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‘We may as well get my side of it over, too.’
That less than enthusiastic statement should let him know she’d put their arrangement firmly into the boring business category, emotions totally absent.
‘If that’s an invitation I’m not overwhelmed with joy.’ His handsome mouth hardened. Por Dios, but she was as hard as nails! But he had expected that, hadn’t he? She didn’t turn a hair at the idea of using sex as a bargaining tool. Five years ago he’d fallen fathoms deep in love with a sweetly generous, innocent angel. What an act she’d put on!
She was still as lovely, though. Perhaps even more so. Her eyes could still make his soul shake, his body sting with desire. And he would have her, but on his terms, not hers. He would make her beg…
Taking a pace back, he made a small gesture to a table set in front of an enormous window that gave a glittering view of the vibrant, brilliantly lit city. ‘I would prefer our relationship to be civilised, so we start as we mean to go on,’ he imparted levelly. ‘To that end, dinner is already ordered and while we eat we will discuss our future arrangements.’
Ending that cool statement of intent, Diego placed a hand lightly on the small of her back and encouraged her in the direction of the elegantly laid table as the trolley from Room Service arrived, dexterously handled by an impassive-faced waiter.
Lisa was wearing the dress she had worn to the charity function, he recognised. Sexy. Silk. An understated design that hinted tantalisingly at the delicate curves and intriguing hollows of her divine body. He could feel the warmth of her under his palm, the way the silk slid against her body as she moved, and his groin ached fiercely. Had they been alone he would have dragged her into his arms…
And spoiled his plan to make her be the one to beg, go down on her knees and beg until she had no breath left and then, and only then…
The moral was, don’t touch. Not yet. Removing his hand smartly, he stepped ahead and held out a chair for her and took his seat opposite, furious that his control over his libido was worse than shaky where she was concerned.
Watching, as stony-faced as she could get considering how his touch had affected her, Lisa envied his urbanity as he approved the wine he had ordered to go with whatever it was the waiter had put on her plate. Diego was clothed in a pale grey suit that shouted class, a white shirt with faint pale grey stripes that accentuated the dusky olive tones of his skin and the permanent five o’clock shadow that had always made her want to run her fingers over the firm set of his jaw.
Still did! Lifting her fork as the waiter withdrew from the suite—she wasn’t remotely hungry but pushing the no doubt delicious food around gave her something to do—she challenged, ‘I believe you want to discuss my temporary status as your mistress.’ And hoped the business-like tone made him feel as wanted and desirable as a giant black slug in a plate of salad.
But the only effect was a vague upward drift of one slanting black brow, a dismissive, ‘The status of mistress is way above what I have in mind for you.’ He lifted his wine glass. ‘Can I take it that you have a current passport?’
That put-down cut her up. He really did despise her, didn’t he? But her voice was sharp as broken glass as she answered his question. ‘Of course. Why?’
‘We leave for one of my homes in Spain at the end of the week. In the meantime I’ll be tied up with lawyers and the ins and outs of putting my man in place to drag Lifestyle into the twenty-first century. We won’t meet again until early on Friday morning when I pick you up on my way to the airport.’
Lisa shouldn’t be poleaxed by that announcement but she was. During that morning’s interview with her father she’d been so taken aback by the speed of Diego’s movements, the way he’d spiked her guns when it came to changing her mind because she couldn’t bear to lose what she’d never had before—her father’s approval—she hadn’t absorbed the import of his ‘…your agreement to spend some time with him in Andalusia’. The fact that he’d told her to clear her desk hadn’t cut much ice, either. If clued-up editors were to be brought in no one would want her around because she’d be like a fish out of water.
Now her stomach performed one of the spectacular lurches that were becoming all too frequent since coming into contact with Diego Raffacani again. Here in chilly, early spring London she could maintain an indifferent façade. Just. And with supreme difficulty. But back in Spain with him, where it had all started, she wouldn’t be able to survive the bitter-sweet pain of it.
