The car wound through downtown, nearing the ornate grey façade of the Villa de Música, the Ramirez crown jewel in the heart of Madrid. Her heart hurt with the memories seeing it again brought.
Rebecca shoved away thoughts of Alejandro. She’d see him soon enough, and though her stomach twisted, she reminded herself firmly that she was here for business. She would not be intimidated. His mere presence wouldn’t turn her to mush like it once had.
She was only mildly surprised when the car continued past the hotel. She’d half expected to be shown to a room, allowed to freshen up, maybe sleep a little before being dragged into Alejandro’s presence. Since she had no idea where they were going, she tried to close her eyes—but rest eluded her.
After what seemed like hours in traffic, the limo pulled into a private drive somewhere in the hills of Madrid. Rebecca wasn’t sure where they were, but she vaguely remembered passing the Palacio Real, the official residence of the King and Queen of Spain. A uniformed man helped her from the vehicle while another retrieved her bags. Within moments she was whisked through a stunning marble atrium and into a masculine office overlooking a terrace with a pool.
Rebecca drifted over to the window and clasped her hands together. Oddly, they were shaking. But she’d been traveling for almost twenty-four hours straight. Her wrinkled suit clung to her body like an old rag, her hair was pulled back in a limp ponytail, and she desperately needed a hot shower. Clearly Alejandro would give her no quarter before he gloated over his triumph.
Well, fine. She’d endure it, and she’d refuse to react to his insults. When the door behind her opened again, she put on her battle face and turned to meet him.
And, oh heavens, he was still the most amazingly handsome man she’d ever met. Her knees threatened to buckle at the sight of him. She had an inexplicable urge to rush into his embrace, the way she’d used to do, but she crossed her arms and stood her ground. It took every ounce of reserve she had not to give in to the desire to touch him.
Why?
She didn’t know if she was questioning her reaction or if the word was meant for him.
Why, Alejandro? Why did you deceive me when I loved you? Why have you done this to me now?
As if she’d spoken it aloud, he halted, his gaze locking with hers. What lay behind those silver-grey eyes was anyone’s guess, but she didn’t think they held any warmth for her. And it hurt. Surprisingly, it hurt. She felt like she should do or say something but she simply stood and drank him in.
If he’d changed at all, she couldn’t see it. He was tall, six-three or six-four, and as muscular as ever. The years had not been unkind to him. He still looked every inch the hardened ex-bullfighter. She’d once teased him that he was a warrior clad in Armani.
Had she really spent hours exploring his tanned skin? It seemed so long ago that it must surely be her imagination. But she remembered with every last nerve ending in her body how extraordinary it had felt when his cock slid inside her.
Over and over and over again, pounding hard and quick, until she shuddered from the exquisite pleasure.
Rebecca pushed a hand against the stucco window casing to steady herself. Alejandro didn’t seem to notice. He was completely unaffected by the current whipping through the room. It was all she could do to keep from being sucked into the vortex, and he pressed on as if nothing had changed.
For him, it probably hadn’t. She’d been one in a string of women he’d fucked and forgot.
“I have a schedule for you,” he said, walking to the desk and pulling out a folder. “You will read through these papers and be prepared to meet with the board first thing in the morning. We will discuss your duties then.”
Rebecca took the folder, clutching it, glad to have a new focus. Something hot and thick lurched to life in her sluggish veins when he said nothing more. “That’s it?” she asked. “No hi, how have you been? No explanation?”
Icy eyes regarded her dispassionately. “I owe you no explanation, Rebecca. I owe you nothing, in fact. Be grateful you’re getting this much.”
“I’ve been doing okay, thanks for asking Alejandro,” she said, ignoring him as the emotion whipped high within her. “Or I was until yesterday. And you? How are you? Did you marry the woman you conveniently forgot to tell me about all those years ago?”
“I did,” he said coolly.
She blinked back tears. Ridiculous to still be hurt over such a thing, or to expect an explanation so many years after the fact. He was Alejandro de Ramirez, international playboy, billionaire financier.
Women had always fallen over him. Always would.
And she’d been no different. He hadn’t been a billionaire back then, merely a famous man in his own country making his way in a new business. She’d been the one with a privileged background, the one from hotel royalty. But she’d fallen hard for him and his betrayal still stung. She should have damned well known better. Men like Alejandro weren’t looking for forever. They were looking for opportunity.
“You will be pleased to know we are divorced,” he continued. “Alas, arranged marriages never work as planned.”
“Good for her for wising up.”
“Like you did?”
A bitter laugh burst from her throat before she could stop it. “There was never a choice for me, Alejandro. You were already engaged.”
“Promised, not engaged.”
Rebecca scoffed, hoping he wouldn’t see how the subject still affected her. “What is that, Spanish hair-splitting? The truth is you were to marry another woman when you so conveniently seduced me.”
“You did not mind being seduced, as I recall.”
Heat blossomed in her belly. Flooded her senses. Gathered between her thighs. “I was stupid—and blind to your true nature.”
His jaw flexed. He hitched a leg onto the corner of the desk, his custom trousers stretching tight against one hard thigh. Showing the muscles beneath. “And just what is my true nature, querida?”
