He was just toying with her—too aware of his sensual power and utterly assured of his success.
‘I won’t be another of your numbers.’ She promised herself that.
‘No?’ He laughed and shook her gently. ‘You already are. More
than that—you’re my fiancée.’
She died of mortification all over again. In the heat of that kiss she’d forgotten that nightmare moment. ‘Why didn’t you deny it?’ She swallowed.
‘I don’t like seeing anyone ganged up on,’ he said simply. ‘I dislike bullies. It was evident what was going on.’
What would the supremely successful Alejandro Martinez know about bullies? As she frowned at him another emotion flickered across his face. But he suddenly stepped back, looking as suavely in control as ever. He extended his hand to her and waited. That he was so astute surprised her. Now she knew why he hadn’t denied that outrageous engagement story to Sarah. He’d felt sorry for her. She felt worse than ever.
She hesitated, looking into his eyes, unable to read him at all now.
‘Let’s go back inside,’ he said quietly.
With a small sigh she put her hand in his and walked back into the house. But they didn’t return to the packed ground floor reception rooms; instead he led her up the stairs that she had previously used to get to the private library.
‘Stay here awhile, make yourself at home,’ he teased wolfishly as he showed her into the room.
She should have known that moment of kindness and humanity wouldn’t last in him.
‘Where are you going?’ She eyed him suspiciously.
He had his phone out and a key in his hand—one of the large old-fashioned keys that fitted the internal doors in this house.
‘I’m going to get rid of all my guests. I can do that better if you’re not with me.’
‘And you’re going to lock me in here while you do that?’ She folded her arms and called him on it. ‘What if there’s a fire?’
‘I’ll play the hero and rescue you.’ He simply smiled and looked rakish.
‘You’re no hero—you’re all villain.’
He flashed another smile. ‘Women always like the bad boy, isn’t that so?’
That was not so. She felt like flinging the cushions at him, except she wasn’t that childish. Guiltily she remembered her lies downstairs. She’d definitely acted like a proud, childish idiot then.
‘Don’t fret.’ He winked at her just before closing—and locking—the door. ‘I won’t be long.’
He was an inordinately long time. Eventually she heard voices spilling out into the street and resisted the urge to stand at the window and scream for a saviour. She’d made enough of a fool of herself here tonight. What had she been thinking when she’d led Sarah to think Alejandro had bought the house for her? That they were engaged?
Tired defeat permeated her. She’d been up since six, ready to get the train from Cornwall back to London. She’d not eaten on the journey and now she felt queasy. She turned off the main light and switched on the reading lamp, pouring herself a finger of whiskey from the decanter still on the table in the study.
She rarely drank spirits but right now she needed something and she trusted her father’s old single malt more than the concoctions that had been on offer downstairs. And, anyway, this was for medicinal purposes. The liquid hit her stomach and lit a ball of fire in it. She breathed out and closed her eyes, aching to relax properly. She’d spark up again when Alejandro returned. She just needed a bit of a rest now.
The heat drained from her. That kick of adrenalin vanished, leaving her tired and with a headache threatening. She kicked off her shoes and walked to the deep leather sofa that had been in her father’s study all her life, trying not to remember the number of times she’d curled up on it and waited late into the night for him to get home.
She’d spent so long trying to get her father’s attention. But he’d been preoccupied lecturing Teddy, the son and heir, and he’d been too busy wooing the glamorous women he’d had affairs with. She’d gifted him her best sculptures as a kid. She’d poured her heart into them, only to see them admired for a half second and then relegated to a bottom shelf to gather dust. They were never properly displayed, never shown off with pride, merely indulged for a brief moment before he turned elsewhere. Which was exactly the way he treated her.
All she’d wanted was for him to know her, to love her, to let her be... She was such a needy fool.
She’d thought James had understood and that he’d be true to her. But he’d been even worse. At least her father had never hidden his affairs from everyone.
‘I was just... I couldn’t help myself.’ Her father had tried to explain it to her the last time she’d seen him, just after she’d broken up with James, and she’d railed at him for being the same kind of cheat.
Impulse. Making that snap decision that was so often wrong. She’d inherited that faulty gene from him. Not when it came to lovers, but in every other aspect of her life for sure.
Her father had made bad business choices; he’d needed to sell property to get a cash injection because he’d known his time as a businessman was up. He’d wanted to retire to his flash estate in Corsica while he still could. And so he had. Leaving Teddy and her alone. But they were almost twenty-four and able to look after themselves.
