Billionaire's Defiant Mistress (10 page)

“So why live here, and not in Madrid?”

“It's complicated. I play football here, so that's one reason. And I left many years ago now and never really thought I would go back to live there.”

“But you must have friends and family there?” Then Sarah recognised the darkness underpinning his voice. “Did you have some kind of fall-out?” she guessed softly.

Carlos looked into her face and felt a strange desire to talk to her. It was traditional for pillow talk between a man and his mistress to reveal secrets, or was this such a temporary arrangement that talking to her would have no real impact on his life? She wasn't part of his circle of friends and she never would be. And suddenly, because of her gentle probing, he was curious to see what his buried memories would look like if he dragged them out for scrutiny once more.

“It was a fall-out, I guess you could call it that.”

“What happened?” For the first time since they met, Sarah felt she was communicating with him as his equal.

Carlos swallowed hard as the thought of the betrayal dried his mouth. He stared at a distant point somewhere beyond the ceiling. “It began soon after the death of my parents. My mother died when I was sixteen – my father four years earlier.”

“That must've been difficult for you,” she said. Her voice was naturally soothing and had a calming effect when she spoke softly.

“It was, but I was young and had already signed to play football. It was a sad time but the club took me under their wing and I felt that my life was stretched out in front of me.”

“So who did you have the fall-out with?” Sarah enquired.

“Raul. He was my best friend. We had grown up together and were like brothers.” Carlos felt a sensation like pain as the memories came flooding back – more vivid than he expected.

“We did everything together for as long as we'd been alive. We even got accepted to the Madrid youth team together. We were the up-and-coming stars for the future, everyone said we would be at the heart of the Madrid team for the next ten years.”

“There was Rafaela too.” He changed tack. “She had thick black hair and eyes that shone like polished jet. She was my first love. We were like a golden couple, I was the football star and she was the local beauty – the woman that every man wanted. Yet she only had eyes for Carlos Rodriguez. I loved how she adored me and I knew my peers were envious.”

“And what happened.”

“I was about to play my first game for the first team. I wasn't yet seventeen so it was a very young age to be getting a game. I was about to sign a contract which would have made me very rich, and then it happened.” His voice was faltering.

“What did?” She encouraged as she listened intently.

“In training, Raul came in with a high tackle which went straight through my knee and broke my leg in two places. It was a really bad injury and no one was sure if I would ever play again.”

Sarah could sense his pain in the way he was talking, but it didn't yet make sense. “Why did he do that?”

“It was an accident. It was a bad tackle but he didn't mean to hurt me. Though it did mean I didn't get to sign the contract because there was no guarantee I would be able to play again. Instead, Raul was given a nice big fat contract and he played in my place.” His words began to tail off.

“So you fell out over that?” she prompted.

“No. Like I said, it was an accident and he would have broken into the team a few months later in any event. The problem was Rafaela.” His voice was breaking. “I was in hospital for two weeks and of course I didn't have the promise of big wages. Rafaela liked the finer things in life and now it was Raul she saw as the man who could provide them for her. Why risk having to work for a living when you could guarantee leading a life of luxury as a rich man's wife?”

Sarah held her breath as she thought about the impact that must've had on him. An injury, losing his future and then, no girlfriend. Then with a flash of insight she realised what had probably been hurt most – his pride. “So what happened?”

“It was a long hard struggle to get back to full fitness. It was nearly six months before I could walk properly and a year before I was back playing football. I had to work really hard, training extra hours to get back to where I was. And at the end of it I didn't want to stay in Madrid any longer so I got a transfer, to England. It was whilst I was here that I got my life back on track, then I moved to Italy for a few years, then Germany and then back to England.”

Sarah noticed how his face became more animated as he talked about his career – it was probably the most alive she had seen him apart from when they were making love. She could see that he felt immense satisfaction at having to fight his way back from a terrible injury, whilst
mending his wounded pride. But she wasn't as interested in his career as she was the betrayal.

