Retaining His Bride (A Completed Novella)

Chapter 3

Enrique watched the thoughts flutter across Clio’s face—uncertainty, trepidation, sadness. Back then, in the interests of his art, he had observed her young face so closely he had learned to read it. He had captured her features in charcoal, watercolour, oils—a large part of his portfolio for his final year of his degree had been depictions of Clio. She had changed in fifteen years, but it seemed her expressions had not. It was the hint of sadness that made him rescind the question.

“Don’t answer that,” he said gruffly. “It was a mistake.” Even after all this time, he couldn’t bear to think of her with another man—happy or otherwise. “I’m here to deliver a gift. Not to talk about the past.”

The expression on her face relaxed into relief and he had to remind himself he had lived a good life in spite of her. In fact the pain of her rejection had spurred him on to success after success. Almost as if he had to prove to her, to himself, that even though he didn’t come from a wealthy background he was every bit her equal. He’d started in the art department of a small advertising agency. But his artistic flair combined with his commercial instinct had seen him rocket to the top of the most successful agency in Europe. He was no longer the boy who hadn’t been good enough for the posh girl from London.

“Of course,” she said, her features schooled to indifference. “All that is water under the bridge.”

“Exactly,” he said through gritted teeth. All that love, all that passion, the shared past she so readily dismissed. He knew she had married and divorced after they’d broken things off. But he had never come close to a committed relationship. The pain of losing the girl he’d thought he’d love forever had made him wary of ever risking his heart again. He had to get out of here.

Then she surprised him by looking up at him, her eyes wide and sincere. “But after all these years it’s wonderful to see you again. I…I never thought I would.”

“It’s good to see you too,” he said gruffly. The years had softened the edges of his anger towards her. Softened but not extinguished.

“I…I heard you’ve been very successful and I’m glad for you,” she said. “You were so talented.”

He gestured around him. “It seems you’ve done well too. How long have you had this business?”

“For five years. Maids in Chelsea has grown from something small into something I’m very proud of. Who knew it could give me such satisfaction to match jobs to people? I have some incredible staff.”

“It’s not what I expected you to do,” he said. “I remember you had your heart set on being an interpreter. But to run your own business is an excellent thing.”

A wry smile twisted the corners of her lovely mouth. “I worked in executive recruitment and loved it. My languages came in handy there. But then I went to live in Hong Kong and I couldn’t get a work visa. When I came back to London I had no recent work experience behind me, and the bottom had fallen out of the recruitment industry with the economic problems.”

When he’d finally accepted that he had no choice but to deliver his grandmother’s gift to Clio, he’d been forced to see what she had been up to. He had discovered that Maids in Chelsea was one of the most successful agencies of its kind. In spite of himself, he’d felt a curious sense of pride in her achievement.

“I’ve thought of you over the years,” she said tentatively. “I…I’ve had regrets. I was so young and maybe I should have done things differently.”