The Banker's Convenient Wife
After all, she had meant to marry him in the same guise as that of a friend doing him a favour. Besotted beyond belief as she had been with Roel, a guy who had hardly seemed to know that she was alive, she would have done almost anything to please or impress him. But sadly, once she had succumbed to the lure of allowing his wealth to solve her problems, once she had taken his money, she had changed everything between them, she conceded unhappily.
‘I prefer to pay for services rendered,’ Roel had drawled and he had made her feel horribly like a hooker. ‘That way there’s no misunderstanding.’
Mid-morning the following day, Dr Lerther strove to conceal his surprise when his secretary ushered in Roel Sabatino’s wife, Hilary. The tiny blonde woman whose anxiety was writ large in her bright grey eyes was in no way what he had expected.
‘I did try to phone before I left the UK but the operator couldn’t find the number for this place,’ Hilary confided in an explanatory rush.
She was very nervous. The last word in opulence, the hospital was like no other she had ever entered and she had had to advance considerable evidence of her identity before she’d even been allowed in. Her increasingly desperate requests just for word of Roel’s condition had been repeatedly met with polite but steely blankness. Baulked of her expectation that Roel’s aunt, Bautista, would be waiting to greet her and smooth her passage, she had been forced to introduce herself as Roel Sabatino’s wife. Having done so, she felt horribly dishonest but she was convinced that were she to tell the truth about their marriage, she would not even be allowed to visit Roel.
‘This is a private clinic and as our patients demand discretion and security, the number is not freely available.’ The grey-haired older man extended his hand. ‘I’m relieved that you were able to get here so quickly—’
Reading dire meaning into that assurance, Hilary turned pale as milk and gasped, ‘Roel?’
‘I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to worry you. Physically, aside of a severe headache, your husband is suffering from nothing more than a few bruises.’ With a soothing smile the consultant swept her across his luxurious office into a seat. ‘However, his memory has not been so fortunate.’
The worst of her apprehension set to rest and weak with relief, Hilary sank down into the armchair and then looked puzzled. ‘His…er…memory?’
‘Mr Sabatino suffered a blow to the head and he was unconscious for some hours. A degree of disorientation is not unusual after such an episode…unfortunately, in this case, there seems to be some temporary impairment of the memory system.’
Alerted by the older man’s air of gravity, Hilary had become very still. ‘Meaning?’ she pressed, dry-mouthed.
‘A standard examination after he first recovered consciousness at the hospital revealed a discrepancy in his perception of dates—’
‘Dates?’ Hilary queried again.
‘Roel’s memory has misplaced what I estimate to be the past five years of his life. He himself was unaware that there was a problem until it was pointed out to him. He is fully in control of every aspect of his past as it was then, but all events since that time are a closed book to him.’
Hilary stared back at the older man in shaken disbelief. ‘Five whole…years? Are you certain of this?’
‘Of course. Mr Sabatino has no memory of the car crash either.’
‘But why has this happened to him?’ Hilary asked worriedly.
‘It is not that unusual for there to be a degree of memory loss as a result of a head injury but as a rule only very small spaces of time are involved. It is called retrograde amnesia. Occasionally emotional trauma or even stress may lead to such an episode but I think we may discount that possibility in this particular case,’ Dr Lerther opined with confidence. ‘It is almost certainly a temporary condition and within hours or even days what has been forgotten will be recalled either in parts or, indeed, all at once.’
‘How is Roel taking this?’ Hilary asked weakly.
‘Once your husband realised how much time his mind has effectively omitted from his recollection he was very shocked.’
‘I bet…’ Hilary was struggling to imagine how Roel, who took for granted that he should be one hundred per cent in control of himself and everything around him, would cope with a huge big spanner being thrown in the works.
‘Prior to that revelation, Mr Sabatino was on the brink of ignoring all medical advice and returning to his office,’ Dr Lerther admitted ruefully. ‘For a man of such strong character and intellect, indeed a man accustomed to wielding considerable power, an inexplicable event may be a very frustrating challenge to accept.’
