Filthy Rich Revenge: A Filthy Rich Billionaires Book Page 4

Before she knew what he was doing, he was standing beside her. He removed the clip holding her hair back and dropped it on the table as he tunneled his fingers into the loosened strands.

  “Alejandro—”

  “Shh.” His touch was gentle, sure—and as startling as ever. He was so close his scent invaded her senses. No chlorine this time, just expensive soap and man. Her eyes drifted closed as warmth spread through her.

  “Ouch!” Her eyes snapped open again.

  “It’s a small bump,” he said, his fingers exploring the swelling on her head. “Nothing serious.”

  Rebecca marshaled her resolve as awareness followed hard on the heels of the warmth permeating her body. “Stop touching me,” she said, batting at his hand.

  “I have experience of these things. You wouldn’t want it to be serious, would you?”

  “It’s not. Leave me alone.”

  A second later, he whipped off her sunglasses. She tried to pull away, but he gripped her chin firmly, his eyes searching hers. “You did not sleep well.”

  Rebecca managed to jerk away. She snatched the shades from his hand and replaced them, praying he wouldn’t see how she suddenly trembled with his nearness. How her skin sizzled and her blood hummed from the contact. “No thanks to you.”

  He returned to his chair and picked up his coffee cup. “It was you who pushed me into the pool, not the other way around.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the pool. I’m talking about jetlag. I was in Hawaii yesterday, New York the day before. You could have given me more time to get here.”

  Hardly the full truth of why she couldn’t sleep, but that was all he was getting out of her.

  He shrugged. “It’s business. I don’t have time to wait while you make your way leisurely around the world.”

  “No, I imagine stealing works best when done quickly.”

  His eyes glittered. “Careful, Rebecca.”

  “Or what, you’ll drown me in your pool?” She knew she went too far, but she couldn’t help it. The bitterness from his accusations of last night boiled beneath the surface.

  He set the cup down and stood, tossing his napkin onto the table. “We leave for the office in ten minutes. Be in the car if you wish to salvage anything of Layton International.”

  “Is that even possible, or do you plan to sell it off piece by piece just to hurt me?”

  He grabbed his jacket from the chair. “You’ll have to wait and find out. There is no other option, sí?”

  Rebecca set the toast down, no longer hungry. “You really like being the one in control. You’re enjoying this very much, aren’t you?”

  Alejandro’s smile sent a chill skimming down her spine. “You have no idea, Señorita Layton.”

  6

  Ramirez Enterprises was housed in a sleek glass-and-steel building in Madrid’s financial district. The ride took over an hour in the thick traffic congesting the city’s heart. The limo crawled like a beetle, inching forward until an opening appeared, then shooting narrow gaps that had Rebecca cringing each time, expecting the scrape of steel on steel. By the time the car pulled into the drive in front of the building and a doorman appeared, Rebecca was exhausted. Maybe it was part jet lag, but she was convinced it was also the sheer terror of a rush hour car ride through Madrid.

  When Alejandro exited the car, Rebecca on his heels, a cadre of men and women with cameras rushed forward. Flashes snapped and Rebecca instinctively pasted on a smile. Growing up with a wealthy father and a social butterfly mother had given her unfailing poise when the media appeared. A necessary skill at one time, though not so much anymore.

  Until now.

  Alejandro was a famous man in his own country, and she’d been photographed with him often during that heady time when they were an item. Alejandro had always attracted more attention than a pop star. She’d have thought it would have lessened now that he’d been away from bullfighting for so long, but apparently not.

  “Señor Ramirez! Señor Ramirez!”

  Alejandro stopped, smiling broadly. He said a few words in Spanish, which caused several of the reporters to laugh.

  “Can you tell us about the accusations of impropriety with construction permits in Dubai?” a man cut in, his English accented with touches of German. “What is the truth?”

  “We are working with the Dubai authorities to get to the bottom of the matter,” Alejandro said smoothly. “I expect to begin construction very soon.”

  “You’ve been accused of bribing officials and short circuiting the process. How do you answer that charge?”

  His smile never wavered. “I deny it, of course. If you will excuse me, my business awaits. Miss Layton?” he said, turning to where Rebecca stood near the car.

  “Rebecca Layton?” someone asked. “Of Layton International?”

  Alejandro faced the cameras again. “I have recently acquired Layton International, as you will have heard if you read the business section. Miss Layton is here to ensure the smooth transfer of her former company’s holdings.”

  Former company. Rebecca’s smile ached at the corners.

  “How do you feel about the takeover, Miss Layton?”

  Alejandro’s smile didn’t waver, but he shot her a warning glance.

  She met his gaze evenly. Then she lifted her chin. To hell with him.

  “I’m not happy about it, naturally. Layton International has been in the luxury hotel business for over a half-century. We had hoped to continue and were pursuing projects guaranteed to bring the Layton brand of luxury to new markets. This takeover is not the outcome we’d hoped for.”

  The reporters buzzed. One question rose above the others. “Do you suspect impropriety in the acquisition process?”

  Rebecca clasped her hands in front of her. She knew it made her look innocent and somewhat vulnerable. She was no fool, no matter what Alejandro thought. Or how he’d made her feel five years ago.

