“You would not obey me in the boardroom either,” he whispered. “Not without a fight.”
“If you would ask instead of order.” She gasped as his fingers slipped inside her shirt and then into her bra. He softly pinched her nipple into an aching point. “You get more flies with honey, Alejandro.”
The gleam in his eyes was predatory. “Please, Rebecca, let me taste you.”
As if she’d planned to refuse. “Yes,” she said, her body quivering with anticipation.
A moment later he was on his knees, hands skimming beneath her dress to yank her panties off. Then he disappeared beneath her skirt, pushed her thighs apart, and licked into the heart of her.
Rebecca was lost.
21
Rebecca didn’t see Alejandro very often over the next couple of days. He was up at daybreak, meeting with government officials, touring the construction site, and trying to get to the bottom of the permit situation. But when she did see him….
It took her breath away to think about it. The man was insatiable and he worshiped her body with a thoroughness bordering on obsession. She found it impossible to say no. As if she wanted to.
Rebecca sighed and stretched her naked—and very satisfied—body. She was still sprawled on top of the covers where he’d left her when he went into the shower. He’d tried to get her to join him, but she couldn’t move. She’d been surprised to see him back so early, but he’d burst into the suite and announced he’d had a breakthrough. A few phone calls later, half of them conducted in English, she partially understood what was going on. Alejandro had a corporate spy who’d been working with another company to hold up the construction process.
He’d been almost gleeful to get to the bottom of the problem. She liked seeing him happy. He used to be happy all the time when she’d known him before. Marriage and tragedy had changed that.
“What are you thinking about so intently, amor?”
Rebecca looked up to find him watching her. He stood beside the bed, the towel slung low on his hips, every delicious inch of his rock-hard chest displayed for her delight. Her heart jumped the way it always did when he was near. She hadn’t heard him come back.
“Will you tell me what happened to Anya?” She wasn’t sure where the question came from, but she realized she’d been thinking about his little girl a lot lately. About how such a tragic loss had changed him from the man she’d once known. There were still glimpses of that man, but he was buried under the weight of tragedy, under the hardened husk of what he’d become. She wanted to understand.
His eyes closed, snapped open again. She thought he would walk away. His jaw hardened.
“She was born with a congenital heart defect. It should not have been fatal, had it been diagnosed when she was an infant. But she was one of the rare ones.”
Rebecca sat up and reached for him. He’d been in a good mood and she’d managed to destroy it. He moved away before she could touch him. She clasped her arms around her knees. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“I’m so very sorry. For both you and your wife.”
The pain in his features was evident—the drawn mouth, the tight jaw, the flared nostrils. “Three-year olds should not have heart attacks.”
“No.” Her throat ached. She wanted to get up and wrap her arms around him, press his head to her breast and hold him.
Alejandro’s skin had paled beneath his tan. She’d have never believed it had she not been staring right at him.
“I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”
“No, she is gone now, and people always ask. I must become accustomed to it.”
How did you ever get accustomed to such a thing? A vile, sorrowful, evil thing that was the death of a child? She’d just begun to come to grips with her father’s death, and that was ten months ago.
She didn’t know what else to say. She simply wanted to hold him.
But he started to shrug into his clothes, his back to her. “I have work to do. If you wish to go shopping or sightseeing, please inform Ali. He will arrange for anything you need.”
Without a backward glance, he was gone. Rebecca put her head on her knees and stared at the door he’d disappeared through. She had a feeling he’d been planning to stay with her until she’d asked about Anya. She berated herself for it, but there was nothing she could do to change it now.
He would return when he was ready. And she would be waiting.
Alejandro was restless, keyed up, jumpy as a caged bull before a fight. He drummed his fingers against the center armrest in the limo, thought about the woman he’d left in his bed. Why had he told Rebecca about his baby girl? She’d surprised him with the question, but he’d surprised himself even more by answering it.
He did not want to share such things with her. Anya was none of her business. He should have choked on the words before spilling his guts to a woman like her.
A woman like what?
A woman who melted beneath him, who made him crazy with her little sighs and moans, who fought him when he pushed and who insisted on being treated with respect and dignity in spite of his plans for her?
Dios, he was going soft. He could not afford softness, especially where she was concerned. He couldn’t forget what she’d done to him. How her betrayal had led to this pain that would never go away.
She wasn’t responsible for Anya’s heart defect or her death. But she was responsible for his decision to marry Caridad in the first place. If that had not happened. If he’d had another choice.
Alejandro closed his eyes and shook his head to ward off the pain. It didn’t help. Nothing helped.
He had to stop being soft. Just because his body craved Rebecca’s, just because he showed no signs of tiring of her—indeed, each time he fucked her he seemed to only want her more—was no reason to lose sight of what he meant to do.
He had to ruin her. He’d planned it for so long, lived for it through the darkest days. He couldn’t cease now. Not when he had revenge in his grasp. Not when he could make her pay for nearly ruining his business and forcing him into a marriage that nearly broke him.
It was time to start knocking the foundation out from under her. Time to make her feel the helpless rage he’d felt.