Laying down her fork, her eyes clashed with his. It took only a moment to subdue her twanging vocal cords and remark tautly, ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but you said nothing to me about my going to Spain. I thought—’
‘Thought a couple of quickies while I’m here in England would pay off the debt,’ Diego interrupted drily, his long fingers tightening around the delicate stem of his wine glass. ‘Not so. When you recompense me for the way you behaved five years ago it will be at a place and time of my choosing.’
And the little minx wouldn’t be acting as though making love with him was a mundane and necessary task like sorting the washing. She would be as willing and eager as she had been five years ago, her sweet lips gasping for the fulfilment he had withheld out of genuine love for her. And when she was on the point of disintegrating he would take her, burn the frustration and anger that had been his private demon for far too long right out of his system. And dump her. Let her know for once what rejection really felt like.
Noting the sudden dark colour that stained his slashing cheekbones, the dark glitter of his eyes beneath the thick fringe of lashes, Lisa tried to block the images of her being used as a cheap sex toy right out of her mind and decided that the time had come to put the record straight. Then, surely, he would reconsider? And let her go. Maybe with an apology and a contrite promise not to withdraw his offer of investment in the magazine.
But did she really want that? the part of her she privately despised commented edgily. Didn’t she still hunger for him, despite pretending the opposite? Didn’t some perverse and childish hope prod her into fantasising about him falling in love with her? Really falling in love this time, not whiling his spare time away with a silly little teenager, telling her what he thought she wanted to hear because it amused him to see her fall headlong under his spell. Not meaning a single word of it because he spent his evenings, not working as he’d said, but making whoopee with a gorgeous, sophisticated female from his own exalted class who really knew how to please her man.
No, she owed it to herself to wriggle out of his wicked bargain if she possibly could. Owed it to what was left of her self-control and dignity, she vowed, fervently hoping she believed herself. Clutching the bowl of her so far ignored wine glass, she questioned, ‘Don’t you think we should talk about it?’
The slight upwards drift of one dark brow was the only expression on that lean and dangerously handsome face. ‘I believe we have been.’
‘No, not that. Not the terms and conditions,’ she dismissed thickly, horribly conscious of the hot colour creeping over her skin as the reminder of exactly what he expected of her jumped into her mind with the force of a nuclear explosion. ‘But why you’re still so angry with me over what happened that night all those years ago. It’s a long time to bear a grudge, Diego.’ She spoke softly, willing him to listen, to at least understand that the blame wasn’t hers entirely. ‘I know I acted like a total idiot, but—’
‘Basta! I have no wish to listen to the tissue of lies you’ve had time to dream up!’ Black eyes glittered with savage contempt. ‘You may look like an angel but you lie like the devil!’ he informed her with deadly intensity. ‘I saw what I saw, I heard what I heard—perdición!’ He got to his feet, pushing back his chair, looming over her.
Lisa flinched, cut to the heart that he should hate her quite that much. Her eyes swam with unwanted tears as he reminded more levelly, ‘The past is a distant country. Forget it. Concentrate on the future, on paying your dues, and, when that is done, it too can be forgotten.’
And she would be forgotten. Just like that! Lisa, too, sprang to her feet. He was cruel. Hard. And the hope that their relationship could develop into a mirror image of what it had been bit the dust. How could she have been so stupid to have fantasised that it might? He had changed out of all recognition.
Facing him, her inky eyes swimming as they collided with his, she acknowledged that he might not have changed at all. Had he always been this callous? The loving front of five years ago just that. A front, assumed for his own careless amusement?
‘I hate you!’ she spat with driven vehemence.
‘Ah! That is good.’ A slow, deliberate stride brought him round the table to her quivering side, the slightest of smiles curving a mouth that was far too kissable for her own good. Two strong and almost painfully gentle hands cupped her face, setting up a chain reaction that made her tremble with far more than outraged anger and deep hurt. ‘Any strong emotion is preferable to indifference, is it not?’ Then he did what she’d been secretly hoping and dreading in equal measure.
