The Spanish Tycoon's Takeover

by Michelle Douglas

  His every muscle stiffened in protest. ‘That is not so!’ He wanted to thank her, not insult her. ‘You have my gratitude. If it wasn’t for you I would never—’

  ‘Must I listen to this?’

  The coldness in her eyes made him shrivel inside, but he was the person who had put it there. He found himself aching to bridge that distance.

  ‘You were right. I latched on to Duncan and that stupid newspaper article as an excuse to call things off between us.’

  That wasn’t wholly true. He’d read about Duncan and he’d felt betrayed. He had no right to feel betrayed.

  She folded her arms. ‘Are you now going to try to resume our affair because I’ve helped you with your son?’

  He attempted to quell the desire that gripped him, the hope that quickened his veins. He was in danger of becoming too attached. It wouldn’t do. He couldn’t allow it.

  ‘No. It is best that we are no longer lovers.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more.’

  A fist lodged in his chest. He wanted to yell and tear things apart with his bare hands. Instead he forced himself to breathe deeply.

  ‘But you were right. I should’ve treated you with more respect. I should’ve been honest with you.’

  Some of the stiffness left her body. ‘Honest?’

  ‘The truth is I was worried you were becoming too emotionally involved. I have no desire to toy with your affections.’

  Her mouth dropped open. His attention snagged on those lovely lips and hunger roared through him. It was all he could do not to stride around the table, pull her into his arms and kiss her.

  Instead...

  Instead she strode around the table towards him!

  Por Dios! If she kissed him...

  Then he saw the fire—the anger—in her eyes, and he had to swallow.

  ‘You want to know what I think?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ He nodded, though what he really wanted to do was flee from this room and not look back.

  ‘What I think, Xavier, is that you’re a coward! I think what you’re really worried about is that you’ve become too emotionally involved.’

  She was wrong!

  ‘So, rather than call things off, like a normal person, you looked for reasons why I wasn’t worthy of you.’

  Not worthy of him? He simply hadn’t wanted to hurt her. ‘It was just supposed to be a fling!’ he found himself yelling at her. ‘No one was supposed to get hurt!’

  Stop yelling at her! It’s not her fault. She warned you. She told you she was a good girl through and through.

  With Wynne he’d found himself out of his depth when he’d least expected it. As a lover, she’d been addictive—he hadn’t been able to get enough of her. But he didn’t do addiction.

  She folded her arms and eased back. ‘Are you saying I hurt you?’

  His mouth went dry. ‘Of course not.’ Yet the thought of never having her in his arms again was pure torture. ‘But it doesn’t change the fact that I thought our affair was starting to mean too much to you—that you were in danger of being hurt.’

  Her chin shot up. ‘Even if that were the case, I made no demands on you.’

  Maybe not, but he’d been afraid those demands would come.

  She laughed, as if she’d read that thought in his face, and he winced at its bitterness.

  ‘You think you’re so sophisticated and urbane, so smooth and cultured, but you’re not. You can no more do footloose and fancy-free than I can. You’re too repressed to be a Jack-the-lad! You walk around as if you have a pole stuck up—’

  ‘Enough!’ She had no idea what she was talking about! And he would not descend to trading insults with her.

  Her mouth snapped shut, but only for a moment. ‘You act as if you’re a class above everyone else.’

  He did no such thing!

  ‘With all your reserve and don’t-touch-me detachment. But what makes you think that you’re such a great catch anyway? Your wealth?’ She wheeled away with a loud, ‘Ha!’

  She made him sound like his grandmother!

  She spun back. ‘I guess it’s true that it’s better to be riding in a limousine than pedalling a bicycle when you’re crying, but I wouldn’t be you for the world, Xavier. You might have all this money and you might own the motel I love, but at least I know how to love people—at least I know how to make them feel wanted and valued.’

  ‘That is enough!’

  A cold hand squeezed his heart. He was not like his grandmother!

  ‘From now on we are nothing more than colleagues. One more insult...’

  The threat hung in the air between them. Her eyes told him what a piece of work she thought him.

  He forced himself to continue. ‘From now on you will address me with respect! Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  That sir stung. He drew himself up, though his stomach churned. ‘Luis and I will be going to Sydney. You have one month to complete the refurbishment of Villa Lorenzo. If you think you can manage it.’

  She tilted her chin. ‘In my sleep!’

  ‘I will return to inspect the motel, and then Luis and I will be returning to Spain. Is that clear?’

  ‘Crystal.’

  When she didn’t move he raised an eyebrow. ‘Is there anything else?’

  Without another word Wynne turned on her heel and strode from the room, slamming the door behind her.

  With a groan, Xavier sank into the nearest chair and dropped his head to his hands.

  * * *

  ‘From now on you will address me with respect! Do I make myself clear?’

  The force of her anger had spots forming at the edges of Wynne’s vision.

  ‘We are nothing more than colleagues.’

  Her hands clenched.

  ‘Is there anything else?’

  Nothing save the receipt spike she’d like to stick through his chest, or the paperweight she’d like to pelt at his head, or...

