The Spaniard's Stolen Bride

The only good thing about that was, now that it was done, it could not be done again.

Now there was only the destruction he caused the world to concern himself with.

And truly, he did not concern himself with it overmuch.

He carried those losses on his shoulders. Felt the weight of them. Like a dark and heavy cloak.

It was his nature. And he had grown to accept it.

He took a long drink of the whiskey in his hand and looked around the room. He was back at Michael Hart’s impossibly stuffy New England mansion, playing the game that the older man demanded he play before they entered into any kind of business deal.

While Diego had a reputation as more of a gambler than a businessman, the truth of the matter was, he had not made his billions in Monte Carlo. He was a brilliant investor, but he made sure to keep his actions on the down low. He preferred his outrageousness in the headlines, not his achievements.

He wanted a piece of Michael Hart’s company. But more than that...

He was fascinated by the man’s daughter.

The beautiful heiress Liliana Hart had fascinated him from the moment he had first seen her, over two years ago. Delicate and pale, with long, white blond hair that seemed to glow around her head like a halo.

She was lovely, and nothing at all like the stereotype of an American heiress. No sky-high heels and dresses that made the wearer look most suited to dancing on poles.

She was demure. Lovely. Like a rose. He wanted to reach out and touch her, though he knew that if he did, he was just as likely to bruise her petals as anything else.

But he was not a good man. He was selfish and vain. He was also competitive. And at the moment he and his brother were being pitted against each other by their grandfather for the inheritance of the family rancho.

They had to marry to get their share or forfeit entirely.

Matías was too good to rush out and pluck a wife out of thin air simply for financial gain.

Diego wasn’t too good for anything. He would happily marry a woman for financial gain. And if on top of it, Liliana made his blood pound in a way no other woman ever had.

The money was an aside. The real attraction was besting his brother, and debauching Liliana.

And if Michael Hart was willing to give her up in trade for his investment in the company and solve the issue of his inheritance along with it?

Diego would chance bruising her.

He would be more annoyed with his abuelo if the old man’s edict hadn’t given him the excuse he’d needed to pursue the beautiful jewel of a woman who had captured his eye from the first.

He saw a flash of pink by the library door, and he realized it was Liliana, peeking inside, and then running away.

A smile curved his lips. He knocked the rest of the whiskey back, and then excused himself from the gathering, striding out with confidence, enough that no one asked where he was going.

No one dared question him.

He saw her disappear around the corner, and he followed, his footfall soft on the Oriental rug that ran the length of the hall.

There was a door slightly ajar, and he pushed it open, finding that it was another library. And inside, standing behind one of the wingback chairs, her delicate hands resting on the back, was Liliana.

“Ms. Hart,” he said. “We have not had a chance to say hello to each other tonight.”

Her face went scarlet. He found it so incredibly appealing. She always blushed when they talked. Because she found him beautiful. He was not a man given to false humility. Or indeed, humility of any kind.

God had made him beautiful, and he well knew it. But God had also made vipers beautiful. The better to attract their prey.

The fact he knew the weapons at his disposal was more necessity than vanity.

That Liliana found herself under his spell would make this so much easier.

“Mr. Navarro. I didn’t realize... That is... I don’t make a habit of attending my father’s business parties.”

“You attended our business dinner only a few weeks ago.”

She looked down. “Yes. That’s different.”

“Is it? I’m tempted to believe that you’re avoiding me, tesoro.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“Treasure,” he said, taking a step toward her.

“And why would you call me that?”

He paused, midstride. She was not exactly what she appeared. Or perhaps she was. There was an openness to her. A lack of fear that spoke most certainly of inexperience. At least, inexperience with men like him.

Are there men like you? Or just monsters?

“It is what you are, is it not? Certainly, you are a treasure to your father.”

“If by that you mean a commodity.”

A smile curved his lips. “Well, money is the way of the world.”

“It would be nice if it weren’t.”

“Spoken like a woman who has always had it.” It wasn’t the first time he’d stolen time away to speak with Liliana. He found himself drawn to her like a magnet. And no amount of pursuing other women had dampened his interest in her.

“I prefer books,” she said, those delicate fingers curling around the chair, as if she were using it to brace herself.

“I prefer to experience life, rather than hiding away in a dusty library with only fantasy to entertain me.”

She surprised him by rolling her eyes. “Yes. A man of action. I prefer to pause and learn about the world, rather than simply wrapping myself up in my own experiences.”

“I didn’t realize you were socially conscious,” he said.

“A terrible detraction from my charms. Or so I’m told.”

He took another step toward her. “Who has told you this?”