“Be careful, Vicki. Henrique Santana isn’t someone to be toyed with.” Jennifer picked up her teacup and took a small sip. “You know I’d be lost without you.”
“Well, I’d be even more lost without you.” Victoria placed her hand over Jennifer’s and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry that I upset you. I did plan to tell you, but the hangover kind of got in the way.”
Jennifer cocked a brow. “Alcohol—”
Victoria held up a hand to silence Jennifer. “I know. Don’t say it. I shouldn’t have had any alcohol.”
“Damn straight. For a smart woman, that was a stupid thing to do. Never. I mean never drink alcohol with unscrupulous people. Even ones you believe aren’t trying to kill you.”
“Okay, Mom.”
Jennifer cocked a perfectly sculpted brow. “I’m wasting my breath. It’s not like you’re going to listen anyway.”
“I’ve learned my lesson. It was naïve of me to think I’d be able to convince Henrique Santana to stop his pursuit of the land.”
“Men like him don’t play fair. They couldn’t care less about who they hurt along the way, Vicki. You are way too smart to fall for his shit.”
“You’re right. Henrique Santana is full of shit.” Victoria picked up a slice of cheese and arranged it on a cracker. “Turns out he has a girlfriend, Jenn.”
“I’m surprised he’d tell you about a girlfriend.”
“Well, he kind of had to,” Victoria instigated.
“Had to?”
“She’s the reason why our dinner conversation ended,” Victoria said, knowing Jennifer would take the bait. “And she’s a supermodel.”
“Really? Do tell.” Jennifer leaned forward, pulling her chair closer to the table.
“Well, there isn’t really all that much to tell except he dates Kelly St. Regis.”
“Get out.” Jennifer slapped her hand on the table. “That woman is a train wreck. I saw this segment on Entertainment Today while I was getting ready for work. If you ever want to watch the program, it’s on at 6:30 a.m. Monday through Friday. Anyway, I couldn’t make out who the guy was, but she was being escorted by a fine piece of ass out of a restaurant as she screamed bloody murder.”
Victoria smiled slyly, nodding her head. “I was there.”
“Last night? Don’t tell me that piece of ass belonged to you-know-who.”
“Afraid so.”
“That was last night? Really?” Jennifer’s aqua eyes were alive with excitement. “Holy shit, Vicki.”
“It was a rather embarrassing spectacle,” Victoria said.
“Well, it doesn’t really make any difference. It’s not like you’re interested in dating that asshole.”
Victoria worried her lip.
Jennifer assessed her. “You aren’t, are you?”
“No,” Victoria answered slightly too fast.
“Your liaison might prove to be good for business. I imagine once the town catches wind of it, the gossips will converge on the shop in droves.”
“True,” Victoria acquiesced. “Mrs. Burton was there.”
Jennifer threw her head back, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “Oh, then that does it. We better head straight to the shop tonight and forget about getting any sleep. There’s a line forming right now around the block in hopes of speaking with you, superstar.”
“Just so long as they’re buying coffee and books, I’m fine with that,” Victoria said. “Last night solidified what we already know—Henrique Santana is a good-for-nothing, arrogant playboy.”
Chapter 8
Henry
Henry rolled a ballpoint pen between his fingers, unable to concentrate on his work. Why hasn’t she called? The florist had assured him that the delivery had been received and signed for. Wasn’t it customary for a woman who received flowers to call and gush their thanks? Why does Ms. Hathaway have to be so damn difficult? Henry shoved himself from the desk, allowing the chair to roll backwards and bang against the wall. He paced before the glass windowpane, four stories above the harried pedestrians that crowded the cobblestone streets. What was he supposed to do if she didn’t acknowledge his token apology?
He realized he’d been woolgathering for the past half hour when Janice, his personal assistant, reminded him of the meeting he scheduled with his father for that afternoon. Making a mental note to give her a salary increase at her 90-day review, he tidied up the top of his desk and put his suit jacket back on. Assessing his reflection in the pane of glass, Henry adjusted his tie and ran his fingers through his thick hair. It was imperative that his father realized he was taking his position in the company seriously. Henry turned from the window, hearing the heavy footsteps bounding down the hallway. He resumed his seat at the desk as his father infiltrated the spacious office without knocking.
