A Spanish Vengeance Part 3

Once, in those long-ago days of heady loving, she had believed him penniless, sc.r.a.ping a meagre living while she had come from a well-heeled family. His imagined near poverty hadn't bothered her a jot; now his obvious wealth gave her the shivers. Her once adored Diego was a stranger.

Watching him slide his eyes dismissively over the mediocre contents of the sitting room, she searched for something, anything, of the charismatic young Spaniard who had claimed her loving heart for his own during that long, glorious summer five years ago. And found none. Nothing in his narrowed-eyed inventory of her appearance, not a flicker on that lean, hard face to remind her of the way he had once loved her.

Had seemed to love her, she reinforced tiredly. Nothing about the younger Diego Raffacani had been as it seemed. In that bleak moment she reached her final decision.

'Well?'

The harsh monosyllable made her stomach turn right over. Long fingers drew back his cuff as he consulted his watch in a gesture she was sure was meant to intimidate her into blurting an immediate answer. The watch he wore wasn't the one she had given him. That had been slim and gold; the one he wore now was dark and chunky. So why did that hurt so much?

Grabbing on to the last ragged remnants of her composure, she said thinly, 'It looks cold out. I'll make coffee.' Letting him know this was her home and she wasn't about to be intimidated into anything. But really, she silently admitted with painful honesty as she walked back into the tiny kitchen, it was to put off the time when she would sell the magazine down the river, lose her colleagues their jobs. It was on her conscience but, as Ben had said, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

The underlying reason for her delaying tactics, of course, was more visceral. Once she'd told him where to put his 'proposition' she would never see him again. It shouldn't hurt, shouldn't make her feel empty and only half alive. But it did.

As the door closed behind her Diego made a determined effort to get his head straight. Seeing her this morning, pale and waif-like, bereft of the cla.s.sy dress she'd been wearing the night before, her milky skin innocent of make-up, he'd experienced a near savage need to take her out of her dreary surroundings, take her to the sun, pamper her, care for her, see those huge drowning inky-blue eyes come alive, laughing and vital. Smiling for him as once they had used to, making him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

How crazy could a man get?

Despite appearances, she was as vulnerable as an armoured tank. He wouldn't let a pang of misplaced compa.s.sion 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 s.e.x 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 cafetiere 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 h.e.l.l-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 p.r.i.c.kled 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 closed 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.

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 circ.u.mstances 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 ma.s.sive 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 gra.s.s 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 plae 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 att.i.tude 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 s.e.x with him-making love didn't come near to describing what this sordid bargain was all aboutthen she would keep her side of the h.e.l.lish agreement. But he wouldn't enjoy having s.e.x 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 struggle 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 a.s.sessment of his beautiful eyes made her pulses jump, she ignored the b.u.t.terflies 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 blase? She had no idea. But she'd give it a try.

'We may as well get my side of it over, too.'

That less than enthusiastic statement should let him know she'd put their arrangement firmly into the boring business category, emotions totally absent.

'If that's an invitation I'm not overwhelmed with joy.' His handsome mouth hardened. Por Dios, but she was as hard as nails! But he had expected that, hadn't he? She didn't turn a hair at the idea of using s.e.x as a bargaining tool. Five years ago he'd fallen fathoms deep in love with a sweetly generous, innocent angel, What an act she'd put on!

She was still as lovely, though. Perhaps even more so. Her eyes could still make his soul shake, his body sting with desire. And he would have her, but on his terms, not hers. He would make her beg...

Taking a pace back, he made a small gesture to a table set in front of an enormous window that gave a glittering view of the vibrant, brilliantly lit city. 'I would prefer our relationship to be civilised, so we start as we mean to go on,' he imparted levelly. 'To that end, dinner is already ordered and while we eat we will discuss our future arrangements.'

Ending that cool statement of intent, Diego placed a hand lightly on the small of her back and encouraged her in the direction of the elegantly laid table as the trolley from Room Service arrived, dexterously handled by an impa.s.sive-faced waiter.

Lisa was wearing the dress she had worn to the charity function, he recognised. s.e.xy. Silk. An understated design that hinted tantalisingly at the delicate curves and intriguing hollows of her divine body. He could feel the warmth of her under his palm, the way the silk slid against her body as she moved, and his groin ached fiercely. Had they been alone he would have dragged her into his arms...

And spoiled his plan to make her be the one to beg, go down on her knees and beg until she had no breath left and then, and only then...

The moral was, don't touch. Not yet. Removing his hand smartly, he stepped ahead and held out a chair for her and took his seat opposite, furious that his control over his libido was worse than shaky where she was concerned.

Watching, as stony-faced as she could get considering how his touch had affected her, Lisa envied his urbanity as he approved the wine he had ordered to go with whatever it was the waiter had put on her plate. Diego was clothed in a pale grey suit that shouted cla.s.s, a white shirt with faint pale grey stripes that accentuated the dusky olive tones of his skin and the permanent five o'clock shadow that had always made her want to run her fingers over the firm set of his jaw.

Still did! Lifting her fork as the waiter withdrew from the suite-she wasn't remotely hungry but pushing the no doubt delicious food around gave her something to do-she challenged, 'I believe you want to discuss my temporary status as your mistress.' And hoped the business-like tone made him feel as wanted and desirable as a giant black slug in a plate of salad.

