A Devilishly Dark Deal (5 page)

Making a half-hearted attempt to get up from the couch, she slumped back down almost straight away—because her legs just didn’t seem to want to hold her up. A few moments later her backless sandals slipped off her feet as she dropped her head down onto the silk cushion behind her and fell fast asleep …

‘It’s all right, little one I’m here now … I’ll stay and hold you until you fall asleep I promise …’

Her arms full of the warm weight of a baby, Grace rubbed at the surge of hot tears that welled up in her eyes. Every day when she visited the orphanage and saw the mixture of sad and hopeful faces that waited to greet her it became harder and harder for her to leave.
She’d become particularly fond of the baby boy that had been put into her arms a few days ago, after his birth mother had died of Aids.
Now on every visit she made a beeline for him.
He was so easy to love. That was the most heartrending thing …
He deserved to have parents who adored him. Surely there must be some kind couple in the area who could adopt him and give him a home?
God, it was so hot …
If she stayed here for another year she doubted she’d ever get used to the enervating heat …

Opening her eyes, Grace shockingly registered that she wasn’t in fact in Africa, at the orphanage, but was instead in the elegant high-ceilinged drawing room of Marco Aguilar’s home. She swung her legs to the floor, pressed her hand to the side of her head because the sudden movement had made her head spin then stared straight up into a pair of concerned dark-lashed brown eyes.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she murmured, beyond embarrassed and wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her. ‘I don’t know what came over me … falling asleep like that … a bit too much wine, I think.’

‘You were dreaming,’ Marco told her low-voiced. Dropping down with ease to his haunches, he reached out a hand to brush away the lock of hair that had tumbled onto her forehead. ‘It was a dream that clearly distressed you. Would you like to tell me about it?’

‘I thought I was back in Africa.’ She tried for a smile, but her heart was bumping so hard beneath her ribs at his closeness that it turned into a grimace.

‘It sounded as though you were comforting a child?’

‘A baby,’ Grace answered straight away. ‘His name was Azizi—the helpers who work at the orphanage named him. It means beloved or precious one.’

The tight knot of tension that gathered inside his chest at her words made Marco rise to his feet again. He couldn’t deny that he was touched by how genuinely loving she’d sounded about the baby … an infant that wasn’t even her
own
. If only he had had someone even
half
as loving to look out for him as a child. It would have made a world of difference to him. He might not have grown up as emotionally detached as he had become …

One thing seemed clear: when Grace became a mother herself, her natural proclivity to be tender and loving would come into its own. Marco
envied
the man who would be the father of her children.

‘If his destiny proves to live up to his name, then he will be a fortunate boy indeed,’ he remarked, crossing the cool marble tiles to the opened French doors. Turning back to observe the pretty woman perched on the edge of his couch, her golden hair sexily mussed from her nap and one thin strap of her silk camisole sliding arrestingly down over one perfect satin shoulder, he folded his arms to try and contain the carnal heat that threatened to consume him. ‘When I walked back in from the kitchen after talking to Inês I thought I had stumbled upon Sleeping Beauty,’ he confessed. ‘I should have pretended to be the handsome prince and kissed you awake.’

Her big blue eyes widened to saucers, then she sighed. ‘But you didn’t,’ she uttered softly.

The throbbing heat that had already invaded Marco inflamed him even more, and he almost had to suppress a groan. ‘Would you have liked me to?’ he asked, his voice sounding like a hypnotised stranger’s to his own ears.

Leaping suddenly to her feet, Grace hastily repositioned the silky spaghetti strap that had drifted down over one shoulder, then slipped her prettily arched feet into the sandals that were at the foot of the couch. ‘I should go. It’s probably not a good idea for me to stay for dinner after all. You’ve already taken me out to lunch and given up a lot of your valuable free time to be with me as it is.’

‘You can’t go,’ Marco’s reply was unequivocal. Already he knew that his house—this ‘paradise on earth’, as she had called it—would feel like a suffocating if luxurious prison without her presence this evening. She was more than just a breath of fresh air … she had him spellbound. And he scarce knew what to do with the torrent of feelings that were coursing through him. Never before had he experienced such an instantaneous and passionate attraction towards a woman practically on sight.

‘What do you mean, I can’t go?’

‘I mean that Inês has already started to prepare the meal she is cooking for us tonight.’

‘But we’ve only just got back from having lunch.’ Running her hand over her hair, his guest lifted her wrist to examine her watch. She moved her head in stunned disbelief when she saw the time. ‘It’s just after seven o’clock … We left the restaurant at half past four. You don’t mean to tell me that I’ve been asleep on your couch for nearly two hours?’