An expression of profound dismay had set Hilary’s mobile features as she worked out the ramifications of the five years that the older man had chosen to describe as being simply, ‘misplaced’. ‘For goodness’ sake…Roel won’t even remember me!’
‘I was leading up to that point,’ the consultant asserted in a bracing tone. ‘But I’m most relieved that you’re here to give Mr Sabatino the support he needs to deal with this situation—’
Her brow had pleated. ‘Isn’t Roel’s aunt Bautista here too?’
‘I understand that the lady left the country this morning to attend a pressing social engagement,’ Dr Lerther advanced.
Astonished by that information, Hilary swallowed hard on an exclamation. So much for Auntie Bautista! Evidently there was little family affection to hope for from that quarter. Her own head was swimming with a mess of conflicting promptings. At first reassured by the news that Roel was not seriously hurt, she had been thrown right out of her depth when informed of his loss of memory. She tried to picture waking up to her own world as it had been five years earlier rather than as it was now. Even in trying to take fleeting account of all the many changes that had taken place since then in her life, she reached a more disturbing appreciation of just how disorientating Roel’s condition would be for him.
She was disgusted by his aunt’s uncaring attitude but not that surprised for she and her sister had once endured similar indifference from a close relative. She thought of the debt that she still felt she owed Roel and of how much she wanted to see him. In a purely disinterested and friendly way, she could be of help and support to him. It was an innately tantalising and seductive idea. But wouldn’t it be dishonest to pose as his real wife? She was his wedded wife in name but in no other way.
A quiver of shamed distaste at the concept of letting such a lie stand slivered through Hilary’s slight frame. However, she had promised Roel that she would never, ever reveal the true terms of their marriage to anybody and, to ease her conscience, she decided to tell a half-truth instead. ‘I should admit that Roel and I have been…er…estranged,’ she said awkwardly.
‘I thank you for your confidence and I assure you that what you have told me will go no further. But I must also ask you not to reveal any potentially distressing facts to my patient if you can avoid doing so,’ the older man emphasised with considerable gravity. ‘Although your husband will not acknowledge it, he is already under great stress and adding to that burden could endanger his full recovery.’
As that hard reality was spelt out to her Hilary lost colour and nodded in earnest understanding. From her lips, Roel would learn nothing that might upset him.
‘As Mr Sabatino’s wife, you are his next of kin and you may do what others may not for his benefit. He has countless employees; those he pays to do his bidding but mercifully you are in a much stronger position,’ Dr Lerther opined cheerfully. ‘Your husband needs to feel that he has someone close whom he can trust. Make no mistake. His present state makes him vulnerable.’
‘I can’t imagine Roel being vulnerable.’ Hilary’s throat was thick with tears and she could no longer meet the consultant’s kindly gaze. She was all too painfully aware that she too fell into the demeaning category of being someone whom Roel had once paid to carry out his wishes. But she was also devastated by the obvious fact that he should have nobody other than her available to take on such a role.
‘Nonetheless, if I may speak freely…it will be your responsibility to stand between him and all those business personnel who will seek access to him. His own needs must be put first,’ Dr Lerther advised her. ‘The Sabatino Bank must survive without him at present. He requires rest and relaxation. I am also sufficiently acquainted with the world financial markets to be conscious that no hint of Mr Sabatino’s current condition should go beyond this room.’
Hilary’s brow had furrowed for she had not even a passing acquaintance with the state of the world financial markets. She had no grasp whatsoever of that aspect of Roel’s existence and very little interest in the matter either. Instead, with innate practicality she had homed in on what would plainly be her own role. It would be her duty to look after Roel until such time as he regained his memory.
‘May I see him now?’
The consultant recalled his patient’s initially appalled reaction to the discovery that he was a married man and hastily suppressed the image of a loving little Christian being thrown to the lions. Hilary Sabatino could well be more resilient than she appeared. She might even be capable of standing firm against the glacial freeze of her billionaire husband’s despotic and wholly intimidating character…but even if Dr Lerther had been a gambling man, he would not have risked a bet on that outcome.
Hilary breathed in deep and followed in the nurse’s wake. In just minutes she would see the only male who had ever managed to make her cry…
CHAPTER TWO
A WIFE, Roel thought morosely.
