Maureen Child - Honour-Bound Groom / Cinderella & the CEO - Honour-Bound Groom

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?”