Marriage Bargain With His Innocent (HQR Presents) Read online

  It was little wonder that he was now wondering whether she had shown up on his doorstep out of the blue because she needed a hand-out. For Matias, money was the only thing that made any sense. He’d never had much growing up, and he’d made it his life’s work to compensate for the lack.

  Was it any wonder that they rubbed one another up the wrong way when they were as different as chalk and cheese? She was argumentative. He was intransigent. She was uninterested in money. Money was all he cared about. She loved where she lived. He hadn’t been able to wait to escape from it. She admired his parents. He privately scorned them.

  ‘Well? Spit it out, Georgie. Do you need a loan?’

  He looked her up and down, head inclined to one side, his dark eyes coolly speculative. She didn’t think there was a man alive who got on her nerves more.

  ‘Have you been living beyond your means?’ he murmured with exaggerated interest. ‘Nothing to be ashamed of. Oh, wait... I can see why you might be ashamed, bearing in mind your holier-than-thou outlook on life which you’ve spent the past ten years droning on about.’

  Georgina gritted her teeth and balled her hands into fists. ‘I’m not here to ask you for money, Matias.’

  ‘Didn’t think you were.’ He moved off to begin their tour, pushing open doors without bothering to explain which room was used for what.

  ‘Why’s that?’ she asked.

  All white. Minimalist. Big, expensive abstract art on the walls. A lot of chrome. The best money could buy. Again, no surprise there. Matias had gone to university a year early, studied Maths and Economics, and left with a job at an investment bank in his hand. Within five years he had made his first million and then he had started flying solo, buying up sick companies and turning them around. He’d invested in property on the side. By thirty he’d had an empire under his belt and more money than anyone could use in a lifetime. Every room she glimpsed bore witness to how rich he was.

  No wonder Rose was intimidated by her billionaire only child.

  ‘He’s always been something of a genius,’ she’d once confided wistfully. ‘That’s why he’s never liked the simple life. It isn’t enough for him.’

  ‘Georgie,’ Matias was saying now, ‘it doesn’t take a genius, looking at you, to realise that you have no interest in anything that could possibly get someone into debt.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You’re not the typical picture of someone leading a raunchy life beyond her means. If you have a predilection for designer clothes, fast cars and jewellery then you’re doing a damn good job of keeping it under wraps. Besides...I remember you showing me your piggy bank when you a kid. You were very proud of the eight pounds sixty you’d managed to stockpile over six weeks. It would beggar belief that you’d go from parsimonious and proud saver to wildly extravagant spender. Now, do you want the tour to carry on upstairs?’

  He looked at her and she wondered whether he realised just how offensive he could be.

  ‘Or have you relaxed sufficiently to tell me why you’re here? You may have had sandwiches on the train, but I’m hungry. I’ll get some food delivered. Let me know if you want to see the rest of the house and I’ll order when the tour is done.’

  ‘No—no need to go upstairs.’

  She thought bedrooms and backed away from the thought fast. Despite loathing the man, it had always been way too easy to associate him with bedrooms—partly because he was so sexy, and partly because, even though time had moved on from that girlish infatuation, age had failed to completely extinguish the remnants of her crush. She still occasionally caught herself daydreaming about him. Fortunately she’d learnt how to avoid getting too embroiled in that kind of pointless fantasy.

  ‘Good.’ He headed back towards the kitchen, phoning for food on the way. ‘Where were you planning on spending the night?’

  He looked at the battered khaki backpack which she had dumped on the ground in the kitchen.

  ‘B&B.’

  Matias frowned. ‘That’s ridiculous,’ he said shortly. ‘Didn’t you consider staying here? Don’t you think I’m not appreciative for everything you do for my mother and have done over the years? A night in my house is the least I could offer in return.’

  Georgina flushed. ‘I shouldn’t be the one doing stuff for your mother, though, should I?’ she muttered, fidgeting.

  ‘When it comes to that old chestnut—been there, done that. I’ve heard every variation of criticism from you over the years, so let’s drop the topic and move on.’

  Matias felt a flash of guilt dart through him like quicksilver. He had no reason to feel guilty. None at all. He supported his mother financially, made sure she wanted for nothing. It took hard work to make the sort of money that he did, and without his money life would not be nearly so rosy for his mother. When things went wrong in her house he made sure to replace them with top-of-the-range equivalents. Over time, her kitchen had been so expensively kitted out that any professional chef would have been happy to ply his trade there. And as for the farm...

  The organic farm she’d insisted on hanging on to brought in peanuts and she couldn’t have begun to handle it without his help. He made sure that everyone who worked there reported to him—just as he made sure that any headaches were sorted before they became full-blown.

  And organic farming—as he had discovered years ago—was nothing but one long, grinding headache. Crops had a nasty habit of falling victim to the wrong type of insect. The chickens, which had made a brief and optimistic appearance for a year and a half, had fallen prey to foxes or else wandered off hither and thither to lay eggs that couldn’t be located and therefore never made it to the shelves at the local greengrocer.