Was it any wonder his memory had chosen to betray him by overlooking the most unprofitable acquisition in a man’s life since the advent of disease? Although he was only in his thirtieth year, it seemed that he had already sacrificed his freedom. Just as his father had done and his father before him: marry young, repent in millions. Yet he had sworn to himself that he would not make the same error.
He had steered clear of messy personal entanglements and kept mistresses who excelled between the sheets instead. He had a high sex drive, so he took care of it. Lust could not control him. Nor had he ever believed in love. So, love could thankfully have had nothing to do with his evident change of heart on the matrimonial front.
Certain things, however, he did not require memory to know. Indeed certain things he knew by instinct. The wife, whom his undisciplined mind had chosen to forget, would be a tall, elegant brunette because that was the type of woman who attracted him. She would be from a wealthy background and possessed of impeccable society lineage. She might be a career woman—a banker or even an economist, a possibility that was of some small comfort to him. Perhaps while discussing risk management and investment strategy he had recognised a working soul mate. An unemotional and otherwise quiet woman, who would respect the demands of his schedule when he was too busy to see her.
A knock sounded on the door. He swung round from the window, a male who stood six feet four inches, broad of shoulder and lean of hip, his tall, well-built frame sheathed in an Armani business suit of faultless cut.
‘Will you close your eyes before I come in?’ a low-pitched British voice asked. ‘Cos if you don’t I’m likely to feel really silly introducing myself to you as a wife.’
Shock one…he had married a foreigner with a definable regional accent rather than the clear flattened vowel sounds of the English upper class. Shock two…she used teenage slang and made childish requests.
‘Roel?’ Hilary prompted in the taut silence.
Raw impatience clenched Roel’s even white teeth together. He recognised that there were two ways of playing the scene. Either he could blast her out before she even came through the door or he could play along until such time as he had worked out exactly who and what he was dealing with. ‘OK…’
‘I suppose you’re really nervous about this too but, now that I’m here, you don’t need to worry about anything any more.’
His back turned to the door, his dark deep-set eyes alight with intense disbelief, Roel actually found himself snatching in a sustaining breath. Shock three…he had married a woman who, in the space of a mere sixty seconds, could contrive to antagonise and offend him by treating him with disrespect.
‘I was just so touched that you were asking for me at the hospital…’ Hilary gabbled, hastening in and closing the door behind her and only then daring to open her own eyes.
‘I asked for you?’ Roel questioned with incredulity. ‘How could I have asked for you when I don’t remember you?’
‘My goodness, what are you doing out of bed?’ Hilary demanded in astonishment, losing all track of what they had been talking about.
‘Tell me, do you work using a list of stupid comments or do they come to mind without effort?’ Roel shot back with sardonic bite as he swung round to face her.
Standing upright and only three feet from her, Roel’s sheer size was menacing. She had to tilt her head back to get a proper look at him and then, even though she had flinched at that cutting comeback, she could not take her attention from him. Her mouth ran dry and her heartbeat speeded up for before her stood the living, breathing male embodiment of her every desire and dream.
The stark male beauty of his lean dark features hit her with explosive force. He was incredibly good-looking and shockingly sexy. But he also had a magnetic presence of command and icy authority that she could feel right down to the marrow of her bones. He did not smile and she wasn’t surprised. His charismatic smile was rare and the chill in the room was pronounced. And she understood, she understood even his aggressive attack on her, and her heart twisted inside her with loving forgiveness. Torture could not have dragged the truth from him but she knew that he was as close to scared as he was ever likely to be. She was well aware that the sudden onslaught of a forgotten wife was probably his worst nightmare come true.
‘I don’t like sarcasm,’ she told him, tilting up her chin.
‘I don’t like stupid questions.’ Roel discovered that he had to lower the angle of his gaze even to bring his wife into his field of vision. She was tiny but not remotely doll-like, very much an individual and only in her early twenties at most, he noted, succumbing to grudging fascination. Her grey eyes were the colour of stormy seas. Her hair was a shimmering silvery blonde worn in a short spiky cut and tipped with pink. Pink? It had to be a trick of the light, he decided. She had a smattering of freckles across her nose and luscious cherry-red lips that would have tempted a saint.
