The Spaniard's Stolen Bride

“A criminal,” she said.

“I’ve been called worse. If you’ve ever a mind to find out exactly what, feel free to peruse the internet.”

“I don’t have access to it.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy for you to peruse the internet. I just said that you could.”

“Perhaps I’m not that interested in you, Diego. If I was going to fight for internet access I would go online shopping instead of googling you.”

“There is no need for you to online shop. Everything you could possibly want is already here.”

“You don’t know my taste.”

He reached out, gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “That’s where you’re wrong. I know everything about you. Everything. I’ve looked at every photograph that exists of you that’s been published in public. I made a study of you every time I went to your father’s house. Every item of clothing in that closet fits you. Believe me. I have made a study of your curves.”

A shiver went down her spine. She should be mortified. Furious. And on some level, she was. But there was more. She felt... She didn’t even know. She had never been someone’s focus. Not like this. And while she knew he had other reasons for taking her, while she knew it served him in other ways, the fact remained that she did matter. He wanted her. Matías didn’t want her. He didn’t care. He certainly wouldn’t have kidnapped her out of the bedroom window. He simply would have found another woman. Diego made it sound as if he couldn’t. It was...

For a woman who had felt almost invisible for most of her life it was intoxicating in a way it should not be.

Perhaps her father had been right to protect her all this time. Maybe her natural inclination was to be drawn to darkness.

But you have no way of turning on the light, so you might as well accept it. You might as well live in it.

She didn’t see that she had another choice. Not now. Why fight when she couldn’t win?

“We need to sign an agreement,” she said.

“You’re not really in a position to be making demands,” he said, his voice dry.

“Yes,” she said, “I am. I have something you want.”

“By that you mean your body?”

“Yes. My body—” she tried to speak without trembling “—and my acquiescence to being your wife. I think I’m in a fantastic position to be making demands.”

“By all means, list them.”

“I want assurance that you will give me a settlement.” She named a sum. Outrageous. She was certain that he would tell her she could jump straight off the hillside manor and into the sea.

“Double it,” he said. “I’m a man of means, tesoro. I will hardly leave my ex-wife without access to designer clothing.”

“Generous of you,” she responded.

“Not at all. Of course, you should receive a healthy payment for time spent in my bed.”

Heat lashed her cheeks. “Don’t make it sound like that. You’re not paying for...for that.”

“Am I not? I find I would pay quite handsomely for access to that space between your thighs.”

She gritted her teeth, well aware that he was trying to be inflammatory. Or maybe, he wasn’t trying. Maybe it was simply who he was. But the man she had met at her father’s house had been a damn sight more charming than the one who stood before her now. But still, Diego, even in all his arrogance, even as he was, caused her pulse to race. And not only from anger.