Claimed For The De Carrillo Twins

She’d just whispered one word. “Please.”

Cruz De Carrillo cannot forget the searing kiss he shared with his shy maid, Trinity Adams. For the moment the Spanish billionaire walked away, horrified at losing his legendary control, Trinity quickly moved on—to become nanny, guardian and stepmother to his brother’s sons!

Now Cruz must protect his orphaned nephews. When Trinity refuses to leave them, he knows there is one solution—a ring on her finger! It’s the only way Cruz can keep her in his castillo, under his watchful eye, and finish what he started—this time in his bed!

Cruz only had a second of seeing Trinity’s eyes widen with shock before his mouth crashed down onto hers.

For a long moment nothing existed except this pure, spiking shard of lust—so strong that he had no option but to move his mouth and haul her even closer, until he could feel every luscious curve pressed against him.

And it was only in that moment, when their mouths were fused and he could feel her heart clamouring against his chest, that he could finally recognise the truth: he’d been aching for this moment since the night he’d kissed her for the first time.

Wedlocked!

Conveniently wedded, passionately bedded!

Whether there’s a debt to be paid, a will to be obeyed or a business to be saved…

She’s got no choice but to say, ‘I do!’

But these billionaire bridegrooms have got another think coming if they think marriage will be that easy…

Soon their convenient brides become the object of an inconvenient desire!

Find out what happens after the vows in

The Billionaire’s Defiant Acquisition

by Sharon Kendrick

One Night to Wedding Vows

by Kim Lawrence

Wedded, Bedded, Betrayed

by Michelle Smart

Expecting a Royal Scandal

by Caitlin Crews

Trapped by Vialli’s Vows

by Chantelle Shaw

A Diamond for Del Rio’s Housekeeper

by Susan Stephens

Baby of His Revenge

by Jennie Lucas

Bound by His Desert Diamond

by Andie Brock

Bride by Royal Decree

by Caitlin Crews

Look out for more Wedlocked! stories coming soon!

Claimed for the De Carrillo Twins

Abby Green

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Irish author Abby Green threw in a very glamorous career in film and TV—which really consisted of a lot of standing in the rain outside actors’ trailers—to pursue her love of romance. After she’d bombarded Mills & Boon with manuscripts they kindly accepted one, and an author was born. She lives in Dublin, Ireland, and loves any excuse for distraction. Visit abby-green.com or e-mail abbygreenauthor@gmail.com.

Books by Abby Green

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

Awakened by Her Desert Captor

Forgiven but Not Forgotten?

Exquisite Revenge

One Night With The Enemy

The Legend of De Marco

The Call of the Desert

The Sultan’s Choice

Secrets of the Oasis

In Christofides’ Keeping

Brides for Billionaires

Married for the Tycoon’s Empire

One Night With Consequences

An Heir Fit for a King

An Heir to Make a Marriage

Billionaire Brothers

Fonseca’s Fury

The Bride Fonseca Needs

Blood Brothers

When Falcone’s World Stops Turning

When Christakos Meets His Match

When Da Silva Breaks the Rules

Visit the Author Profile page at

millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

MILLS & BOON

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I’d like to thank Heidi Rice, Sharon Kendrick and Iona Grey for all their cheerleading, Kate Meader, who provided counsel over cocktails in the Shelbourne, and Annie West, who always provides serene and insightful advice. And of course my editor, Sheila, who has proved beyond doubt that she believes me capable of anything, apart from perhaps AWAVMOT!

Thank you all!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Wedlocked

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

CRUZ DE CARRILLO SURVEYED the thronged reception room in his London home, filled with a veritable who’s who of London’s most powerful players and beautiful people, all there to celebrate his return to Europe.

He felt no sense of accomplishment, though, to be riding high on the crest of his stratospheric success in North America, having tripled his eponymous bank’s fortunes in less than a year, because he knew his zealous focus on work had more to do with avoiding this than the burning ambition he’d harboured for years to turn his family bank’s fortune and reputation around.

And it killed him to admit it.

