“I’ll have one of the saleswomen bring up some things,” Alejandro said, pulling out his phone. “You can get dressed and come downstairs when you’re ready.”
She dragged her gaze from the door to the bedroom, forced herself to focus on what he was saying. To breathe normally.
“Fine,” she said, determined not to let him see how affected she was by being back in this room with him. She managed to stroll over to the couch, sink down on it and cross her legs casually.
He finished calling the boutique, then turned to her. His mouth snapped shut, whatever he was about to say forgotten. He usually moved with the easy grace of a panther, but now he took a halting step forward. Stopped. Shook his head and scrubbed a hand through his dark hair.
She started to ask him what was wrong, but a memory hurtled into her brain and her mouth went slack. This couch. Him. The two of them. Nothing between them but sweat, passionate words, and breathy moans.
The heat in his gaze told her he was remembering it too. It shocked her, the raw primal urge she saw on his face, and it compelled her. She wanted him. Oh God, how she wanted him. The only time she’d ever felt truly cherished was with him. It was everything she could do not to rise, go to him, and pull his head down to hers. Try to recapture that feeling once more. She’d had so little of it in her life, and she craved it. Being wanted and adored was the thing she desired most.
She closed her eyes. Swallowed. She willed the memory away—the scents, tastes, and sounds of it. It was too real, too painful.
The door clicked quietly and her eyes shot open. But instead of a saleswoman arriving with dresses, the room was empty and she was alone.
13
What was wrong with him? Why had he fled the suite like a bull shadowed his heels, running him to ground? He’d stayed in the suite dozens of times since she’d left. Hundreds of times. He’d even taken other women to bed there in an effort to erase her from his memory. He’d been positive he’d done it too—until he turned around and saw her on the couch.
He should have left her in the villa and ignored the dark demon urging him to bring her along tonight. It would have been easier. And made more sense. Dios!
Alejandro stalked into the hotel offices and went over some paperwork the manager had been asking him to approve. But he kept seeing Rebecca, her arms crossed beneath her breasts, her legs so long and bare in her little skirt. Superimposed over the picture of her sitting there tonight was a picture of her on the same couch, beneath him, naked and writhing and begging.
Madre de Dios, how much could a man take?
“Alejandro, please, I love you. Please, before I die. Please, please, please, I need you…”
He’d obliged her, of course, but not before making them both crazy with need. What would have happened had he done what he wanted tonight? Had he walked over there and stripped her naked? Would he be lost in her right now?
Sí, without a doubt.
He shouldn’t have taken her up there. It wasn’t his plan. Until the flashbulbs went off and he registered the alarm on Rebecca’s face. He didn’t know why he’d felt compelled to order the driver to the back of the hotel, but he’d done it before thinking about it. He should have let her face the cameras in her causal clothes, let her feel the embarrassment. Except it was his doing she was there tonight, and he’d felt obligated to protect her.
He grabbed a pen and signed off on the paperwork. After he left the office, it took him nearly three quarters of an hour to get to the ballroom because he kept running into people who needed his time or attention. A cabinet minister, a senior ranking diplomat, a wealthy diamond merchant, an actress he’d once bedded—the last was particularly difficult to extract himself from. She was beautiful, sleek and expensive in a sheer designer gown that left no doubt about the assets underneath the material. Yet she left him completely cold.
He needed to find Rebecca. He was starting to feel a little bit guilty he’d stayed away so long. She would have had to enter the packed room alone, not knowing anyone and not speaking the language. Nearly everyone also spoke English these days, so she would not find it difficult to converse. But he should have been with her nevertheless. Easing her into this situation didn’t mean he was going soft, or that he was giving up his plans for her. On the contrary, the more relaxed he made her, the more devastating it would be when he threw her out with nothing.
He accepted a glass of champagne from a tray and idly surveyed the crowd. His mother stood near the bar, surrounded by women. He went over to give her a kiss.
“Alejandro, my love! I feared you would not make it back in time.”