Now she was exhausted from maintaining smiles in front of all those people. From restraining herself from losing her temper with Alejandro in front of them all. From reining in her reaction to the torment of his touches. From hiding the heartbreak at being back here and knowing she no longer belonged. That she’d never really belonged. There was nothing here for her any more.
She curled her legs under her on the sofa and told herself to shrug it off. She was fine. She’d go and stay with Teddy at one of his friends’ places tonight after having it out with Alejandro. She’d go back to Cornwall in the morning and get on with her new life. It was all going to be okay.
But in the meantime she slumped lower in the soft leather.
* * *
It took longer than Alejandro desired for his guests to get the idea it was time for them to leave. Admittedly his parties usually went on far later, but he needed to be alone with the vexatious redhead who’d tipped his night upside down. So he smiled, firmly shooting down the teasing pleas for the DJ to play on.
Finally he closed the door on the last couple of guests, who were still shocked and avidly curious. Yeah, that ‘friend’ of Catriona’s hadn’t kept her mouth shut. But he’d known she wouldn’t. They’d all known that.
Rolling his shoulders to ease the tension mounting in them, he lightly jogged up the stairs. His smile was tight. She was going to be furious with him for taking so long. But when he unlocked the door he wasn’t greeted with the instant volley of verbal abuse he’d expected. His breath froze in his lungs at the total silence in the room. Had she escaped somehow? He strode into the library then drew up short—the sight before him rendered him speechless. He simply stared.
She was fast asleep on the sofa, her body a sleek, long shadow of woman. Her skin shone pale in the soft light, but her hair was a riot of flames cascading about her face and shoulders. God, she was beautiful. Different. Sexy as hell.
Desire ripped through him—igniting a fierce animal urge to wake her, kiss her, claim her body with his, here and now. The longing to feel her beneath him was sudden and acute. He clenched his fists at the ferocity of the ache and forced himself to take a calming breath.
No. No.
He never wanted any woman as intensely as all that. He never felt anything as intensely as all that. He refused. He had reason to.
He breathed deeply again and reminded himself of his rational decisions. He hadn’t been going to make her stay the night—despite the teasing and the incredibly erotic pleasure of her kiss. He’d been planning to get to the bottom of the necklace situation and then say goodbye to her, hadn’t he?
But now here she was with her shoes off, fast asleep on the old sofa. He guessed it wasn’t the first time she’d slept on it.
He frowned as he quietly stepped closer
to study her. He hadn’t seen just how pale she was earlier, or noticed those smudges under her eyes. She looked exhausted.
‘Catriona?’ he softly called to her. ‘Kitty?’
She didn’t stir. He’d known she wouldn’t. She was in too deep a sleep. Something twisted inside Alejandro as he understood how vulnerable she was in this moment and the degree to which he was entrusted with her care. An icy droplet snaked down his spine. This was a complication he hadn’t foreseen and didn’t particularly want. Maintaining the care and wellbeing of another was not his forte. But he fetched a blanket from his room and covered her to make her more comfortable until she woke of her own accord. He hoped she would soon.
He sat in the large armchair opposite the sofa and pulled the necklace from his pocket to inspect it properly in the lamplight. It was definitely worth serious money and she’d risked a lot to get it back. But it wasn’t hers.
Over the years, so many of those wealthy people he’d studied alongside had annoyed him when they’d shown a lack of appreciation of how damn lucky they were. He’d never taken his success or his security for granted. How could he when he’d come from worse than nothing? So he’d worked harder than any of them. Ensured his grades were the best. Swinging from one scholarship to the next, climbing higher and higher out of a life of poverty, misery, desperation. And his ‘party lifestyle’ that claimed all the headlines was but a tiny fraction of his time. The rest was spent working. Still working. Still achieving. Still ensuring success. And now a spoilt young woman had waltzed in to reclaim—what—her inheritance? The wealth she’d never had to earn for herself.
She’d been brazen and bold in her initial dismissal of him, outrageous in the reckless way she’d back-chatted him, and he’d fully planned to teach her a thing or two. Except he’d then heard the tone in which that other woman had spoken to her and there’d been no mistaking it. He hated bullies—whether they were the kind who used vicious words or the violent fists he’d experienced. So he hadn’t shamed her publicly. He’d backed her and there’d been no missing the bright relief in her eyes. But then her nerve in the private courtyard when she’d insisted it was all his fault? When he’d given in to that urge to kiss her?