  Although, in fairness, it was better than the Reiki treatment, the donkey sanctuary, the creative workshops and the gem-selling crackpot ideas that had preceded the farm when he’d been a kid.

  So guilt? No, he had nothing to feel guilty about. He and his mother might not be close, but how many relationships between children and their parents were trouble-free? He was a responsible and dutiful son, and if his mother thought that he came up short in the personal stakes then he could live with that.

  He shook his head free of inconvenient introspection and surfaced to find Georgie apologising.

  ‘Sorry?’ His eyebrows shot up. ‘You’re sorry about criticising?’ He grinned. ‘Now I’m really getting worried. Since when have you ever made apologies for getting under my skin?’

  He watched as she noticeably didn’t answer but instead devoted her attention to inspecting the rooms they had previously walked past.

  Just when he was about to break the ever-lengthening silence the doorbell went. When Matias returned, it was with a spread of food from a top London restaurant.

  ‘I’ve ordered enough for two,’ he said, dumping the lot on the table and hunting down two plates and some cutlery. He poured them both wine and sat facing her.

  ‘Most people have Indian or Chinese take-out,’ Georgina remarked.

  She shouldn’t eat. She had had those sandwiches and she could do with shedding a few pounds. But her mouth watered at the sight of fluffy white rice, beef in wine, vegetables...

  ‘Dig in,’ Matias encouraged drily. ‘But save room for the chocolate fondant.’

  ‘My favourite.’

  ‘I know. I recall going to that restaurant by the sea years ago, with my parents and your family, and you made them bring you three. Eat—and tell me exactly what you’re doing here. I’m bored with going round the houses.’

  ‘It’s about your mother, but not about her health as such. Like I said, she’s doing as well as can be expected, and I know you’ve paid for the best consultants, the best hospital, the best of everything... But health isn’t just a physical thing. It’s also a frame of mind, and your mum’s been depressed for quite a while.’

  ‘Dep
ressed?’ Matias frowned. ‘Why would she be depressed when she’s on the mend? She didn’t sound depressed when I spoke to her last.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have wanted to worry you, Matias,’ Georgina said impatiently. ‘She’s been making noises about her mortality. She’s waiting for some test results—perhaps that’s been preying on her mind—but she could be in a mental slump.’

  ‘Test results? What test results? At any rate, they can’t be important or the consultant would have mentioned them to me. And thoughts of her mortality? She’s not even in her mid-sixties!’

  He relaxed. If this was a simple case of hypochondria then an informal chat with her consultant would soon make her see sense. She was on the road to recovery. Mortality thoughts were only appropriate for people in their eighties and nineties, anyway.

  He had a couple of big deals on the go, but as soon as he was through with those he would go down to Cornwall. He might even consider staying longer than a weekend. It could work... He had had the fastest possible broadband installed in his mother’s house years previously, because he couldn’t function without the Internet. In short, he could spare a little time down there without it affecting his work schedule.

  ‘She’s got another thirty years in her,’ he said, noting that for someone who had refused the offer of a meal out Georgie had certainly done justice to the food on her plate. No one could ever accuse Georgina White of having a feeble appetite. It was a refreshing change, in actual fact.

  ‘She doesn’t see it that way.’

  ‘She doesn’t have a medical background. The consultant has no worries about her health or I would know about it. That’s what he’s paid to do—keep me in the loop. It’s just a question of convincing her of that. If she’s concerned that there’s a risk of this thing happening again, then I can get Chivers to show her the charts and scans.’

  ‘It’s not just a question of that, Matias. She feels...’ Georgina sighed and gazed at him, then wished she hadn’t because she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away. He was so ridiculously good-looking. ‘She feels that she’s been a failure as a mother. She feels that there’s a chasm between you two and it’s one that will never be breached. All she wants, she tells me, is for you to settle down...have a wife and kids. She tells me that she’s always wanted to be a grandmother and that she feels there’s nothing to look forward to. When I say that she’s depressed, it isn’t because she thinks she might be pushing up the daisies in six months’ time. It’s because she’s been looking back on her past and questioning where she is right now—in the present. I’ve had a word with Mr Chivers... I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘It wouldn’t make any difference if I said I did, would it? Considering you’ve already contacted him.’

  Matias scowled. The guilt was back and with a vengeance. It seemed it had been buried in a very shallow grave. His mother had never been impressed with his lifestyle or his money. Nor had his father, when he had been alive. Neither had ever said anything, but their silence on the subject had spoken volumes.

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He says that under normal circumstances he wouldn’t be worried. Rose is young. But because of her anxieties, and the subsequent stress, there’s a chance that her health might be jeopardised. She’s lost interest in all the things that used to occupy her. She doesn’t seem to care about the farm any more. She’s not going to the gardening club. Like I said, she’s talking about having nothing to live for.’

  ‘You could have just called to fill me in on all this. Leave it with me. I’ll have a word with Chivers. I’m paying the man a small fortune. He should be able to do something. There might be a course of medication my mother could go on...there are tablets for that sort of thing.’

  ‘Forget it. It won’t work,’ Georgina told him bluntly.