The distinct tightening in his groin caught Roel by surprise for he was long past the teenage years when his body had last cast off his disciplined control. But as his attention roamed down over his wife’s glorious hourglass shape his arousal only became more pronounced. Full, rounded breasts were moulded by a blue cotton tee shirt while low-slung hipster jeans accentuated her tiny waist and the pronounced curve of her highly feminine hips. While his rational mind struggled to name shock four in his encounter with his wife as her total lack of exclusive designer elegance, his appreciative hormones were winning hands down. He might not remember her but the dynamite sexual charge she ignited in him spoke a great deal louder than memory or words. Roel always had to explain the inexplicable and he was now satisfied as to why he must have married her.
‘I think you should still be resting.’ Involuntarily, Hilary connected with smouldering dark golden eyes and what little grasp she had on the muted dialogue vanished.
‘Are you in the habit of telling me what to do?’ Roel enquired, striving for a warning note that ended up unaccountably husky.
‘What do you think?’ As she met his stunning gaze her mouth ran dry and her tummy flipped. The atmosphere sizzled and her whole body leapt with energised awareness. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t drag in enough oxygen to fill her lungs. Her bra felt too tight, her breasts full and sensitive. Her nipples pinched tight and stung, reacting to the same sensual heat that was flaring into wicked being deep within her pelvis. She knew exactly what was happening to her and, worse, that she was powerless to stop it. This was, after all, the guy who had almost sunk her to the degrading level of offering up her virginity for a no-strings-attached one-night stand. She had craved Roel that much and that bad and, had he displayed any interest in that direction, pride would not have held her back.
Exercising the fierce strength of will that was the backbone of his character, Roel removed his intent gaze from his wife. So at least he understood why he had married a youthful sex kitten with no dress sense: lust, mindless, rampant lust, he labelled, his handsome masculine mouth hardening. He was appalled that he could have been that predictable but not one to beat himself up over a sin of the flesh.
‘The woman who tried to tell me what to do would be a fool,’ Roel murmured with smooth, cutting cool. ‘I’m sure you don’t fall in that category.’
‘I don’t squash easy either,’ Hilary told him doggedly, her colour high but her spine rigid as she utilised every scrap of dignity she possessed to rise above the humiliating weakness of her own body. ‘After what you’ve been through, you should still be in bed.’
His beautifully shaped ebony brows drew together in a fleeting frown line. ‘I have no further need for medical attention. I’m sorry if you have been concerned but I’m heading back into the office.’
Her eyes widened to their fullest extent. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘As I am rarely anything else, I cannot imagine why you should suggest otherwise. Or believe that I’m likely to be in need of your opinion on the issue,’ Roel sliced back in glacial dismissal.
‘Well, for what it’s worth, I’m going to give you my opinion unasked,’ Hilary slammed back at him angrily. ‘Maybe you think it’s dead macho to act like there’s nothing wrong with you but I just think that that’s plain stupid!’
Dark golden eyes flared, incandescent with anger. ‘I—’
‘You’re suffering from a very worrying loss of memory and you are not thinking through what you are doing—’
Roel flung his proud dark head high. ‘I never act without thought—’
‘By going back to work, you would be denying that there’s even a problem. I can’t let you do that—’
‘Tell me one thing,’ Roel countered with sardonic clarity. ‘Before the car smash, were we in the process of divorce?’
‘Not that I know of!’ Hilary tossed back, small hands spreading on her hips to maintain a firmer grip, her grey eyes bright with resolve. ‘You may be a very clever guy but you can also be very stubborn and extremely impractical. Right now, it’s my job to make sure that you don’t do anything that you’ll later regret, so get back in that bed and take it easy!’
Brilliant eyes enhanced by black spiky lashes, Raul surveyed her as though she were a madwoman in need of restraint. ‘Nobody tells me what to do. I’m astonished that you should think that you have the right to impose your views on me.’