  “That’s not possible, is it? The laws of our nations are very specific in regards to company stock and corporate mergers. Though Señor Ramirez might have wished to act immorally, I’m sure he did not do so.”

  The questions rose to a fever pitch. Rebecca strained to hear a single one over the din, but Alejandro appeared at her side, his hand on her elbow.

  “That’s all for now,” he said tightly, ushering her toward the sleek glass doors of the building.

  She resisted the urge to smile when the doors closed behind them, leaving them in the quiet of a polished lobby. A pretty receptionist greeted them warmly. Alejandro nodded to the young woman and propelled Rebecca toward an elevator. Her shoes clicked across black marble inlaid with shiny gold squares. She briefly wondered if they were real gold, if Alejandro would dare to display his wealth so garishly. A uniformed man greeted them as they passed inside a private elevator, then pressed a button and exited, leaving them alone as the gleaming doors slid closed.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Rebecca leaned back against the brass rail and tried not to look like the cat that ate the canary. “What do you mean? I told them you did everything legally.” Legally, but not morally. She had no doubt he’d understood what she’d said out there.

  His grey eyes flashed. “You know very well you’re jeopardizing our stock value with comments such as those.”

  “I’m sure you’ll recover from the dip.”

  “Yes, but will I need to shed a few assets to keep earnings on projection?”

  Her heart thumped at the threat, but she remained unaffected on the outside. “Did you pay bribes in Dubai?”

  “Do you think I would admit it to you if I had?”

  She spoke before she could talk herself out of it. “You’ve grown fast over the years. I’d wondered how you did it, but perhaps the secret to your success has little to do with business acumen and everything to do with your willingness to play dirty.”

  His gaze sharpened. “You’d like to think so, but I assure you everything I’ve gained has been e
arned through hard work. Unlike yourself, no?”

  His reaction was not as harsh as she expected, but it sliced deep. It was a charge that stung, but not one she could deny. At least not in any way he would understand. She’d had to work hard to prove herself to her father, to prove that a daughter could be every bit as good as a son when it came to captaining the family business. She’d worked harder than anyone would ever know.

  She would not share those struggles with Alejandro—or, indeed, with anyone. The memories of what she’d endured were too painful.

  His look was telling. “How it must anger you to know your fate is in my hands. Perhaps you should be nicer to me, encourage me to be gracious. How is it you say in American? That you must use honey to get the flies, not vinegar?”

  She stiffened. “Don’t you dare insult me by pretending I have a chance to convince you otherwise. You’ve already made up your mind, so why not just tell me what you want and be done with it? It’s clear you have a plan, regardless of what I say or do. Save us both the hassle.”

  His grey gaze bored into hers. “What makes you think this is a—what was the word? Hassle—for me?”

  She speared her hair away from her face, having forgotten the clip on the breakfast table. “I mean that since you already know what you want from me, let’s just get right to it and skip this other stuff.”

  She sounded brave, though she was anything but. He could fire her here and now, put her on a plane and send her back to New York with nothing more than a bad case of jetlag and a rapidly dwindling bank account. She probably shouldn’t have baited him with her statement to the reporters, but she was tired of being at his mercy. She wanted this nightmare over, wanted her company back and her life free of this man.

  “Get right to it?” he said softly, his gaze hot as his eyes slid over her. “Skip the foreplay? A good idea sometimes.”

  Rebecca’s breath caught at the sensual undertone of his voice. Was she imagining the heat in his gaze? The elevator suddenly seemed too small to contain the two of them.

  “But not always,” he continued, his voice caressing the words. “You may plead your case in front of my board.”

  “They will vote as you want. What’s the point?” Her voice was far huskier than she would have liked.

  “Maybe.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone, frowning at the screen. The sexual tension emanating from him died as if he’d flipped a switch. He scrolled through his phone, shutting her out.

  Rebecca gripped the railing behind her, stunned both at the immediacy of her reaction and at his ability to turn off his own response. Because he had wanted her. She’d seen it. Hadn’t she? Or was this simply another part of his game?

  Unbidden, images of him flashed into her head. The jagged scar from a bull’s horn slicing across his ribcage, the taut ripple and glide of muscle when he moved, the impressive jut of his erection. The ecstasy on his face when she straddled him and drove them both out of their minds with her slow, even thrusts.

  He’d accused her of enduring his touch for the sake of her family business, of seeing him as nothing more than a bullfighter dirty from the ring. If only he believed that she’d truly loved him, how sexy she found him in spite of the barbarity of his former profession.

  If only… They were words she’d thought so many times before.

  Now, standing in this elevator in his custom-fit suit, Alejandro was as far from the glittering garb of a matador as any man could be—and yet she still saw the bullfighter beneath the polish. The raw, hungry, intense man who could stand in a ring with an angry bull barreling toward him and never, not even once, flinch. This was a man who could stare death in the face and not blink.

  After their affair ended, she’d actually gone through a torturous phase of tracking down and watching his recorded fights. Holding her breath while the bull charged, while the cape swept down, then whirled away as Alejandro went up high on his toes and plunged his sword home. She’d thought it barbaric, and yet Alejandro had once explained, when she’d been tracing his scar in the aftermath of their lovemaking, how honorable the fight was for both man and bull. It wasn’t her kind of thing, to be sure—and yet there was a certain beauty in it.

