Retaining His Bride (A Completed Novella)

Chapter 2

Enrique tried not to stare at Clio but failed abysmally. She'd been lovely at twenty when he'd begged her on bended knee to be his bride. That youthful prettiness had ripened into heart-stopping beauty. Her cheekbones were more sculpted, her creamy skin as smooth with just a few laugh lines around her mouth and eyes, those eyes even greener than he remembered. How many times had he painted that face?

She looked even better now than she had then. The snug-fitting black suit with the pencil skirt and waist-nipping jacket emphasised her curves and her long, slender legs. His body reacted instantly to her as if fifteen years had not passed. As if her betrayal had not wounded him so deeply.

He cleared his throat to answer her question. "I have come to London to deliver you a gift," he said. He did not add "because I was forced to by familial duty." Or that he'd meant it when he'd said he'd never wanted to see her again.

"A gift? For Christmas? From you?"

Bewilderment flitted across her face, closely followed by suspicion. Her green eyes narrowed. He didn't blame her for her doubts.

"Not from me," he said, too hastily—perhaps too harshly. "From my grandmother."

Her brow pleated into a frown. "From Sofia? I don't understand. Why would she—?"

"She died last month and left you a bequest in her will."

Clio stilled. "I'm so sorry. She... I liked her."

Enrique gritted his teeth. He had adored his grandmother. But he wished she had kept her nose out of his love life. Clio had been the onlyone of his girlfriends his abuela had liked. Right up until the end, she had never stopped reminding him of what a mistake he had made with his all-or-nothing stubbornness. And he had never stopped retorting that he did not give second chances. Ever.

"She liked you too."

Her frown deepened. "But why would she leave me a gift after all these years?"

He shrugged. "Who knows? If you recall, she was not a person to be argued with. Even, it appears, after her death."

Slowly Clio shook her head. "But, Rico, you don't understand why I'm confused—the last time I saw her, your grandmother put a curse on me. Why would she remember me in her will?"

*

The incredulous expression on Enrique's face would have made Clio smile if she wasn't still reeling with disbelief that he was actually here in her office. The last time she'd seen him had been at a stilted visit to his parents' home. His lively, sprawling family had embraced her with open arms, a wonderful experience for an only child. It had been painful that day when she'd tried to explain to them why the wedding was off. The same day his grandmother had taken her aside.

Enrique drew his black brows together. "A curse? I know nothing about a curse," he said in his deep, lightly accented voice.

"Trust me—your grandmother Sofia cursed me fair and square." On that last day in their sunny courtyard with the scent of orange blossoms heavy in the air.

"Surely you don't believe in such superstition?" He gestured with his hands as he spoke. She remembered how he had taught her that she couldn't say she could speak Spanish until she used her hands as well as her tongue.

"Of course I don't."

But in the years since, she'd had cause to wonder. Her doubt must have shown in her voice because he narrowed his eyes with interest and she knew he would question her further. How easy it was to slip back into thinking she knew him when, despite a year of a shared past, they were strangers now.

Clio glanced over at her assistant, who was all ears and gazing in fascination at the very handsome Spaniard. Clio liked to keep her personal life private from her staff. She nodded meaningfully at the girl, who got up hastily and said she would take an early lunch. Clio waited until she had left the room before turning her attention back to Enrique. Enrique. The reality of him here in her office was taking some getting used to.

He took a step towards her. That step brought him closer than he'd been in fifteen years. So close she was aware of his scent—so immediately familiar it sent her heart thudding into overdrive with an overwhelming rush of awareness. From the get-go their relationship had been passionate, emotional, dizzying in its intensity. Unforgettable.

"So what was this curse of my grandmother's?" he asked.

"You really don't know?"

He frowned. "Of course I don't."

Clio wished she hadn't mentioned the curse. But now that she had she couldn't be that person who dangled a teaser without following through with the rest of the story.

She took a deep breath to steady her voice, to make it sound like she was relating a humorous tale from long ago. But her voice came out way more wobbly than she would have liked. "She said I was cursed to never find happiness with any other man than her grandson, Enrique di Costa."

He stared at her for a long moment. Then he laughed. He laughed at the fact she'd been cursed by a member of his family. "That was not a curse. She was upset by your behaviour. It was just something that she said."

No, it wasn't. It was a curse from a woman who had been brought up in a culture and an era where curses were commonplace. Sofia had made that very clear. That wasn't to say Clio had believed the older woman. Not then anyway.

She shrugged. "Perhaps."

Then Enrique's eyes narrowed as his gaze went to her hands with their lack of a wedding band. She noticed he didn't wear a ring either. But then many married men did not—as she had learned on her infrequent forays into dating.

"A curse is only a curse if the person cursed believes it," he said slowly. "So tell me, Clio. Have you found happiness with a man other than me?"