“So what happened to your girlfriend?” she asked carefully. “Where is she now?”

“Rafaela? Oh, they got married. Raul and Rafaela are married and still together. They have a daughter and live in Madrid.”

Sarah looked into his face searching for clues, wondering how he felt about his best friend and the woman who had betrayed him. His voice seemed too casual, too relaxed. And could this betrayal be a reason why he had never married? Does this explain why a man, so rich and successful as Carlos, would live on his own?

“Carlos, I am so sorry.”

As her unasked-for words of sympathy washed over him he began to wonder why he had told her so much. Was it because of that cute way she had of asking? Had those big blue eyes softened his soul, causing him to drop his guard? Why had he uncharacteristically revealed his past to her? His mind hardened. He did not want her to imagine that he would continue sharing confidences with her, nor that she had discovered the key to understanding him. Better to warn her off now than cause her greater hurt later.

“There is no need to feel sorry for me. It was a long time ago and such things help build our character and make us stronger,” he advised. “And as for Rafaela, she did me a big favour. She was nothing but an out and out gold-digger. A woman who could be bought by the highest bidder. She taught me very early in life one of my most valuable lessons. Never trust a woman.”

“What on earth is that on the front door?”

Sarah watched as Carlos put his sports bag down in the hallway. She took a deep breath. “It's a Christmas wreath, I thought it would cheer the house up a little.”

Carlos spun round to look at her, his face wearing a frown. “I know what it is, I'm more interested in why it is there.”

“It looks nice. Cheerful.”

“I did tell you I don't like Christmas and neither do I like all the paraphernalia that comes with Christmas.” He spoke with a stern tone.

Sarah swallowed hard. “It's a small wreath on the door. It's not as if I've lit the garden up with fairy lights.”

“Nevertheless, I'm not interested in having any of the commercialisation of Christmas in the house. The whole event is a farce.”

“Okay Mr Scrooge, message understood.” She smiled a big smile as if to tease him.

His frown deepened giving the impression his eyes were moving closer together. “I beg your pardon?”

“Just joking, Mr Scrooge. It's the name given to people who don't like Christmas. Someone like you.”

“Sarah, you are missing the point. I have said I am not interested in Christmas taking place in this house. Now you should respect my wishes and not make it your mission to change my mind.” His tone brightened. “All I want when I get home is to be greeted by my beautiful lover with a sensual kiss.”

Sarah stepped towards him and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Welcome home.”

Carlos felt her softened lips and instinctively wrapped his hands around her waist. He wanted her physically close to him, but he also wanted to hold her in place having detected a trace of defiance in her soft voice. “And how did you afford to buy such a monstrosity? You constantly refuse to accept money from me.” Carlos had become very suspicious of Sarah's refusal to accept money from him. He had never met a woman who didn't get excited, demanding even, at the prospect of using his credit cards whilst being his mistress.

At first he had insisted that she would need some money, so she could go shopping. Sarah had replied that she had no intention of spending her time doing something as dull as shopping. She got no pleasure from the vice of consumerism, and in any case, she could go shopping any time. Carlos had been shocked on the realisation that she actually meant what she said. She would rather spend her days enjoying the city for free; the galleries, museums and the walks around Cheshire. And then there was reading. She loved to read.

But now she had been tempted by a Christmas decoration which merely sat on the door outside.

“I created it.” Carlos was pushing his lips against hers and her words caused him to pull his head back.

“Created what?”

“The wreath.”

“You didn't? It's far too professional for it to be a home-made one.”

“I did Carlos. We sell all kinds of crafts in our shop and I'm expected to know something about them. I got talking to a nice old woman up the road who has holly and ivy growing in her garden. She cut some pieces off for me and I found some wire in the garage along with the base...”

“Okay. Okay.” Carlos protested, smiling as his hands slid down to her bottom and back up to her waist. “I didn't realise I had such a stubborn mistress.”

