A Mistress, a Scandal, a Ring

by Angela Bissell

  She reclaimed her hand. ‘Australian,’ she said automatically, then wished she hadn’t when she flicked her gaze to Xavier and saw his face darken.

  He stood so quickly his chair scraped on the stone floor, and the physical dissimilarity between the two men was immediately apparent. Diego de la Vega was good-looking, but he didn’t have Xavier’s height or the same powerful build, and he didn’t possess one iota of the raw masculinity and charisma Xavier exuded.

  He looked at her. ‘Let’s go,’ he said evenly, and she didn’t need further prompting.

  Whoever he was, Diego de la Vega made her uneasy; she was more than happy to leave.

  Fortunately Xavier had already paid the bill. He said a curt ‘Buenas noches’ to his relative, and then they made a quick exit—though not before Jordan had fielded a look from Diego that not only glinted with ill-concealed curiosity but also, she thought, a hint of malevolence.

  Suppressing a shudder, she emerged onto the street and turned to Xavier. His jaw was still tight, his mouth compressed. ‘Who was that?’

  ‘My cousin.’

  Hand on her elbow, he guided her into the back of the chauffeured vehicle that waited at the kerb for them. He joined her from the other side and then stayed frustratingly silent.

  After two minutes of his brooding, she could no longer hold her tongue. ‘Why is there so much animosity between you two?’

  He continued to look out of his window. ‘We don’t get along.’

  She stared at his profile, so strong and proud. So achingly handsome. ‘I could see that,’ she said patiently. ‘I’m asking you why.’

  He paused for so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer. ‘We fell out over a woman.’

  Jordan was silent as she absorbed that. So he had once felt strongly enough about a woman to feel territorial over her?

  ‘Recently?’ she asked, conscious of a hot, unaccountable twinge of jealousy.

  ‘Ten years ago.’

  Foolishly, she felt relieved. ‘Is that why you didn’t introduce me?’

  He turned his head to look at her, and she cringed inwardly, knowing that he must have heard the hint of hurt in her voice.

  The truth was she did feel hurt. Regardless of this spat the two men had had a decade ago, Diego was Xavier’s family—and yet he hadn’t thought her important enough to introduce her. Perhaps he’d thought he was protecting her—and admittedly Diego had unnerved her—but at the same time Xavier had made her feel small. Insignificant.

  ‘He’s not a nice man, querida.’

  His voice was gentler now, but Jordan sensed he was holding something back. Something more serious than a fight over a woman.

  ‘What else?’

  He frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There’s something else,’ she pressed, running with her instincts. ‘Besides the woman. Some other reason you and Diego don’t get along.’

  He looked out of his window again, silent for another long moment. ‘Sí,’ he said at last. ‘But it’s...complicated.’

  ‘You don’t think I can understand “complicated”?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s anything you really want to hear about.’

  ‘If I wasn’t interested,’ she said gently, ‘I wouldn’t have asked.’

  He pulled in a breath and released it slowly. Then he turned back to her. ‘There are certain members of the extended de la Vega family—including Diego and his father, Hector, who is my father’s first cousin—who have never accepted me as one of them.’

  It was Jordan’s turn to frown. ‘One of “them”?’

  ‘A de la Vega.’

  She was silent for a moment, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. She thought she understood, and yet it seemed ludicrous. Unbelievable.

  ‘Because you’re adopted?’

  ‘Sí.’ His voice was tight. ‘Because my veins do not run with true blue de la Vega blood.’

  She felt a spurt of outrage. ‘But...that’s ridiculous!’

  His smile was grim. ‘That is the way of it.’

  ‘So they...what? Ignore you at family gatherings? Leave you off the invitation list?’

  He gave a humourless laugh. ‘If only it were that simple.’

  ‘What, then?’

  He shook his head. ‘You don’t want to know about these things, querida.’

  ‘I do,’ she insisted, turning sideways in her seat—as much as her seatbelt would allow—to see him better. ‘Tell me.’

