Filthy Rich Revenge: A Filthy Rich Billionaires Book - Lynn Raye Harris Page 0,52
the waiter. A signal must have passed between them because the man bowed and disappeared.
“Continue how, Rebecca?”
“I want to know what your plans are for me. I’m tired of wondering.”
The sudden heat in his eyes wasn’t what she expected. “My plans, bebé, involve the bed, the shower, and maybe even this table.”
A current of awareness snapped between them. But she couldn’t simply fold like a house of cards. Not anymore. “I was talking about business, Alejandro.”
“So was I. This is the business of being my mistress.”
He looked amused rather than annoyed. It irritated her. Did she have the strength to walk away from his seduction? From him? She pushed her chair back and stood. Alejandro’s gaze sharpened like a cat’s.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To the front desk to ask for my own room.” She went to retrieve her purse and briefcase, her pulse tripping along in her ears like a racing piston.
“Yes, run away, Rebecca. It is what you do when things are difficult, sí? Better to run than face the problem.”
She whirled around and marched back to the table. Her entire body shook as she stared him down. “You aren’t a god, Alejandro. You can sit in your ivory tower and order people around, you can destroy companies and lives, but nothing will bring back your child. Nothing.”
It was so obvious, and yet he was blind to it. He was consumed by rage and grief and reacting every day to those forces in his life because he hadn’t yet learned how to deal with them.
He shot to his feet, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She tumbled on, “You accuse me of running away? What in the hell do you think you’re doing? You’ve been running since the minute she died—and you don’t even know it!”
“Get out,” he growled.
Rebecca refused to cry though tears pricked at her eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I thought you’d say. Far better to order me away than to face what you’re feeling. But you won’t always be able to run, Alejandro. One of these days, it’s going to catch up with you.”
“You need to leave,” he said coldly. “Now, before I—”
“Before you what? Make me regret the day I was born?” She drew herself up, laughing. But inside, she was dying. “For once, you’re too late.”
23
The trip back to Madrid was accomplished in silence. Alejandro watched Rebecca from beneath lowered eyelids. She concentrated on her laptop screen, never looking at him. She’d spent last night in her own room, several floors away from his. He hadn’t gone after her, much as he wanted to.
Madre de Dios, the things she’d said to him. He’d spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, thinking about it. Was she right? Was he running from Anya’s death?
He shoved the thought aside angrily. What did she know? She’d never experienced such a loss, never sat in a waiting room alone and waited for news, never spent hours trying to locate a woman who was attending fashion week in Milan and couldn’t be bothered to turn on her cell phone.
She had no idea what she was talking about!
Maldito sea, he needed to end this. He didn’t need her chipping away at him like she could break the ice surrounding his heart. It was painful, uncomfortable. She made him feel like he was on the brink of losing control, like the balls he kept spinning in the air could crash down on his head any minute.
When they landed in Madrid, he needed to tell her she was done. Tell her in the airport so she could catch a flight out. Say goodbye forever.
He leaned back against the headrest, closed his eyes. No, he had to be more deliberate about it. He’d planned it for so long. He couldn’t tell her in a public place like an airport.
And he couldn’t tell her now because he didn’t want to deal with the dramatics for the rest of the flight. He would tell her tonight. Sí, this was best.
He would seduce her one final time, use her luscious body for his pleasure. And then he would ruin her life the way she’d ruined his.
After they landed, Alejandro sent Rebecca back to the villa while he went into the office. He had things to do, and he needed the time to think. He’d waited so long for this day. He wanted to do it right, wanted to enjoy the full measure of her despair.