“I would never miss your party, Madre.”
Carmen Ramirez pursed her lips. “Unlike Valencia. She canceled yet again. Can you believe it?”
“Where is Father?” Alejandro asked, unwilling to indulge a mini tantrum against his sister for even a second. He understood why Valencia canceled each year. His presence would have to be enough for them both. Thankfully, Valencia had finally given up apologizing to him for making him bear the burden alone.
Carmen waved a bejeweled hand as she took a sip of champagne. “He has found a woman to dance with, I believe.”
At that moment the crowd parted, clearing a path to the floor. Juan Ramirez embraced a sleek woman in a shimmering midnight blue gown, staring down at her with such intent that Alejandro decided to intervene before the evening digressed into a very public Ramirez family drama.
He excused himself from his mother, who had already turned back to her friends, and threaded his way through the guests. Juan swayed back and forth, his attention solely on the woman in his arms.
Her back was to Alejandro, but he had to acknowledge that if her front was as enticing as her back, he couldn’t blame Juan for his interest. Her dark caramel hair was swept into a pile on her head, revealing a slender neck, bare shoulders, and a plunging dress that stopped just short of the curve of her buttocks. Long legs seemed to go on forever, accentuated by four-inch heels.
Interest stirred, surprising him. And relieving him. He could feel desire for a woman other than Rebecca Layton. Gracias a Dios. When he tired of her, it would be simple to move on to someone else.
But right now, it was his father’s interest that most concerned him. Juan’s hand rested on the smooth flesh of the woman’s back, his darkness in contrast to the pearlescent sheen of her skin.
Ten more minutes and Alejandro would’ve been too late. Juan would have whisked her away to somewhere more private, party and wife be damned. His father looked up, frowning when he caught sight of Alejandro. He bent to say something in the delicate shell of the woman’s ear. She stopped moving to the music, turned as if startled.
Alejandro stumbled to a halt as her blue eyes collided with his. Shock, fury, and lust blazed to life at once, roaring up inside him like an inferno. One word echoed through his brain. Mine.
He closed the distance between them and yanked Rebecca from his father’s lecherous fingers. He barely registered the gasps around them as she stumbled into him. He caught her around the waist, steadying her. His fingertips brushed the warm silky skin of her exposed back. Inexplicable fury coursed through him and he aimed it at the easiest target.
“Attempting to buy another hotel with your body, Rebecca?” he grated, as much to mask the force of his desire as to hurt her for making him want her like this. Without reason. Without sense.
She jerked away from him, her expression caving. “You bastard!” she whispered fiercely.
“Alejandro, you will apologize to the lady,” his father said, disapproval drawing his brows together in sharp slashes. “Your mother would be ashamed.”
Before Alejandro could speak, Rebecca turned to his father and smiled. The corners of her mouth wavered. “Thank you, Señor Ramirez, but it’s not necessary. Your son and I are old enemies, I’m afraid. We hurl words like daggers.”
“But this is no way to treat one’s guest,” Juan insisted. “My son was not raised this way,
señorita. I apologize for his rudeness.”
She refused to look at him as she spoke to his father. “I’m afraid we do not like each other very much, señor. I bring out the worst in him.”
His father looked aghast. “Alejandro, how is this possible? This lady is so charming, so lovely—”
“As are all ladies to you, Father.” Maldito sea, the old reprobate was unbelievable. “I think Mother is near the bar. Since it is your anniversary, perhaps you should ask her for a dance.”
Juan looked as if he would argue, but he finally nodded. “Sí, you are correct. Dear lady.” He took Rebecca’s hand and kissed it. “I hope you will enjoy yourself at our party tonight. We shall see you at our table for the toast, yes?”
“Gracias,” Rebecca said. “I would be honored.”
The band began to play a new song as Juan walked away. Before Rebecca could escape, Alejandro pulled her into his arms. The people who’d stopped to listen began to mingle again.
“Don’t touch me,” she said. “Just let me go and I’ll leave.”