22
A team of waiters arrived to serve dinner in their suite. Rebecca had been surprised when Alejandro returned in time for the meal. Usually she ate alone, working on her computer since it was still only mid-afternoon in the States. She accomplished a lot in the hours Alejandro was away, even if part of her anticipated his return with growing excitement as the day waned.
She’d worked through the afternoon, but she’d been preoccupied with their conversation earlier. She couldn’t imagine losing a child so cruelly. It was senseless, surreal. No one would ever expect such a thing could happen to a toddler. The grief he must have experienced was unimaginable.
And yet he’d endured it. He’d changed because of it, but she understood why now. Looking at him across the table, her heart filled to bursting with everything she was feeling for him. She knew without doubt she was falling for him again.
Or perhaps she had already fallen, but she wasn’t quite prepared to admit it to herself just yet. No, far better to look at him in his cream silk shirt, his dark hair and skin such a startlingly beautiful contrast, and imagine that she had time to prevent the disaster she was hurtling herself into. He’d barely spoken since returning. She wondered what dinner would be like, how she could draw him out if he didn’t speak.
Maybe she should apologize for asking him about his daughter. But she wasn’t sorry he’d told her. It helped her understand. Helped her forgive him just a tiny bit for how he’d treated her since he’d ordered her to Madrid.
The sommelier uncorked a bottle of wine and poured a taste for Alejandro’s approval. After the wine was decanted and the food served, all but one of the waiters left. The man stationed himself near the buffet where they’d set the dishes and prepared to serve as needed.
“I have
decided to move Layton International’s offices to Madrid,” Alejandro announced.
Rebecca nearly dropped her fork. The spicy rice and eggplant dish she’d just taken a bite of turned to paste in her mouth.
“You seem surprised,” he said, his dark gaze giving nothing away.
She reached for her wine glass, took a fortifying sip. Her heart was beginning to flutter at breakneck speed. “I am. You haven’t told me your plans for my company, and now this. What about my employees? There are over one hundred people in the office.”
He shrugged. “Upper management will be offered their jobs in Madrid. Others will be given generous severance packages and assistance in finding new employment.”
“Is this because I asked you about Anya?”
His eyes flashed. “No. It’s business.”
She set her fork down and leaned back against her chair, no longer hungry. “Oh really? Somehow I don’t think so. I know you’re angry with me, but it’s unfair to take it out on my people.”
He tapped long fingers on the tablecloth as he studied her. She would not think about what those fingers did to her each night. She kept her gaze firmly on his face.
“I do what’s best for Ramirez Enterprises. It has nothing to do with you. They are my people now, not yours.”
She didn’t believe he was doing it for the good of his company. Clearly, he was punishing her.
“I owe them, Alejandro. My family owes them. I can’t sit by and do nothing.”
“You don’t have a choice. When you chose to pledge your stock as collateral for your loans, you took the risk that someone would gain control of your company. You no longer have a say in what happens at Layton International.”
Rebecca’s heart throbbed. That was the bitter truth, wasn’t it? No matter how much it hurt, how much she disagreed, she had no legal ground to stand on. He owned Layton International. He could do anything he wanted.
“What about me? Am I fired now?”
He took a sip of wine, watched her over the top of his glass. Several seconds went by before he spoke. “Not yet.”
Her relief made her weak. And yet it was suddenly too much. Everything was too much. The way he manipulated her into doing what he wanted, his threats, the juxtaposition of cold businessman with white-hot lover. She couldn’t take it a moment longer.
“I’m not sure I can continue this way,” she said softly. Her appetite was gone so she set her napkin over the plate.
Alejandro glanced at the waiter. A signal must have passed between them because the man bowed and disappeared.
“Continue how, Rebecca?”
“I want to know what your plans are for me. I’m tired of wondering.”
The sudden heat in his eyes wasn’t what she expected. “My plans, bebé, involve the bed, the shower, and maybe even this table.”
A current of awareness snapped between them. But she couldn’t simply fold like a house of cards. Not anymore. “I was talking about business, Alejandro.”
“So was I. This is the business of being my mistress.”
He looked amused rather than annoyed. It irritated her. Did she have the strength to walk away from his seduction? From him? She pushed her chair back and stood. Alejandro’s gaze sharpened like a cat’s.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To the front desk to ask for my own room.” She went to retrieve her purse and briefcase, her pulse tripping along in her ears like a racing piston.
“Yes, run away, Rebecca. It is what you do when things are difficult, sí? Better to run than face the problem.”
She whirled around and marched back to the table. Her entire body shook as she stared him down. “You aren’t a god, Alejandro. You can sit in your ivory tower and order people around, you can destroy companies and lives, but nothing will bring back your child. Nothing.”
It was so obvious, and yet he was blind to it. He was consumed by rage and grief and reacting every day to those forces in his life because he hadn’t yet learned how to deal with them.
He shot to his feet, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She tumbled on, “You accuse me of running away? What in the hell do you think you’re doing? You’ve been running since the minute she died—and you don’t even know it!”
“Get out,” he growled.
Rebecca refused to cry though tears pricked at her eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I thought you’d say. Far better to order me away than to face what you’re feeling. But you won’t always be able to run, Alejandro. One of these days, it’s going to catch up with you.”
