Reclaimed by the Tycoon - Chapter 5
In the back of his limousine, she was once again wrapped up in this man’s wealth and power. It was everywhere she looked, from the plush leather seats to the spacious interior, to the frosted screen between them and the driver.
He settled her against the corner, careful to keep her ankle raised on the seat, and then took one of the seats opposite, so he was riding backwards. She ignored the searing disappointment that he hadn’t sat with her legs in his lap. What was wrong with her?
She needed to get out of this man’s orbit, and fast.
‘I thought you hated Castilona in the summer,’ she said, keeping her gaze firmly focused on the window, and the stunning scenery that whizzed past them, from the little terracotta roofed houses, to the modern high rises as they neared the city centre. The city was a mix of old and new, beautifully, effortlessly blended to pay homage to all facets of this country.
‘I do.’
‘So why are you here?’
‘I bought a business that has some major interests in Castilona. In fact, in wine.’
‘Oh.’ Her heart sank. ‘So, you’re here for the festival?’
His lips formed a grim line. ‘Evidently.’
‘I see.’ Maybe it was a small enterprise? A little business that wouldn’t have much sway at the event. ‘Which winery?’
Of course, her luck being what it was (probably thanks to Charlotte’s curse), he named the biggest, oldest, most prestigious wine label in the country, famous the world over for the quality of its reds. Big and bold was their branding, and now the company was owned by a man who was the embodiment of that.
She knew exactly what the company was worth, because she’d done meticulous research on all of the sponsors at the very start of this job. Since then, a change of hands had evidently happened—something that had been handled very quietly as she wasn’t aware of it.
‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
She bit into her lower lip, shaking her head once. ‘Not at all.’
‘You are a terrible liar.’
‘I wish I could say the same for you,’ she muttered. ‘But you were so good at it.’
Again, she knew she’d hit her mark, from the way his lips tightened, and his eyes flicked to hers, as if to probe her, to see if she really wanted to fight, or if something more was going on. For all that she could read him, the opposite could be said in reverse.
‘When did I lie to you?’
If she’d been drinking something, she’d have spat it out in shock. ‘Every minute was a lie,’ she hissed. ‘Every touch, every kiss, every moment we shared. God, Salvador, how can you even ask that?’
‘I never lied to you.’
‘Oh, cut the crap. You’re married. Call me old-fashioned, but that’s the kind of thing a person usually tells someone before they fall into bed together.’
He had the grace to look away, at least. To tilt his gaze towards the window, his face in profile stern and unyielding, his eyes moving quickly, chasing the landscape, his expression showing him to be lost in thought.
‘I had never met anyone like you.’
‘I’m sure your wife was comforted to hear that.’
He glanced at her sharply. ‘Leave Charlotte out of this.’
His immediate, impassioned defense of the other woman made her chest ache, but she refused to show that to him. Keeping her voice level, she said, ‘I have no interest in talking about her. Or talking to you, for that matter. But I think you should know: we’re undoubtedly going to have to see one another again, after today.’
He jerked his gaze back to hers, his expression taut. ‘I doubt it.’
She almost smirked, because he was so arrogantly sure he could call the shots.
‘You’re one of the major sponsors of the festival,’ she pointed out.
‘Yes, and?’
‘And I’m the event organizer.’
He frowned, clearly surprised. Yet his fierce intelligence was already at work, his cogs almost visibly turning as he processed that. ‘Since when?’
‘It’s my first year.’
He nodded, slowly. ‘That’s quite a coup.’
Her defensive hackles rose. She knew she was young, that there’d been fierce competition to land the project. But she also knew what she was capable of. ‘I have impeccable experience and references. I might have had a personal recommendation, but I still put in a tender, like anyone else.’
‘I wasn’t casting aspersions on your skills or ability.’
‘It sounded like you were.’
‘I was stating a fact. This is one of the most prestigious festivals in Europe. To be responsible for the planning of it must be a very competitive position.’
‘It is,’ she said, unable to keep the pride from her voice. ‘So much so, I wouldn’t have even put my hat in the ring if it weren’t for Xio.’
His frown deepened.
‘Princess Xiomara. We went to school together, and stayed in touch afterwards. About a year and a half ago, she came to a charity fundraiser I’d organized. She said she was “blown away”—her words, not mine—and that I was just the kind of “visionary” they needed for the festival. She insisted I put together a proposal, and here we are. But it was still a blind tender process—I wasn’t given any advantage because of my friendship with her.’
His eyes stayed on her face a long time, studying her features, but he remained silent, deep in thought. The car slowed to a stop, and Isabella glanced towards the window, seeing Il Clinico San Carlos written in big letters above the sweeping driveway.
‘You’ve done well for yourself,’ he said, and the comment, so much like a compliment, made her body feel warm all over. She tried to tamp down on that response. The sooner she got out of this man’s orbit, the better.
It was true, they’d have to see one another again, throughout the festival, but she’d be prepared on those occasions. She’d keep a distance, as much as possible, and when she absolutely couldn’t avoid talking to him, she’d say only the bare minimum.
‘You sound surprised.’
‘Actually, I’m not. Raw ambition recognizes the same quality in others.’
She bit into her lower lip. ‘Neither of us knew the security of wealth growing up. It’s natural that we’d both turn out to be fighters.’
‘Yes,’ he said, but with a frown, his big body taking up way too much space in the back of the luxurious vehicle.
‘As far as I’m concerned, that’s where the similarities ended. You’re a liar and a cheat, and I despise both qualities.’
She heard the curse, even when he tried to swallow it. No, she didn’t just hear it, she felt it throb through the vehicle with the force of his emotional response. She knew she’d more than struck a nerve; she’d slashed it as if with a blade.
‘You don’t know anything,’ he ground out.
‘Oh, really?’
And then he was moving in the car, hunched over to unfasten her seatbelt, his expression grim. ‘I did not lie to you—’
‘Don’t make me laugh.’
‘And I did not cheat on my wife.’
‘Were you married, when you slept with me?’
His eyes bore into hers, his expression impossible to comprehend. She felt the force of the battles he was fighting, but what was the point? They both knew he was lying to her again now, or trying to justify what he’d done.
‘You can’t change the past. You might not like your choices, but that doesn’t erase your guilt. You slept with me while you were sleeping with her. Do you have any idea how that made me feel? How cheap and irrelevant and guilty? I would never do that to another woman. If I’d known—’
‘If you’d known, you would have felt guilty from the beginning, but wild horses would not have stopped what happened between us.’
Shock was like a lightning bolt in her chest. ‘I would never—’ she said, but the word was swallowed, lost, drowned, by the power of his lips, crushing to hers, his kiss a total rebuke of everything she’d been saying. Because no matter how angry she was, no matter how much she hated him, the heat between them was undeniable.
It was a kiss to prove a point; she knew that. He was showing her that no matter what she felt morally, nothing trumped this. His tongue lashed hers, familiar, achingly good, stirring feelings and wants she’d long since suppressed. Her hands lifted to the fabric of his shirt, curling into it, holding on tight, before one hand curved around his neck, her fingers driving into the dark hair at his nape, pushing his head lower, holding him right where he was.
Fires were dancing, just beneath her skin, but he was wrong about her. Wrong about her decisions, and what she would have done, if she’d known about Charlotte. She pulled back a little, and demanded huskily, ‘Are you still married?’
She hated how much she cared. His hand moved to her hip, stroking her there, and she shifted a little, as sparks of desire began to pool between her legs.
‘Damn it, Salvador. It’s a simple question. Are you married?’ She hung on to the edge of her seat, desperately needing to hear his answer—desperately needing that answer to be ‘no’.