Читать книгу One Night in Buenos Aires - Шантель Шоу, Sarah Morgan - Страница 10

WHAT was she supposed to wear for dinner?

She’d fled from Argentina with nothing more than her passport. She certainly hadn’t stopped to pack a wardrobe.

Glancing at her watch, she realised that there were still several hours until dinner, so she picked up her bag and stepped into the elevator.

They were in the centre of Buenos Aires. How hard could it be to find something simple and practical to wear?

She pressed the button for the ground floor, thinking of Raul. He’d changed so much and she didn’t have to look far to discover the cause of their problems.

By becoming pregnant she’d committed the ultimate sin.

The lift doors opened and she gave a gasp of shock because Raul was standing there, anger shimmering in his dark eyes.

‘Do you have a death wish? You are supposed to be resting.’

For a long, agonising moment the tension throbbed between them momentarily blinding both of them. She was painfully aware of his sexuality and her stomach swooped and spun like a ride at a funfair.

Suddenly, looking at his rigid shoulders, she realised that they’d never stood a chance.

They were worlds apart; not just in terms of wealth, but in life experience and culture.

They’d talked all the time, but never about his past, and she was only now realising how little she knew about him.

The phone in his pocket rang and he removed it, scanned the number and then took the call. ‘Sí—I am aware of that.’ He switched between Spanish and English with effortless ease and Faith listened with reluctant admiration, trying not to be impressed but failing because his razor-sharp intellect had always given her a buzz. She’d loved arguing with him because his brain was so fast and challenging him had always resulted in lively debate.

As if sensing her scrutiny, his eyes locked onto hers and a muscle flickered in his jaw. ‘No—cancel. I don’t care, I’m busy right now. They can wait until I’m ready.’

Faith watched as he broke the connection with a decisive stab of one long finger and dropped the phone back into his pocket. She cleared her throat. ‘If you were cancelling a meeting because of me then you shouldn’t have bothered.’

‘How else am I supposed to stop you from doing something foolish? If I don’t watch you personally you will no doubt vanish again, and I have no desire to scrape you off the floor after yet another accident.’ He’d obviously come from a meeting because he was dressed in a dark formal suit but the white cuff of his shirt had ridden up slightly and she found her eyes drawn to the hairs that darkened the bronzed skin at his wrist. That tantalising hint of masculinity was sufficient to trigger an uncomfortably vivid image of him naked and Faith turned her head away quickly, wondering how a physical connection could possibly endure when everything else was so catastrophically wrong between them. It was true that Raul exceeded the most exacting woman’s standards of masculinity, but after everything that had happened, she shouldn’t be feeling this way.

The brain was supposed to be connected to the senses, so why were hers humming and buzzing instead of freezing him off?

Glancing over his shoulder, Faith saw two burly men standing in the opulent lobby. ‘Who are they?’

‘Security.’ Raul stepped into the elevator with her and slammed his hand against a button. He controlled his privacy with the same ruthless efficiency that he used on every other aspect of his life.

‘I need to go shopping—’

‘You were never interested in shopping.’

‘I don’t have anything to wear. All my clothes are at the estancia.’

He stared down at her for a moment. ‘I apologise,’ he said stiffly. ‘I hadn’t realised. You should have said something sooner.’

The doors slid closed and Faith suddenly found herself trapped with him in a small, intimate space.

Erotic images swirled around her brain and she stared straight ahead, trying to concentrate on something else. The utter stillness of his powerful body told her that he was doing the same thing and she knew instinctively that his brain was playing the same tricks.

So how could not looking intensify the connection between them?

In this closed-in space Faith was agonisingly aware of the latent power of his lean, strong body and she realised with a stab of pain that this was the first time she’d stood this close to him and not touched. In their relationship she’d been the affectionate one and he’d always teased her about it.

‘You can’t go five seconds without checking I’m still here.’

And it had been true. She’d adored him and it wouldn’t have occurred to her to not show it.

But now she envied his emotional detachment and wished she’d kept part of herself back.

If she’d done that, would it hurt less?