‘You clearly needed to rest. In this part of the world it is not unusual to take a siesta after lunch.’

‘You should have woken me … what must you think of me?’

It surprised him that she seemed so distressed. Most women would have taken the opportunity to maximise
any
chance to spend time with him … but not
Grace
. Accustomed to thinking on his feet, Marco moved towards her, circled his hands round her slim upper
arms
then smiled down into her upturned face with every ounce of the charm that newspapers and magazines regularly claimed he had. And not for an
instant
did he chastise himself for utilising that asset.

‘It would have been a crime to wake you when you looked so peaceful. While I sat here and watched you I made the most of the time to reflect upon helping your charity and I’m pleased to tell you—rather than wait any longer—I’ve decided to write you a cheque tonight to pay for the new orphanage. To cover
all
the costs.’

‘You mean to buy the land, purchase the materials
and
pay for the work to be done to build it?’

‘That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, but I didn’t expect you to—Oh, my God, that’s wonderful! I could—I could
kiss
you!’ Her cheeks flooded with the becoming colour of dewy pink roses even as her lips curved into the most bewitching sunny smile Marco had ever seen.

‘You won’t find me protesting about that,’ he teased.

‘But … You—you watched me sleep? Why?’

He lifted a shoulder in an unrepentant shrug. ‘What do you expect a normal red-blooded male to do? Ignore the unexpected opportunity to gaze at such sublime beauty—undisturbed and at my leisure—when it was right here under my nose?’ He stole a couple more seconds to look more deeply into her startled blue eyes before dropping his hands from her arms and stepping away … but not
too
far away. His palms tingled as if they’d been burned by the sun—just because he had touched her.

‘Anyway …’

Unable to disguise her surprise—and also what he perceived to be her general awkwardness at what he’d just revealed—Grace linked her hands as if to steady herself.

‘You really will write a cheque for the orphanage tonight?’

‘I will indeed.’

‘I can hardly believe it. You have no idea what this will mean to the children, and to the people who help care for them.’

‘I think I do.’ Helplessly remembering the long, empty days when he was growing up in the orphanage, craving love and attention and not getting it, he thought,
At least now I can do something to help another child growing up in similar circumstances to have a more comfortable and caring existence …
‘Why don’t you come into my study and we will get our business over and done with before dinner?’

His smile enigmatic, Marco moved towards the door, knowing that he had no qualms about the additional unconventional agreement he was going to propose as soon as he wrote the cheque for Grace. None at all …

CHAPTER FOUR

IT WAS about an hour away from sunset, and the fiery orb still burned high and bright in the azure sky as Grace followed Marco through stunning marble halls into his study. In fact the light that beamed through the huge plate glass windows was so dazzling upon their entry that she squinted to protect her gaze. Her companion immediately pressed a button on a wall panel to lower stylish honey-coloured blinds, then gestured for her to sit down opposite him at the large beechwood desk that dominated the room.

Still feeling stunned that Marco was going to give the charity the help it so desperately needed to rebuild the orphanage, and anxious that at any time he might change his mind, she attempted to introduce some levity into the proceedings. ‘I feel like I’m about to be interviewed for a post at one of your resorts.’ She smiled. ‘Would I pass muster do you think?’

‘I only ever employ the very best people. If you are capable of rising to the challenge of doing an exemplary job then, yes … you would definitely stand a good chance of gaining a position in my company.’

The merest shadow of a smile touched lips that suddenly appeared austere, and Grace couldn’t help feeling a little defensive at the idea her host might be privately questioning her ability and finding it wanting. All desire to lighten the mood fled. Was Marco subtly reminding her just who he was, and that she was lucky he’d agreed to talk to her at all about the charity—let alone invite her into his home? As soon as the thought entered her mind she gave herself an instant pep talk that she shouldn’t be daunted by someone just because he was rich and well-known—she was sitting on the other side of his desk because her priorities, her ability
and
her heart were good. There was absolutely nothing she needed to feel ‘less than’ about.

He reached into a desk drawer, and she saw him withdraw a chequebook. Her heart started to thud a little. She caught her breath as she watched him write the name of the charity on the top line, then scrawl in an amount. Ripping out the cheque from the book, he turned it round so that it was facing her, then pushed it across the desk. The inside of her mouth turned dry as dust as Grace inclined her head to examine it.

‘This much?’ she exclaimed, hardly daring to believe the eye-popping amount on the cheque. ‘It’s at least triple the amount that we need. Why? Why have you decided to give us so much?’

