Kept by the Spanish Billionaire

by Cathy Williams

  ‘If you’d been seeing someone…you obviously didn’t admire so much…who wasn’t so suited to you…’ She sighed heavily and chewed her lip.

  ‘You would have tried to steal me away?’

  ‘Not to the land of commitment,’ Amy said quickly. ‘I know we’re not really on the same wavelength, but you were right…maybe it would have been better not to have this feeling of unfinished business between us. Not,’ she amended hastily, just in case he thought that she was still going to pursue him, like some kind of lunatic stalker, ‘that that applies to you. You’ve found the woman of your dreams and, honestly, Rafael, I wish you all the best.’

  She stood on tiptoe and placed the palms of her hands squarely on his chest. Just one peck on his cheek. A friendly, supportive kiss. Just something to show him that she was a good loser, even if it hurt like hell.

  Rafael tensed at the casual touch. Up close, the smell of her was insinuating, that light, clean, flowery smell, which surely must have been aided and abetted by some sort of perfume. He was unaware of himself automatically reaching to cup her elbows and steady her, unaware of looking down to her soft face and hardly conscious at all of capturing her mouth with his, turning the friendly peck on the cheek into a light kiss that deepened, and deepened until it drove every sane thought out of his head.

  He came to his senses abruptly. Amy, still absorbed in the wonder of kissing him, felt him stiffen and pull away and, of course, so did she.

  ‘Don’t say anything, Rafael.’ She drew back and stuck her hand out to hail a cab. It was still very busy on the roads. Surely an empty one would cruise up to her and spare her the indignity of drawing out this uncomfortable little scene.

  Luck was with her. ‘We kissed and I’m glad we did, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t wish you happiness because I do. Everyone deserves a suitable partner and you’ve found yours.’ She rattled off the sentence and neatly finished just in time to fling open the door of the cab and slip inside. He had no time to say anything and Amy was very pleased about that because she didn’t want to hear him berate himself for having done something he shouldn’t have done, or, worse, try and lay the blame at her door.

  Once again she was leaving and once again she wasn’t going to look back.

  CHAPTER TEN

  FROM the bottom of his glass, Rafael slowly and inexorably worked out what had been happening to him. He had opened the bottle of whisky intending to drown his restless, frustrated energy the good, old fashioned way, but in all events had ended up having just the one glass.

  The house still had the detritus of Elizabeth’s rapid departure the day before. From where he sat in the kitchen, there were still pots and pans in the sink, waiting to be washed. If he looked in the fridge, he knew he would find an assortment of healthy-eating options and cartons of freshly squeezed orange juice. There was a time when he had appreciated her discipline when it came to her diet. He didn’t know what had possessed him to think that, having become bored with it all, he might retrieve his original feelings once again. Had he thought that England would revitalise their relationship?

  He twirled the glass in his hand and stared down at the dregs of the whisky and soda.

  The fact was that had he never had his life changed, disrupted, steamrollered, call it what you would, by a slight-figured, fair-haired witch, he might well have returned to Elizabeth and married her because she was so eminently right for him, at least on paper.

  Rafael had always been amused but disapproving of his younger brother’s playboy ways. Just as he had always been privately disdainful of the women James attached himself to. He had met a fair few of them and had considered them all, without exception, shallow, never mind how they looked. He, Rafael Vives, had not only kept his Spanish surname but, it had to be said, thought himself a man of more gravitas than his brother. James advertised, but he, Rafael, was the mover and shaker behind the scenes.

  And then Amy had stormed into his well ordered life and turned it upside down.

  She was so far removed from his ideal of the perfect woman for him that he had utterly failed to notice the way she had insinuated herself under his skin so that in the space of a few short days she had taken over his head.

  He resisted the urge to pour himself another drink and instead helped himself to some bottled water. They lined one entire shelf of his fridge like little soldiers and, as he’d expected, the rest of the shelves were stuffed with lettuce, vegetables, fruit, yoghurts. A jar of olives peeked out from behind some salad dressing. It seemed to sum up his relationship with Elizabeth. How could she not have known that he hated olives?

  He drank the water in one go and then went to get his car. He knew that he could spare himself the tedium of dealing with the London traffic by calling his driver, but the last thing he needed was a witness to his potential embarrassment because, face it, he thought to himself, why should Amy take him back when he had politely, yet again, sent her on her way? After she had debased herself by coming to him, offering herself on his terms? She might not have loved him, but she had been willing to explore what they had and he had turned her away because, fool that he was, he hadn’t been able to conceive of himself as a man who could possibly want to explore any kind of relationship with a woman who wasn’t as substantial as the ones he had made a habit of dating.

  Never mind that she was warm and funny and quirky and could make him forget that the only thing he loved was his work. Never mind that she could make him play truant, entice him into making love in extraordinary places, turn him on even when she was irritating the hell out of him.

  He thought of Elizabeth and deeply regretted the hurt he knew he would have caused her, but she had taken it well, just as he had expected her to. No shouting or screaming.

  ‘I don’t think this is going to work, after all,’ he said, and she looked at him calmly, her head tilted to one side, and nodded.

