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She jumped at the mocking voice. Face flaming at the thought that he’d say such a thing in front of his staff, she turned away from the colonial Spanish-themed décor, away from the sweeping staircase where he’d nearly lost control and taken her that night. But the staff were nowhere in sight, having been dismissed while she’d been lost in her lustful recollections.
Meeting his bold gaze, she fought not to blush again. He meant to torture her at every turn. But she was a step away from learning the truth about what happened to her mother. She had to hold that thought firm and true to see her through this. Even if the anticipation of what was going to happen here tonight rushed a continuous stream of almost debilitating excitement through her blood.
‘I thought it would be rude to force you to relive something you obviously still find a touchy subject,’ she countered.
His lips compressed. ‘But I intend to replace those unfortunate memories with better ones.’
‘Is that why you brought me here? To rewrite history?’
‘Trying to rewrite history is impossible. But there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be allowed to make a better impression this time round.’
‘Has anyone told you how impossibly arrogant you are?’ she launched from the depths of the trepidation shaking through her.
‘Has anyone told you how utterly delicious you are when you’re trying to hide your anxiety with useless bravado?’
She flicked a dismissive hand. ‘You’re being ridiculous...again.’
He caught her hand, used it to pull her to him, then dragged her behind him to the breathtakingly beautiful salon. He paused in the middle of the gold-carpeted room and captured her jaw in his hands. ‘And you’re acting like a timid little virgin.’ His face hardened. ‘Drop the act, Carla,’ he sliced at her. ‘I’m choosing not to dwell on the other lovers you’ve had since you were last in my bed and what they would’ve wanted from you, but if you think that you playing some sort of sacrificial damsel turns me on, trust me, it doesn’t.’
She barely managed to suppress a gasp, and tore her gaze from his.
‘You know how crazy it makes me when you don’t look at me when I’m talking to you, querida.’
She shook her head. ‘Santa Maria, can we please just get this over and done with?’ she blazed at him, still studiously avoiding his gaze.
‘We will not, as you say, get this over and done with. Constanza is preparing our dinner, which we will enjoy—’
‘I’m not hungry,’ she interjected. ‘I had a late lunch.’
‘Indeed you did, but I have it on good authority you barely touched the insubstantial sandwich you had Felipe prepare for you. So perhaps you want to come clean, and tell me what’s really bothering you?’
She cast around for something to say, anything that would disguise her internal chaos. But the more she dwelled on what was to come, the more her senses unravelled.
She cast a swift glance at him, but the moment their eyes connected, she couldn’t look away. Her breath shook out of her lungs as she blurted, ‘I’m not... I don’t...’
A look crossed his face, a flash of frightening bleakness before his expression settled back into its usual haunting, arrogant beauty. ‘You don’t...what? Want me?’ he queried icily.
Saying yes she wanted him more than her next breath was dangerous. Saying no would be a lie. She hesitated, and with each second his expression grew tauter. Knowing she was only damning herself, she licked her lips. ‘Javier...please—’
He swung her into his arms before she managed to form the right words. In quick, commanding strides, he crossed to the far side of the room. The lift tucked discreetly into the corner of the room blended effortlessly with the décor. A thumb print scan granted them access
. Javier entered and the doors slid shut, sealing them inside.
Carla tried to wriggle free, but he held her tight, a warning growl emitting from his throat as the lift shot upward. She was still grappling with her words when it stopped and the doors slid open.
She hadn’t forgotten the sheer magnificence of the master suite in Javier’s mansion. But three years ago she’d been too intoxicated with his presence to take in the smaller details. This time she forced herself to look around, tried to find anything that would ground the runaway emotional freight train inside her. The retractable roof that displayed the spectacular skylight at night was still above her head, half opened to catch glimpses of a few bright stars set against a velvet backdrop. Unlike the priceless works of art that decorated his house, his bedroom only boasted four pieces. A bust of some god-like icon, two Renaissance paintings she knew without looking too closely were masterpieces, and, in the space between his bedroom and private living room, a white baby grand piano on top of which stood a simple wooden-framed picture.
Carla hadn’t had the chance to get a closer look at the photo, but she thought it was of his mother.
She wasn’t granted a chance now as he swung sharply towards the bed.
‘You insist on denying what’s between us when we both know it’s a useless lie. You want me to force you to admit you want me, is that it? So that when you close your eyes to sleep you can pretend every whisper and moan was coerced from you?’
‘No, Javier—’
‘Well, think again.’ His voice was soft and deadly. ‘Before we’re done tonight you will beg me to take you. And you will beg for it each time after that.’
She gasped as he caught the hem of her long-sleeved, cowl-neck dress and pulled it over her head. It landed at her feet without ceremony, leaving her in the platform heels and the matching peach bra and panty set she’d donned before they left New York.
