The Boss's Nine-Month Negotiation

Emiliano Castillo to Wed Graciela Cabrera.

There were other words, such as wedding of the year... Dynastic union... Valentine’s Day wedding...

But her vision was blurring, her heart refusing to pump properly. She was going to pass out. She was sure of it. She wasn’t sure whether to view her present state as a blessing. What she did know was that she wanted to block out the sight of Emiliano and the drop-dead gorgeous caramel blonde sitting at the intimate candlelit table, her hand on top of his, her smile holding a thousand delicious secrets as she stared at him.

And he stared back at her.

He wasn’t smiling—Emiliano never smiled in the presence of a camera, especially one wielded by a paparazzo. Most of the time he glared at the intrusion. He wasn’t glaring this time. The expression on his face was even...accommodating. Fond.

Lungs burning, Sienna forced herself to take a breath. Turn the pages. Her world turning to ash, she stared at glossy page after glossy page of Emiliano and his new amor. On the fifth page, she stared, tears surging into her eyes, at the ring on the finger which announced Graciela Cabrera as the brand new fiancée of Emiliano Castillo.

To add insult to injury, her heart tripped to a stop when she saw what Emiliano was wearing. If there was even a shadow of a doubt that this picture was a terrible, cruel hoax, it was wiped clean when she saw the tie. She’d gifted that tie to him on his birthday two months ago—had packed it in his suitcase herself exactly one week ago, when she’d sent him off with a kiss on his lips and hope in her heart. She was world-wise enough to know sometimes the tabloid media regurgitated old photos and manipulated images to suit their headline. The evidence of the tie confirmed these pictures weren’t fakes.

Finally, everything about last night...about the past few days’ silence...made sense.

She stumbled forward, the scattered papers forgotten as she made her way back inside, absently wondering how she was able to put one foot in front of the other when she felt so numb.

Time and space ceased to make sense until she was standing before the bedroom doors. Her hand shook as she raised it to the handle. She clenched her fist tight in a desperate bid to retain some control. She had to confront this, in spite of what the outcome would be.

Had to.

She jerked at the forceful wrench of the door from the inside, stealing away the control she’d barely summoned. Emiliano stopped short before her, his face in a deep frown.

‘Sienna, what are you doing standing...?’

She stared at him. He was right there in front of her. Powerful. Magnetically charismatic. Drop-dead gorgeous.

Bastard.

She didn’t want to look at him. Dear God, it hurt just to lift her gaze to meet his. Because even now she wanted desperately to cling to the hope that she’d got it wrong. That the pictures in the magazine clutched in her fist, his lack of emails, his coldly forbidding expression upon his return, even his silent lovemaking, had all been in her imagination.

But she met his gaze. And knew she was clinging to false hope.

‘Is it true?’ she tried asking anyway. One last time.

Tawny gold eyes hardened a touch, the coldness returning. ‘Is what true?’

A bolt of anger freed her frozen limbs. ‘Don’t play games with me, Emiliano. It’s beneath—’

She’d been about to say us. Except there was no us any more. Had there ever been? Her frantic brain raced, desperately sifting, analysing every gesture, every word, wondering if everything she’d lived, revelled in and hoped for during their relationship had been based on a colossal lie.

‘This!’ She shoved the magazine into the bare steel torso draped with the navy blue shirt he’d been about to button. ‘Is it true you’re engaged?’

Ripping off her MP4 player and earphones, she dropped them onto a nearby dresser and turned, watching him flip through the pages before tossing the magazine aside.

The eyes that met hers were arrogantly unapologetic. ‘Yes.’

The last minute’s anger had fooled her into thinking she was strong, that she could withstand whatever was coming her way.

She was wrong.

The punch to her solar plexus from his words robbed her of breath and weakened her knees. Shaking her head, she stared at him. Waited for him to continue. He didn’t. He just stared back at her, his expression icily neutral. ‘“Yes”? That’s all you’re going to say?’

He braced strong hands on lean hips, his stance cold and withdrawn. ‘You’re in no condition to hear any more right now—’

‘Are you serious? So what, you expect me to just...go through my day until you deem me ready?’ Incredulity rendered her voice hoarse and shaky.

‘I would prefer to have this conversation with you when you’re not emotionally high-strung, sí,’ he rasped before raising his hands to begin buttoning his shirt.

Inhaling long and slow, Sienna fought for the control she was so good at attaining in the workplace. Except this wasn’t work. This was so much more. ‘You owe me an explanation. Right now. Or are you too much of a coward to grant me one?’

He froze, hard eyes lancing into her with the brutal force of a scalpel. ‘Watch your tone with me, querida,’ he warned.

‘Do not call me that! You just told me you’re engaged to another woman. Engaged! And you dare to call me your darling?’

A puzzled expression flicked like lightning over his face, as if he didn’t understand her objection. Then it was gone and he was back to the stranger who’d walked into their penthouse twelve hours ago.

Her green eyes flashed. ‘Were you seeing her behind my back?’

A black frown clamped his forehead as he secured the last button. ‘I do not cheat.’

‘No? You’ve never cheated? What was last night, then? Weren’t you cheating on her with me?’

‘You’re my lover. She knows of our association. She understands that it needs to be taken care of.’

‘Oh, how very accommodating of her. And is that what you were doing last night? Taking care of me before you dumped me?’

He jerked back, as if she’d struck him. ‘Sienna, you need to calm—’

‘You couldn’t resist one last tumble between the sheets before you handed me my marching orders?’

He had the grace to look uncomfortable. ‘It was your birthday...’

Hot pins stabbed her until she was a whisper away from howling. It was too much to take standing still. So she paced. ‘How decent of you. I was the poor, pathetic soon-to-be ex-lover you couldn’t stand to disappoint on her birthday, so you waited for me to find out what you’d been up to from the press?’

He slammed the cufflinks he’d picked up back onto the dresser. ‘Basta! This wasn’t how I intended to break the news.’

‘How very inconvenient for you!’

He pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply. ‘I’m heading to the office now—I have a conference call scheduled with Norway which has been postponed twice. But let’s catch up later. Maybe this evening? I don’t mind if you take the day off to absorb the news. Then, tonight, we can talk about this rationally.’

‘About the fact that you were going on a trip to see your parents but went and got engaged instead?’

His jaws gritted together for a second. ‘Amongst other things, yes.’

She forced herself to stop. To face him. ‘Fine, let’s have it. Surely I’m worth five minutes of your time right now?’

‘I don’t think—’