  ‘But we gave it one last shot, Rafael,’ she said sadly, smiling, which made him feel even more of a cad. ‘I think, all things considered, that it’s probably best if I leave…’ and he nodded, all very controlled. He even offered to help her pack her things was relieved when she quietly turned down the offer.

  It had been so civilised. Right now, she was staying at a hotel until she could get her flight changed. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she decided to stay on a few more days because why ever not? There were still things to see in London before she left and, above all else, Elizabeth was sensible.

  He took the drive to Amy’s house very slowly. He had had a full day to try and figure himself out. Now, it was dark and cold, which was a much better time to do what he had to do.

  As usual, there was no hurrying the traffic. Like New York, London never seemed to do a great deal of sleeping, least of all at seven-thirty in the evening.

  He finally pulled up outside her house and killed the engine. Closing a deal had always sent a rush of adrenaline through him. Moving and investing vast sums of money had likewise given him the same surge of excitement. Neither had ever made him feel as sickeningly vulnerable as he did now, staring up at her front door in the darkness.

  He wondered whether the outcome of his visit to London would have been different had he approached her in a different way. Instead of enticing her to his house under false pretences, mistakenly thinking that she would see the element of surprise as flattering, maybe he should just have telephoned her, suggested meeting up on neutral ground, and then confessed to her that he had been a fool, that he wanted her so much that it was driving him crazy, that they could solve the problem of distance one way or another. Perhaps honesty would have been the best policy. Which led him to think about what he was going to say to her now.

  He would tell her straight away that Elizabeth was no longer on the scene. That bit, he thought, would be the easiest. Less easy would be when he started talking to her about his feelings.

  Rafael frowned. Where, he wondered, did a man start when it came to discussing feelings?r />
  He imagined James would be pretty good in that area. He, on the other hand, tended to be more prosaic. He also wasn’t entirely sure how much of those feelings he was inclined to reveal. Honesty was one thing, but he also needed to protect himself.

  He was sitting in the car, flirting with his delaying tactics, when a movement interrupted his line of vision. Not that he had been looking at anything in particular. Just absent-mindedly looking in the general direction of her house.

  It took a couple of seconds for him to register that her front door was opening, that she was standing at it, that she was with a man. And the man was sticking on his coat, patting his pockets as though feeling for something.

  Rafael found himself fascinated by the unfolding tableau. In his head, he had been prepared for pretty much anything, including having the crockery thrown at his repentant head. What he hadn’t banked on was to find a man emerging from her house. There had been no recent ex in the background. So who the hell was he?

  Jealousy, an emotion he had never had much time for, slammed into him with such force that he actually gasped. Then he was opening his door, at much the same time as the man was leaning into her, enfolding her in an embrace that spoke of pure intimacy.

  He didn’t think he was running, but he must have been because they both detached themselves to look in the direction of his feet pounding along the pavement.

  Rafael had only ever been involved in a fight once before in his life. He had been a teenager at the time and a remark had been made about his nationality. The passing remark had led onto further insulting remarks and the raucous jeering had triggered something in him that had made him see red. He had piled into the lot of them single-handedly and had only emerged from the fracas when they had scattered to the four winds. A bloody victor. It had been an ugly scene and the loss of self-control had been a brutal learning curve for him. Yes, his mother and stepfather had given him the expected lecture about rising to taunts, about physical violence not being the answer to anything. In actual fact, they need not have bothered because it was a lesson he had learnt for himself.

  He could feel the lesson flying out the window as he reached forward and grabbed the man by the lapels of his coat to slam him back against the wall while Amy tried to yank him off.

  He was aware that people were staring and he propelled the man back into the house, with Amy still ineffectively trying to prise him off, then he kicked the door shut behind him with one foot.

  ‘Right,’ he said grimly, ‘who the hell are you and what are you doing here?’

  ‘Will you let him go?’ Amy screeched from behind him. Rafael ignored her. Every ounce of his concentration was fixed on the terrified, confused face of the man who seemed to have lost the power of speech.

  ‘Listen, mate.’

  ‘I’m not your mate,’ Rafael bit out, keeping his voice under control and his fist too, even though he wanted to lay into the guy, who, it had to be said, was no match for him physically. A good few inches shorter and slight in comparison to Rafael’s muscular build.

  ‘Look, just let me go and…’

  Then there was a jumble of words, with the man begging to be released and scrabbling to find some kind of vantage point, Amy yelling at Rafael, asking him what in heck was he doing and Rafael informing the man, still in a very controlled voice, that he was going to dump him outside and letting Amy know that he had every intention of finding out what some guy was doing under her roof.

  Amy assured her brother she was fine and then turned to Rafael, hands on her hips, every inch of her bristling in stupefied anger.

  She made for the door and Rafael’s arm shot out, barring her way.

  ‘No chance. You’re not going anywhere until you tell me who that was.’

  He removed his coat and pitched it over the banister. Yes, he was calming down, but, no, he wasn’t going to feel guilty about what he had done even though she was looking at him with those huge, enraged eyes.