Danger saturated his voice, but she was too angry and hurt to heed the warning. No, what she itched to do was slap his sculpted profile. How dare he steal her company and then stand there and defend his actions of five years ago like he’d been the one wronged.
“You’re a liar and a cheat.”
She stood her ground as he stalked toward her. One arm snaked around her waist, yanked her against every last inch of his muscled body. The other hand gripped her jaw.
And then he dropped his head toward hers. Too late, she realized what he was about. Fire exploded in her veins when his lips pressed to hers.
Shock reverberated through her system. It was too much, too soon. She was still processing what it meant to see him again, to be flooded with conflicting emotions. She didn’t want this, didn’t need it.
Couldn’t resist it for much longer.
Her hands went to his chest, whether to push him away or touch him she wasn’t quite sure. But then she marshaled what was left of her will, intending to shove with all her might. He upped the ante then, his tongue sliding along the seam of her lips, teasing her with remembered bliss.
Rebecca shoved with the last vestiges of her will, but not quite hard enough. His grip on her tightened.
And she caved. Much as she didn’t want to or intend to, her lips parted. She shuddered as his tongue stroked against hers. Rebecca didn’t want to respond, but she couldn’t quite stop herself.
For a moment she was flooded with memories—his mouth on hers, his naked skin beneath her fingers, their bodies moving together in perfect rhythm. Ecstasy unlike any she’d ever known. Happiness and love and a feeling of rightness.
One of her hands threaded into his hair. His fingers slid beneath her blouse, teased her nipple through the lace of her bra. It budded beneath his touch, sensitive and painful and neglected. It’d been so long since she’d been with a man.
She held on to his shoulders, all sense of time and place leaching away as she nearly lost herself in the hot need he called up. She very much
feared that if he pressed her to the floor right now, ripped off her clothes and impaled her with his hard cock, she’d wrap her legs around him and hold on for the ride. Just to feel that perfect rightness once more, even if it was only an illusion.
But it was an illusion. She had to stop this, now—
He broke the kiss before she could. “You’re still sizzling, Rebecca,” he said, his breath hot against her moist lips. “And you are still willing to whore yourself for an advantage.”
Before she could think twice, her hand connected with his cheek, her palm stinging with the contact. But she hadn’t hurt him because he moved away, laughing. She thanked God for the fury coursing through her right now. Without it, the shame of having succumbed to his kiss would have eaten her alive.
“I guess we know where we stand,” she said, her breath razoring in and out. She would not hyperventilate, not now. Stupid to let down her guard like that, to feel any softness at all toward this man. “And now I’d like to go to the hotel and get some rest, if you’re finished trying to humiliate me.”
“Your room is upstairs.”
She gaped at him, shocked. “I’m staying here? In your villa? Is that wise?” she added on what she hoped was a cool note.
He was even cooler. “I cannot possibly refuse the paying guests simply to house an employee. You will stay here.”
Employee.
The word grated because it was true. She was an employee. His employee.
“Fine. But don’t you ever touch me again,” she growled.
His mouth twitched. “Are you sure about that? You were not so chilly a moment ago. Were you not remembering what it was like between us?”
Rebecca lifted her chin. No sense lying because he’d see right through her. “You’re a fine lover, Alejandro, but you aren’t the only man who knows his way around a woman’s body. Men like you are easy to find if a woman knows where to look.”
“And where would that be?” His look was half amused, half curious.
“I believe they like to hang out at resorts and fleece rich women out of their money.”
His brows drew down. “You are calling me a gigolo?”
“Keep it in mind if the hotel thing doesn’t work out.”
He threw back his head and laughed. Then he reached for the phone on his desk and touched a button.
“Señora Flores will show you to your room.” Rebecca was almost to the door when his voice stopped her. “And don’t worry, querida, I have no intention of ever again accepting what you offer each time you look at me.”
Rebecca’s spine snapped straight as humiliation rolled through her. “And what do you think I’m offering you? Sudden death? Because if you see anything else, you are a deluded man.”
“Don’t make me prove you wrong again,” he said with all the arrogance of a man who thought he was God’s gift.
She glared. “Try me when I’m no longer jet-lagged, Alejandro. I promise you the response will be much different.”
“Dios!” He let out a rough breath. “Go. Before I do something we both regret.”
Rebecca fled.
3
Alejandro returned to the villa late, having spent several hours at his sleek downtown office. He tossed his Hugo Boss jacket across a chair in the master suite, loosened his tie and tugged it from his collar. He started to pour a drink from the bar in his room, but changed his mind and pulled on a pair of swim trunks instead. Right now he needed the release heavy exercise could bring.
He hadn’t expected Rebecca Layton to get under his skin ever again. It was purely physical now, and yet it annoyed him nonetheless. He’d spent one month with her five years ago. One incredibly hot month that he couldn’t seem to forget no matter how he tried. He’d enjoyed her like none other. Enjoyed the way she looked at him, the way she smelled like wildflowers, and her funny way of saying things that meant something entirely different in American than they did in the British English he’d learned.