  He blew out another breath. ‘For more than sixty years the position of CEO of the Vega Corporation has been handed down from father to son. My grandfather and Diego’s grandfather were brothers. They both wanted the position. But my grandfather, as the eldest, was given the role. The rivalry between the brothers continued to the next generation, to their sons—’

  ‘Your father and Diego’s father?’

  ‘Sí. My grandfather handed the position to my father, Vittorio, and he, in turn, handed the reins to me five years ago.’

  ‘And Diego’s father didn’t like that?’ she surmised.

  ‘Hector’s stance has always been that I have no birth right to any part of the family business. As a board member he officially objected when the CEO role was offered to me, but he couldn’t garner enough support from the rest of the board to veto my appointment.’

  She shook her head, appalled. ‘That’s snobbery and prejudice.’

  ‘It’s more than that. Hector is power-hungry. He wants me out and Diego in.’

  ‘Diego as CEO?’ After one brief encounter she barely knew the man, but her gut told her his leadership qualities would pale next to Xavier’s. ‘But what about your adoptive brother?’

  ‘Ramon has never had any interest in the top job.’ Another mirthless smile curved Xavier’s lips. ‘He says he’s allergic to board meetings.’

  ‘And your father?’

  Surely Vittorio de la Vega didn’t idly stand by while his adopted son was vilified by his own family.

  ‘He stood down as Chairman last year after a health scare—problems with his heart. He remains on the board but he’s taken a step back from the politicking. I prefer it that way. I don’t want him stressed. He’s given his pound of flesh to the business over the years—and he trusts that I can handle whatever Hector throws at me.’

  Jordan heard both concern and respect in Xavier’s voice. ‘You care for him very much?’

  ‘Of course.’ He spoke without hesitation. ‘For both of my parents. They’re good people. The attitude of certain family members towards me has been...difficult for them. Upsetting.’

  ‘And for you?’ she queried gently.

  He shrugged. ‘It has simply made me work harder—to prove I can be better than the likes of Diego and Hector.’

  Jordan felt her heart squeeze. Looking at him now, armed with this new knowledge, she saw so much more than a proud, driven, ambitious workaholic. She saw a man who’d had to work hard to prove himself over and over again. Who’d had to fight for acceptance and no doubt watch his back every step of the way.

  It was no wonder he came across as arrogant and formidable at times. A man who had enemies constantly attempting to undermine him couldn’t afford to show weakness.

  Her chest burned with outrage. ‘Were they cruel to you when you were a child?’

  Another dismissive shrug. ‘Diego and a few other cousins on his side of the family resorted to taunts and name-calling when the adults were out of earshot. It was nothing I couldn’t handle.’

  ‘What sort of names?’

  ‘Nothing suitable for your delicate ears.’

  She scowled. ‘I wish I’d known all this when I met Diego at the restaurant. I would have punched that slimeball in the nose!’

  Xavier looked at her, shocked, and then he threw his head back and laughed, t
he sound deliciously deep and full-bodied as it reverberated around the car’s interior.

  His voice was rich with amusement when he spoke. ‘That is very sweet, querida, but I’m willing to bet you’ve never hit anyone in your life.’

  ‘There’s a first time for everything,’ she muttered, and then sucked in her breath to say more.

  But he moved suddenly, and before she could guess what he intended he’d removed her seatbelt and dragged her onto his lap.

  ‘Enough talking,’ he growled. ‘I can think of better things to do with my mouth.’

  Shock—and a surge of anticipation—made her voice breathy. ‘What happened to being safety-conscious?’

  His silver eyes glittered. ‘You’re safe in my arms, amante.’

  She wasn’t so sure about that, given the look of carnal intent on his face.

  Then he stroked his hand over her breast and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the base of her throat, and suddenly the last thing on Jordan’s mind was being careful—or safe...