Probably not. Despite everything that had happened between them, part of her wanted to take that final step towards him and feel his arms close around her in that decisive, possessive way that had always thrilled her.

And it horrified her that she still felt that way.

She couldn’t be with a man who didn’t trust her, could she? For her, trust was as fundamental as breathing. And she couldn’t be with a man who had such little regard for her feelings. A man who knew her so little.

Did she have no self-respect?

Or was it just that she’d totally underestimated the power of love?

Desperate to interrupt the uncomfortable flow of her thoughts, Faith struggled to make conversation. ‘I didn’t know you had an apartment in Buenos Aires.’

He loosened his top button and jerked at his tie, the intimate confinement clearly affecting him in a similar manner. ‘Sometimes I work late.’

The lift rose smoothly upwards and she stared at the view.

‘It’s stunning.’

‘Actually it’s on the market,’ Raul said stiffly. ‘I’ve discovered that a glass lift isn’t a good choice if you want privacy.’

And Raul was fiercely protective of his privacy, she knew that. This particular billionaire wasn’t about to become public property, and he invested time and effort into keeping his profile as low-key as possible. His extreme wealth had protected their relationship from the intrusion of the outside world.

She’d been spoiled, cosseted, protected and most of the time she hadn’t even been aware of that fact because everything in his life ran so smoothly and discreetly.

His main residence was the Beach House in the grounds of the estancia, ten thousand acres of prime real-estate that stretched from the Atlantic coast of Argentina into the grasslands. Under Raul’s watchful eye, his dedicated staff, which had once included her, bred and trained polo ponies, and the estancia was the first port of call for the super-wealthy who enjoyed that particular sport.

With typical flare and vision, Raul had tapped into a market where the very, very rich would pay for the privilege of receiving the very best polo instruction and advice on the purchase of a string of ponies, safe from the prying eyes of the world’s press. It also allowed Raul to indulge his daredevil streak—as one of the country’s most daring polo players, he thrived on the thrilling adrenalin rush of the game.

But the stud-farm was only a small part of an empire that encompassed hotels, finance and export. Applauded by the financial pages of the world’s newspapers for his astonishing vision, Raul had diversified sufficiently to ensure that any change in the markets would have no effect on the overall profitability of his business.

The lift doors opened and Raul strode out, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her. After a moment’s hesitation Faith followed, knowing that if she didn’t do so voluntarily, he’d simply haul her out himself.

The penthouse apartment spread over the top of the building, a dazzling, soaring living-space designed to give the occupant breathtaking views over Buenos Aires.

‘It is stunning,’ she muttered weakly. ‘Another world.’ And at that moment she almost laughed at herself.

It was another world. The world he lived in. How had she ever thought she could just step into his life with no problems?

A frown touching his strong, dark brows, Raul turned his head and stared out of the window, as if the view wasn’t something he’d noticed before. ‘It’s a city.’

His reply was so rigidly polite that Faith felt as though she was on a blind date with a stranger. ‘If you didn’t buy it for the view, why did you choose it?’

He gave a careless lift of his broad shoulders, as if he considered it an odd question. ‘I needed somewhere to shower and change in between meetings. And it’s an investment.’

He was standing still but she could feel the energy pulsing from every centimetre of his powerful frame. She’d never met anyone as driven as Raul. ‘Does money come into every decision you make?’

‘Not always.’ His charcoal-dark eyes locked on hers, his gaze boldly explicit and she understood the unspoken message in that one blistering look.

If he’d been thinking about money, he wouldn’t have chosen her.

Looking at him now, at the careless arrogance he wore with the same ease as his expensive clothes, she wondered how she’d ever felt comfortable with him.

Everything about him screamed power and success but on top of that he possessed a raw, dominant sexuality that had always rendered her breathless.

For a moment his burning gaze held her captive, the sheer force of his personality preventing her from looking away.

In the end it was Raul who broke that connection, turning from her with a sudden movement that suggested an underlying tension of almost unbearable proportions. ‘I haven’t shown you round properly, but the bedroom is up the stairs.’ His voice was tight, clipped, as if he were restraining himself not to say a great deal more. ‘Take a shower and help yourself to some clothes from the wardrobe.’