The man at the other side of the desk finally let down his guard and smiled without inhibition. For the first time she noticed the crinkled laughter lines at the corners of his deep brown eyes. Now she was agog for an entirely different reason …

‘As well as rebuilding the orphanage, this money is for the charity to do whatever it sees fit to help the children … Your passion and dedication to their cause, Grace, has helped bring it home to me how I have neglected the one area of need that I can personally identify with.’

He folded his arms over his muscular chest and briefly glanced away, as though struggling with the memories that might still haunt him. Grace sensed her insides lurch sympathetically.

His arresting gaze returned to study her. ‘The cheque is yours to take with you. However, there is something I would like to add before our transaction is concluded.’

About to pick up the cheque to examine it more closely, Grace stilled apprehensively. ‘Oh? What’s that? Is it perhaps that you want to go out to Africa to visit the orphanage and confirm what’s needed for yourself? I’m sure the charity would be delighted to arrange—’

‘I do not want to visit.’ There was a hint of steel in his reply. Then he drove his fingers through his hair, as though frustrated that she should jump to that conclusion. He leant back in the impressive Chesterfield-style chair and exhaled a sigh. ‘What I want is to make a personal arrangement with
you,
Grace.’

Her brow puckered. ‘What kind of arrangement? You had better explain.’

‘You told me that you have another week and a half left of your holiday?’

‘That’s right …’

‘For the first time in quite a long while I find myself with the desire to take a sabbatical from work, and I would like to have an attractive and pleasant companion to join me for a while. If you agree to spend the remainder of your holiday with me, Grace, I will show you some of the finest private beaches, take you to eat at some of the best restaurants, and let you partake in any leisure activity you so desire. I have, of course, access to the most exclusive golf courses, if you’re interested in learning how to play, and in the evenings if there is a performance somewhere we can go to a concert or a recital, perhaps? My personal preference is for classical music, but I fully accept that you might prefer something else.’ Pausing, he lightly drummed his long, tanned fingers on the desk, his glance honing in on her like a laser. ‘All this will, of course, be at my expense. Each morning I will send a car to collect you and bring you back here. Once you arrive we can discuss what we would like to do that day. And there is one more thing …’

If she hadn’t felt quite so numb with shock, Grace would have pricked herself with a pin to convince herself that she still inhabited her physical body and wasn’t either hallucinating or dreaming. ‘What’s that?’

‘I forgot to include shopping in the itinerary. I have never met a woman yet who would not put that at the top of her list of favourite things to do on holiday.’

‘Well, you have now.’ Shakily circling a small patch of the desk with the tip of her forefinger, she couldn’t help but be affronted. ‘It’s never been top of any list for me and never
will
be.’

‘Hmm …’ Marco’s expression was definitely amused. ‘Do you really expect me to believe you do not like beautiful clothes … exquisite jewellery?’

‘Why would I pretend I’m not interested if it’s the truth?’

‘Maybe you think you should play down such an interest? Who knows? There is no need. I am an extremely wealthy man. The women who come into my life have certain expectations. Clothes and jewellery are the very
least
they expect.’

‘What a shame.’ A strong wave of compassion assailed Grace as she thoughtfully digested this information and observed him.

‘What do you mean?’ A shadow moved across his piercing dark gaze.

‘I mean it’s a shame that women can’t just like you for yourself … without you having to buy things for them.’

‘Thankfully, I do not suffer with the same regret. I am a realist, if nothing else. And the truth is I do not indulge their love of beautiful clothes and expensive jewellery for
nothing
. I too have certain expectations—of them.’

Embarrassment at what he alluded to made Grace shift uncomfortably in her seat. But she was still genuinely sorry to learn that Marco must enter into such coldblooded liaisons with women believing he had to pay for the privilege. She didn’t doubt that it couldn’t exactly make him feel very good about himself, for all his talk about being a realist. Inside, she guessed that the small boy he had once been was still searching for evidence that he was valued in some way, and maybe felt he always had to
give
something in order to get something back in return. It made her want to show him that he
was
valued and didn’t need to deserve it. He was a good man. Grace was certain of that.

‘That’s all well and good,’ she said, ‘but I still think you’re missing something important if a woman doesn’t just want to be with you because she genuinely finds pleasure in your company and—and cares about you.’

He scowled. ‘You are clearly a romantic, Grace, and not remotely a realist.’

