Spanish Escape: The Playboy of Puerto Banús / A Game of Vows / For the Sake of Their Son

Raúl went into his own huge office—which was more like a luxurious hotel suite. As well as the office there was a sumptuous bedroom, and both rooms were put to good use. Heading towards the bathroom, he glanced at the bed and was briefly tempted to lie down. He had had two, possibly three hours’ sleep last night. But he forced himself on to the bathroom, grimacing when he saw himself in the mirror. He could see now why Angela had been so insistent that he freshened up before facing his father.

Raúl’s black eyes were bloodshot. He had forgotten to shave yesterday, so now two days’ worth of black growth lined his strong jaw. His usually immaculate jet-black hair was tousled and fell over his forehead, and the lipstick on his collar, Raúl was sure, wasn’t the colour that Kelly had been wearing last night.

Yes, he looked every inch the debauched playboy that his father accused him of being.

Raúl took off his jacket and shirt and splashed water on his face, and then set about changing, calling out his thanks to Angela when he heard her tell him that she had put a coffee on his desk.

‘Gracias!’ he called, and walked out mid-shave. Angela was possibly the only woman who did not blush at the sight of him without a shirt—she had seen him in nappies, after all. ‘And thanks for pointing me in this direction before I meet with my father.’

‘No problem.’ She smiled. ‘There is a fresh shirt hanging on the chair in your office also.’

‘Do you know what it is that he wants to see me about?’ Raúl was fishing. He knew exactly what his father would want to discuss. ‘Am I to be given another lecture about taming my ways and settling down?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Only now did Angela’s cheeks turn pink. ‘Raúl, please listen to what your father has to say, though. This is no time for arguments. Your father is sick…’

‘Just because he is ill, it does not necessarily make him right.’

‘No,’ Angela said carefully. ‘But he does care for you, Raúl, even if he does not easily show it. Please listen to him… He is worried about you facing things on your own…’ Angela saw Raúl’s frown and stopped.

‘I think you do know what this is about.’

‘Raúl, I just ask that you listen—I can’t bear to hear you two fighting.’

‘Stop worrying,’ Raúl said kindly. He liked Angela; she was the closest thing to a mum he had. ‘I have no intention of fighting. I just think that at thirty years of age I don’t have to be told my bedtime, and certainly not who I’m going to bed with…’

Raúl got back to shaving. He had no intention of being dictated to, but his hand did pause. Would it be such a big deal to let his father think that maybe he was actually serious about someone? Would it hurt just to hint that maybe he was close to settling down? His father was dying, after all.

‘Wish me luck.’ Raúl’s voice was wry as, clean-shaven and bit clearer in the head, he walked past Angela to face his father. He glanced over, saw the tension and strain on her features. ‘It will be fine,’ he reassured her. ‘Look…’ He knew Angela would never keep news from his father. ‘I am seeing someone, but I don’t want him getting carried away.’

‘Who?’ Angela’s eyes were wide.

‘Just an old flame. We ran into each other again. She lives in England but I’m seeing her at the wedding tonight…’

‘Araminta!’

‘Stop there…’ Raúl smiled. That was all that was needed. He knew the seed had been sewn.

Raúl knocked on his father’s door and stepped in.

There should have been flames, he thought afterwards. Or the smell of sulphur. Actually, there should have been the smell of car fuel and the sound of thunder followed by silence. There should at least have been some warning, as he was walked through the door, that he was returning to hell.

CHAPTER THREE (#ue4fb7f4b-f225-5bd8-ad39-f5f44306e235)

ESTELLE FELT AS if everyone knew what a fraud she was.

She closed her heavily made-up eyes and dragged in a deep breath. They were standing in the castle grounds, waiting to be led to their seating, and some pre-wedding drinks and nibbles were being served.

Why they hell had she agreed to this?

You know why, Estelle told herself, her resolve hardening.

‘Are you okay, darling?’ Gordon asked. ‘The wedding should start soon.’

He’d been nothing but kind, just as Ginny had promised he would be.

‘I’m fine,’ Estelle said, and held a little more tightly onto his arm, just as Gordon had told her to do.

‘This is Estelle.’

Gordon introduced her to a couple and Estelle watched the slight rise of the woman’s eyebrow.

‘Estelle, this is Veronica and James.’

‘Estelle.’ Veronica gave a curt nod and soon moved James away.

‘You’re doing wonderfully,’ Gordon said, squeezing her hand and drawing her away from the mingling wedding guests so that they could speak without being overheard. ‘Maybe you just need to smile a bit more,’ he suggested gently, ‘and, I know it calls for brilliant acting, could you try and look just a little more besotted with me? I’ve got my terrible reputation with women to think of.’

‘Of course,’ Estelle said through chattering teeth.

‘The gay man and the virgin,’ Gordon whispered in her ear. ‘If only they knew!’

Estelle’s eyes widened in horror and Gordon quickly apologised. ‘I was just trying to make you smile,’ he said.

‘I can’t believe that she told you!’

Estelle was horrified that Ginny would share something as personal and as sensitive as that. Then again, she could believe it—Ginny found it endlessly amusing that Estelle had never slept with anyone. It wasn’t by deliberate choice; it wasn’t something she’d actively decided. More that she’d been so shell shocked by her parents’ death that homework and books had been her escape. By the time she’d emerged from her grief Estelle had felt two steps behind her peers. Clubs and parties had seemed frivolous. It was ancient ruins and buildings that fascinated her, and when she did meet someone there was always a panic that her virgin status must mean she was looking for a husband. More and more it had become an issue.

Now it would seem it was a joke!

She’d be having strong words with Ginny.

‘Virginia didn’t say it in a malicious way.’ Gordon seemed devastated to have upset her. ‘We were just talking one night. I really should never have brought it up.’

‘It’s okay,’ Estelle conceded. ‘I guess I am a bit of a rarity.’

‘We all have our secrets,’ Gordon said. ‘And for tonight we both have to cover them up.’ He smiled at her strained expression. ‘Estelle, I know how hard it was for you to agree to this, but I promise you have nothing to feel nervous about. I’m soon to be a happily married man.’

‘I know,’ Estelle said. Gordon had told her on the plane about his long-term boyfriend, Frank, and the plans they had made. ‘I just can’t stand the disapproving looks and that everyone thinks of me as a gold-digger,’ she admitted. ‘Even though that’s the whole point of the night.’

‘Stop caring what everyone thinks,’ Gordon said.

It was the same as she said to Andrew, who was acutely embarrassed to be in a wheelchair. ‘You’re right.’

Gordon lifted her chin and she smiled into his eyes. ‘That’s better.’ Gordon smiled back. ‘We’ll get through this together.’

So Estelle held onto his arm and did her best to look suitably besotted, ignoring the occasional disapproving stare from the other guests, and she was just starting to relax and get into things when he arrived.

Till that moment Estelle had thought it would be the bride who would make an entrance, and it wasn’t the sight of a helicopter landing that had heads turning—helicopters had been landing regularly since Estelle had got there—no, it was the man who stepped out who held everyone’s attention.