Diego muttered an expletive under his breath as he hefted his body into the chair. “These chairs are rather small, Henrique. The first rule of business: keep your clients comfortable,” he said, his breathing labored.
They both knew damn well that the chairs weren’t the problem. Henry reminded himself to choose his battles. Experience had taught him that it would be best to pacify the man rather than confront him over such trivial nonsense. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
“I see you’ve been working hard.” Diego eyed the top of the desk, his beady eyes stopping to rest on the Post-it by the phone.
Unfortunately, Henry had forgotten to remove the piece of paper with the name and phone number of the florist scribbled on it. “I believe this will be evidence of my commitment to this project.” Henry slid a file folder over the Post-it with his elbow as he handed his father the outline of the proposal. His brow wrinkled as he watched the red-faced man scrutinize his hard work.
Henry rang Janice’s extension. “Hello. Would you please bring in two bottles of water?”
“Of course, Mr. Santana,” Janice replied.
“This project is going to make us a lot of money,” Diego grunted between a series of phlegm-filled coughs. Removing a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the spittle from around his mouth.
A light rap came from outside the office door. “Come in,” Henry said.
Meticulous as usual, Janice put a neatly folded napkin on the side of the desk and placed the two bottles on top. Beside them she set a pair of glasses filled half way to the top with ice. She folded her hands against her waist. “Is there anything else I can get for you, gentlemen?”
“No, thank you, Janice. This will be enough. I appreciate it,” Henry said, more confident than ever that hiring the plump, middle-aged woman from the employment agency had been the right move.
Eyes narrowed, Diego glared at Janice’s backside, watching as the door softly clicked shut. “Speak with authority.”
“I’m sorry, whatever are you implying?” Apparently, Diego was still harboring resentment over Henry’s decision to hire an assistant of his own choosing. “I’m not sure I am following.” When he’d first accepted the position, Diego had pressured him to hire an up-and-coming young woman completing her last year at Harvard, only two hours away in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Henry had no doubt the woman would be lovely and extremely capable—his father’s employees always were. However, he also knew firsthand that an eager intern would be a distraction. And a distraction was the last thing Henry needed.
Diego’s breath rushed in an exasperated sigh, “Men in leadership positions do not ask their assistants if they would mind getting them bottled water, Henrique. They demand it.”
Henry gritted his teeth. “I will add that to my mental Rolodex.” Henry looked pointedly at the file. “What do you think of the proposal?”
“It’s encouraging,” Diego answered, curling his chubby fingers around the proffered glass.
Damn the man. Henry refused to bow down to the tyrant. Diego wasn’t going to see him squirm. Never let them see you sweat, Henry recalled the quote, thankful his suit jacket concealed the newly formed puddles under his armpits
. His father had little respect for weakness. “That’s good to hear. It is, after all, just an outline. I’ve more research to do.”
“Don’t waste your breath on the obvious.” Diego flipped the folder haphazardly onto the desk, the outline face up before them. “This—” the tip of his fat finger wrinkled into a vibrant shade of pink as he mashed it against the sheet of paper—“needs work.”
Henry’s heart sank as he looked at the outline. He’d been hoping his father would overlook the lack of information regarding the building of a luxury shopping mall. If he didn’t come up with an alternate idea, suitable to his father’s wishes, the Literary Ladies’ Book Nook and Café would be leveled along with the rest of the well-loved historical district. A pity that would be since Henry was starting to enjoy living in the quaint community.
Henry reclined back in his chair, one leg crossed over his knee in a few moments of quiet contemplation—a move he’d observed his father act out for years. “When is it too much, Father?” Henry finally spoke, his chin resting between his thumb and forefinger.
Diego gave him an incredulous look. “It’s never too much,” he spat.
