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‘I hate you.’ Her voice was a vengeful whisper dredged up from the depths of her soul.
‘For reclaiming you as my wife?’
‘For using me as human collateral.’
‘Careful, querida.’ His warning held a dangerous silkiness that mocked the endearment.
She almost told him to go to hell.
Almost.
Only the vivid image of Jacob lying injured in a hospital bed, and the very real implication of what would inevitably follow without a large injection of cash stopped her wayward tongue.
There was only one way out of this mess. Only one man who could help.
‘You want me to write it in blood?’
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘Your acceptance?’
Her eyes flashed with brilliant blue fire. ‘Yes, damn you!’
Duardo pushed himself away from the edge of his desk in a single fluid movement and closed the space between them. ‘Your gratitude is underwhelming.’
‘What did you expect? For me to fall on my knees at your feet?’
‘Now, there’s an evocative thought.’ His drawl held a degree of cynical humour, and brought a rush of colour to her cheeks.
Dignity. She reined it in and with her head held high she moved back a pace. ‘Are you done? I need to go see Jacob, then get to work.’
She walked towards the door, pausing halfway to look back over her shoulder. ‘I imagine you’ll be in touch when the legalities are in place?’
He hadn’t moved, yet she had the impression his hard-muscled body was coiled, ready to spring.
‘There’s just one thing,’ Duardo declared with hateful ease. ‘The deal is effective immediately.’
‘Excuse me?’
He extracted his cellphone and extended it towards her. ‘Call the restaurant and terminate your employment.’
His eyes hardened as she opened her mouth to protest. ‘Do it, Kayla. Or I will.’
When she refused to take the cellphone, he flipped it open and made two consecutive calls which effectively left her jobless.
The fact he knew where she worked and who to call made her want to hit him. ‘Bastard,’ she bit out in husky condemnation, watching as he pocketed the cellphone and moved towards her.
She was totally unprepared for the slide of his fingers through her hair as he held fast her nape and used the flat of his hand at the back of her waist to draw her in close.
Then his mouth was on hers, taking advantage of her shocked surprise to gain entry and begin wreaking havoc with her senses in a kiss that captured and staked a shameless claim.
For a few brief, heart-stopping moments she forgot who she was, or where…There was only the man, his sensual power, remembered desire and an instinctive need to meet it.
Recognition, in its most primal form.
Except a part of her brain, her heart, provided an intrusive force. That was then…not now.
Oh, dear God.
Realisation caused her to wrench free…an action that was all the more galling because he made no attempt to stop her.
Anger, unuttered rage, showed in the glittering depths of her eyes, the tinge of colour heating her cheeks and her heaving chest as she sought to regain a degree of control.
‘Now you have something to curse me for.’
She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged, and she closed it again. Wanting, needing to rail against him…physically, emotionally.
To what end?
Duardo took in her expressive features, defined each fleeting emotion and resisted the temptation to take that fine temper and tame it a little.
It helped to know that he could.
Kayla just looked at him. He wasn’t even breathing deeply. How could he appear so calm, when she was a total mess?
‘Shall we leave?’
Jacob, hospital…For a few seconds she felt stricken that both had temporarily fled her mind, and she stepped quickly into the passageway, aware Duardo easily matched her footsteps to Reception, where he bade the Vogue model lookalike ‘goodnight’, and summoned the lift.
There were words she wanted to fling at him, an inner rage threatening to eclipse rational thought. So much so, her body almost shook with it as she rode the lift down to ground level.
She told herself she should feel relieved the financial nightmare would soon be at an end. Instead, all her nerve-ends frayed into shreds as reality began to impact.
Life as she’d known it for the past few years was about to change dramatically.
The electronic cubicle came to a halt and the doors slid open to reveal the basement car park.
She needed the lobby, and she pressed the appropriate button, only to have Duardo reach forward and countermand her action.
‘You’re coming with me.’
‘The hell I am.’ Kayla’s eyes flashed brilliant blue fire. ‘Tomorrow is soon enough for me to be shackled to you.’
‘The hospital,’ he intoned with chilling softness. ‘After which we transfer everything from your apartment to my home.’
‘Dammit! I—’
‘Walk, or be carried. Choose.’
That he meant every word was evident in those harshly chiselled features, and she almost defied him…just for the sheer hell of it.
Almost.
Instead she walked at his side, slid into the passenger seat of his top-of-the-range Aston Martin, and maintained an icy silence as he drove across town.
CHAPTER TWO
JACOB was in a large ward, his leg strapped in protective padding, and receiving pain management via a drip.
He looked pale, dejected and almost fearful in the initial seconds before Kayla entered his line of vision, then his expression lightened and he smiled as he sighted the man at her side.
