The fact that this brief exchange had not only aroused his libido but stirred a gut-deep feeling within him that Jordan Walsh was a woman of candour, who lacked the guile to harbour any sort of hidden, materialistic agenda, however, was an irony not lost on him.
Which left him...where, exactly? Saddled with a house guest he couldn’t turn out—not without having to wage a battle against his conscience. He didn’t deny he could be ruthless when a situation demanded it, but he never compromised his principles. Never took any action he couldn’t justify unreservedly.
Righteous was what his younger brother had called him many times over the years—usually when Xav was taking him to task over some louche, ill-disciplined behaviour.
But Ramon would never understand. How could he? His veins ran with the blood of their parents. The blood of generations of Spanish aristocracy and even royalty. He’d never had to endure those sideways looks. The snide, disrespectful comments.
Admittedly when they were teenagers Ramon had beaten the living daylights out of their cousin Diego, after overhearing him call Xav a mongrel, but Ramon had been just as furious at Xav for refusing to engage.
And that was what Ramon failed to understand. That Xav couldn’t afford to lower himself to his tormentors’ level. He had to be better. In every way possible. Maintaining a solid moral compass, ensuring his reputation was unimpeachable—that was what gave him the ability to rise above his detractors and prove to himself as much as to anyone else that he was the better man.
Yesterday he’d used the pretext of regret to coax Jordan Walsh into accepting his offer of hospitality. It had stretched his moral boundaries to do so, but he’d acted without compunction and would do it again. She’d been an unknown quantity, which had made his actions both justifiable and necessary.
And it wasn’t as if she could claim mistreatment or hardship. He had done her a favour, surely, plucking her out of that hostel and installing her in the luxury of his home. The only reason she had her pretty nose out of joint now was because she felt neglected.
‘It is unfortunate that I could not be here last night,’ he said, the words as close to an apology as he was willing to offer. ‘I am sure you can appreciate I have a company to run and there are times when work must take priority. You are right,’ he added. ‘I am fortunate to have good employees. I knew Rosa would make you comfortable in my absence.’
Deciding that now was not the ideal time to present her with the nondisclosure agreement, he walked to the door and opened it.
‘I look forward to seeing you at dinner this evening, Ms Walsh. In the meantime, I have more work to do. So if you’ll excuse me...?’
She gave him a long, silent look, and for a few seconds he had the unwelcome sensation of being laid bare. As if those extraordinary hazel eyes could cut to the core of him and see all the flaws and defects that he’d secretly feared existed ever since he was a boy.
Then she blinked, and the strange sensation was gone, and in the next breath so was she, breezing past him and out of the room without a word.
As he closed the door a bitter taste formed on his tongue and his throat caught on a dry swallow.
It had been a long time—ten years, to be exact—since a woman had looked at him in a way that made him feel inadequate. The feeling, he discovered, was no less unpalatable now than it had been then.
* * *
That evening Jordan devoted more time and effort to her appearance than she had the night before, showering early so she had plenty of time to wash and blow-dry her hair, then putting on the only dressy outfit she’d brought: gold silk palazzo pants and a black satin halter-neck top. She even applied some make-up, blending her freckles with light foundation, darkening her lashes with mascara and adding a touch of cherry gloss to her mouth.
She didn’t do any of it to impress Mr High-and-Mighty. It was all for her: to boost her confidence, give her an extra layer of protection—like armour—so she wouldn’t feel as bare and vulnerable as she had today, when he’d made her stand in his office like a naughty schoolgirl hauled in front of the headmaster for a telling-off.
He’d been so arrogant. So unbearable. And so infuriatingly, breathtakingly handsome in his pressed trousers and crisp shirt while everyone else had looked hot and ragged, herself included.
His only concession to it being the weekend had been the rolled-up shirtsleeves, the absent tie and the five o’clock shadow—and even that had somehow looked immaculate.
Xavier de la Vega might have been born to the daughter of a humble farmer, but he was in every way that mattered besides blood an aristocrat.
And a jackass. At least he had been today—having a go at her for fraternising with his staff. She refused to believe he was such a snob that he considered the people who worked for him too lowly to socialise with. It didn’t fit at all with how Rosa and Alfonso spoke of him. The few times they’d mentioned him in conversation their comments had always reflected an unwavering loyalty and a deep respect for their employer.
No. Something else must have triggered his animus. She just didn’t understand what.
Sighing, she slipped her bare feet into a pair of strappy black heels.
Maybe it was just her. Maybe they were destined to rub each other the wrong way.
Which made her heart clench on a pang of regret. She hadn’t imagined her relationship with Camila’s son would be so...antagonistic.
Or so incendiary.
Because, even knowing her pride was at serious risk, she couldn’t pretend those little detonations of heat that occurred beneath her skin when she was near him weren’t disturbingly real.
It was all very well trying to ignore her body’s response to him, but today, as she’d stood in his office and found herself on the receiving end of a very frank, very masculine appraisal, the inevitable flash of heat and awareness had been so overpowering she’d feared he would see some evidence of it.
Even more disturbing had been the trick her imagination had played on her. Or maybe it had been a trick of the light reflecting in those cool grey eyes that had, fo