d worked for her parents—she knew what it was like.

‘I don’t like the way you think your wealth and your looks entitle you to—’ She broke off at the sudden flash of something that crossed his face.

‘Entitle me to what?’ he asked, his voice smooth as silk.

‘Entitle you to whatever you want—glamorous women, fast cars, private jets, endless favours... I don’t like the sense of superiority...’

‘My wealth entitles me to whatever I can afford, as long as I’m not hurting anyone or doing anything illegal.’ There was no sign of a smile now, no hint of charm or allure.

‘It doesn’t entitle you to feel superior.’

Any more than her family’s bloodline entitled them to do that.

‘I don’t feel superior.’

‘But you do feel entitled.’

‘To what? To buy a sports car? To hire a private jet? Yes.’

‘What about the women?’ Because, in all honesty, that was what stuck in her craw the most. ‘They are flesh and blood—not carbon fibre or titanium.’

‘I know that, and I’m thankful for it.’

The amusement in the tilt of his arrogant lips made her palm itch.