A Spanish Vengeance

When she’d changed her mind and agreed to what he’d asked she’d felt that they’d only need to touch each other for all the old magic to swamp them both again. But he hadn’t touched her and she’d been a real fool to think they could go back to the way it had been because none of it had been real.

So, as it was, she felt insulted. And stupid.

His mobile number was printed indelibly on her mind. She would phone the moment she returned to her office and, hopefully, disguise the hurt in her voice when she told him she’d changed her mind.

Her father was staring at the view from his window. He turned when she entered, a rare smile on his craggy face as he announced, ‘You might as well clear your desk today. Under the circumstances there’s no need for you to work out your notice. Raffacani has everything in hand.’

Already! ‘You’ve spoken to him?’ Lisa felt for the back of one of the chairs that fronted his massive desk.

‘He’s only just left. He demanded an emergency executive meeting first thing this morning.’ His tone was admiring. ‘Not one to let the grass grow under his feet. I like that; it augurs well.’

For whom? Lisa asked herself sinkingly as she sat and watched her father take his seat behind the desk, his cold eyes scanning her pale features as if seeing her, really seeing her, for the first time. ‘I had no idea you knew each other. Raffacani explained everything. How the two of you met in Spain, how he lost sight of you, and your agreement to spend some time with him in Andalusia.’

He permitted himself another slight smile. ‘Play your cards right, convince him you’d make the perfect wife, and you’ll be set for life. Mind you, Arthur was cut up. Ben’s had his nose knocked out of place—yours was probably the shortest engagement on record. But, as Raffacani’s package includes heavy investment, restaffing at the higher editorial levels, he soon came round.’ He gave her a judicious look. ‘I imagine his rescue package is down to you. I don’t want to know the ins and outs of it but I can tell you this—you’ve actually made up for not being the son I always wanted. Good girl!’

So she had finally won his approval! Lisa swallowed the threatened tears. But at what price? No use telling herself it didn’t matter, that she had learned to live with his indifference. All her life she’d wanted his warmth, his approval, his recognition that, despite not being a son, she was flesh of his flesh, his child. It was a need she couldn’t shake off in the time it took to take a breath. And to give him his due, she rationalised, he didn’t know the true story.

The phone call to Diego wouldn’t be made. Couldn’t be made, not now. He’d withdraw his rescue package. Her father would blame her. He would hate her!

The little black dress was earning its keep again tonight, was Lisa’s self-admittedly ridiculous thought as she paid the taxi off and entered the foyer of one of London’s most exclusive hotels.

Anything to stop herself thinking of the humiliation that lay ahead.

She’d showered and dressed like an automaton, coiling her hair up on the back of her head and fixing seed pearl ear studs into her lobes. Sparing with her make-up, she surveyed the finished result with the bleak satisfaction of knowing she looked cool, remote and untouchable. Her Ice Maiden Look, Sophie would have joked if she hadn’t still been too miffed with her to speak to her at all.

‘I’ve always thought of you as my kid sister!’ Sophie had muttered at her yesterday. ‘And my best friend—and it was going to be lovely having you really in the family. And don’t forget, it was me who brought Ben up to scratch. I told him to propose to you to keep us all a nice cosy family!’

Lisa hadn’t known that. But it made sense. Ben would have thought long and hard about what his twin had suggested and come down on the side of expediency.

He hadn’t a romantic or adventurous bone in his body and if he wanted to marry at some stage, start a family, it might as well be with his father’s partner’s daughter. They were very fond of each other, always had been, knew each other inside out. And after the regrettable interlude with the Spanish waiter she had never put a foot wrong, never even dated. What could be better?

She sighed deeply. She knew the way his mind worked and could furnish the internal conversation he would have had with himself.

And now she had lost Sophie, her best friend, and Ben too. The three of them would never be as close again. And when Diego had finished with her, tossed her aside like a used tea bag, she would have nothing and no one.

No pride, no self-respect. No job. And all because she had suffered a moment of sheer madness, thinking she and Diego could recapture what they had once had. His attitude as he’d acknowledged her submission had brought her back to sanity.

His room number in her possession, she took one of the lifts. Stiffening her spine, she drew in a deep breath as it stopped at the floor she wanted. She would match his mood, beat for beat. If he could be hard and disdainful, then so could she, curt to the point of rudeness, too, if that was the way he was going to play it. Keeping emotional distance was her only self-defence. Second time around a broken heart would be impossible to mend.

His great wealth had bought him the power to wreak vengeance but that didn’t mean he had to gain any kind of satisfaction from it. If he wanted her to have sex with him—making love didn’t come near to describing what this sordid bargain was all about—then she would keep her side of the hellish agreement. But he wouldn’t enjoy having sex with a lump of wooden indifference.

That would be her revenge!

CHAPTER FIVE

LISA was oblivious of the sheer opulence of Diego’s hotel suite; she didn’t move more than a foot inside the door he’d opened to her hesitant rap. She didn’t smile and she certainly couldn’t speak.

She didn’t look at him and kept her eyes on the patch of the soft cream carpet directly in front of her feet. But she was so stingingly aware of him her head was swimming, her heart banging wildly against her breastbone. She kept her teeth clamped tightly together. If she relaxed the iron grip they would start chattering with nervous tension.

Was he expecting her to go to bed with him tonight? That would be her side of the bargain, wouldn’t it? Her stomach jaunted off on a roller coaster ride of its own at that thought and she emitted a low driven groan.

‘Don’t slouch.’ The lightly accented drawled injunction dragged her back to her senses. She was supposed to be giving him the same cold treatment he’d given her, wasn’t she? Not acting like a cringing victim waiting for the axe to fall.

She raised her head slowly, injecting ice into her inky-blue eyes. It was a real s

truggle to maintain a haughty, indifferent expression when looking into that lean, darkly handsome face and admitted to herself that he would only have to say one kind word to have her melting like a snowflake on hot coals.

Inching her chin higher as the cool narrowed assessment of his beautiful eyes made her pulses jump, she ignored the butterflies in her stomach and drawled as flatly as she could manage, ‘Father tells me you’ve already got your side of the bargain moving.’ A slight, resigned shrug. Could she come across as sophisticated and blasé? She had no idea. But she’d give it a try.