This was standing just feet away from him now—tall and slender, yet with generous curves. Pale skin. Too much pale skin. Exposed in a dress that left far too little to the imagination. Cruz’s mouth compressed with distaste even as his blood ran hot, mocking him for the desire which time hadn’t diminished—much to his intense irritation. It was unwelcome and completely inappropriate. Now more than ever. She was his sister-in-law.

Her blonde hair was up in a sleek chignon and a chain of glittering gold trailed tantalisingly down her naked back, bared in a daring royal blue backless dress. She turned slightly in Cruz’s direction and he had to tense every muscle to stave off the surge of fresh desire when he saw the provocative curves of her high full breasts, barely disguised by the thin draped satin.

She looked almost vulnerable, set apart from the crowd slightly, but he knew that was just a mirage.

He cursed her. And he cursed himself. If he hadn’t been so weak he wouldn’t know how incendiary it felt to have those curves pressed against his body. He wouldn’t remember the way her eyes had turned a stormy dark blue as he’d plundered the sweetness she’d offered up to him that fateful night almost eighteen months ago, in this very house, when she’d worked for him as a housemaid.

He wouldn’t still hear her soft, breathy moans in his dreams, forcing him awake, sweating, with his hand wrapped around himself and every part of him straining for release...aching to know the intimate clasp of her body, milking him into sweet oblivion.

Sweet. That was just it. There was nothing sweet about this woman. He might have thought so at one time—she’d used to blush if he so much as glanced at her—but it had all been an elaborate artifice. Because his younger half-brother, Rio, had told him the truth about what she really was, and she was no innocent.

Her seduction of Cruz had obviously been far more calculated than he’d believed, and when that hadn’t worked she’d diverted her sights onto Rio, his illegitimate half-brother, with whom Cruz had a complicated relationship—to put it mildly.

A chasm had been forged between the brothers when they were children—when Cruz had been afforded every privilege as the legitimate heir to the De Carrillo fortune, and Rio, who had been born to a housemaid of the family castillo, had been afforded nothing. Not even the De Carrillo name.

But Cruz had never felt that Rio should be punished for their charismatic and far too handsome father’s inability to control his base appetites. So he had done everything in his power after their father had died some ten years previously to make amends—going against their father’s will, which had left Rio nothing, by becoming his guardian, giving him his rightful paternalistic name and paying for him to complete his education.

Then, when he had come of age, Cruz had given him a fair share of his inheritance and a job—first in the De Carrillo bank in Madrid, and now in London, much to the conservative board’s displeasure.

At the age of twenty-one Rio had become one of Europe’s newest millionaires, the centre of feverish media attention with his dark good looks and mysterious past. And he had lapped it up, displaying an appetite for the kind of playboy lifestyle Cruz had never indulged in, quickly marrying one of the world’s top supermodels in a lavish wedding that had gone on for days—only for it to end in tragedy nearly a year later, when she’d died in an accident shortly after giving birth to twin boys.

And yet, much as Rio’s full-throttle existence had unnerved Cruz, could he begrudge him that after being denied his heritage?

Cruz’s conscience pricked. By giving Rio his due inheritance and his rightful name perhaps he’d made his brother a target for gold-diggers? Rio’s first wife had certainly revelled in her husband’s luxurious lifestyle, and it would appear as if nothing had changed with his second wife.

As if sensing his intense regard, his sister-in-law turned now and saw him. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. Cruz’s anger spiked. She could still turn it on. Even now. When he knew her real capabilities.

She faced him in that provocative dress and her luscious body filled his vision and made his blood thrum with need. He hated her for it. She moved towards him almost hesitantly, the slippery satin material moving sinuously around her long legs.

He called on every atom of control he had and schooled his body not to respond to her proximity even as her tantalising scent tickled his nostrils, threatening to weaken him all over again. It was all at once innocent, yet seductive. As if he needed reminding that she presented one face to the world while hiding another, far more mercenary one.

‘Trinity.’ His voice sounded unbearably curt to his ears, and he tried to ignore the striking light blue eyes. To ignore how lush her mouth was, adding a distinctly sensual edge to her pale blonde innocence.

An innocence that was skin-deep.

‘Cruz...it’s nice to see you again.’