  Halfway down the front staircase she slammed to a halt, all her bloodthirsty impulses coalescing into a perfect plan for revenge. Her heart pounded.

  Noooo, she couldn’t!

  She closed her eyes, her anger corralling the pain until she could breathe again. She lifted her chin.

  Oh, yes she could.

  It would cost her the job she loved, but that would be a small price to pay.

  She stalked the rest of the way down the staircase, resolution lending strength to her legs.

  Tina glanced up, but her smile died on her lips. ‘Whoa! Are you okay?’

  ‘Get me Bradford and Sons on the phone...please.’

  Without another word, Tina did so.

  ‘Mr Bradford? It’s Wynne Stephens. Listen, the brief for Villa Lorenzo has changed.’ She explained the changes. ‘Can you deliver?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ the builder assured her.

  ‘Excellent. Can you have it done in a month?’

  ‘Easily.’

  ‘When can you start?’

  ‘Monday?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  She dropped the phone.

  ‘Oh, Wynne!’ Tina fell down onto her stool. ‘What have you done?’

  She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. ‘This is what he does—he incites people to retaliate. No wonder revenge dogs him wherever he goes.’ A grim smile built through her. ‘I’m going to enjoy every moment of the next month.’

  She stalked off, doing her absolute best not to cry.

  One month later...

  Wynne strode into the foyer and turned on the spot, her eyes searching out every nook and cranny. She was aware of Tina’s scrutiny from the check-in counter. Dusting off her hands, she turned to her second-in-command
and made herself smile.

  But if the truth be told her ability to smile—to really smile—had deserted her...oh, about a month ago now. Tina’s grimace told her she hadn’t suddenly reacquired the ability.

  Tina cleared her throat. ‘Did Xavier give you an ETA?’

  His name made her pulse leap, and she hated herself for it. She’d spent the last month fuelled by anger. She’d probably spend the next month crying. So be it.

  ‘He said they’d be here at three-thirty p.m.’

  After today she’d probably never see him again.

  She tossed her head. You could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t make him drink. You could give a man your heart, but you couldn’t force him to accept it.

  But she could force him to confront the sterility of the world he’d shut himself away in.

  She glanced around again, trying to harness her racing pulse. ‘Everything looks shipshape.’

  ‘Is that what you call it?’ Tina muttered.

  ‘I’d call it soulless.’ Her heart hammered in her chest as a limousine glided down the driveway. ‘Which is utterly perfect.’

  No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t make her pulse slow or prevent her heart from beating too hard as Luis and then Xavier emerged from the car. Her eyes locked with Xavier’s for the briefest of moments through the glass doors, but he didn’t smile, and his glance acknowledged...nothing.

  ‘I am your employer. You will treat me with respect.’

  She lifted her chin. Game on.

  Luis burst into the foyer and ran straight for her, flinging his arms about her waist. ‘We did so much in Sydney, Tía Wynne. I have lots to tell you. And...’ he glanced around ‘...this place looks lots different.’

  She knelt down and gave him a hug. She had no intention of punishing him for his father’s sins. ‘I can’t wait to hear all your news. And, yes, while you were away we made some changes.’ She held him at arm’s length. ‘I swear you’ve grown at least an inch in the last month.’

  She rose, aware of Xavier’s bulk just behind Luis. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Ramos, I trust you had a pleasant journey?’

  His eyes narrowed as he glanced around. For a moment she thought he meant to take her to task—for her formality, or perhaps for the new style of foyer—but he merely drew himself up and with a cold nod said, ‘Perfect, thank you.’

  ‘Tía Wynne! Where will I play?’

  Luis stood in the doorway of the old drawing room, which was now a brand spanking new breakfast room. His crestfallen face speared into her heart.

  ‘For the moment you can play in my back garden with Blake and Heath. They’ve been waiting for you to arrive.’

  With a whoop, he disappeared.

  She turned back to Xavier. ‘I expect you’d like to retire to your room to freshen up after your journey.’

  ‘Then you expect wrong. I have been looking forward to afternoon tea in the drawing room.’

  She assumed her most innocent expression. ‘I’m afraid we didn’t organise one this time. Our last effort received such a lukewarm response that we thought it wouldn’t be appreciated.’

  She had, however, set up afternoon tea in her garden for the boys. She had no intention of telling him that, though. Her back garden belonged to her. The motel belonged to him. He was the one who had decided that never the twain should meet.

  His face twisted as he turned a full circle. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘Refurbishment according to your brief.’ His original brief—the one in which he’d wanted everything matching and uniform rather than the Spanish theme that she’d later talked him into. ‘You’ll see the colour scheme is an inoffensive blue-grey—nice and neutral. It should stand the test of time.’

  He gestured to the skylight. ‘This scheme of yours is sucking the very light out of the room.’

  ‘Your scheme, not mine.’ She sent him the fakest smile she could muster. ‘Your motel, not mine.’

  He strode across to the doorway of the new morning room. Whatever he saw there made his spine rigid. When he turned back he had a face like thunder.

  She didn’t give him the opportunity to speak, but turned to Tina, who was watching all that was unfolding as if it were a car wreck she couldn’t drag her gaze from.

