Bound to Her Desert Captor

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A Mistress, A Scandal, A Ring

by Angela Bissell

CHAPTER ONE

‘YOU MUST LEAVE NOW, senyorita.’

Jordan Walsh tipped her head back, and back some more, until she stared into the face of the uniformed security guard who towered over her.

‘I’m not leaving,’ she told him, making no move to vacate the chair she had occupied for over two hours in the waiting area of this vast marble foyer.

The big man’s eyebrows beetled together. ‘You must go. The building is closing.’

The building was the Vega Tower—a great big steel and glass monolith that rose from the heart of Barcelona’s thriving business district and dwarfed everything around it. It had cost one point two billion US dollars to construct, had taken two years and three months from foundation to completion, and comprised forty-four floors of bustling head office activity for one of Europe’s largest and most successful multinational conglomerates.

Jordan was well acquainted with these facts because she had picked up the glossy hardbound book titled The Vega Corporation: Sixty Years of Success off the low table beside her and, out of sheer boredom, read the entire thing from front cover to back. Twice.

‘I’m not leaving without an appointment to see Mr de la Vega,’ she said.

This was not news to the security man. She had made the same request on her arrival, and again an hour ago when it had become obvious that his call to the CEO’s assistant had garnered no result.

‘He is not available.’

‘Which is why I want to make an appointment,’ she explained with exaggerated patience. ‘So that I can see him when he is available.’

‘It is not possible,’ the man said, and with that he clamped a giant hand around her upper arm and hauled her to her feet.

Jordan gasped. ‘Wait!’ She braced her legs to resist, her flat rubber-soled shoes giving her feet a much-needed moment of purchase on the shiny marble. ‘You’re not seriously going to manhandle me out of the building?’

‘I am sorry, senyorita,’ he said, but the sidelong glance he sent her didn’t look apologetic so much as...pitying.

She bristled at the implication of that look. It wasn’t difficult to guess what he and his colleagues behind the desk were thinking. A man as wealthy and powerful as their boss must have an abundance of female admirers and hangers-on, and his staff were no doubt required to act as gatekeepers on occasion.