Duardo Alvarez. Their white knight in shining armor. Although dark angel was more appropriate, she acknowledged with wry cynicism.
‘Hi.’ Her greeting was warm with concern as she leaned in close to brush her lips to her brother’s cheek, and heard his barely audible ‘thank God’ seconds before she lifted her head.
In the space of what appeared to be a very short time Duardo organized for Jacob to be transferred to a private suite, engaged a team of orthopaedic surgeons and scheduled surgery.
Omnipotent power, Kayla perceived, backed by unlimited money.
She knew she should be grateful…and she assured herself she was, for Jacob’s sake. It didn’t mean she had to like the deal or the man who’d made it.
The Orderly arrived to effect Jacob’s transfer, and she bade her brother a reluctant ‘goodnight’.
‘I’ll be here in the morning before they take you into Theatre,’ Kayla promised as the Orderly wheeled Jacob down the corridor.
It was after seven when Duardo eased the Aston Martin from the hospital car park, and the evening light was beginning to fade, tinging the pale sky with streaks of pink that gradually changed to orange as he negotiated traffic.
Soon it would be dark, and she wanted nothing more than to return to her apartment, hit the shower and fall into bed.
Except that wasn’t going to happen any time soon, and the bed she’d sleep in wouldn’t be her own, but his.
The mere thought sent heat flooding her veins, and she consciously focused on the scene beyond the windscreen in an effort to divert attention from what the night would bring.
Streetlights sprang on, vying with brightly coloured neon signs, and traffic banked up as main arterial roads linked to traverse the Harbour Bridge.
A short while later Duardo brought the car to a halt and switched off the engine.
Nothing looked familiar—not the locale, the street. ‘Why did you stop here?’
‘Dinner.’ He freed his seat belt and climbed out from behind the wheel. ‘We both need to eat.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
He crossed round to her side and opened the door. ‘Get out, Kayla.’ When she made no effort to move he leant forward to release her seat belt.
The simple action had the breath lodging in her throat as his arm brushed her breast. He was close, much too close, and she froze, unwilling to so much as breathe for the few seconds it took him to complete the simple task.
Arguing with him would get her nowhere. And there was such a thing as sheer cussedness. It had been a while since lunch, and no way could the yoghurt and fruit she’d snacked on be termed a meal.
With that thought in mind she slid to her feet and crossed the street at his side, entering a small restaurant where the maître d’ greeted Duardo by name and personally ushered them to a secluded table.
Kayla refused wine, chose soup as a starter, an entrée as a main, followed by fresh fruit.
‘Would you prefer silence, or meaningless conversation?’
Duardo spared her a faintly mocking smile. ‘You could begin by filling me in on the last few years.’
‘Why, when you already know everything?’ She lifted her water glass and took a sip of the iced liquid. ‘Did you employ someone to watch my every move?’
Duardo leaned back in his chair and regarded her steadily. ‘Last time I heard, it wasn’t a crime for a man to retain interest in an ex-wife.’
The waiter served their soup, offered crusty bread then retreated as Kayla raked Duardo’s compelling features with something akin to scorn.
‘A wife you deliberately sought with an eye to the main chance.’
His expression hardened, and there was an almost frightening element evident in the depths of those dark eyes.
‘Perhaps you’d care to explain that comment?’
‘The Enright-Smythe consortium.’
‘Indeed?’
His voice was like ice slithering in a slow slide down the length of her spine.
‘Benjamin showed me written proof.’
‘Impossible, given there was none at the time.’
‘You’re lying. I saw the letters.’
‘Which you read?’
The scene flashed vividly to mind, ingrained in her mind as the moment love had died. Papers, Duardo’s name. Her father’s voice, loud and accusing in denunciation.
She’d skimmed the text, sightlessly, before Benjamin had flung the papers onto his study floor and stamped a foot on them.
‘You can’t deny you succeeded in a takeover bid for Benjamin’s company.’ She was like a runaway train, unable to stop. ‘Did it give you pleasure to watch him sink into bankruptcy?’
His gaze didn’t waiver. ‘Your father’s financial decline provided me with an opportunity to add to my investment portfolio. I’m a businessman. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else.’
‘Of course,’ she acknowledged with facetious intent, only to lapse into strained silence as the waiter appeared at the table to remove their soup bowls; soup she hardly remembered tasting.
‘A deal brokered after the dissolution of our marriage.’
The tension escalated into a tangible entity. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Any more than you can accept your father might have fabricated a tissue of lies and manufactured supposed proof?’
Shocked anger widened her eyes. ‘He wouldn’t have done that.’ Her voice rose a fraction. ‘I was his daughter!’
