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She stared at him, her heart racing, her mouth dry. ‘Xavier, what’s happened? You’re frightening me.’
He picked up a computer tablet from his desk. ‘Sit. I need to show you something. And it’s not pleasant.’
‘Okay,’ she said slowly, and lowered herself into the chair, legs trembling. ‘Just...just give it to me, then.’
Mouth grim, he handed over the tablet—and Jordan’s horror was instantaneous.
On its own, the salacious tabloid headline was shocking—Vega Corporation CEO Cavorts with Stepsister!—but it was the photograph that sent mortified heat sweeping over her skin, followed by a wave of cold, prickling sweat.
Reluctantly she scrolled and—Oh, God—there were more photos, all taken with a powerful telephoto lens.
‘This was last Friday,’ she whispered.
The night they’d fooled around in the pool.
She covered her mouth with a trembling hand. She felt sick
. Violated. Every photo was hideously explicit. It wasn’t so bad for Xavier. A bare male torso was hardly risqué, although one shot had captured half a toned buttock. But for Jordan...
She burned with humiliation and shame. She couldn’t even look up and meet Xavier’s eye.
She scrolled down and read the text, but could barely absorb the words. Her mind was too shaken. Some things penetrated or jumped out. Names, for instance. Xavier’s. Hers. Camila’s.
Then her eye caught on another name.
Tomás Garcia.
Xavier’s birth father.
Jordan doubled her efforts to focus and her grip on the tablet grew tighter, and tighter. Horror turned to outrage. ‘These are lies!’
Xavier gave a grim smile. ‘Regrettably, I think the photos speak for themselves, querida.’
‘No.’ She put the tablet down. Just holding it made her feel dirty. ‘I mean about your father.’
His gaze hardened. ‘Vittorio de la Vega is my father.’
‘You know what I mean,’ she said, but gently, because he had to be hurting. ‘This can’t be true.’
‘Yet there it is in black and white,’ he said flatly.
‘In a tabloid.’ She spoke more forcefully now. ‘They print rubbish. Half-truths. Lies.’ She stood. ‘Tomás Garcia was not a criminal.’
His jaw flexed. ‘And you know this how?’
‘Because I knew Camila. I think she had strong feelings for Tomás. I don’t believe she would have fallen in love with a bad man.’
His expression grew shuttered. ‘Well, we’ll never know now, will we? Because they’re both dead.’ He moved behind his desk. ‘In any case, it is irrelevant.’
His coldly dismissive tone made her flinch. ‘How can you say that?’
‘Because my only priority right now is damage control.’ He waved to where the tablet sat. ‘This harms not only me but the company. We have shareholders, clients, investors, joint venture partners who will all be concerned about the negative impact of a deliberate attack on my reputation and the company’s image.’
Belatedly she registered that he wore business attire. ‘Who do you think is responsible?’
A vein pulsed in his temple. ‘Diego and Hector.’
Jordan sat back down with a thump. ‘Oh, no. I’ve just remembered. I was speaking with Maria Gonzalez on Wednesday. She said a stranger was in the village last weekend, asking questions about Camila.’
