tried to remember exactly what had happened then. She’d left Spain and gone to London to meet with Roger, at her father’s direction, about a financing deal. They did not discuss Ramirez Enterprises. She would have remembered since the pain of Alejandro’s betrayal was still so raw.
“We were working with Roger on a South American deal. What he and his investors decided about you had nothing to do with us.”
Alejandro snorted. “You expect me to believe that? Layton International wanted to shut out the competition. You tried to ruin me, or at least contain me to Spain.”
“No,” she said softly. “There was no reason. You weren’t important enough.”
He stiffened as if she’d dealt him a body blow. “Or good enough, sí?”
“That’s not what I meant.” Ramirez Enterprises hadn’t been big enough to be a threat at the time, but he didn’t give her a chance to explain.
“I know what you meant, querida. How difficult it must have been for you to endure my touch, yes? To sacrifice your body for the sake of your precious Layton International?” He stalked closer until he towered over her, so close she could feel the heat of his skin, could smell the mixture of chlorine and male that threatened to overwhelm her senses. “You did a fine job of playing the whore, Rebecca. You were quite natural at it. But do not worry you will ever need to lie beneath this dirty torero again. There are plenty of women who find it no chore to do so.”
His words stung. “I slept with you because I wanted to, no other reason.”
“Yes, tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.”
Rebecca took a step away from him, her belly churning with hurt and anger. How dare he question her feelings, her integrity. He suggested she thought he was beneath her, unworthy of her because of what he’d been. God, it was untenable! “I loved you, Alejandro,” she whispered fiercely. “You—”
“Silencio! I will not listen to your lies.” He wrapped the towel around his waist and stood with fists on lean hips. Moonlight limned the hard contours of his chest, glistened on the water that still dripped from his head and left a trail of silver down his skin.
“Nothing you say will change the past, Rebecca, or the fact I own Layton International. Spend your time worrying about your job and cease trying to convince me you ever cared for me. We both know the truth.”
5
Señora Flores coolly informed Rebecca that breakfast was usually served on the terrace in summer. There would be no coffee or pastry delivered to her room, no matter how sweetly she asked. But the last thing she thought she could do right now was sit across from Alejandro and share a meal. In fact, if she managed to avoid him altogether, that would make her day nearly perfect. He’d accused her of so much ugliness. Of sleeping with him for information, of stealing from him, and of lying about being in love with him.
Oddly, it was the last thing that bothered her most. She’d been so naïve. She’d fallen fast and hard, and then she’d let the words fall from her lips often and easily. And though he’d never repeated them, she’d believed he cared for her. Believed what they had was special.
Until his fiancée sent a wedding coordinator to his hotel suite. A wedding coordinator. The woman had invitation samples, possible menus, and fabric samples for his tuxedo. And he still denied he was engaged?
She was the one who’d been wronged, damn him! The one who’d had her heart broken and the pieces pulverized beneath his boot heels. Previous experience should have taught her he was only using her for the information she could give him, for her status as Jackson Layton’s daughter, but she’d denied the truth and carried on blissfully with the affair. And he accused her of betraying him? Was the man insane?
She’d wanted to call Roger Cahill last night, see if she could find out what really happened, but it was too late when she’d returned to her room. Today, however, she would make that call. There must have been a reason the Cahill Group pulled their backing. A good reason that had nothing to do with her or Layton International. Alejandro might never believe it, but at least she would know the truth.
Until then, how could she go out on that terrace and face him like nothing had ever happened between them? Eating with him was