“Well, you have.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and was about to tease him, but stopped herself. She wanted to tell him that he had a lot to learn, but he didn't want to learn anything about her, not really. And their time together was nearing its end. There was only six days until Christmas, at which point she would be sent back to the Lake District like a parcel in the last Christmas post. Then, her life with Carlos would be over.

But she didn't want to think about that, instead she tried to focus on the pleasure she had shared with him. The films, the shows they had seen and the meals they had shared – and of course there was her ongoing education in the joy of sexual pleasure, taught by a connoisseur of the art. When it was just the two of them, isolated in their own erotic world, the rest of the planet didn't seem to matter.

As the days passed it got harder and harder for Sarah to ignore her impending departure. She tried to ignore it because it drained away the pleasure of the moment, but it wasn't easy. Worse, she had started to care for Carlos, in spite of the fact that he had warned, to care for him would be a waste of time. Her heart was stubborn, incapable of reason or taking notice of warnings. The heart makes you want things that you can never have...

She pulled away from the kiss and flashed her blue eyes in the way she had learnt would make him stare and smile. “So we keep the wreath?”

“I could be persuaded.”

“You need persuading?”

Sarah slid her hands down over his torso only stopping when her palm had reached his groin. She could feel his arousal pressing against her hand through his immaculately pressed suit trousers. She stroked him firmly as she pressed her lips along his jaw line.

“Come upstairs and I will persuade you.”

“Or you could persuade me right here,” he growled.

Sarah needed no further encouragement. She had discovered how to render him powerless in the few weeks she had been living in his home. And each time she relished his inevitable capitulation to her expanding repertoire of sexual persuasion. So she unzipped and allowed his trousers to fall to the ground before sliding to her knees in front of him. She took him in her mouth – devouring the hardness of his shaft, before teasing him with her lips and a soft flick of her tongue, then sliding it deep inside her mouth, causing him to gasp. Clutching his buttocks, she maintained a sensual rhythm as his fingers ran through her hair. She sensed the tension build, heard him groaning helplessly and knew he wouldn't be able to contain himself any longer. And she felt an odd sense of victory when he spilt his seed inside her mouth.

Carlos stood silently apart from the sound of heavy breathing. As his body returned to normal he brought Sarah up to a standing position, his eyes transparent with lust as he searched her face. He brushed her lips with his finger then leaned his head forward to kiss her – tasting himself on her mouth.

“Come to bed,” he whispered.

“Please,” she said softly.

Once in the bedroom he began to undress her. He removed her clothes slowly and erotically so that his fingers gently caressed her skin making her blood feel as though it was on fire. His own clothes he discarded quickly. He noticed her eyes were fixed on his arousal in its magnificent glory.

“You look apprehensive, Sarah.”

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Is it normal for a man to be aroused so easily and quickly as you are, Carlos?”

He smiled and laughed with a low proud tone as he continued to stroke her. The truth, if only he could reveal it, was that her appreciation and eagerness were a great aphrodisiac which could arouse him in seconds. “There are few men who could match my libido, Sarah.”

His matter of fact response sent a shiver down her spine, as she felt she was no more than another conquest – another notch on his bedpost. But wasn't that exactly what she was? Another notch? Carlos hadn't promised anything else, so even if she got upset at the thought of saying goodbye to him, she had nobody to blame but herself.

Her anxieties dissipated as she felt his hands move over her. Her body quivered as he stroked her skin until she was aware of nothing but her own sensitive nerve endings and the sound of her voice moaning his name. She was lost in the moment, becoming aware only briefly, as she felt his aching shaft enter her before losing her senses once more.

“Carlos,” she gasped.

“Look at me,” he demanded sternly.

They locked eyes as he conducted the rhythm, guiding her hips. The gaze which captured her eyes as he was deep inside her was intensely intimate. And as the erotic waltz led her to her inevitable orgasm she closed her eyes, scared that he would notice the naked pain which seemed to intrude at the moment of the highest pleasure. A pain brought on by her thoughts of life without him.