Her voice was husky, reminding him vividly of how it had sounded in his ear that night. ‘Please...’

His dry tone disguised his banked rage. ‘You’ve come up in the world since we last met.’

She swallowed, the long, delicate column of her pale throat moving. ‘Wh-what do you mean?’

Cruz’s jaw tightened at the faux innocence. ‘I’m talking about your rapid ascent from the position of nanny to wife and stepmother to my nephews.’

That brought back the unwelcome reminder that he’d only been informed about the low-key wedding in a text from Rio.

I have you to thank for sending this beautiful woman into my life. I hope you’ll be very happy for us, brother.

The news had precipitated shock, and something much darker into Cruz’s gut. And yet he hadn’t had any reason at that point not to believe it was a good idea—in spite of his own previous experience with Trinity, which he’d blamed himself for. Rio had been a widower, and he and Trinity had obviously forged a bond based on caring for his nephews. Cruz had believed that she was a million light years away from Rio’s glamorous hedonistic first wife. Then.

The fact that he’d had dreams for weeks afterwards, of being held back and forced to watch a faceless blonde woman making love to countless men, was something that made him burn inwardly with shame even now.

Trinity looked pale. Hesitant. ‘I was looking for you, actually. Could we have a private word?’

Cruz crushed the unwelcome memory and arched a brow. ‘A private word?’

He flicked a glance at the crowd behind her and then looked back to her, wondering what the hell she was up to. Surely she wouldn’t have the gall to try and seduce him under the same roof she had before, with her husband just feet away?

‘We’re private enough here. No one is listening.’

She flushed and then glanced behind her and back, clearly reluctant. ‘Perhaps this isn’t the best time or place...’

So he’d been right. Disgust settled in his belly. ‘Spit it out, Trinity. Unless it’s not talking you’re interested in.’

She blanched, and that delicate flush disappeared. Once her ability to display emotions had intrigued him. Now it incensed him.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know very well what I mean. You tried to seduce me in this very house, and when it didn’t work you transferred your attentions to my brother. He obviously proved to be more susceptible to your wiles.’

She shook her head and frowned, a visibly trembling hand coming up to her chest as if to contain shock, disbelief. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about...’

Disgust filled Cruz that she could stand here and so blatantly lie while her enormous rock of an engagement ring glinted at him mockingly. All he could see was her and her treachery. But he had to crush the recriminations that rose up inside him—it was too late for them now.

Rio had revealed to Cruz on his return to the UK a few days before that he was on the verge of bankruptcy—his huge inheritance all but wiped out. And Trinity De Carrillo’s name was all over nearly every receipt and docket that had led his brother further and further into the mire. The extent of how badly Cruz had misread her was galling.

An insidious thought occurred to him and it made his blood boil. ‘Your innocent act is past its sell-by date. I might not have realised what you were up to—more fool me—but I know now. Rio has told me how you’ve single-handedly run through almost every cent he has to his name in a bid to satisfy your greedy nature. Now you’re realising his fortune isn’t a bottomless pit, perhaps you’re looking for a way out, or even a new benefactor?’

Before she could respond he continued in a low, bitter voice.

‘I underestimated your capacity to play the long game, Trinity. You lulled Rio into a false sense of trust by manipulating his biggest vulnerability—his sons. I’m very well aware of how my actions pushed you in the direction of my brother, and that is not something I will ever forgive myself for. Needless to say if he requires financial help he will receive it, but your days of bankrupting him are over. If you’re hoping to bargain your way out of this predicament then think again. You’ll get no sympathy from me.’

Trinity was so white now Cruz fancied he could see the blood vessels under her skin. A part of him wished she would break out of character and get angry with him for confronting her with who she really was.

Her hand dropped back to her side and she shook her head. ‘You have it all wrong.’

‘That’s the best you can come up with?’ he sneered. ‘I have it all wrong? If I “have it all wrong” then, please, tell me what you want to discuss.’

Cruz could see the pulse at the base of her neck beating hectically. His own pulse-rate doubled.

‘I wanted to talk to you about Rio...about his behaviour. It’s been growing more and more erratic... I’m worried about the boys.’