‘Yeah, marriage is a toughie for a control freak,’ Hilary slammed back unimpressed. ‘I’m not about to apologise for trying to protect you from yourself. If you go back into the bank, your employees will realise that there’s something wrong with you—’
‘There is nothing wrong with me, only a temporary phase of slight disorientation—’
‘During which you forgot about a great fat chunk of your past life!’ Hilary slotted in heatedly. ‘I think that’s very relevant and a lot more dangerous than you’re prepared to admit. There’ll be employees and clients you won’t even recognise, situations you don’t understand and which you may screw up. You’re also five flipping years out of date with your precious work. Who are you planning to take into your confidence in an effort to avoid making embarrassing mistakes? Because one thing I do know about you, Roel…just about the only person alive whom you trust is yourself!’
Out of breath and trembling with the force of her feelings, for she was aghast at the very idea of him attempting an immediate return to work, Hilary glared at Roel in challenge. Just as quickly her expression changed to one of anxiety as she saw him frown as though with pain. Only then did she register the ashen cast of his complexion and the slight tremor in his hand as he raised it to his head.
‘Sit down…’ Closing both hands over his, Hilary urged him back towards the armchair behind him.
Roel was swaying but he still fought her attempt to help him. ‘But I don’t need—’
‘Shut up and sit down!’ Hilary launched at him fiercely and she used his uneven balance to topple him down into the chair like a felled tree.
’Per meraviglia…’ Roel groaned in frustration. ‘It’s only a headache.’
But Hilary had already hit the call button to bring a nurse and the presence of that third party, soon followed by the entry of Dr Lerther, prevented Roel from expressing his fury at her interfering and taking charge in such a way.
In any case, Roel had recognised that his wife had panic written all over her. He decided that there was something to be said for a woman with a face that seemed to wear her every passing thought. Her eyes were dark with stress and worry and she stood humbly at the back of the room, demonstrating what he considered to be exaggerated respect for the medical personnel while nibbling anxiously at a nail.
He couldn’t take his attention off his nail-biting wife. She looked so scared on his behalf and she was trembling. Concern for his health must have made her shout at him. She seemed to be fond of him. She might well be fonder still of his immense wealth and all that it could buy her, Roel conceded cynically but, indisputably, she seemed to cherish some degree of genuine fondness for him. He knew all women were terrific actresses but any single one of the previous lovers he could recall would have withstood torture sooner than succumb to cannibalising a nail.
In addition his wife was neither as uncomplicated nor as predictable as he had initially assumed. A startling amount of fire and defiance lurked behind that cute and curvaceous feminine exterior. He was accustomed to women who said yes to his every request and worked hard at meeting his expectations before he could even be put to the trouble of voicing a request. He had never met a woman who had the nerve to shout at him or one who would go toe to toe with him in a fight. In actuality, he did not argue with people ever. He had never had to argue. Arguments just didn’t happen to him.
Hilary was feeling hugely, horribly guilty and shaken up. Roel was still suffering from the physical after-effects of a serious accident and she had lost her temper with him. How could she have done that? As a rule she had an even temper and a sunny easygoing nature. What had come over her? Instead of being calm and coaxing and patient, she had been strident and emotional and accusing. He had looked taken aback. She didn’t think he was used to being shouted at and she could not believe that she had done so.
Sucking in a deep steadying breath, she studied him. Her heart jumped as though it were on a trampoline. His luxuriant black hair was tousled, bold profile taut, his dense black lashes cut crescent-shaped shadows over his proud olive cheekbones. Extravagantly handsome, he had a raw masculine appeal that turned female heads wherever he went. He still took her breath away. Just as he had the very first time she’d seen him and the recollection of that particular day nearly four years ago swept her back in time…
Talking on a mobile phone, Roel had walked through the door of the busy salon where she’d worked as a junior stylist. There he had stilled, ebony brows elevating with a faint air of well-bred surprise as he’d taken in his surroundings. She had immediately understood that, like others before him, he had mistaken the salon for the much more exclusive place a few doors further along the street. In that split second when he had been on the brink of wheeling round to leave again something had propelled her forward. Something? The fact that he was so outrageously good-looking she would have gone without food for a week just to own a photo of him? How could she explain her own unbelievably powerful need to prevent him walking back out of her life again as casually as he had wandered into it?