Minutes later, hands still clasped together, they left the building through the stage exit and into his waiting car. The moment his driver shut the door, Mia snatched her hand away and edged as far from him as she could before glaring at him with enough venom to poison the whole suburban town they were in.
‘What the hell are you playing at?’ she demanded.
‘I told you I would collect you after the performance.’
‘You said your driver would collect me. You said nothing about attending it.’
‘Did you find my presence a distraction?’
‘Of course not.’ She sniffed airily. ‘I didn’t even notice you in the audience.’
‘Of course you didn’t, Pinocchio.’ He’d seen the nightgown drop from her hands in the moment her eyes had fallen onto him. Everyone had seen it, the only mishap in an otherwise spellbinding performance, but she’d covered it so well that no one would have realised. Only he’d known it for what it was and it had made all his sinews tighten to witness the effect he had on her.
Her glare deepened. ‘And what the hell were you playing at, kissing me like that? How dare you? You do not kiss me, not ever.’
He contemplated her coolly. ‘We were in public. I made it very clear that I expect you to show me affection in public. It’s what I am paying you for.’
‘And I made it very clear that I’m not an escort.’
‘Do you refuse to kiss on stage if the role calls for it?’
Her pretty full lips clamped together, fury firing from the bright blue eyes.
He held the gaze and shook his head disparagingly. ‘I thought not. Get used to the idea of us kissing in public, mi vida. When we are with my family you will be glued to my side, if not to my mouth.’
‘Lay one finger on me in private and I swear to God...’ Her voice trailed away as whatever threat she’d been about to utter vanished into the ether.
‘Get over yourself,’ he drawled. ‘The kiss meant nothing.’ If she could only see the tingling on his lips, still there from that one fleeting brush of their mouths, she would know it for the lie it was. Mercifully, his iron control hadn’t let him down and he’d stopped the tingles spreading anywhere more intimate. ‘As it is, we are stuck together for next few weeks so grow up and get over it.’
Damn it but this was the last thing he needed. He’d watched her perform on stage for the second night in a row and been as captivated as the first time. More so. He’d been unable to tear his eyes from her, unable to stop his mind running riot as he mentally undressed her, unable to stop his heart throbbing in response to her melodious singing.
He could not afford to have his mind distracted. When they were at the villa he needed to keep his wits about him and focus on finding the documents. The last thing he needed was to have his mind occupied with fantasies of Mia Caldwell naked and the cells in his body stirring and straining in anticipation of being alone with her.
The attraction would go nowhere even if he wasn’t trying his damnedest to stop his brother stealing everything from him and destroying the Delgado legacy. Forget her criminal record and lack of money, both huge crosses against her for a man of his means and interests; Damián made it a point to only sleep with women he believed he could one day trust and whose interests aligned with his. That had been the basis of his parents’ marriage and it had served them well for thirty-seven years.
Only a fool would trust a chameleon who played make-believe for a living.
CHAPTER FOUR
MIA HAD NEVER been to Canary Wharf before. Far removed from the arty, if rundown, area of London she called home, Canary Wharf was crammed with skyscrapers that mingled with converted ironwork buildings, and yachts and boats moored where the River Thames meandered. There was zero surprise to learn Damián owned a penthouse apartment in the tallest of the skyscrapers or that the apartment itself was as far removed from her own home as its location. It was so much like she’d imagined that she couldn’t help her bark of laughter when she stepped in it.
‘What’s funny?’ he asked.
She shrugged and rummaged in her overnight bag for her phone. ‘I was just wondering where all your stuff was.’
Obviously, the apartment was ginormous and had the requisite exquisite views accessed by floor-to-ceiling windows across every wall overlooking the Thames. All the furniture was clearly bespoke. Everything was sparkling clean and white, apart from polished oak flooring. Everything screamed money in flashing neon lights. There just wasn’t very much of it. The living area, which could fit her entire flat in it, contained the biggest television she’d ever seen, two white leather sofas and a glass coffee table. Approximately a mile away on the other side of the vast space was a glass dining table and eight chairs. And that was it.
‘This is a base to sleep when I’m in London,’ he answered stiffly as he flipped a laptop open. ‘My home is in Buenos Aires.’
She pulled a face and turned her phone on. ‘I assumed you owned it.’
‘I do own it. Now, excuse me a moment; I need to run a security check.’
‘What for?’
‘To make sure no one has tried to enter my apartment... What are you doing?’
She held her phone up. ‘Say cheese.’
He blinked as the flash went off. ‘Did you just take a picture of me?’
‘I took a picture of my lover...’ she stressed the word for effect ‘...for my sister.’ Ignoring Damián’s glower, she attached the picture to Amy’s email and pressed send. Then she looked back at him and smiled brightly. ‘The location on my phone’s switched on but, just in case, I’ve sent her your address, so if my body’s dumped in the Thames the police will know where to find you.’
His jaw clenched so tightly she wouldn’t have been surprised to see the bones poking out. ‘What have you told her?’
‘Amy? Only that I’ve met someone.’ She’d told her mother too, and it wasn’t just for self-preservation. Mia didn’t know if the press would ever publish pictures of her with Damián, but if they did she wanted her family prepared for it. With any luck, the press Damián had told her would be camped outside the villa for the party would be too intent on getting snaps of the glamorous playboy, polo-playing Emiliano to bother with them.
The last thing Mia wanted was for the paparazzi to focus on her. Being seen on Damián’s arm might bring the kind of attention usually reserved for celebrated film actresses. If Damián could dig out her old criminal record, what was to stop the press?
It was too late now. Damián had made that very clear. She was committed: stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. Her priority was to protect her family and herself, and in that order. Protecting her family came in many guises and not adding undue worry to their shoulders was the biggest part of it. There was no way she could disappear for a weekend to Monte Cleure and not have them worry. She felt awful about lying to them and building their hopes up that she’d finally met someone, but this was a lie of necessity.