Cruz let out a short, incredulous laugh. ‘Worried about the boys? You’re really trying to play the concerned stepmother card in a bid to deflect attention from the fact that you’re more concerned about your lavish lifestyle coming to an end?’

Bitterness filled Cruz. He knew better than most how the biological bond of a parent and child didn’t guarantee love and security. Far from it.

‘You’re not even related to them—you’ve just used them as pawns to manipulate your way into my brother’s bed and get a ring on your finger.’

Trinity took a step back, her eyes wide with feigned shock. He had to hand it to her. She was a good actress.

Almost as if she was talking to herself now, she said, ‘I should have known he’d protect himself somehow...of course you’d believe him over me.’

A sliver of unease pierced Cruz’s anger but he pushed it aside. ‘I’ve known Rio all of his twenty-five years. I think it’s safe to say I’d trust my own flesh and blood over a conniving gold-digger any day of the week.’

Heated colour came back into Trinity’s cheeks. She looked at him, big blue eyes beseeching him with commendable authenticity.

‘I’m not a gold-digger. You don’t understand. Everything you’re saying is all wrong—my marriage with Rio is not what you—’

‘There you are, darling. I’ve been looking for you. Charlotte Lacey wants to talk to you about next week’s charity function.’

Cruz blanched. He hadn’t even noticed Rio joining them. He’d been consumed with the woman in front of him, whose arm was now being taken firmly in her husband’s hand. Rio’s dark brown eyes met Cruz’s over Trinity’s head. They were hard. Trinity had gone even paler, if that was possible.

‘If you don’t mind, brother, I need to steal my wife away.’

Cruz could see it in Rio’s eyes then—a familiar resentment. And shame and anger. Futility choked him. There was nothing he could do. He knew Rio would already be despising the fact that he’d allowed Cruz to see him brought so low at this woman’s greedy hands.

He watched as they walked back into the crowd, and it wasn’t long before they left for the evening—without saying goodbye. Rio might have shown Cruz a chink of vulnerability by revealing his financial problems, but if anything that only demonstrated how much Trinity had got to him—because he’d never before allowed his brother to see a moment’s weakness. Cruz’s sense that his determination to see Rio treated fairly had been futile rose up again—he had never truly bridged the gap between them.

Cruz stood at the window in his drawing room and watched his brother handing Trinity into the passenger seat of a dark Jeep in the forecourt outside the house, before he got into the driver’s seat himself.

He felt grim. All he could do now was be there to pick up the pieces of Rio’s financial meltdown and do his best to ensure that Rio got a chance to start again—and that his wife didn’t get her grasping hands on another cent.

At the last second, as if hearing his thoughts, Trinity turned her head to look at Cruz through the ground-floor window. For a fleeting moment their eyes met, and he could have sworn he saw hers shimmer with moisture, even from this distance.

He told himself they had to be tears of anger now that she knew she’d been found out. She was trapped in a situation of her own making. It should have filled Cruz with a sense of satisfaction, but instead all he felt was a heavy weight in his chest.

Rio’s Jeep took off with a spurt of gravel.

Cruz didn’t realise it then, but it would be the last time he saw his brother alive.

CHAPTER ONE

Three months later. Solicitor’s office.

TRINITY’S HEART STOPPED and her mouth dried. ‘Mr De Carrillo is joining us?’

The solicitor glanced at her distractedly, looking for a paper on his overcrowded desktop. ‘Yes—he is the executor of his brother’s will, and we are in his building,’ he pointed out redundantly.

She’d been acutely aware that she was in the impressive De Carrillo building in London’s bustling financial zone, but it hadn’t actually occurred to her that Cruz himself would be here.

To her shame, her first instinct was to check her appearance—which of course she couldn’t do, but she was glad of the choice of clothing she’d made: dark loose trousers and a grey silk shirt. She’d tied her long hair back in a braid, as much out of habit when dealing with small energetic boys than for any other reason. She hadn’t put on any make-up and regretted that now, fearing she must look about eighteen.

Just then there was a light knock on the door and it opened. She heard Mr Drew’s assistant saying in a suspiciously breathless and awestruck voice, ‘Mr De Carrillo, sir.’