Instantly, Henry regretted asking the question. His father would never have built an empire if he did not have the Midas touch. Not to mention, his ruthless pursuit of negotiating a tremendous amount of shrewd deals.
“Going soft on me, are you?”
“Absolutely not. It’s a simple question.”
“Questions like that are what wars are built on.”
“But often our gains are obtained by destroying the livelihoods of hard-working middle- class individuals. It doesn’t seem fair that our success is at the expense of innocent people, Father.”
“All’s fair in business, my boy. Best you remember that.” Diego plodded toward the door and stopped to glare at Henry. “Don’t let your cock rule your decisions. You’ll be thinking with the wrong head. You remember what happened last time. History does have a way of repeating itself.”
Beads of sweat rolled down Henry’s forehead. The muscle in his jaw twitched. Why had his father mentioned Isobel before he exited the room? Nine years had gone by without a single mention of her name.
Henry watched through the window, relief flowing through him as Diego Santana got into the limo a few stories below. As soon as the car pulled away from the premises, Henry rang the intercom and informed Janice that he was calling it a day. Tugging on the knot of his tie, he slipped the confining fabric from his neck. Sucking in a deep breath, he headed from the building to clear his head. After a quick stop at his apartment to pick up Frederick, his golden retriever, Henry drove aimlessly around the waterfront. Less than an hour later, he drove down Thames Street and pulled into an empty parking spot close to the Literary Ladies’ Book Nook and Café. How pathetic I’ve become, Henry thought, questioning his sanity. He’d not been able to stop imagining taking part in some X-rated activities with his nemesis. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. Didn’t Victoria Hathaway ever look out the store window? Fuck this! It was time he stopped acting like a horny teenager and took matters into his own hands. Menacing clouds had threatened to spill all day. As Henry strode across the cobblestone street, rain burst down upon him. Henry cursed himself for forgetting to bring an umbrella and stormed into the store. Seated behind the reception desk, Victoria scrutinized the contents of a sizeable hardcover book, her glasses balancing on the tip of her nose. At the sound of the bell tingling above the doorframe, her eyes narrowed at him. She scowled in his direction, her lips curled as if she’d eaten something rotten. “Look what the cat dragged in, and with a dog no less,” she said, sardonically.
“How lovely to see you, Victoria,” Henry responded, trying to make light of his disheveled appearance.
Victoria made an unladylike sound. “Is this an attempt to make me delve into my flood insurance, Mr. Santana?”
“It’s a monsoon out there. Surely, you don’t want me to drown,” Henry answered, his drenched clothing dripping onto the beige carpet.
“I wouldn’t?”
The hellcat!
Her hazel eyes sparkled deviously. “If you were to drown in the monsoon, I do believe that would be considered an act of God.”
“Oh, Ms. Hathaway, you do make me chuckle.”
“It wasn’t meant to make you chuckle.” Victoria’s stern expression softened as she turned her focus on the golden retriever. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is Frederick.”
“He’s adorable. Yours?”
“Yes, he’s my best friend. I’ve had him since he was a pup.”
“Well, I suppose it’s not his fault you’re his owner.” Victoria reached down to pull out the desk drawer. “I keep biscuits for the florist’s new puppy. Would Frederick like one?”
“Yes, I’m certain he would.” Henry walked Fredrick to the side of the desk. As Victoria was murmuring endearments to the golden retriever, he peeked at the contents of the book she was reading. Several pretty dolls lined the glossy pages with detailed descriptions beneath each one.
He grinned. “Still playing with dolls?”
Victoria’s head jerked up. “No.” She pet Frederick on the top of the head. “I happen to collect them. They’re works of art.”
“I stand corrected. The dolls are lovely.”
Victoria’s face brightened. “They are, aren’t they?”
“Do you have a lot of these types of dolls?”
“I do. They’re made by the Madame Alexander Doll Company. I’ve been collecting since I was a child.”
Henry had wanted to hear more about Victoria’s hobby. He enjoyed listening to her enthusiasm over the dolls. However, her gaiety was cut short when Jennifer Jordan charged toward them from the cafe
“I see you didn’t heed our warning last time you stepped into our shop,” Jennifer hissed, paying no attention to the sodden golden retriever who sat obediently at Victoria’s feet.
