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‘And since all evidence points to you working for Mendez, isn’t the conclusion the same?’ he sneered.
Her head snapped round to his. ‘No! You’re wrong. I don’t work for Mendez. I’ve never even met the man!’
‘Really? You work as a broker and a mediator, do you not?’
Puzzled, she nodded.
‘And over the past three years, your specialty has been in brokering agreements in Latin American companies?’
Her frown deepened in direct proportion to the escalation of her dread. ‘How do you know all this?’
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘When we met you told me you’d been watching the Santo-Valderran talks with interest.’
Jasmine found his reasoning difficult to comprehend. ‘And you think by interest I meant to sabotage it? For what purpose?’
‘What other purpose could there be aside from financial?’
‘Feel free to search my finances. You’d be surprised to find I’m not as flush as you think I am.’
‘You’re too intelligent to display the fruits of your duplicity. Are you so confident that I won’t find the evidence I need if I cast my net a little wider, like, say, your parents?’
Jasmine felt the blood drain from her face. Despite her bravado, the last thing she wanted was for Reyes to start digging into Stephen’s affairs. The evidence of his gambling, misappropriation and connection to people like Joaquin Esteban would become public knowledge if Reyes took that route.
Her stepfather had been visibly shaken by his ordeal at the hands of Joaquin’s men, enough to induce an angina attack that had laid him up in hospital for a week.
Unfortunately, it had taken that experience to wake him up to his dangerous addiction. He had just started a programme to help overcome his gambling problem; the last thing she wanted was for his life to be thrown into turmoil by Reyes.
Watching him struggle to overcome his weakness, she’d been reminded of what Stephen himself had said to her years earlier.
Nobody was perfect.
She’d reminded herself of that over and over again in the last four weeks. Except she was sure, when it came to Prince Reyes Navarre, that belief wouldn’t hold water.
She tried to remain calm as Reyes, sensing her turmoil, tilted her face up to his.
‘I see I’ve stumbled onto something. Who were the beneficiaries if not your parents?’ His fingers tightened. ‘Your lover?’
With excruciating effort, she wrenched herself free. ‘What does it matter? I did it,’ she admitted, not seeing the point in prolonging the agony.
Beside her, he tensed. Her fingers clenched in her lap, the rush of memories threatening to eat her alive. Desperately, she tried to push them away, but they pushed back. Hard.
I did it. This wasn’t the first time she’d said those words. But she’d hoped back then it would be the last. How wrong she’d been.
Squeezing her eyes shut for a single heartbeat, she took a deep breath, opened them and tried to plead with Reyes.
‘I did it. I’m willing to take the consequences. Just tell me what I need to do.’ Because the earlier she could make reparations, the earlier she could put him behind her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
REYES FOUND HIMSELF riveted by the frank admission, unable to look away from the open candour in Jasmine’s face as she looked back at him. For the first time in his life, he found himself speechless.
I did it.
In all the imagined scenarios when he’d dreamed of exacting his revenge, not once had he entertained the notion that she would admit her guilt so readily.
He wondered why he was surprised. Weren’t her audacity, her sheer bolshiness what had attracted him a month ago in Rio? Yet even now, Reyes could see that her reaction, while mostly convincing, was just a front. But a front that hid what? What was Jasmine Nichols keeping from him?
He continued to stare at her. She stared back, her gaze unflinching. Against his will, he felt his blood firing up, his heartbeat quicken. Shifting in his seat, he sat back, took a deep breath.
Jasmine had made things easy for him. He now didn’t need to bother with interrogating her. She’d admitted her guilt and he had her confession. Her punishment would wait until he’d dealt with more important matters.
‘Gracias,’ he murmured, breaking eye contact. The strange sense of loss he felt was immediately pushed aside.
‘What are you thanking me for?’ she asked.