  A beauty in him.

  She closed her eyes, remembered the heat of him, of the two of them tangled together in his sheets. It’d all gone so wrong, so horribly wrong. And she wasn’t the same person she’d been back then, the same starry-eyed girl with dreams of love and a life with the most magnetic man she’d ever met. The world had certainly taught her the folly of those beliefs.

  The elevator glided to a halt, the doors whispering open to let them into a spacious private office. Overstuffed chairs and a sleek sofa sat beneath a wall of books. A chrome and glass desk was positioned in front of floor to ceiling windows that ran the length of one wall. Alejandro went behind the desk and sat down without looking at her.

  In the distance, the twin glass and steel structures of the Puerta de Europa leaned toward each other across the busy Paseo de Castellana. Much closer, the giant Estadio Santiago Bernabéu, where Madrilenians flocked to watch their soccer team, squatted against a bright blue sky.

  “The board meeting will be in an hour. I suggest you prepare.” He picked up the phone and spoke to someone. A second later, a pretty woman opened the door.

  “Please escort Señorita Layton to a desk, Maria.”

  Rebecca followed the woman without another word, smiling and giving her thanks when Maria deposited her in a small, windowless office. Though she needed to prepare for the meeting, she first placed a call to the Cahill Group’s offices in London. Roger was out of town until tomorrow, so she hung up and clicked open her briefcase. A glance at the clock told her she had fifty minutes left.

  She didn’t know what she’d encounter in that boardroom, but she wasn’t going down without a fight.

  When she was finally called to the meeting, more than an hour after she’d been told she would be, she was ready. She’d spent the last two hours completing her projections, dragging her finance people out of bed to give her numbers, and making sure her arguments were sound. Layton International would be out of the red in six months if she were allowed to continue on the path she’d chosen.

  And though it burned her up to have to humble herself to these people, to explain her plans and defend her actions, she had no choice. She had to keep her company intact until she could somehow manage to get it back.

  But the board meeting was exactly as she’d predicted. What Alejandro wanted, the board would do. If he decided to dissect her company limb from limb, he was within his rights to do so.

  Rebecca shoved papers into her briefcase as the board filed out. She was on dangerous ground here. She was technically still CEO until Alejandro decided otherwise.

  A wave of apprehension rolled through her. He would decide otherwise. She had no doubt. He was simply dragging this out to torture her.

  How could she be the one who lost the company her father had built? No matter that her father had taken out astronomical loans and pledged every last share of stock as collateral, she was still the one in control when the axe fell. She should have stopped it.

  How?

  It didn’t matter how. She should have simply known what to do. Her father would have.

  Rebecca pinched the bridge of her nose, breathed deeply. No. No one could have gotten them out of this mess. She simply had to deal with the situation as it was. She had to protect Layton International and the people who depended on her for their jobs.

  “Why did you make me go through with that?” Rebecca demanded, frustration and anger churning together.

  Alejandro shrugged, his lazy stare infuriating. “If you do not like your new position, you can always quit.”

  Rebecca snapped her briefcase closed, then stood and stared down at him as coolly as she could muster given the erratic beating of her heart. “I’m returning to New York to do my job.”

  “You forget who is in charg
e here, Señorita Layton.” Alejandro leaned back in his chair, legs sprawled out in front of him as he toyed with a pen on the table. He looked nothing like a billionaire and everything like a mischievous Greek god who’d deigned to dabble with the mortals again. “You work at my pleasure and you leave when I say so.”

  “You don’t own me.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

  “Oh, but I do.”

  He meant it. She could see that. And he intended to make her suffer for it.

  “What did I ever see in you?” she forced out past the knot in her throat.

  For some reason that got his attention. He climbed slowly to his feet, his eyes glittering. The look on his face was pure danger. For reasons she preferred not to explore, a tiny thrill shot through her.

  She straightened her spine, refused to back down as he moved closer. “What are you going to do, kiss me again?” Her voice was huskier than she would have liked. The thought of him kissing her, pressing his body against her, wasn’t nearly as repugnant as she wanted it to be.

  Was she crazy? She didn’t want to remember what it was like between them, how much she’d once loved him. To feel anything at all for him, besides hate, was to betray everything her family had ever done for her.

  “Would you like that, querida?” he asked, moving toward her with lethal grace. “My mouth against yours?”

  “No!” She resisted the urge to slink away. Where would she go? Against a wall? No, she’d stand here, take whatever he dished out. Give as good as she got. He might own her company—own her in fact—but he would not control her. If he kissed her, she would remain cold and unresponsive.

  She would.

  “Your body says otherwise.” He practically purred as his finger grazed her cheek. She was proud when she didn’t betray herself with even the hint of a shiver. She stood stone still and endured his touch. His fingers left fire in their wake as they ghosted over her skin.

  “You are flushed, Rebecca.” His fingers fell away, his hot gaze dropping to caress her body inch by inch. He no longer touched her, but she felt like his hands were everywhere at once.