  ‘Tina, I believe the phone is ringing.’

  Tina snapped to attention and Wynne moved behind the counter to check in the elderly couple who’d just arrived. It took a concerted effort to suppress her natural warmth and exuberance, but she managed it.

  Xavier stormed across once they’d disappeared. ‘What was that? It...it bordered on rudeness!’

  ‘Nonsense. It was nothing of the sort. We have a new motto here at Villa Lorenzo. Efficiency is king—quiet efficiency...the quieter the better. We’ve come to understand that it’s efficiency you value rather than hospitality. And nobody can accuse us of not doing our best to please.’

  His jaw dropped.

  She walked over to the breakfast room. ‘What do you think? You said you wanted a breakfast room.’

  His brows snapped down low over his eyes. ‘There is nowhere for the guests to sit in comfort after dinner.’

  ‘Villa Lorenzo doesn’t serve dinner, so that seemed surplus to requirements.’

  ‘Where will Luis play?’

  ‘Your remit didn’t include a children’s play area. I assumed that was surplus to requirements as well.’

  His face turned so dark she wondered if he’d fire her on the spot. Oh, no, he couldn’t do that. Not before she’d had a chance to show him the pièce de resistance—the cherry on top of the cake. Besides, she still had quite a lot she wanted to say to him. But she meant to say it in in private—not in front of a gawking Tina or any guests who might wander in.

  She sent him one of the polite, distant smiles she’d been practising in the mirror for the last four weeks. ‘Seeing as you’re not ready to retire to your room, perhaps you’d like a tour of the motel?’

  His lips pressed together, but he gestured for her to lead the way.

  She took him through the ground-floor rooms first. They were carbon copies of each other—all of them clean, characterless, and mind-numbingly boring. He said nothing, but she could feel him growing tenser and tighter.

  She led him up the back stairs. ‘You’ll notice that we dispensed with the wooden bannisters and balustrades. These stainless steel ones are far more serviceable.’

  ‘And ugly.’

  ‘They’re also very well made. The best that money can buy.’

  ‘You think this is what I want?’

  He hadn’t once asked her how she was, hadn’t smiled at her...hadn’t even said hello. She understood that she hadn’t given him much opportunity to do so, but he was a grown man—he had the ability to act on his own initiative instead of acting merely in reaction to her and the schedule she set.

  So she had no compunction in saying, ‘My understanding of what you want is an environment that is cool and dispassionate, where efficiency rules, and where overfamiliarity and individuality are not encouraged. Naturally with quality furnishings and fittings in place. I believe Villa Lorenzo provides all those things in spades.’

  ‘Where is the Captain?’ he suddenly bellowed.

  She turned to find him staring at the anonymous abstract print where the Captain’s picture had once held pride of place. His outrage almost gave her cause for hope.

  Almost, but not quite. She wasn’t a total fantasist.

  ‘Probably in a skip somewhere.’

  He gaped at her. ‘You tossed him out with the garbage?’

  Of course she hadn’t—he was in her living room—but Xavier didn’t need to know that. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but I seem to recall you saying the picture was clichéd. I took that to mean that there was no r
oom in your universe for the Captain.’

  His mouth snapped shut. His lips pressed into a hard, thin line. Those lips had once taken her to heaven. And then they’d uttered such ugly, harsh words they’d dropped her into the depths of hell.

  ‘Wynne?’

  She’d been staring! She shook herself. ‘Yes...sir?’

  He ground his jaw so hard that if he wasn’t careful he’d snap a tooth. ‘The motel is hideous! I hate it.’

  ‘That’s surprising.’

  ‘You’ve made it look sterile, anonymous...cold.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s the other side of the coin—if you want efficiency and reserve then...’ she gestured around ‘...this is what you get.’

  ‘What happened to the Spanish theme?’

  ‘Oh, but that was Aggie’s dream...and we both know you didn’t come here to bring her dreams to life—quite the opposite, in fact.’

  She came to a halt outside the Windsor Suite, now renamed the Lorenzo Suite. She wanted to bring this awful interview to an end. She unlocked the door and led the way, trying to suppress a shudder at the utter starkness of the room.

  Xavier halted in the doorway. ‘It looks like a prison cell.’

  ‘That’s the effect I was aiming for.’

  A pulse at his jaw pounded. ‘Have you enjoyed your revenge?’

  She nodded, but not in agreement. ‘It started out as revenge, Xavier, that’s true enough.’

  He blinked, but whether at the fact she’d called him by his name or at her candour she had no way of knowing.

  She moved further into the room, past the bed and into the living area. ‘Close the door, Xavier.’

  He made no move to step inside the room. ‘Aren’t you afraid that I’ll throttle you?’

  She turned. ‘You won’t lay a finger on me.’

  He raised one of those lethally dangerous eyebrows.

  She merely sent him one of her custom-designed, teeth-achingly pleasant smiles in response. ‘You’ve already broken my heart, and I believe that knowledge has you shaking in your highly polished leather lace-ups. I hold no fears for my neck.’