The solicitor stood up, immediately obsequious, greeting Cruz De Carrillo effusively and leading him to a seat beside Trinity’s on the other side of his desk.

Every nerve came to immediate and tingling life. The tiny hairs on her arms stood up, quivering. She lamented her uncontrollable reaction—would she ever not react to him?

She sensed him come to stand near her, tall and effortlessly intimidating. Childishly, she wanted to avoid looking at him. His scent was a tantalising mix of musk and something earthy and masculine. It was his scent now that sent her hurtling back to that cataclysmic evening in his house three months ago, when she’d realised just how badly Rio had betrayed her.

The shock of knowing that Rio obviously hadn’t told him the truth about their marriage was still palpable, even now. And the fact that Cruz had so readily believed the worst of her hurt far worse than it should.

It had hurt almost as much as when he’d looked at her with dawning horror and self-disgust after kissing her to within an inch of her life. It was an experience still seared onto her brain, so deeply embedded inside her that she sometimes woke from X-rated dreams, tangled amongst her sheets and sweating. Almost two years later it was beyond humiliating.

Trinity dragged her mind away from that disturbing labyrinth of memories. She had more important things to deal with now. Because three months ago, while she and Rio had been driving home from Cruz’s house, they’d been involved in a car crash and Rio had tragically died.

Since that day she’d become lone step-parent to Mateo and Sancho, Rio’s two-and-a-half-year-old twins. Miraculously, she’d escaped from the accident with only cuts and bruises and a badly sprained ankle. She had no memory of the actual accident—only recalled waking in the hospital feeling battered all over and learning of her husband’s death from a grim and ashen-faced Cruz.

Gathering her composure, she stood up to face him, steeling herself against his effect. Which was useless. As soon as she looked at him it was like a blow to her solar plexus.

She’d seen him since the night of the accident—at the funeral, of course, and then when he’d called at the house for brief perfunctory visits to check that she and his nephews had everything they needed. He hadn’t engaged with her beyond that. Her skin prickled now with foreboding. She had a sense that he’d merely been biding his time.

She forced herself to say, as calmly as she could, ‘Cruz.’

‘Trinity.’

His voice reverberated deep inside her, even as he oozed his habitual icy control.

The solicitor had gone back around his desk and said now, ‘Espresso, wasn’t it, Mr De Carrillo?’

Trinity blinked and looked to see the older gentleman holding out a small cup and saucer. Instinctively, because she was closer and because it was good manners, she reached for it to hand it to Cruz, only belatedly realising that her hand was trembling.

She prayed he wouldn’t notice the tremor as she held out the delicate china to him. His hand was masculine and square. Strong. Long fingers...short, functional nails. At that moment she had a flash of remembering how his hand had felt between her legs, stroking her intimately...

Just before he took the cup and saucer there was a tiny clatter of porcelain on porcelain, evidence of her frayed nerves. Damn.

When he had the cup she sat down again quickly, before she made a complete fool of herself, and took a quick fortifying sip of her own cup of tea. He sat down too, and she was aware of his powerful body taking up a lot of space.

While Mr. Drew engaged Cruz De Carrillo in light conversation, before they started discussing the terms of Rio’s will, Trinity risked another glance at the man just a couple of feet to her left.

Short dark blond hair gave more than a hint of his supremely controlled nature. Controlled except for that momentary lapse...an undoubtedly rare moment of heated insanity with someone he’d seen as far beneath him.

Trinity crushed the spike of emotion. She couldn’t afford it.

Despite the urbane uniform of a three-piece suit, his impressive build was apparent. Muscles pushed at the fabric in a way that said he couldn’t be contained, no matter how civilised he might look.

His face was a stunning portrait of masculine beauty, all hard lines and an aquiline profile that spoke of a pure and powerful bloodline. He had deep-set eyes and a mouth that on anyone else would have looked ridiculously sensual. Right now though, it looked stern. Disapproving.

Trinity realised that she was staring at him, and when he turned to look at her she went puce. She quickly turned back to the solicitor, who had stopped talking and was now looking from her to Cruz nervously, as if he could sense the tension in the room.