“You won’t.” He drew her in close, fitting her against his body. She felt good against him. Smelled good. He concentrated on tempering his body’s reaction to her. “The night is far from over.”
Her palms rested on his chest, but she refused to meet his eyes. Instead, she studied his shirtfront. “I get it, Alejandro. You wanted to humiliate me by bringing me. Now that you’ve succeeded, just let me go. I’ve had enough.”
He hadn’t brought her for that reason, but there was no sense denying it. She would not believe him. What could he tell her anyway? That he’d brought her with him because he’d had an impulse to do so?
“How did you end up dancing with my father?”
Her lashes lifted and he was momentarily stunned by the sheen of moisture in her eyes. Had he made her cry? He didn’t like that notion, even if he told himself it didn’t matter. That he shouldn’t care.
She blinked and looked away again. “He looks like you. I introduced myself and asked where I could find you. He said he would take me to you, but we ended up here.”
He didn’t doubt it for a moment. His father could not resist a beautiful woman.
“But of course,” she continued with a half-choked laugh, “I realized that I could implement my diabolical plan to sleep my way to another hotel. I was just about to claim my victim when you intervened. I’m sure I could have gotten several hotels out of him, assuming he owns a single one.”
Alejandro blew out a breath. For once he was wrong about her. But just this once. “I should not have said that.”
She didn’t look at him. “You shouldn’t have, but you’d do it again in a heartbeat. You insist on believing the worst about me.”
It was true. Part of him always wanted to stomp on her spirit. He wanted to grind her beneath his heels, make her feel every moment of every day how wrong she’d been to steal from him. She’d forced him into a choice he should have never made, would never have made if she hadn’t left and ripped away whatever happiness he’d felt with her. He hated her.
And yet he was drawn to her. Could still feel sympathy for her. It was a paradox he didn’t understand. “We will not talk about this any longer,” he declared. He didn’t want to think too deeply about his feelings. He wanted to savor her body. No feelings, no past. Just heat and passion and the sweetness of release.
Her laugh was bitter. “No, of course not. God forbid that you might actually be forced to rethink your opinion of me. I wasn’t seducing your father, but naturally the same can’t be said of how far I will go with you, right? And you’ll allow nothing to contradict that opinion, so we won’t even discuss it.”
“What could you possibly say to change my mind?” he bit out. “There is nothing you can say, no proof you can offer, that changes what you did to me.”
Her throat moved as she swallowed. “No, I can’t prove my innocence,” she said softly, her voice heavy with emotion.
People began to clap politely. It took a moment before Alejandro realized the music had stopped. But he and Rebecca were still locked tightly together, their gazes tangled. Hers was sad, beseeching. Disappointed?
He stepped back as if she were a live wire, forced his hands to his sides. “You cannot prove it because you are guilty, Rebecca. Cease trying to make me doubt what I know to be true. It will not work. We can never go back to those days before you betrayed me.”
14
Rebecca sipped champagne and chatted with a woman who was the wife of a Spanish television star. But her attention wasn’t on the woman as much as it was on the man sitting across from her. Alejandro was so achingly handsome it hurt. And so remote it chilled her.
From the moment they’d left the dance floor and come to the head table, he’d been closed off and cold. Of course he would never believe she hadn’t been the one to betray him. She knew that, but being here now, in the place where she’d shared so much with him, her emotions were raw.
From the moment he’d left her in the suite, she’d been on edge. She felt like an exposed nerve, reacting to every stimulus, aching with pain, wanting to escape. She’d actually hoped to see approval in his eyes when he’d first seen her at the party. The dress she’d chosen from the few the salesgirl brought fit like it was custom designed for her. The shoes were exquisite. A quick visit from one of the salon’s stylists, and her hair and makeup were perfect. Looking at herself in the mirror, she’d have never believed that a half hour before she’d been more suited for an evening by the beach rather than a formal gathering at a posh hotel.
