A Spanish Vengeance

Despite appearances, she was as vulnerable as an armoured tank. He wouldn’t let a pang of misplaced compassion rob him of a vengeance he’d been planning ever since he’d learned that Lifestyle was sliding unstoppably downhill.

Lisa Pennington could look out for herself, could take a man’s love and throw it back in his face. He had no doubt she’d frittered her time away at university, batting those fabulous lashes at any male student who took her fickle fancy.

Gritting his teeth against the invasive spurt of anger—not jealousy, of course not—he paced the narrow room. Had she finally decided to marry that poor sucker, Clayton, because she’d seen him as a meal ticket? Probably. By the look of her surroundings she wasn’t doing well financially. Nepotism had undoubtedly been responsible for her finally ending up on the magazine.

Despite her engagement, she would ditch Clayton. Having sex without love wouldn’t be a problem for her, would it? He knew her track record. Even at just turned eighteen she’d been greedy for it and when he’d behaved honorably, out of love and respect for her, she’d turned to the nearest male who would oblige. Clayton.

Grimacing, he cursed under his breath. Memories of that last night still haunted his dreams. But he had her now; he was sure of that.

Denying the restless energy that was forcing him to pace the cheap carpet he sank down on to the armchair. He closed his eyes, savouring the victory to come, the final and definitive act of removing her from his system, leaving him free at last to find pleasure, satisfaction and contentment with a woman who would be worthy to share the rest of his life, give him children.

There was no way Lisa Pennington would turn his offer down. With Lifestyle thriving again—and he could make that happen—her doting daddy could be relied on for fat handouts and she wouldn’t have to worry about working for her living.

He liked his coffee strong, black and sugarless, she remembered as she placed a single earthenware cup and saucer beside the cafetière on the tray. Her hands were shaking. Courage, she told herself as she pulled in a sharp breath and walked out of the kitchen. Get it over with.

Maybe she was being selfish in letting Lifestyle fold but, as Ben had pointed out, no one would starve. The staff would find other work and Maggie, her main concern, would receive a pension.

The other way, selling her body for Diego to use until he tired of the game, would do her irreparable damage. And she knew it wouldn’t do Diego much good either. Oh, right now he thought revenge would taste sweet, she understood that. But somewhere behind the coldly handsome mask he wore there had to be vestiges of decency. He would end up hating himself for what he had done.

Or would he?

He hadn’t behaved decently five years ago, had he? Thinking of the woman he’d been with turned her stomach. And yet he blamed her for what had happened and was hell-bent on punishing her!

She paused in the act of pushing the kitchen door open with her foot, her brow wrinkling. Was his conceit so great that he couldn’t bear the idea of a mere woman—any woman—giving him the brush-off, even if he’d already found her replacement?

Or could there possibly be an innocent explanation for the way he and the glorious creature he’d been with had been behaving?

Unconsciously, she shook her head. She’d seen what she’d seen, hadn’t she? Of course, with hindsight, knowing who he really was altered the scenario. He’d had no need to prey on wealthy women for what he hoped to get out of them financially.

It was a mess. Her head was a mess. She couldn’t think straight!

A nudge of the door and she was through. Her breath caught in her throat and stuck there. He was sprawled out on the chair with the broken springs, his eyes closed. He looked so beautiful and strangely, heart-stoppingly vulnerable. In that moment it all came flooding back. All the depth of love she’d once felt for him. Still felt for him?

The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled as her heart swelled inside her breast, a bitter-sweet pain that took her breath away. And then, as if her involuntary gasp had alerted him, his eyes snapped open. In that unguarded moment, as their eyes met, soul to soul, she stopped fighting the inevitable and said, a shake in her voice, ‘I’ll do what you want me to do,’ because she finally knew she couldn’t bear to turn her back on him, lose him, not again.

His eyes on the sudden flush of colour on her face, Diego snapped to his feet. A shock of something hot and insistent raced through his taut body. He had her! Had he ever doubted it? Hadn’t he known that the lazy, avaricious minx would always take what she would see as the easy option?

The only acknowledgement he dared allow himself was a brief dip of his dark head. Reaching in an inner pocket, he produced a card and wrote rapidly on the back. ‘My mobile number. The address of my hotel. Be there tomorrow evening at eight. We will discuss our itinerary over dinner.’

Insouciantly, he dropped the oblong of pasteboard down on the coffee tray she’d prepared and turned away, reminding himself fiercely that he was no longer the eager besotted fool he’d once been, firmly battening down the primal instinct to take her in his arms and claim some of what he was owed. Feel the sweetness of her lips beneath his own, feel the heated response of her beautiful body. That could wait. No need to display the eagerness that would give her power over him.

Watching him walk to the door, Lisa’s eyes were pinned on his wide shoulders and the back of his gleaming dark, proudly held head. She wanted to call him back, tell him she loved him—she’d believed she’d stopped, but she now knew she hadn’t—and explain exactly why she’d acted as she had all those years ago.

But his arrogance, his hardness, his curt, almost disdainful acceptance of her submission stopped her. As far as he was concerned this was his due, a hard man’s revenge. He would view any protestations of love with cynical distaste.

As the door clos

ed behind him she stuffed her fist between her teeth and felt the tears course hotly down her face.

Leaving the normal Monday morning editorial meeting, Lisa was waylaid by her father’s secretary. ‘He wants you in his office. Now. And don’t worry.’ She grinned, seeing the younger woman’s distraught expression. ‘He’s actually in a really good mood today!’

It wasn’t her father’s mood that was worrying her, Lisa thought distractedly as she walked to his office. It was everything else!

Telling Sophie yesterday of the broken engagement had been a nightmare. Sure, she’d dressed it up as best she could, explaining that having seen Diego again she’d realised she still had feelings for him and marrying Ben wouldn’t be fair or right. She’d skipped the blackmail bit simply because since talking to Ben she’d understood that saving the magazine was not what this was about; it was irrelevant.

And since Diego had walked out she’d been having second thoughts. Throughout the day she’d stared at his mobile number until the figures had danced and blurred in front of her eyes, trying to decide whether to phone him and tell him she’d changed her mind.

If he’d shown some emotion, smiled at her even, then she might be feeling differently. Had he taken her hands as he always had done in the past when they’d met, brushing his warm lips slowly over her knuckles before turning them over and placing a lingering kiss in each palm, she would have been ecstatic.