“Ah...Ms. Jordan, what a pleasure.”
“Victoria, call the police.” Jennifer barked the order as if Victoria were her child.
“There is no need to be hasty. Victoria was sharing her fondness for dolls with me. She’s opened my eyes to a new artistic outlet.”
Jennifer moved her hands to her hips. “Give me a break. The only thing you’re interested in is earning her trust so you can rip her world away before she discovers what an asshole you are.”
“Jenn,” Victoria gasped.
Henry deliberately turned his back on Jennifer. “I find it interesting that an intelligent businesswoman, such as yourself, Ms. Hathaway, would take orders from her business partner. My understanding is that a partnership is based on the mutual respect of two equal parties. It appears to me that Ms. Jordan seems to feel she can boss you around.”
Victoria’s plump lips pressed into a thin line. “Jenn, I’d like to have a word with Mr. Santana.”
“I’m not leaving, Vicki. Please tell me you aren’t seriously buying his bullshit?” Jennifer pointed at Frederick. “Nice touch, by the way. Cute dog. But it won’t work.”
Victoria gritted her teeth. “Don’t worry. I have everything under control.”
“Fine.” Jennifer remained by the front door. “I’ll be right here in case you need me.”
“Thank you, but I don’t need your assistance. I’m perfectly aware of Mr. Santana’s underhanded motives. I assure you, I can handle him...alone.”
Well played. Henry watched the exchange, eager to see what transpired. Victoria Hathaway was one hell of an intriguing woman. She may be soft-spoken, but she had a backbone. He smirked at Jennifer, admiring the way Victoria conducted herself, even if her smart-ass remarks were directed at him.
Releasing a snort, Jennifer walked slowly toward the café.
Victoria
Victoria raised her body from the chair. Her elbows locked, she rocked forward, her arms braced against the desk. Fingers squeezing painfully into the solid oak, she willed herself to
remain strong against Henry’s captivating presence. Even soaking wet, Henrique Santana stole her breath away.
“Please accept my sincere apology for the other night,” he said.
“You already apologized when you sent the flowers,” Victoria said breathlessly.
A long moment passed before he asked, “You liked them?”
She’d not anticipated the anxiousness in his voice nor his boyish grin. Victoria lowered, prolonging her response, and settled herself onto the chair. Hands folded onto her lap, she looked up, her eyes meeting his. Was that unease Victoria saw flicker in those deep blue eyes? “They were pretty,” she finally said.
On a single breath, his words came out in a rush, “So you forgive me then?”
Long, dark lashes fanned out over his sapphire orbs. How easy it would be to get swept away into their depths. Dear Lord, it should be a sin for a man to be so devilishly good-looking. Taking a deep breath, Victoria averted her gaze to the open book that lay on the desktop. “Mr. Santana, I think it’s time you left.”
He didn’t move.
Victoria peered up, a rush of adrenaline surging through her body. His eyes bore into her, heating her flesh. Henrique Santana was watching her—assessing her.
“Is there anything else you’d like to say? I see you’re still here.”
Henry had resumed his confident demeanor. Had she imagined the slight vulnerability moments before? “I’ll not leave until you agree to allow me to make it up to you. Tonight, perhaps, if you’re available.”
“That’s a terrible idea. It’s best we let our attorneys do the talking.”
“Surely you’ll agree, a dinner meeting would be a much more pleasant way to come to a civil compromise.”
Victoria slammed the book shut. “Mr. Santana, I don’t go out to dinner with men who have girlfriends.”
His lips twitched, curving into a half-smile. “Why Ms. Hathaway, are you jealous?”
Wide-eyed, her hazel eyes blazed with fury. “You, cocky, arrogant son of a—”
“Now, now. There’s no need for name calling.” His grin widened as he seemingly enjoyed Victoria’s frustration. “Kelly isn’t my girlfriend...anymore.”
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