Spaniard's Baby Of Revenge. Clare Connelly
The documents were on the front seat. He grabbed them out, tucking them under his arm before making his way back to the house. Silence came from upstairs.
He fought a desire to go and check on her, to see if she needed anything. A passionate encounter didn’t a relationship make—there was no need for him to play the part of the solicitous boyfriend. It was better for both of them if he focused on his reason for being in the cottage.
Revenge was close—so close he could feel it. And it would be better than anything he’d ever known—even the pleasure he’d just felt in the bed of his arch-enemy.
‘I THOUGHT I heard the door.’
She appeared in the lounge and at that moment the lights flickered to life—a stutter at first and then a burst, and her expression showed bemusement.
‘You’re dressed?’ She lifted a brow, padding across the room in only a silk robe. A robe that left little to the imagination, not that he needed to use it. He could remember every single curve and delineation of her body, every indent and hollow. Though he regretted now not making love to her in the brightness of this light, so that he could see her peaches and cream complexion all over, marvel at the contrast of her nipples to her skin.
Damn it—he tightened against his trousers, unwanted desire flooding his system once more.
‘What’s the matter? You’re suddenly struck mute?’ Something like uncertainty fluttered in her expression but she covered it quickly. ‘I mean, I know that was good, but surely not enough to rob you of the ability to speak.’
His smile was tight on his face. Her easy nature was at odds with the direction of his thoughts.
‘I came here tonight to talk to you about something important.’
Confusion clouded her expression. ‘Oh. Right. I’d...forgotten. Something to do with our grandfathers?’ She blinked, her expression still one of trust, and stepped across the room. ‘Surely it can wait?’ she implored, lifting a hand to his chest, her eyes meeting his in both a challenge and an invitation.
God, he wished it could wait. But being caught up in the moment, letting passion override common sense once was one thing. It would be quite another to keep exploiting her sensual need, an appetite he had awakened without realising her innocence.
‘Not really.’ He grimaced. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’
‘I’m fine.’ She shook her head as wariness crept into her expression. A wariness he couldn’t help but resent.
He nodded, a stiff movement, and lifted his hand to rub his neck. He hadn’t thought about what he would say. When he had come to Bumblebee Cottage, he’d expected this to be much like a standard business meeting.
She had something he needed, and he had something he could offer in exchange. Money, in the first instance and, failing that, a promise to bide his time with her brother’s business, not to bring him to his knees in a cataclysmic fashion. Blackmail, yes.
Would he still stoop to that, given what they’d just shared?
He straightened his shoulders, his expression tense. Sex was beside the point. It didn’t change the facts—he wanted what she had and he’d go to any lengths to acquire it.
Too much rested on his success here, and the hatred he felt for the diSalvo family went deeper than anything he’d shared with Amelia this evening.
‘I need you to sign this.’ He pulled the contract from his document wallet and placed it on the table—the coffee table they’d sat at only a couple of hours earlier, tension zipping through the room.
Well, there was tension again now, but a different kind altogether.
Her eyes showed confusion and then they skipped away from his. She crossed to the table, close enough that he could breathe in her sweet smell of lavender and vanilla, so close that he could simply reach out and pull her close, forgetting about the damned shares for a moment longer.
She pressed a finger to the contract, drawing it down the title page as she read, then silently flipped it over. She read that and then the next, and finally lifted her eyes back to his face. ‘You want to buy my shares in Prim’Aqua? Why?’
‘Because without your shares I can’t assume a majority ownership.’
She blinked, his clear sentence apparently not making any sense to her. ‘It’s one of my family’s business interests. Why would you want to assume a majority ownership?’
It was like waving a red rag in front of a charging bull.
‘Because it was my family’s company also,’ he said with deceptive calm. ‘And I will not rest until it is back in my hands.’
* * *
The words hung in the air like little daggers, but they made absolutely no sense. None of this made any sense.
He’d come to her house and, true, she hadn’t exactly interrogated him about what he’d wanted but...how could she have known anything like this had brought him to her?
‘I presumed you just wanted to talk about our grandfathers!’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘This can’t be real.’
His eyes narrowed and a burst of adrenalin fired in her gut as she recognised in this man a latent power and determination that had been absent for the rest of the evening. He’d been charming and humorous and now she could see that there was a whole other side to him.
‘I have acquired thirty-five per cent of the company,’ he said, the words soft yet laced with iron-hard determination. ‘Your father and brother will never part with their stake, but that does not matter. Not when your shares will give me the majority. I want them.’
‘Why?’ She pressed her hands to her hips, turning away from the contract, then immediately wished she hadn’t. Because he was wearing a suit and she was dressed in a silk robe and her body hadn’t quite caught up with the fact that he was there for business. That she’d slept with a man, given her virginity to a man, who only wanted her shares in a family company. God knew she didn’t want them—how often had she wished that her father hadn’t gifted such a valuable portfolio on her eighteenth birthday? She’d always felt he was making up for lost time, trying to show her with money how valued and loved she was—but money was the last thing she ever wanted.
The assets she had made her feel even more vulnerable and exposed in that superficial world. With her mother’s looks and a fortune at her fingertips—it had been a fast track to attracting all the wrong people.
It still was, apparently.
‘Our grandfathers were best friends from the time they were boys.’ He spoke slowly, as though she didn’t have a tight grasp on English. That exasperated her further.
‘I don’t need to know the history,’ she snapped. ‘I need to know why these shares matter so much to you that you were willing to come to my home and...and...seduce me, just to get your hands on them.’
At that, he had the decency to look surprised. ‘One thing had nothing to do with the other,’ he said slowly and reached a hand out for her, a hand of comfort and reassurance, but she batted it away angrily.
‘No.’ She took a step back; her hip connected with the table. ‘The part of the evening where you get to touch me is absolutely at an end.’
He compressed his lips in exasperation. ‘I didn’t come here intending to sleep with you. But you were so... It just happened,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘I didn’t plan it.’
‘Oh, yes.’ She rolled her eyes, shaking with pent-up rage and deep-down hurt. ‘It was just convenient that I happened to fall into bed with