The Alcolar Family: The Twelve-Month Mistress / The Spaniard's Inconvenient Wife / Bound by Blackmail

That note had taken all his worst possible fear and turned it dark as night.

“‘I’m sorry it had to be this way”,’ he quoted cynically now, “‘but it’s over.” And that was it. Not even a dozen words. Would it have killed you to say why?’

Cassandra flinched. She actually flinched away at his words, the sound of his anger. He couldn’t believe that she was shocked at his vehemence, surprised by his fury.

What the hell else had she expected?

Bitter memories surfaced. Memories of the night before she had left him, the delight he had felt in her then, the passion they had shared.

‘You gave no sign, woman. We slept together that night…’

He knew he didn’t have to say which night. The way her head went back, the brief moment in which she closed her eyes, the way her face whitened, all told him without speaking that his words had hit home.

‘We made love…’

But that brought her eyes open again in a rush, blazing into his in rejection of what he had said.

‘No, we didn’t! We did no such thing! We—we had sex…’

‘Sex—yeah.’

Hearing the way she said it, the use of the basic, blunt term instead of any gentler euphemism, told him just what she had felt about it. All that it had meant to her. The thought burned like acid in his guts.

He knew where Ramón kept the alcohol in his apartment and he headed over to the cupboard, pulling out a bottle of brandy and wrenching open the top of it with a vicious movement. Sloshing an unmeasured amount into a fine crystal glass, he lifted it, tilting it in Cassie’s direction in a mockery of a toast, before taking a deep swallow of the fiery liquid.

‘Yeah, we had sex,’ he went on savagely. ‘Good sex—the best!’

He turned blazing dark eyes on Cassie’s ashen face, fury etched onto his face.

‘Don’t you dare to try to deny that, my darling!’

‘I—wouldn’t,’ she managed to whisper, raw and husky. ‘I couldn’t…’

‘No, you couldn’t, mi belleza,’ he tossed back at her. ‘You most definitely could not. Not unless you are also going to claim to be the greatest actress the world has known. Remember I was there with you every inch of the way that night. I know how you felt; how you responded to me. You were there beneath me; I was with you, holding you, inside you! You can’t convince me that you weren’t out of your mind with wanting me—needing me…’

‘Yes—yes! I mean no…’

Cassie’s hands flew up and outward in a desperate gesture to cut him off when he would have raged on.

‘No, I can’t pretend I didn’t want you—I never have. I told you at the time that it was mutual.’

‘And yet less than twenty-four hours later, you had packed your bags and moved out—running from me—running here—to—to Ramón.’

In his mind he was seeing the day that Ramón had come to the finca, recalling the welcoming smile on her face, the way she had encouraged him into the house. Hell, she had even given him her keys!

The flare of hot jealousy hazed his eyes with red, blinding him as his hand clenched tight on the glass.

‘After what we shared.’

‘I told you at the time that there was more to it than enjoyment—than sex.’

‘And Ramón gives you this more?’

‘Right now, he gives me something that you never did!’

Her voice had lost something of the firmness it had held only moments before. Something he had said had struck home, shaking her conviction, rocking the foundations they were built on. But what? Which particular sentence had hit the target, thudding into the red, if not precisely into the gold?

There was something not quite right about this situation. Something he couldn’t completely work out—but every instinct he possessed told him that something was wrong. Something that raised all the tiny hairs on the back of his neck in warning like the hackles on a wary dog. But the haze of bitterness and shock, the raw agony of disbelief, clouded his brain so that thinking clearly was an impossibility.

Joaquin lifted the brandy bottle again, waving it in Cassie’s direction, lifting one eyebrow questioningly.

‘Join me in a drink?’

‘No—and do you think you should?’

‘Think I should?’ Joaquin echoed cynically. ‘Why not? After all, if my brother can steal my woman from me then surely I am entitled to help myself to some of his brandy in return.’

‘Steal your woman?’ Cassie repeated, actually managing to look convincingly bemused. ‘What are you talking about?’

“‘I’ve moved in with Ramón”,’ Joaquin quoted at her, considering the brandy bottle, then abruptly setting it down again. ‘You’re living with my brother.’

‘You knew that already! I told you…’

The shocking sense of realisation was like a blow to her face, stunning her into silence, shrivelling the words on her tongue.

Too late she realised how he was interpreting her reply. How he was putting far too much into it.

Not ‘you’re living with my brother’, as in you share this apartment with Ramón, but you’re living with Ramón. As she had once lived with Joaquin himself.

‘No,’ she tried but Joaquin wasn’t listening.

‘You said you were fine with what we had—that you didn’t want anything more.’

He slammed his half-empty glass down on the table, heedless of the way that the rich amber brandy slopped over the side.

‘Then Ramón—my brother—crooks his little finger and you’re gone! Without a second thought—leaving me a note!’

‘I-I didn’t have any time to say any more!’ Cassie stammered clumsily. ‘I—’

‘No time?’ Joaquin practically spat the words into her pale face. ‘And why was that, querida? Was your new lover waiting impatiently for you? Are you so insatiable that you’ve gone from my bed to my brother’s in less than a week? Couldn’t you wait to get to him—to Ramón? To mybrother?’

‘No! You’ve got it all wrong! I didn’t—’

‘Didn’t what, my darling? Didn’t leave me and come straight here to be with Ramón? Didn’t move in with him without a backward glance—’

‘Yes! I moved in with him!’ she tried again. ‘But not like that! We’re not lovers!’

Blazing black eyes seared over her from head to foot, taking in the short, clinging robe, her bare legs and toes.