  * * *

  At six-forty-five a.m. on Friday they boarded his jet on the tarmac in Madrid for their return to Barcelona.

  Jordan hadn’t complained about their early rising, but she had looked deliciously flushed and dishevelled as she’d raced around the apartment gathering up her things before the car arrived.

  Her last-minute rush to pack had been his fault. He’d joined her in the shower, pressed her back against the tiles and done things to her under the steaming water that had consequently made them both run late—but she hadn’t complained about that either.

  In the final minutes before they’d left the apartment she’d flown back into the bedroom, looking for something, and Xav had spied her journal on a side table in the living room. It had lain open at a page on which she’d written her list of things to see and do in Spain, and although he hadn’t intended to look one item had caught his eye before he’d closed the journal and called out to her that he’d found it.

  The flight crew readied the aircraft for take-off and for the next hour Jordan dozed. Curled up on the seat next to him, head resting on his shoulder, she teased his senses with her subtle floral scent and soft, feminine warmth.

  Time and again he found his gaze resting on her instead of on the document he’d opened on his tablet. Even in sleep she glowed with that irrepressible vitality that belied the pain she’d suffered. She wasn’t yet thirty, yet already she’d lost two parents—three if you included her biological mother.

  He felt a touch of anger when he thought of Jordan being abandoned by her mother. She’d skimmed over the fact as if it barely mattered to her, but no one, especially a child, could weather that sort of rejection without sustaining a few psychological scars.

  Had his own biological mother played an instrumental role in healing Jordan’s wounds?

  He tucked a stray curl behind her ear and for the first time felt a deep sadness in his chest at the thought that he would never meet his birth mother. Jordan had loved and respected her stepmother; that fact alone told him Camila Walsh had been a good woman.

  His mind turned to the letter she’d written to him—the letter he’d not yet read—and it struck him then, with a force that made the breath jam in his throat, what a gift it was. A gift he held in his possession only because Jordan had come halfway around the world to deliver it to him.

  On impulse he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and she stirred, tipping up her chin and blinking sleepily at him.

  ‘Are we there?’

  Her lips were soft and pink, and he studied the plump contours with a mix of lust and tenderness. Last night, after leaving the restaurant, he’d told her things he’d never revealed to another woman, opening up in a way he ordinarily would have found discomfiting. Instead it had deepened the sense of intimacy between them, so that later, when he had taken her to bed, when he’d joined his body with hers in the most intimate way possible, their physical connection had felt much more unique and powerful.

  Had Jordan felt it, too? Was that why she’d finally agreed to stay for another week?

  He brushed his fingers over the satin slope of her cheek and for a moment felt intensely envious of the man who would one day fulfil her romantic dream of love and happily-ever-after. He couldn’t be that man—he would never lay himself bare to that kind of risk and expectation—but for now she was his, and he would give and take as much pleasure as their time together allowed.

  He stroked the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip and smiled. ‘Not yet, querida,’ he murmured. ‘Go back to sleep.’

  * * *

  At a little after two-thirty Xav stood at the window of his office, staring out across the city, his mind adrift until the sound of Ramon’s dry, half-amused voice dragged him out of his head.

  ‘Daydreaming, hermano?’

  He turned, shot a deliberate look at his watch and raised an eyebrow. ‘Did you forget to set your alarm?’ He eyed his brother as he sauntered in and sat down in front of his desk. ‘I came to the office from Madrid and managed to get here five hours earlier than you.’

  Ramon shrugged, unconcerned. ‘Katie had a bad night, which means Emily had a bad night. I stayed at the villa this morning to look after Katie so Em could rest.’

  That didn’t sound like his sister-in-law. Emily might look delicate, but he knew she was a strong, capable woman. Not the type to be fazed by a sleepless night. ‘She’s unwell?’

  ‘She’s fine, but she had a virus a couple of weeks ago. She tires easily.’

  He sat down behind his desk. ‘Mamá couldn’t have helped?’