But the only effect was a vague upward drift of one slanting black brow, a dismissive, 'The status of mistress is way above what I have in mind for you.' He lifted his wine gla.s.s. 'Can I take it that you have a current pa.s.sport?'

That put-down cut her up. He really did despise her, didn't he? But her voice was sharp as broken gla.s.s as she answered his question. 'Of course. Why?'

'We leave for one of my homes in Spain at the end of the week. In the meantime I'll be tied up with lawyers and the ins and outs of putting my man in place to drag Lifestyle into the twenty-first century. We won't meet again until early on Friday morning when I pick you up on my way to the airport.'

Lisa shouldn't be poleaxed by that announcement but she was. During that morning's interview with her father she'd been so taken aback by the speed of Diego's movements, the way he'd spiked her guns when it came to changing her mind because she couldn't bear to lose what she'd never had beforeher father's approval-she hadn't absorbed the import of his '...your agreement to spend some time with him in Andalusia'. The fact that he'd told her to clear her desk hadn't cut much ice, either. If clued-up editors were to be brought in no one would want her around because she'd be like a fish out of water.

Now her stomach performed one of the spectacular lurches that were becoming all too frequent since coming into contact with Diego Raffacani again. Here in chilly, early spring London she could maintain an indifferent faqade. Just. And with supreme difficulty. But back in Spain with him, where it had all started, she wouldn't be able to survive the bitter-sweet pain of it.

Laying down her fork, her eyes clashed with his. It took only a moment to subdue her tw.a.n.ging vocal cords and remark tautly, 'Correct me if I'm wrong, but you said nothing to me about my going to Spain. I thought-'

'Thought a couple of quickies while I'm here in England would pay off the debt,' Diego interrupted drily, his long fingers tightening around the delicate stem of his wine gla.s.s. 'Not so. When you recompense me for the way you behaved five years ago it will be at a place and time of my choosing.'

And the little minx wouldn't be acting as though making love with him was a mundane and necessary task like sorting the washing. She would be as willing and eager as she had been five years ago, her sweet lips gasping for the fulfilment he had withheld out of genuine love for her. And when she was on the point of disintegrating he would take her, burn the frustration and anger that had been his private demon for far too long right out of his system. And dump her. Let her know for once what rejection really felt like.

Noting the sudden dark colour that stained his slashing cheekbones, the dark glitter of his eyes beneath the thick fringe of lashes, Lisa tried to block the images of her being used as a cheap s.e.x toy right out of her mind and decided that the time had come to put the record straight. Then, surely, he would reconsider? And let her go. Maybe with an apology and a contrite promise not to withdraw his offer of investment in the magazine.

But did she really want that? the part of her she privately despised commented edgily. Didn't she still hunger for him, despite pretending the opposite? Didn't some perverse and childish hope prod her into fantasising about him falling in love with her? Really falling in love this time, not whiling his spare time away with a silly little teenager, telling her what he thought she wanted to hear because it amused him to see her fall headlong under his spell. Not meaning a single word of it because he spent his evenings, not working as he'd said, but making whoopee with a gorgeous, sophisticated female from his own exalted cla.s.s who really knew how to please her man.

No, she owed it to herself to wriggle out of his wicked bargain if she possibly could. Owed it to what was left of her self-control and dignity, she vowed, fervently hoping she believed herself. Clutching the bowl of her so far ignored wine gla.s.s, she questioned, 'Don't you think we should talk about it?'

The slight upwards drift of one dark brow was the only expression on that lean and dangerously handsome face. 'I believe we have been.'

'No, not that. Not the terms and conditions,' she dismissed thickly, horribly conscious of the hot colour creeping over her skin as the reminder of exactly what he expected of her jumped into her mind with the force of a nuclear explosion. 'But why you're still so angry with me over what happened that night all those years ago. It's a long time to bear a grudge, Diego.' She spoke softly, willing him to listen, to at least understand that the blame wasn't hers entirely. 'I know I acted like a total idiot, but-'

'Basta! I have no wish to listen to the tissue of lies you've had time to dream up!' Black eyes glittered with savage contempt. 'You may look like an angel but you lie like the devil!' he informed her with deadly intensity. 'I saw what I saw, I heard what I heard perdicion!' He got to his feet, pushing back his chair, looming over her.

Lisa flinched, cut to the heart that he should hate her quite that much. Her eyes swam with unwanted tears as he reminded more levelly, 'The past is a distant country. Forget it. Concentrate on the future, on paying your dues, and, when that is done, it too can be forgotten.'

And she would be forgotten. Just like that! Lisa, too, sprang to her feet. He was cruel. Hard. And the hope that their relationship could develop into a mirror image of what it had been bit the dust. How could she have been so stupid to have fantasised that it might? He had changed out of all recognition.

Facing him, her inky eyes swimming as they collided with his, she acknowledged that he might not have changed at all. Had he always been this callous? The loving front of five years ago just that. A front, a.s.sumed for his own careless amus.e.m.e.nt?

'I hate you!' she spat with driven vehemence.

'Ah! That is good.' A slow, deliberate stride brought him round the table to her quivering side, the slightest of smiles curving a mouth that was far too kissable for' her own good. Two strong and almost painfully gentle hands cupped her face, setting up a chain reaction that made her tremble with far more than outraged anger and deep hurt. 'Any strong emotion is preferable to indifference, is it not?' Then he did what she'd been secretly hoping and dreading in equal measure.