Filthy Rich Revenge: A Filthy Rich Billionaires Book - Lynn Raye Harris Page 0,48
smooth resolution to the problem. The last thing Rebecca expected was to be ordered to accompany him. In truth, she hadn’t known what to expect after their night together.
“You are my mistress,” he said when she asked why he wanted her to go.
She nearly choked on the word. “Mistress? Until a few days ago I was the president of a major international hotel chain.”
“Sí, until a few days ago.” He tossed something into his briefcase, then speared her with a silver glare. “And not so major, no?”
The barb hurt. “Does this mean you’re considering selling Layton International’s stock to me?”
He’d told her in the pool that night that he would consider selling the stock if she slept with him. Well, she had, and though she hadn’t done it for that reason, she was just pissed enough to remind him of it.
His expression was so cold she had to suppress a shiver. “It means you are my mistress, nothing more.”
Her amazing lover of the night before was gone. In his place was the ruthless businessman who’d stolen her company. In the stark light of day she had to wonder how she’d managed to forget all the hurt and betrayal long enough to fall into bed with him. To repeatedly and enthusiastically have hot, sweaty, dirty sex with him. To moan his name and crave his body.
Because you are a weak-willed woman. Rebecca gritted her teeth. Those were her father’s words long ago, not hers. But they still hurt, especially in light of everything that had happened last night when her willpower seemed to desert her entirely.
When they landed in Dubai that afternoon, a black Mercedes limousine met them at the airport and ferried them to the resort Alejandro had recently bought on the Jumeirah coast. It wasn’t as grand as some of the other hotels, but his plans to expand it would make it one of the top destinations in Dubai. If the permit situation was resolved.
A man in a tuxedo hurried forward to greet them when the car doors opened, snapping his fingers at a bellhop who leapt into action to collect their luggage from the trunk.
“Señor Ramirez,” the man said as Alejandro stepped from the car. “We are so pleased you are back with us again. Your suite is prepared. Shall I make reservations for dinner or will you be dining in?”
“In the suite I think, Ali.”
“Very well, sir.”
The suite was truly gorgeous. Situated on the top floor, the view of the Persian Gulf was spectacular. Rebecca walked onto the balcony and stood near the railing as the breeze ruffled her hair. She gazed out at the sparkling blue water, the ship traffic, and the glorious sail-like structure of the Burj Al Arab hotel silhouetted against the hazy sky in the distance.
Palm trees swayed in a gentle breeze near the beach. Directly below her was the pool. Guests dotted the chairs while waiters moved back and forth between them. Behind her, she could hear Alejandro on the phone. He didn’t sound happy.
It was strange, almost exhilarating in some respects, to be here and not be the one working on the problems at hand. Not that she wasn’t working. She had her phone and laptop, and she was still—so far—in charge of day-to-day operations at Layton International. But to not be the person fielding the frantic phone calls about permits and construction issues was bliss. She could see the area where the construction cranes sat silent. No trucks moved, no workers shouted instructions, nothing happened inside the fenced site. Every day was money. Alejandro could afford a lot, she was sure, but at a certain point he would need to cut his losses.
She went back inside. A bank of windows ran along the front of the suite. Automatic blinds closed with the press of a button, though they were open to allow the afternoon light inside. A plush living area contained a couch and chairs, a bar, and an entertainment system with a flat screen television. There was a dining area near one window. The bedroom had a giant king-sized bed piled high with pillows, but it was the sunken tub in the bathroom that caught her eye. The floor was marble. Marble columns surrounded the tub on four sides, making it seem like a Roman bath. A peek inside told her there were jets. Heavenly. Maybe she could have a nice long bath while Alejandro went to meet with government officials.