He cleared his throat. ‘As you’re both here now, I see no reason not to start.’

‘If you would be so kind.’

Trinity shivered at the barely veiled impatience in Cruz’s voice. She could recall only too well how this man had reduced grown men and women to quivering wrecks with just a disdainful look from those glittering dark amber eyes.

The half-brothers hadn’t been very alike—where Rio had been dark, with obsidian eyes and dark hair, Cruz possessed a cold, tawny beauty that had always made Trinity think of dark ice over simmering heat. She shivered...she’d felt that heat.

‘Mrs De Carrillo...?’

Trinity blinked and flushed at being caught out again. The solicitor’s impatient expression came into focus. He was holding out a sheaf of papers and she reached for them.

‘I’m sorry.’ It still felt weird to be called Mrs De Carrillo—it wasn’t as if she’d ever really been Rio’s wife.

She quickly read the heading: Last will and testament of Rio De Carrillo. Her heart squeezed as she thought of the fact that Mateo and Sancho had now lost both their parents, too prematurely.

As bitter as her experience had been with Rio in the end, after Trinity had been sickened to realise just how manipulative he’d been, and how naive she’d been, she’d never in a million years have wished him gone.

She’d felt a level of grief that had surprised her, considering the fact that their marriage had been in name only—for the convenience of having a steady mother figure for the boys and because Rio had wanted to promote a more settled image to further his own ambitions.

Trinity had agreed to the union for those and myriad other reasons—the most compelling of which had to do with her bond with the twins, which had been forged almost as soon as she’d seen them. Two one-year-old cherubs, with dark hair, dark mischievous eyes and heart-stopping smiles.

Her heart had gone out to them because they were motherless, as she had been since she was a baby, and they’d latched on to her with a ferocity that she hadn’t been able to resist, even though she’d known it would be more professional to try and keep some distance.

She’d also agreed because Rio’s sad personal story—he had been all but abandoned by his own parents—had again chimed with echoes of her own. And because he’d agreed to help her fulfil her deepest ambitions—to go to university and get a degree, thereby putting her in a position to forge her own future, free of the stain of her ignominious past.

Rio hadn’t revealed the full extent of his ambitions until shortly before the accident—and that was when she’d realised why he’d taken such perverse pleasure in marrying her. It had had far more to do with his long-held simmering resentment towards his older half-brother than any real desire to forge a sense of security for his sons, or to shake off his playboy moniker...

The solicitor was speaking. ‘As you’ll see, it’s a relatively short document. There’s really no need to read through it all now. Suffice to say that Mr De Carrillo bequeathed everything to his sons, Mateo and Sancho, and he named you their legal guardian, Trinity.’

She looked up. She’d known that Rio had named her guardian. Any concerns she’d had at the time, contemplating such a huge responsibility had been eclipsed by the overwhelmingly protective instinct she’d felt for the twins. And in all honesty the prospect of one day becoming their guardian hadn’t felt remotely possible.

She realised that she hadn’t really considered what this meant for her own future now. It was something she’d been good at blocking out in the last three months, after the shock of the accident and Rio’s death, not to mention getting over her own injuries and caring for two highly precocious and energetic boys. It was as if she was afraid to let the enormity of it all sink in.

The solicitor looked at Cruz for a moment, and then he looked back to Trinity with something distinctly uncomfortable in his expression. She tensed.

‘I’m not sure how aware you are of the state of Mr De Carrillo’s finances when he died?’

Trinity immediately felt the scrutiny of the man to her left, as if his gaze was boring into her. His accusatory words came back to her: ‘You’ve single-handedly run through almost every cent my brother has to his name in a bid to satisfy your greedy nature. Now you’re realising Rio’s fortune isn’t a bottomless pit...’

She felt breathless, as if a vice was squeezing her chest. Until the evening of Cruz’s party she hadn’t been aware of any such financial difficulty. She’d only been aware that Rio was growing more and more irrational and erratic. When she’d confronted him about his behaviour, they’d had a huge argument, in which the truth of exactly why he’d married her had been made very apparent. Along with his real agenda.