LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER TWO

      “YOU made me buy my own ticket.” Hannah stood in the doorway of Eduardo’s penthouse, exhausted and wrinkled from travel, still angry at the way everything had transpired. She’d had short notice, and limited options. She’d had to fly economy.

      An infuriating smile curved Eduardo’s lips. “I did. But I knew you could afford it.”

      “Doesn’t chivalry dictate you buy your blackmailed wife’s plane ticket?” Hannah dropped her suitcase next to her feet and crossed her arms. The most shocking thing about Eduardo’s appearance had been his departure, with a demand that she meet him in Barcelona in twenty-four hours. And she could get there herself.

      It had been a blow to her pride, and he knew it. Because she’d been forced to get herself to Spain. She’d been the one to board the plane. If he’d tied her up and thrown her into cargo she could have pretended he’d truly forced her. That she was a slave to him, rather than to the mistakes of her past and her intense need to keep them secret.

      But there was nothing more important than her image. Than the success she’d earned. Than never, ever going back to that dark place she’d come from.

      Because of that, she was a slave to Eduardo, and a coward where Zack was concerned. More than a day since their almost-wedding and she hadn’t called him. Of course, he hadn’t called her, which spoke volumes about the quality and nature of their relationship.

      “I checked and there was no specific entry in the handbook about the most chivalrous way to force one’s estranged bride to come and do their bidding.”

      “What’s the point of even having a handbook, then?” She let out a long breath and looked pointedly at the doorway Eduardo was blocking with his broad frame. “Aren’t you going to invite me into our home?”

      “Of course,” he said.

      They’d shared the penthouse for six months five years ago. They’d been the most bizarre six months of her life. Sharing a home with a man who hardly acknowledged her presence, unless he needed her for a gala or to make a show of togetherness at a family dinner.

      It was a six months she’d done a very good job of scrubbing from her mind. Like every other inconvenient detail in her past, it had been chucked into her mental closet, the door locked tight. It was where every juicy secret belonged. Behind closed, difficult-to-access doors.

      But now it was all coming back. Her fourth year in Spain, when she’d been accepted into a coveted internship at Vega Communications. Everything had been going so well. She’d started making connections, learning how things worked at a massive corporation.

      Then one day, the boss’s son had called her into his office and closed the door.

      Then he’d told her he’d done a little digging and found out her real name. That she wasn’t Hannah Weston from Manhattan, but that she was Hannah Hackett from Arkansas. That she hadn’t graduated top of her class, but that she had no diploma at all.

      And then, with supreme, enraging arrogance he had leaned back in his chair; hands behind his head; humor, mocking, glittering in his eyes, and he’d told her that her secret would be safe.

      If she would marry him.

      That sickening, surreal moment when she’d agreed, because there was nothing in the world that could compel her to lose the ground she’d gained.

      Eduardo stepped aside and she breezed past him, leaving her suitcase for him to handle. Things were rearranged. His furniture new, but still black and sleek. The appliances in his kitchen were new, too, as was the dining set.

      But the view was the same. Cathedral spires rising above gray brick buildings, touching the clear sky. She’d always loved the city.

      She’d hated Eduardo for forcing her into marriage. Had hated herself nearly as much for being vulnerable to him, for needing to keep her secrets so badly.

      And then she’d moved into his home, and she’d started to think the forced marriage wasn’t so bad after all. It was so expansive, plush, and refined. Like nothing she’d ever experienced.

      Secretly, shamefully, she’d loved it. As long as she could ignore the big Spaniard that lived there, too, everything was wonderful. Comfortable.

      She’d made it into school, but she was still living on a meager budget. And Eduardo had shown her luxury she’d never seen before. She’d thought she’d known. She hadn’t. Her imagination hadn’t even scratched the surface of what true wealth meant. Not until she’d met the Vega family.

      It had given her something to aspire to.

      “Everything looks…great.” Surreal. She’d never gone back to a place before. When she left, she left. Her childhood home, Spain, her place in New York.

      “Updated a bit. But your room

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