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Long after he’d walked away and the photos had been taken, his words lingered. And later that night, when the cadence of his lovemaking changed, his hitherto masterful possession gentling into a much more poignant claiming, she was left shaken, unable to separate reality from what her heart suddenly seemed to be yearning for—a sign that Javier saw this cluster of situations that had brought them together in a more meaningful light. B
ut how could he?
He’d shaped his project after her—literally—but he was a man who collected trophies, who had homes around the world and more expensive toys than any one man could ever enjoy in a lifetime.
And you’re just one bauble for him to possess briefly until he grows bored...
The harsh bruising to her heart was so immediate and terrifying, she gasped.
Javier’s head jerked up from where he’d been trailing post-coital kisses on her shoulder. ‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded.
Sucking in a breath, she shook her head quickly and raised herself up onto her elbows. ‘Nothing.’ She kissed him, seeking shameful refuge in the melting that filmed the pain. ‘Nothing at all.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
NOTHING AT ALL.
She continued to recite those three words to herself throughout the frenzy of party preparations over the next three days. Relieved to see that Javier didn’t mind her getting involved, she pulled on hostessing skills learned from an early age after her mother’s departure. Back when her father had wanted to rub shoulders with the well-to-do without incurring the expense of it. Then later it’d been another way to tie her to his side, to control her, while basking in the limelight of her success.
He’d called them a team, and she’d convinced herself that meant something. Until it’d been far too late.
She strode out of the dressing room, where she’d been putting finishing touches to her make-up before the party, to the bedside table. Before she picked up her phone she knew there would be no message from her father.
The promise of funds had been well-received. Not so much the hold Javier had initially placed on the transmission of the money—with her approval—until her father had delivered on his promise to tell her about her mother. Her father’s grim silence was meant to prolong her anguish. In the end, Carla had requested that Javier just release the money to him, but her father still hadn’t called.
And the tension was succeeding in getting to her—
‘Is there a reason you’re staring at your phone when I need you downstairs with me?’ came a semi-brusque query.
Setting her phone down, she turned. One of the things she’d quickly learned to accept was that Javier wanting what he wanted when he wanted wasn’t something she could change any time soon. Another thing she couldn’t change was her heart’s crazy leap whenever her eyes connected with his. The ferocious intensity of his gaze seemed to have acquired an even pithier depth lately, as if he saw beneath her skin, to every unsettling emotion she didn’t want him to glean. Carla wanted to believe she was succeeding in hiding her feelings, but a steady voice inside mocked her feeble attempts.
He reached her and captured her hands. ‘Our guests are arriving.’
The collective statement caused yet another shifting of her emotional foundation. Watching him, she silently despaired at how effectively his every word and look battered at her defences; how her heart seemed to live for just such a moment, when he looked at her as if she really mattered to him.
‘I’m ready,’ she finally managed when she could speak past the trepidation clogging her throat.
His answer was to lift her hands away from her body, his appreciative scrutiny flooding her with idiotic pleasure. ‘Sí, you are. The gown is perfect on you,’ he stated with pure, male satisfaction.
‘Grazie,’ she murmured.
The sleeveless red gown fitted her like a dream, a sleek confection of criss-crossed chiffon and silk that hugged her torso and hips and fell to her ankles in a gentle flare. She’d fallen in love with it the moment Javier had presented her with it this afternoon, despite the unease that had lanced through her at the thought that his claiming of her was attaining absolute proportions. His drawled observation that she hadn’t packed for the party and didn’t have time to go shopping had been meant to appease, except she’d glimpsed the barely concealed look of triumph on his face as he’d walked away after her acceptance of the gown. But even that hadn’t been enough to dim her enjoyment of the garment.
The thought that she was escaping an oppressive prison for a gilded one made her heart lurch, until she reminded herself of the transient nature of her current situation. Pinning a smile on her face, she met his narrowing eyes. ‘Shall we go?’
‘Not just yet.’
Her eyes widened as he reached into his dinner jacket and pulled out a large, flat box. Before he opened it, she stepped back.
‘Javier, no.’
A trace of displeasure gleamed in his eyes. ‘It’s my birthday, mi amante, you’re not supposed to refuse me.’ He opened the box to reveal a heart-meltingly gorgeous platinum chain from which a large teardrop diamond hung.
‘And you’re supposed to receive presents, not give them!’ For reasons she couldn’t fathom, the sight of the necklace seemed to compound her roiling emotions. ‘This isn’t necessary, Javier.’
‘I don’t do it out of necessity,’ he drawled. ‘Merely because it complements your dress. Feel free to return it at the end of the evening if you feel that strongly about it.’ He plucked the chain from the velvet and waited expectantly.
With no choice but to argue, and keep their guests waiting, or give in gracefully, Carla turned around and lifted the newly styled fall of her hair. He secured the necklace, the cool stone resting between her breasts, then he stepped back. ‘Oh, one thing I neglected to mention.’
