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CHAPTER ONE
SHIFTING THE PHONE against his ear, Bautista Caine silently dismissed his PA with a sharp upward flick of his head and turned his attention back to his sister’s voice.
Not that Alicia was saying anything new in her message. It was more or less a repeat of what she’d said at the weekend—that she was so grateful, and he was the best brother, and she loved him—but it was still good to hear.
His mouth twisted. It had been a difficult, upsetting conversation, but was there any other kind when the subject was Mimi Miller?
He felt his shoulders tense against the fabric of his suit jacket.
Mimi, with her long blonde hair, even longer legs and those silky, soft lips that had melted against his in a kiss he had never forgotten... A kiss that had stifled all common sense and conscience and shaken him to his soul—
He gritted his teeth as his body stiffened like a pointer scenting game.
She was like the proverbial bad penny and probably always would be, given that nothing he’d said to his sister seemed to change her opinion of Mimi. Only a day ago she had told him quite earnestly that Mimi lacked confidence.
Yeah, right, and he was the Easter Bunny.
Nearly two years had passed since he’d dispatched his sister to New York—ostensibly on the basis that it was a chance for her to learn first-hand about the day-to-day running of the Caine charitable foundation. He’d assumed that the geographical distance and the fact that she would be meeting new and—to his mind anyway—far more appropriate people, would finally bring an end to her incomprehensible and unfortunate friendship with Mimi.
He’d been wrong.
Gazing out of the window at the massed daffodils in the garden of his family’s London residence, he narrowed his dark eyes as he mulled over his sister’s upcoming marriage to Philip Hennessy.
The news had been neither surprising nor unwelcome, but Alicia’s blithe announcement that she wanted Mimi to be her maid of honour had been both. He wasn’t sure what had shocked him more: the fact that the two of them were still friends after so many months of separation, or the fact that his sister had chosen to keep their continuing friendship secret from him.
No, that wasn’t fair.
He was sure that if he’d asked about Mimi Alicia would have told him anything he wanted to know. But of course he hadn’t asked. He hadn’t wanted to hear Mimi’s name—much less have to face the memory of the last time he’d seen her, or his own part in what had been the narrowest of narrow escapes. It had been easier to assume that out of sight meant out of mind.
Only, despite his concerted efforts to make her so, Mimi Miller was never far from his mind. How could she be? Every time he saw his father he was reminded of the damage caused by her crooked relatives—and, worse, those few hours when he’d let his basest needs overrule his duty to safeguard his family.
He breathed out slowly against the knot in his shoulders.
As usual, when he let himself think about his sister’s twenty-first birthday party, he felt the same see-sawing mix of anger and regret. And, as usual, he told himself that it had been a one-off, a momentary lapse of good sense, that he had been caught off-guard by her looking like that, looking at him like that. For up until that moment in time he’d seen Mimi simply as a child.
Afterwards he had tried to tell himself that it wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t chosen to be related by blood and marriage to a pair of crooks, and he hadn’t blamed her for what her stepfather and uncle had done.
His lip curled. No, the blame for that lay squarely with him—for introducing Charlie Butler and Raymond Cavendish to his father, for not seeing beneath their urbane charm.
Yet he couldn’t completely absolve Mimi of responsibility for her actions.
Even on the night there had been a couple of moments when he’d felt uneasy—something he’d put down to her being Alicia’s friend...a friend of the family. Later, though—too late, in fact—it had become humiliatingly clear that she had played a part in her family’s deception.
She had almost played him—so very nearly played him.
And incredibly, despite everything else that had happened, it was that betrayal—her betrayal—and his stupidity that still hurt the most now.
He felt the knot in his shoulders tighten.
At first he’d wanted it to be a coincidence, but her rapid, unexplained exit from the party had confirmed her guilt in his mind, and as events unfolded he’d stopped looking to exonerate her.
Later, for his father’s sake and for the reputation of his family, he’d tried to deter Alicia from continuing their friendship—only, of course, his soft-hearted sister had ignored his advice.
He felt a surge of irritation. Not with Alicia. He knew she didn’t live in the real world. But he did. And it was bad enough having led the wolves to his door once. Now it turned out that he’d failed again by not insisting she cut all ties with Mimi.
The tension in his shoulders was inching down his spine.
He knew exactly how it would play out if the media ever found out that his sister was BFF with the stepdaughter and niece of the men who had looted the Caine employees’ pension funds. It wasn’t going to be hard for them to find it out if Alicia made Mimi her maid of honour—and that was why he’d just had to tell his sister that it couldn’t happen.
His jaw tensed.
Hearing her so upset had hurt. But the alternative—having Mimi centre-stage at the wedding and in the photos—was just not an option. So he’d used his father’s ill-health and the potential damage to the family name to get her to change her mind, and it had worked, but he’d had to come up with something to soften the blow.
He’d done that too, only it was not ideal—far from it. For it would mean letting Mimi Miller back into his life. But he was going to see it through for his sister’s sake.
Easing back in his chair, he felt his heart kick against his ribs.
This time there would be no lapses—momentary or otherwise. No loss of control nor lowering of his guard. No having to live with the knowledge that he had come close to putting his family in jeopardy for a second time.
This time it was going to be different. He would be pulling her strings, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.
* * *
Mimi Miller was running late.
Literally running.
Although, thanks to the heels she had unwisely chosen to wear, it was more a stumbling dash than a full-on sprint, and already her lungs were begging for mercy.
Oh, thank goodness.
This was the street. Slowing down to an unsteady walk, she caught sight of her reflection in a shop window and breathed out shakily.
It was her own fault she’d had to rush.
Not because she’d been dithering over what to wear. Clothes weren’t really her thing and she only owned two dresses—one of which she hated because it was so tied up with love and dreams and heartache. Her other dress, a navy and white polka dot one, had looked sweet when she’d tried it on at home, but then she’d seen the state of her waist-length blonde hair and, panicking, walked straight into the nearest hair salon for a last-minute and eye-wateringly expensive blow-dry.
But it had been worth it, she thought, her skin tingling with excitement and happiness. Today was the first time she’d seen her best friend in nearly two years and she wanted to celebrate.
Stepping inside the restaurant, she glanced down at her legs, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Jeans and a T-shirt, preferably several sizes too large, was her usual outfit of choice, but Tenedor was a super-exclusive Argentinian eatery, popular with celebrities for its discreet staff and the tinted windows that made life hard for the paparazzi. It was definitely not the kind of venue you turned up to wearing faded denim.
Her breathing lurched. Should she even be here? It was a long time since she’d moved in these circles—two horrible, hopeless years since Charlie and Raymond had been sent to prison and her life had changed for ever.
But she was being stupid. Nobody was going to connect her with that haunted-looking girl outside the courtroom.
Above the diminishing drumroll of her heart she gave her name to the unsmiling maître d’ and followed him through the restaurant, her excitement at seeing Alicia overriding her panic at being so conspicuous.
She still couldn’t believe that it was two years since she’d last seen her friend. After Charlie and Raymond’s arrest they had spoken on the phone—a short, unhappy conversation, with her apologising over and over for what had happened and Alicia tearfully repeating that it changed nothing between them.