She’d swallowed her trepidation and gone downstairs, but Alejandro was nowhere to be found. Seeing Juan Ramirez was almost a relief. The man was a carbon copy of his son, just older and more distinguished looking. He’d shown no signs of recognizing her name when she introduced herself. She’d believed he would whisk her to Alejandro. It was only after he’d pulled her into his arms and started swaying that she realized she’d been deceived. Juan was a bit of a Casanova. Rather than be impolite, she danced. And of course Alejandro chose that moment to appear. The universe had a bizarre sense of humor.
Now Alejandro sat beside his mother, listening politely while she talked about something Rebecca couldn’t understand. Complained about something more likely, judging from the expression on her face and the speed with which she spoke. Her champagne sloshed over the rim of the glass she clutched though she didn’t seem to notice. Alejandro calmly took the glass and put it on the table, away from her. A moment later, she flagged down a waiter and snagged a fresh glass.
Rebecca didn’t miss the frown Alejandro gave his mother as she drank most of the liquid at one go. Juan Ramirez chose that moment to appear and Carmen shot up out of her seat. She would have fallen down again had Alejandro not bolted up and steadied her.
The table grew quiet as Carmen railed at her husband. Rebecca might not understand Spanish, but she could tell the conversation wasn’t a pleasant one. Juan refused to look at his wife. A second later, she lunged. Alejandro stopped her, caught her close as she began to sob. Juan pushed his son out of the way and put his arms around Carmen. Oddly enough, she didn’t shove him away. She clutched his lapels and buried her face against his chest, her shoulders shaking as she cried.
Alejandro sank onto his chair, a stony expression on his face.
The woman beside Rebecca leaned toward her. “My husband tells me that Señor Ramirez has been seeing Isabella Ayala. She is a young actress, very promising.”
Rebecca blinked, her heart slowing to a crawl in her chest.
“No, no.” The woman patted Rebecca’s hand. “Juan, not Alejandro, darling. It is clear that Alejandro is smitten with you, though it is too bad about his parents.” She tsked. “This one is far more serious than usual, though. Juan may even leave Carmen for this woman. Or so my husband says. I am not so sure, however.”
A few moments later, Rebecca murmured an excuse and rose from her chair. Alejandro’s face was frozen in a bla
nk mask as he watched his parents. He glanced over at her and she offered him a sympathetic smile. His expression didn’t change.
She hurried to the ladies’ room, needing to be alone for a minute or two. She just wanted to sit and breathe and be surrounded by muted noise rather than this discordant mix of voices, clanging dishes, and music. She wanted to think without watching Alejandro and wondering at every turn what he was feeling inside.
Rebecca sank onto one of the plush benches and gazed at her reflection. Her table companion, whose name she’d already forgotten, was wrong about Alejandro being smitten with her. But her heart ached at the look of helplessness on his face while he dealt with his parents. He masked it well, but she saw beneath the surface to the pain and anger he tried to hide. She didn’t think many would, but she did.
Because she’d once loved him.
Rebecca steeled her spine. She didn’t want to feel sympathy for him. She simply couldn’t afford it. She had to be hard, cold, ruthless. Just like him. Layton International depended on it.
Rebecca touched up her lipstick, smoothed her dress, and returned to the party. Alejandro’s parents were gone now, but Alejandro stood with a strikingly beautiful woman, his hand on her arm, his head bent close to hers as he talked. Her face seemed a little tight as she took a step away and disappeared into the crowd. Not a romantic moment then. Rebecca didn’t want to analyze the relief that washed through her at the realization.
Alejandro whirled, catching sight of her. He came and took her arm, tucked it into his. “We’re going now,” he said in clipped tones.
“Fine with me,” she replied, her pulse thumping. She didn’t like seeing him this way, didn’t like the way his emotions played over his face in the rare moments when he struggled for control. It forced her to see him as human and vulnerable, reminded her that she’d once loved him with every last breath in her body.
Filthy Rich Revenge: A Filthy Rich Billionaires Book Page 9