November Harlequin Presents 2(71)

Javier remained seated behind his desk when Grace entered his office, and he spared her a cursory glance when she walked hesitantly towards him.

‘What’s the matter? I told you I had to attend an important meeting and then file a report afterwards,’ he snapped. ‘Are you always so impatient?’

For a few seconds Grace felt totally intimidated. He was so arrogant and powerful, and so God-damned sexy, she admitted silently as her heart lurched in her chest. This man held her father’s well-being in his hands, but all she could do was stare at him like a teenager in the throes of her first crush, her annoyance at being abandoned like a parcel in the outer office momentarily forgotten.

As soon as they’d arrived at the bank’s head office he had gone straight to his private quarters, where he must have showered and changed before his meeting. It was the sight of him in a suit that had thrown her, she reassured herself feverishly. The expert cut of the grey cloth emphasised the width of his shoulders, while his blue silk shirt and tie that was a shade darker complemented his olive-gold skin. His formal attire lent him an air of urbane sophistication, but she sensed that Javier Herrera possessed a wild streak and beneath his civilised veneer was a man who had scant regard for rules.

‘Me impatient?’ she muttered indignantly. ‘You’re the one who insisted on dragging me to Madrid without giving me a chance to pack properly or anything. I don’t even know why I’m here—unless it’s simply to sit around your office looking decorative.’

Anger briefly surged through Javier, followed almost instantly by a flash of amusement that he struggled to hide. Grace might look like a meek little mouse, but she had a sharp wit and wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself, and he felt a grudging admiration for her nerve.

‘Actually, my reason for bringing you here is very simple,’ he told her. ‘Tonight we’re attending a prestigious banquet held in honour of Madrid’s top businessmen and social elite.’ His eyes briefly skimmed over her and settled on her flushed face. ‘But first we need to go shopping.’



Several hours later there was no trace of amusement in Javier’s voice when he spoke to Grace. ‘Hurry up and get out of the car. And stop sulking.’

Grace turned her head and gave him a poisonous glare. ‘I’m not sulking,’ she snapped indignantly. ‘I was merely…collecting my thoughts.’ Thoughts that she judged would be better kept to herself, she decided after another glance at the smouldering impatience in his amber eyes. Their marriage pact was less than a day old, and already she had the sickening feeling that she had lost control of her life. ‘You might enjoy storming through life like a tornado but you can’t expect me to keep up with you.’

‘I expect you to step out of the car and into the lift in the next five seconds—unless you want me to throw you over my shoulder and carry you?’ Javier ground out, his brows drawn into a frown as he stared at her mutinous expression.

‘You can keep your damn hands off me!’ Riotous anger coursed through Grace’s veins—and that in itself was a shocking indication of how strongly the situation was affecting her, she thought dismally. She was renowned for her gentle nature and even temper, but Javier Herrera seemed to bring out the worst in her.

Catching the glint of battle in her tormentor’s eyes, she flung open the car door and stalked across the underground car park towards the lift, muttering a curse beneath her breath. For the past few hours her feet had barely touched the floor. The banquet being held tonight at one of Madrid’s most exclusive hotels would be the ideal situation at which to announce their engagement, Javier had informed her. For once he would welcome the attention of the media, and had already prepared a statement giving details of their forthcoming marriage in three weeks’ time.

Grace had baulked at the thought of marrying so soon—her heart lurched painfully at the thought—but Javier had overridden her concerns in his usual autocratic manner. He was plainly a man used to getting his own way, and he was utterly determined to claim control of El Banco de Herrera by making her his bride.

The afternoon had been spent on a whirlwind tour of the city’s top boutiques as he’d personally selected a wardrobe of designer outfits and evening dresses that he deemed suitable for the soon-to-be Duquesa de Herrera. He had ignored Grace’s initial refusal to accept anything from him, and had scathingly pointed out that a few thousand pounds on clothes was a drop in the ocean compared to the million he had already paid for her.

The words ‘paid for’ had rendered Grace speechless. She had indeed sold her soul to the devil, she acknowledged despairingly. Her father would be free from debt and fear of a jail sentence, but she would be Javier’s prisoner for a whole year.