He’d cared for her. He’d planned to marry her in spite of what his father expected. No matter what he told her now, he hadn’t been promised to another at all. It was his brother who was to marry Caridad Mendoza, not him. Until Roberto died of an overdose in a filthy drug den overseas.
Still, Alejandro had no intention of taking his brother’s place in the arrangement. He’d spent years fighting in the ring, making himself into something. His future was bright and he would choose his own wife. Rebecca Layton, daughter of a successful American hotel magnate, was exactly the type of woman he needed to marry.
Until she betrayed him. An ex-bullfighter and fledgling entrepreneur wasn’t good enough for the pampered heiress, apparently. The dirt, sweat, and blood of the ring would never wash completely away for someone like her. She’d accepted him as her lover, sworn she loved him, and then tried to steal his future from under his nose.
Her betrayal cost him more than he could ever make her pay for. Taking Layton International away was only the beginning. He’d set it up carefully, made sure he would own her completely when it was done. It’d taken years of planning and months of careful execution, but the culmination was here. Rebecca would regret the day she’d crossed paths with him.
Alejandro pushed open the French doors and padded out to the pool. Lights flooded the water from below, illuminating the terra-cotta and turquoise tiles. He dove into the coolness, hoping it would drive the heat of kissing her from his memory.
Why had he succumbed to the urge? That one kiss brought every bittersweet memory flooding back, especially when she clung to him, her soft moans coiling at the base of his spine, poisoning him with the urge to strip her naked and take her right there on the floor of his office.
“What in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing?”
Alejandro reached the wall, did a flip turn, and propelled himself back toward the voice that had called out to him.
“Swimming.” The water came up to his abdomen as he stood and looked at the angry woman standing by the pool.
“Not that,” she said. “This.”
Rebecca thrust a handful of papers at him. He ignored it and let his gaze wander over her sleek form. A red headband held her curls back from her face and matched the muted Hawaiian-print dress she wore. Slim legs tapered down to bare feet, but it was the circle of tiny white shells around one ankle that caught his attention. They caressed her ankle with every tap of her foot, kissed her bare skin like a lover.
Like he’d once done.
His gaze snapped to her face. “Those would be the plans to sell off a few of Layton’s less lucrative holdings.”
She took a step toward the pool. “The New York location? New York? Are you crazy?”
“Not at all. That hotel is small, outdated. It costs more in upkeep each year.”
The papers crinkled in her fist. “Why do you hate me so much?” she asked in a smaller voice than he would have expected.
She seemed almost bewildered. But it was a ploy. She would use anything to distract him, including sex. How well he knew that about her.
Her poor little me act angered him. “You know why. You used me to get information. You slept with me, then stole what you learned about the London deal to grab it for yourself. That move nearly destroyed Ramirez Enterprises.”
Ramirez Enterprises was little more than bravado and a dream then. But losing the Cahill Group’s financing had destroyed far more precious things than his fledgling enterprise. He wasn’t about to tell her what she’d really cost him, what she’d forced him into to save everything.
She tilted her head to one side. “I didn’t…”
“Didn’t what?” he said when she stopped speaking and stood there gazing off into space.
“You’re lying.” She crossed her arms and glared down at him. “You couldn’t possibly be wiped out by one deal gone bad.”
Of course she didn’t realize how he’d struggled. She’d never struggled for anything a day in her life. From her first moments, everything was handed
to her on a silver platter. He very much enjoyed being the one to take it all away.
Alejandro pressed his hands on the pool deck and levered himself out of the water. She took a step backward as he suddenly towered over her. He wanted to grab her, wanted to yank her into his arms and plunder her sweet mouth again. He turned away before his body betrayed his reaction to her. “Things were less certain then.”
“So you bought controlling interest in my company and now you plan to sell off my hotels one by one.”
Grabbing a towel from the lounge chair, he wiped his face dry. Then he gave her a nasty smile. “Only the unprofitable ones, querida.”
“La Belle Amelie was the first hotel my father opened after he married,” she said. “He named it for my mother.”
Alejandro finished drying off and tossed the towel aside. She looked at him like he’d kicked her puppy. He hated it, hated the way she made him feel. But she was oh so good at manipulating him, wasn’t she?
Never again.
“It goes.”
Her laugh was bitter. “To think I once believed—” She shook her head, inched her chin higher. Met his gaze firmly. “I’ll buy it from you. Give me a couple of weeks to put together the financing and I’ll—”
“You once believed what?”
“—make you a good offer.”
“Believed what, Rebecca?”
“Did you hear what I said? I want to buy La Belle Amelie. What I believed is of no consequence.”
“Did you think I would marry you after a month together? Is that why you left?”
“God no!”
She took another step back and he realized he’d been stalking her. He moved casually toward the edge of the pool, gave her space. The restless energy in him still demanded release, pounded through his body in waves. The hum was almost sexual, primal. Not much different from the way he’d felt whenever he faced a bull in the ring. He wanted to conquer, subdue, triumph.
Filthy Rich Revenge: A Filthy Rich Billionaires Book Page 2