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His wife is back… Can he make sure it’s for good?
When Emily is called to her estranged husband’s bedside after an accident, amnesia is the word on everyone’s lips. But the arrogance in Javier Casas’s powerful gaze tells a different story…
Although Javier may wish he didn’t recall the pain of Emily walking out six years ago, his memory is perfectly intact. Yet the misdiagnosis provides the ideal opportunity to finally discover why she left. And to remind Emily of the connection he’s not ready to forget…not when every heated look makes it clear she still feels it too!
‘What does this mean? If it is…amnesia?’ she asked.
‘It will depend on how much he remembers, what he remembers. But, in rehabilitation terms, the main goal is to make him comfortable and keep things familiar without forcing a return of memories.’
Emily tried to get at what the doctor wasn’t saying, but knew it was pointless until they knew more. ‘Run your tests.’
The next few hours passed in a blur. Emily waited outside the room while the tests were conducted, which was fine by Javier’s mother. His half-sister Gabi came out and sat next to her without speaking. Emily was surprised when the young woman she remembered as a beautiful teenager took her hand and held on tight. It was as if neither wanted to say anything until they knew what was going on.
What would she do? Whatever the outcome, Javier would need help. Maybe he’d hire someone to stay with him? She’d read that he’d moved into an apartment in Madrid, ashamed by how greedily she’d consumed information about him in the gossip columns over the years. He’d be fine, she reassured herself like a mantra, over and over and over. That was all she needed to know and then she could leave. If she was lucky, she might make it back to London having only missed a day.
But…she knew that was a lie. Six years might have passed since she had last seen her husband, but she felt it. Time was up. There would be no more hiding from her marriage to this Spanish billionaire. An icy finger was tripping its way down her spine when the doctor came out, looking a little puzzled but hopeful.
‘Mr Casas is doing well. Cognitively he’s retained all normal function. However, the last few years are almost a blank to him. At the moment, his brain is struggling to cope with the injury, so the goal is to create a peaceful and quiet environment. To reduce any further risk, it’s going to be important that you are with him at all times. There may be periods where he gets frustrated with his rehabilitation, where he asks the same thing repeatedly. It will be wearing and difficult, so it’s important that you have support and help too.’
‘Me? Why would I need support?’ Emily’s tired mind was taking too long to catch up.
‘Because you will be allowed to take him home in a few days and you’ll be caring for him, no?’
Her head snapped to Javier, his gaze on her steady and waiting.
Emily tuned out the doctor’s words as she realised what it meant. What was expected of her. What Javier had forced her into. It was a knowing. Deep in her gut, and low in her heart. There was no amnesia. The look in his eyes told her that he remembered everything. Worse, it was the anger simmering in that gaze. An anger that she had never seen before, but knew categorically had been put there by her departure six years before.
Her husband, it seemed, was playing games and it infuriated her. Was this his way of punishing her for leaving all those years ago? His final act of revenge? Oh, she had no doubt that he had cast himself the innocent in his mind. But Javier Casas—the man who was never wrong—had made a fatal mistake this time. She was no longer the unconfident young bride of before. She had changed and if he wanted to wilfully and carelessly mess with her life then it was only fair that she do the same.
Entering the room, she went to his bedside, taking his hand in hers. For a second, she thought she saw a flare in his irises, the surprise contact shocking them both. But this wasn’t her caring husband, the man who had swept her off her feet at nineteen and offered her the world. No. It was the man who had shown her the world only on his terms. And now she was going to do the same. She leaned forward, sweeping his thick dark hair from his forehead in seeming affection, his skin warm beneath the cold of her fingers and leaned to his ear.
‘If you think for one second,’ she whispered, ‘that I believe a word of this, you are sorely mistaken. And you will regret it.’
Shondra Brown, Library Journal Review