  Matias frowned, his brooding dark eyes betraying the puzzlement of someone trying to join dots that weren’t quite forming a pattern.

  ‘Then what will?’ he asked, with an elaborate show of patience that got on her nerves.

  ‘You’ll probably need something stiffer than a glass of expensive white wine before I tell you my solution.’

  ‘Spit it out. I can’t bear the suspense.’

  ‘I may have told her a couple of tiny white lies...’ Georgina stuck out her chin at a pugnacious angle—an angle that said that she was a woman about to dig her heels in and was ready for a fight if he wanted to have one.

  Now that they were getting to the heart of the matter, her nerves were kicking in big time.

  ‘You may have told her a couple of tiny white lies...? Now, why does that admission send a shiver of apprehension racing down my spine?’

  ‘I love your mother. I’ve always been close to her, as you well know, and more especially now, since my parents decamped to Melbourne for my dad’s three-year secondment to the university there. I’ve been with her throughout this awful business, and you can trust me when I tell you that her spirits are sinking lower and lower by the day. Who knows what could happen?’

  ‘Yes, I’m getting the picture. You’ve known my mother since the dawn of time and you’re worried about her, despite hard evidence from the experts that everything’s ticking along nicely. So, Georgie, just say what you have to say—because my apprehension is still there. Why don’t we dump this meandering, getting-nowhere-fast route and stick to the main road? In fact, why don’t we just return to those little white lies of yours?’

  ‘Okay, Matias... I may have encouraged your mother to feel that she has every right to look forward to the future...’

  ‘Bracing advice.’

  ‘Because you’re involved with someone, and happily it’s not one of those women your mother disapproves of.’

  ‘The more I hear, the more I ask myself whether you and my mother have any topic of conversation aside from me.’

  ‘We never talk about you!’ Georgina snapped, momentarily distracted by the sheer egotism of the man. ‘It’s only because of the situation that she’s taken to confiding in me... Naturally I’m not going to tell her to keep her worries and fears to herself... Trust me when I tell you that I don’t encourage her to talk about you!’

  ‘Let’s leave that to one side for the while. So, I’m involved with someone my mother approves of? I suppose, as fairy stories go, that one could work—provided I’m not called upon to introduce this paragon to her. Because if I am, then it’s going to take a lot more than creative spin to cover up the cracks in your plan.’

  ‘Well, you see, this is where it may be less difficult than you imagine...’

  She cleared her throat. She couldn’t carry on—especially when he was staring at her narrowly, his clever brain whirring away to make sense of what she’d just said. She inhaled deeply and reminded herself that this was why she was here—this was why she had made this inconvenient trip to London to see a man who had always managed to rub her up the wrong way.

  She was here to do a job, so to speak.

  Yes, she had acted on impulse—but impulse was not a dangerous thing because it was a good thing. All she had to do was look ahead to the good that could come out of it. And not be deterred by those bitter-chocolate-dark eyes staring at her with off-putting intensity.

  ‘I’m all ears.’

  ‘I’ve told your mother that you and I are an item,’ she said in a challenging voice.

  It came out in a rush and left behind a silence that was thick and dense and so uncomfortable that she could only stare down at her sandals while wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

  Oh, how different the whole thing had seemed when she had told Rose. She had watched how the older woman’s thin face had lit up. Rose had actually clapped her hands with delight, and Georgina had had a wonderful moment of basking in the warm glow of having made someone she loved very happy.

  Before common sense had set in. By which t
ime it had been too late to retract what she had said and the warm glow had been replaced by an icy, clammy dread.

  Right now, right here, she wondered what had possessed her. How on earth could she have thought that this might be a good idea? She had travelled up to London prepared to stand her ground and fight her corner, but she had forgotten how intimidating Matias could be.

  Why had impulse galloped ahead of common sense?

  ‘Sorry?’ Matias inclined his head with an expression of rampant disbelief. ‘I think I may have misheard what you just said...’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘YOU HAVEN’T,’ GEORGINA said flatly.

  ‘Okay. So let me run this past you and you can tell me if I’ve got anything wrong. My mother is feeling a bit low...’

  ‘With all the signs of depression...’

  ‘Which could probably be taken care of with a course of tablets, because—believe it or not—tablets do exist for conditions like depression. But you’ve unilaterally, and without bothering to consult me, decided to rule that practical solution out.’

  ‘You’re making it sound so black and white and it’s not. Which is something you would see if you were around a little more often!’

  ‘Let’s leave the criticisms to one side for the time being, Georgie. In a nutshell, my mother is down, wishes she could hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet, and to oblige her and raise her spirits you’ve decided to tell her a whopper about you and I being involved.’

  ‘You should have seen the expression on her face, Matias. She hasn’t looked so overjoyed in... Well, I would say years. Not since your dad died. Even before the stroke!’

  Matias looked anything but overjoyed. His expression was a mixture of outraged incredulity and simmering anger. Of course she hadn’t expected immediate capitulation, because that would have been too good to be true, but she saw she was going to have to use all her powers of persuasion. She couldn’t bear the thought of his mother fading away into a chronic depression.