  ‘Who do you think you are, Rafael Vives? Barging into my house like that! How dare you?’

  ‘How the hell am I supposed to react when I find you making out with some man in your doorway!’ Especially when you’re dressed like that, he thought savagely, in a tight little pair of faded jeans and a tight, old long-sleeved tee shirt under which it’s obvious you’re not wearing a bloody bra…

  He raked his fingers through his hair and glared at her. ‘He should be lucky I didn’t thump him.’

  ‘You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here!’

  ‘And you still haven’t told me who that was!’ Rafael responded without pausing for breath.

  They were standing in the hall like combatants. Amy, still in a state of shock, had a thousand questions burning in her head but she was done with laying all her cards on the table and putting herself at his mercy. Never again!

  She swung round and padded towards the kitchen, really because she needed to sit down because her legs felt like jelly.

  She was aware of Rafael following her. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded, as soon as they were in the kitchen. She sat down but he remained standing, giving him a towering advantage over her.

  ‘It’s none of your business who that was,’ Amy said bitterly. ‘There’s nothing more to be said between us.’

  ‘And so you decided to just head out and find another man?’

  Yes! Amy wanted to shout. Yes, I did. Just walked out one fine morning and picked up the first guy who strolled along and offered to go on a date!

  ‘Is that the kind of woman you think I am? No, don’t answer that! Because once you thought I was a gold-digger, so I guess I’m just about capable of anything, in your eyes!’ Which is why you wouldn’t dream of looking at me as anything other than a quick and easy romp in the sack! ‘Where’s the love of your life?’ she asked snidely. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve abandoned her again! I hate to say this but even the most controlled, well-bred, intelligent women with power jobs have a breaking-point.’

  Rafael shook his head and sat down. ‘Elizabeth has gone.’

  Huh, Amy thought, would that be so that she can begin preparing for The Big Day?

  ‘I finished with her.’

  ‘What?’ She looked at him warily. She could feel her treacherous heart lifting and tried hard to stamp it back down.

  ‘It didn’t work out. I thought it would but I was wrong.’

  She was desperate to know the details, but she hung onto her resolve and just stared at him in silence.

  ‘Now tell me who he was, Amy.’ Even applying his cool, logical brain to the question of what he would do if she started spilling out details of her new lover, he still couldn’t control the sick surge that rushed through him, leaving him shaken in its wake.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Rafael!’ The sweet fantasy of being able to exclaim that she had just so happened to meet the man of her dreams regrettably evaporated. ‘That was just Jack, my brother.’

  ‘Your brother!

  ‘Who’s probably bruised and shaken, thanks to you!’

  ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me who he was?’

  ‘Because you didn’t exactly give me much of a chance, did you?’ She fuelled her anger and tried to feel some justified horror at the way he was coolly sitting at her table. ‘I mean, one minute my brother was giving me a hug and the next minute you were attacking him! Tell me where you see polite conversation and explanations fitting into that little scenario!’

  ‘Point taken,’ Rafael said. Her brother. He was her brother. The man was her brother. He couldn’t believe the relief he felt! He wanted to jump up and down and dance. Ridiculous reaction. Just as laying into her brother had been a ridiculous reaction. Not him at all! But then, nothing was these days, was it?

  ‘I shouldn’t have attacked him, even if I had thought that you had found someone else, found a replacement for me…’

  If only life were that simple, Amy thought gluml
y.

  ‘Why did you?’ she asked eventually. ‘I mean, don’t you hate causing scenes? All that passion and emotion on show, Rafael! I would never have thought it of you! But then, no, let me answer my own question…’ She looked at him bitterly. ‘You thought that was what I might want to see. You thought that because I’m open and expressive, that I would be bowled over by a Rafael who didn’t mind showing his feelings. A brand-new Rafael. Because you’ve given your ex a chance and you’ve decided that you’d rather use me for a while, even though I’m not up to scratch on the permanent front. Am I heading in the right direction, Rafael?’

  Amy stood up abruptly. Her legs felt like pieces of lead and she needed to walk to get her circulation going.

  Also she didn’t want to look at him. Unfortunately the kitchen was small. Not too many spots from which she didn’t have a full on, glaring view of him, lounging against the counter and dwarfing everything around him.

  Which really just left the option of heading for the sitting room, where at least the chairs were more comfortable and the lighting wasn’t so unforgiving.

  Musical rooms, she thought. Just as well there weren’t many in her house or they could be doing this all night, or at least until she said what she had to say and then chucked him out.

  She didn’t switch on the overhead light. Instead she turned on the lamp on the side table and then tucked herself into her favourite chair, an old, comfy thing that had witnessed her weep in front of many a sad movie.

  ‘I don’t know how we landed up here, Rafael,’ she said slowly, watching as he made himself comfortable on a chair that was too small for him, ‘but it’s all wrong. We belong in different places. Good Lord, we even live in completely different countries!’

  ‘Yes, you’re right, we do.’

  ‘And we should never, ever have got involved with one another.’

  ‘Which just goes to show that fate is alive and doing well.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t. It just shows that we started something we should have known we would never finish.’