‘If realism means that people can’t like me unless I give them something, then I’m glad I’m what you label a romantic. Look … please don’t be offended by what I’ve said …’ Her irked glance automatically softened. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate or wound him by expressing her perhaps
too
frank opinions. After all, she had utterly no experience of the kind of world Marco moved in, or the compromises and personal sacrifices he found himself having to make. ‘It’s just that the things I find most beautiful are all natural … a sunset over a green valley, a deserted sandy beach as dusk falls, a bluebell-carpeted wood or the scent of roses in an English country garden … the joy on the faces of children who are simply happy that an adult is paying them some real attention …’

Her avid listener sat up straight in his chair and a much more interested glint came into his eyes. ‘If you genuinely prefer all those things then you are indeed a unique woman in our consumer-driven day and age.’

‘I don’t think so. If you haven’t met other women like me it doesn’t mean that they’re not around. You just move in a very elite sphere where perhaps the women’s focus is more on the material. I’m not unusual or special in any way. Besides, it’s not in my nature to crave lots of new clothes and jewellery. At the end of the day whatever small pleasure they give you is only ephemeral. Too many possessions—whether clothes, jewellery or anything else—just make a person dissatisfied, because whatever they have it’s never enough, and they always end up wanting more.’

Linking his long fingers together, Marco leant across the desk towards her, close enough that the scent of his arresting spicy cologne made her insides knot. ‘If you agree to spend your holiday with me, what if buying you nice things makes
me
feel good?’ he asked, his rich voice pitched intimately low.

She frowned. ‘Marco …?’

‘Yes, Grace?’

‘You said you wanted a—a
companion
to join you on your break from work …’

‘Specifically, a pleasant and attractive one … in
your
case a very beautiful one.’

Another woman would no doubt find such a lavish compliment coming from a man as extremely attractive and influential man as Marco a huge boost to her self-esteem … but not Grace. Ever since that frightening incident with her ex-boyfriend Chris she had deliberately steered clear of interested men. The truth was she was understandably nervous about giving them the wrong signals, and consequently about what they would expect if she inadvertently did so. There were times in the past when she might have been worryingly naive, but not any more. One of the most handsome and admired entrepreneurs in the world wouldn’t ask a woman to be his companion for even a short time and not want something a bit more than her company she realised.
Hadn’t he already alluded to similar arrangements with women?

The shocking heat that suddenly suffused her at the idea made her nipples tingle and tighten beneath the flimsy silk of her camisole and she crossed her arms over her chest to prevent Marco from noting the fact. ‘Is my company
all
that you want of me?’ She blushed hard as she waited for his answer, in a state of tension in case he said,
No, that’s not all that I want.

Could she agree to his incredible offer to spend the rest of her holiday with him if it entailed something far more intimate and compromising than simply being a companion?

Resting his elbows on the desktop, Marco knew his hungry gaze was drinking her in like intoxicating wine—a wine that went immediately to his head. It simply wasn’t possible for him to disguise the fact that he wanted her … If possible he wanted her even
more
after her assertion that she preferred the natural things in life—in particular the joy on the faces of children when an adult paid them some proper attention. Inwardly he had rejoiced with every fibre of his being when Grace had said that. Her words had acted like a salve on some of the desperate hurt he’d experienced as a child, and to be honest had knocked him sideways.

‘You have asked me a straight question and I will give you a straight answer,’ he replied. ‘Yes I
do
want something other than your company. You are very different from most of the women I come into contact with, and that has an irresistible appeal for me. If, in the course of our time together, it should transpire that you share a similar fascination for me, then
yes
… of course I want to take you to bed.’

He shrugged a shoulder, as if it was a foregone conclusion. Her cheeks flushed as prettily as a wild rose in response, making his heart pound at even the mere idea of her slim but curvaceous body entwined with his in an embrace, let alone sharing the eroticism of lovemaking. It jolted him when Grace scraped back her chair and stood up.

‘And is my receiving this cheque for the charity conditional on whether I accept your offer or not?’

Marco shook his head. Even if making his offer conditional
was
the only way to get her to sleep with him, he wouldn’t do it. He might have a propensity sometimes to be a little ruthless in his business dealings, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he even attempted to coerce or blackmail a woman like Grace. She might be a self-confessed romantic but he didn’t want to be the one to shatter that pretty illusion …

‘No it isn’t. The cheque is yours, come what may. You have my word on that.’

She sighed and her relief was palpable. ‘Thank you. While we’re talking so frankly, there’s something I need to tell you. The thing is—the thing is sex isn’t a simple or casual thing for me … I think you should know that. Being a friend or companion to you while you’re on a break is one thing … intimacy is entirely another.’