  ‘She offered, but she had some errands to run, and then one of her luncheons in the city, so I told her to go.’ He stretched out his legs. ‘How was Madrid?’

  ‘Fine. Mostly meetings. No dramas.’

  If he didn’t count running into their cousin Diego. Unease ran through him like a trickle of icy water, but he shook off the sense of foreboding. Diego had witnessed nothing last night that he could wield as a weapon. He’d seen his cousin dining out with a beautiful woman—that was all. It was unfortunate that Jordan had revealed her full name, but Diego would have to dig deep and connect a lot of obscure dots before he unearthed anything significant.

  Xav leaned back in his chair and took a breath. ‘I can’t make it tomorrow,’ he said, and saw surprise flash across his brother’s face.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I have another commitment.’

  One with red hair, soft curves and a ripe mouth he seemed to have developed a permanent craving for.

  Ramon frowned. ‘You haven’t seen Emily or Katie yet. Em will be disappointed. We’re returning to London on Sunday.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Ruthlessly he quashed the flare of guilt. His time with Jordan was limited, whereas his family would always be relatively close and accessible. His parents’ home was a thirty-minute drive from his. Ramon and his family, in London, were only two hours away by plane. He could see any of them any time—just not this weekend.

  Ramon held his palms up. ‘Fine. I assume you’ve told Mamá?’

  ‘I’ll call her.’

  Although it wasn’t a conversation he looked forward to. Very rarely did he disappoint his mother. For years that had been Ramon’s speciality, and Xav had lost count of the times he’d taken his brother to task for his selfish behaviour.

  Things were different now, of course. Ramon was different. He’d settled down, returned to the family fold.

  Another trickle of unease went down Xav’s spine. Now he was the one about to upset their mother. Was that what his lust for Jordan had reduced him to? Was she his drug of choice and he little better than a junkie who would do anything—even lie to and disappoint his family—to guarantee his next fix?

  ‘You can tell her in person.’

  He looked at his bro
ther. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Mamá. She’s coming here after lunch.’ Ramon glanced at his watch and frowned. ‘If you haven’t seen her, then she’s late. She said she’d be here around two. Unless...’

  A sudden ripple of tension went through Xav’s shoulders. ‘Unless what?’

  Ramon grimaced. ‘She might have gone to the apartment first. I let slip about the renovation, and you know how she likes to put her two cents in when it comes to decorating. Sorry, hermano. She’s probably up there right now changing the entire colour scheme.’

  ‘She is right here, mis queridos hijos, so be careful what you say.’

  Both men straightened in their chairs and swung their gazes towards the doorway.

  Elena de la Vega smiled at her sons. Then she walked into the office and placed an elegant hand on Ramon’s shoulder.

  ‘Querido, would you give me a moment alone with your brother, please?’ She waited for the door to close behind him, then sat in the chair he’d vacated, fixed her caramel-brown eyes on her eldest son and said, ‘I’ve just had an interesting conversation with the very beautiful and utterly charming young woman in your apartment.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  JORDAN PACED THE full length of the living area at least a dozen times before she paused, took a deep breath and told herself to calm down.

  But she couldn’t.

  How could she be calm when she knew Xavier was going to be furious? Livid.

  If only she’d stayed out a bit longer. Explored a few more of the quaint streets in the city’s medieval Gothic Quarter. But three days of full-on sightseeing in Madrid and four nights of vigorous lovemaking had finally taken their toll. The idea of whiling away the afternoon with a book, stretched out on one of the loungers by the apartment’s pool, had been too tempting to resist.

  And then Xavier’s mother had walked into the apartment.

  His mother.

  Her stomach tied in knots, she began to pace again, her bare feet taking her on another circuit of the living area and then out onto the sun-warmed terrace. But the fresh air didn’t help; her mind continued to spin in ever-decreasing circles, tighter and tighter, until her thoughts narrowed down to a single, soul-crushing certainty.