“You need to leave,” he said coldly. “Now, before I—”
“Before you what? Make me regret the day I was born?” She drew herself up, laughing. But inside, she was dying. “For once, you’re too late.”
23
The trip back to Madrid was accomplished in silence. Alejandro watched Rebecca from beneath lowered eyelids. She concentrated on her laptop screen, never looking at him. She’d spent last night in her own room, several floors away from his. He hadn’t gone after her, much as he wanted to.
Madre de Dios, the things she’d said to him. He’d spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, thinking about it. Was she right? Was he running from Anya’s death?
He shoved the thought aside angrily. What did she know? She’d never experienced such a loss, never sat in a waiting room alone and waited for news, never spent hours trying to locate a woman who was attending fashion week in Milan and couldn’t be bothered to turn on her cell phone.
She had no idea what she was talking about!
Maldito sea, he needed to end this. He didn’t need her chipping away at him like she could break the ice surrounding his heart. It was painful, uncomfortable. She made him feel like he was on the brink of losing control, like the balls he kept spinning in the air could crash down on his head any minute.
When they landed in Madrid, he needed to tell her she was done. Tell her in the airport so she could catch a flight out. Say goodbye forever.
He leaned back against the headrest, closed his eyes. No, he had to be more deliberate about it. He’d planned it for so long. He couldn’t tell her in a public place like an airport.
And he couldn’t tell her now because he didn’t want to deal with the dramatics for the rest of the flight. He would tell her tonight. Sí, this was best.
He would seduce her one final time, use her luscious body for his pleasure. And then he would ruin her life the way she’d ruined his.
After they landed, Alejandro sent Rebecca back to the villa while he went into the office. He had things to do, and he needed the time to think. He’d waited so long for this day. He wanted to do it right, wanted to enjoy the full measure of her despair.
Except he looked on it with dread more than anticipation. Why? Perhaps it was the prospect of drama, of her tears and pleading. He’d once thought that would be gratifying, but now he realized he just wanted the whole mess over cleanly and quickly.
Maybe he was wrong to move so fast. It’d only been a couple of weeks since he’d taken over Layton International. He needed to enjoy the full measure of his triumph, needed to watch her squirm for a while in his employ. She would think she had a chance of regaining her company and he would know it wasn’t possible. In the meantime, he could enjoy her in his bed.
Yes, a much better plan. In fact, he would take her to the opera at the Teatro Real tonight. He would make nice and be solicitous. She would fall into his arms willingly when they returned home. He liked this idea a lot better than the other one. Draw it out, make it hurt more in the end.
He was almost giddy when he headed for the villa later that day. An evening out with Rebecca on his arm, and then a night spent between her legs was exactly what he needed. Hell, maybe they would skip the theater entirely.
Señora Flores was in the entry when he walked through the door. She frowned at him, spun on her heel and marched away. Off to one side of the entry, Rebecca’s suitcases were stacked.<
br />
“You’re back.”
His head snapped up, his gaze landing on Rebecca. She stood in the door to his home office. She was dressed in a tailored grey pantsuit and carrying her briefcase.
“You are going somewhere?” His gut twisted. He’d warned her what he would do if she left. Did she think to manipulate him by threatening to walk out?
“Yes.” Her chin tilted up as he moved toward her. She looked as if she wanted to flee, but she stood her ground. He took in her defiant stare, her red eyes, the puffiness.
Instantly, he was concerned. Thoughts of punishing her faded. “You have been crying, querida? What has happened?”
Had something happened to her mother perhaps? He would order his plane made ready. He would take her anywhere she needed to go.
He moved to embrace her, but she shrank away so quickly he thought she might fall. “No,” she gasped. “Don’t touch me.”
His arms fell to his sides. Madre de Dios. He knew what this was. What he’d done. Why was his chest suddenly tight?
“Tell me,” he commanded, retreating to ground he understood. He would force her to say it, and then he would soothe her tears and fix everything for the time being.
In answer, her hand snaked out and connected with his cheek. He didn’t even flinch, though heat flared deep inside. Their gazes clashed and held. A disconnected part of him idly wondered how this would end. But the warrior in him knew what was in store. He could see the violence shaking her in its grip.
A moment later she rushed him, her hands balling into fists. He grabbed her wrists, held her away from him as she struggled.
“Rebecca, for God’s sake, tell me what is wrong.” As if he didn’t know.
She sucked in a breath, wrenched herself from his grasp with a strength that surprised him. Spinning away, she wrapped her arms around her body.
She faced him again, glaring. “You own the bank, Alejandro. You’ve owned it for over a year. The only bank that would loan my father money!” She laughed. The sound broke off in a sob. “I thought it was a mistake at first, that you bought it recently along with the promissory note for Layton International’s loans. But you financed the loan. And you sold the Thailand resorts to us. They belonged to you, to one of your subsidiaries. You set everything up. When you said you make your own luck, I thought you’d watched us and waited. But you made everything happen!”
Filthy Rich Revenge: A Filthy Rich Billionaires Book Page 13