Clothes? Her heart lurched and the dull, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. Since when did he keep a spare set of clothes for female guests? She’d never been here, which could only mean that …

Reminding herself that the way he chose to live his life was no longer any of her business, Faith curled her fingers into her palms.

‘Upstairs?’

‘It’s a duplex penthouse.’ With a spare, minimal gesture he angled his glossy, dark head and she belatedly noticed a curving staircase in one corner of the room.

‘Fine.’ Not trusting herself to stay cool in front of him, she stalked across the apartment and up the stairs, horribly conscious of his eyes tracking her every movement.

She found herself in a sumptuous master-bedroom suite that extended over the whole of the top floor. Gripped by the sharp claws of jealousy, she kept her eyes firmly averted from the enormous bed. Raul had had women before her, she knew that. But she’d always told herself that they were part of his past.

Only now was it dawning on her that she’d never really known this dangerous, complicated, hotly sexual man. When he’d flown to Buenos Aires for meetings, had he been alone? Could Raul deprive himself of sex for a few nights? Remembering his almost insatiable hunger for her body, she doubted it. He was a man of apparently limitless stamina in every area of his life and the demands he placed upon himself would have exhausted a lesser man.

Reminding herself that none of that was supposed to matter to her any more, she made straight for the bathroom.

Even there she couldn’t escape the vagaries of her imagination because the amazing glass bath was easily large enough for two, as was the shower.

And she knew enough of Raul’s sexual appetites to know that he wouldn’t have restricted his activities to the bedroom.

Trying to block out the distressing image of those skilled, bronzed hands on another woman, she stripped off her damp clothes and stepped under the shower. Why would she care that he had another woman? She didn’t want him, did she? Not after what he’d believed of her. He was right—they were totally wrong for each other. She was a modern, thinking woman. He was a ruthless tycoon who inhabited a world she hadn’t even known existed. And that world had made him cynical and hard.

She probably should have ended the relationship and maybe she would have if it hadn’t been for the one small fact that he’d overlooked when he’d delivered that piece of advice.

She loved him.

Totally, completely and utterly. To the point where the mere idea of leaving would have been laughable.

And he’d taken that love and crushed it.

Closing her eyes, she let the hot water scald her skin, finding the warmth strangely soothing. After the clinical scent of the hospital it was pure bliss to lather indulgent products into her hair and body. She could have stayed under the shower for ever, but she knew that if she didn’t emerge soon Raul would come looking for her and she didn’t want that. Reluctantly she stemmed the flow of hot water, dried herself on one of the heated towels and walked into the dressing room.

Steeling herself for seeing a range of glamorous dresses, she was taken aback to see nothing but male clothing, both formal and casual.

Suits, shirts, ties, shoes—nothing remotely feminine or glittery.

Relief swamped her, closely followed by exasperation because she didn’t want to feel anything. She didn’t want to care. Shaking her head in despair, she wondered how she was ever going to divorce herself from this man. It wasn’t the legal side that worried her—that would be simple enough. The real problem was the mental agony of accepting that he was no longer in her life.

Faith stared at the contents of his dressing room, realising with a sense of resignation that there was absolutely nothing that was going to fit her.

Abandoning ideas of boosting her flagging courage with a touch of power-dressing, she gave a shrug and reached for a crisp white shirt. She wasn’t trying to make a good impression anyway, so what did it matter how she was dressed? The shirt fell to mid-thigh and she had to roll up the sleeves, but after she’d added a belt she decided that she was more or less respectable.

Feeling ridiculously self-conscious, she walked back into the luxurious living area.

Raul was standing with his back to her, phone to his ear as usual, his hand braced against the glass window as he listened to the person on the other end. For a moment Faith just watched him, her eyes feasting on every tiny detail from the fit of his shirt to the bold confidence that was so evident in everything he did. He was spectacular. Sleek, handsome and every inch the successful billionaire.

How had she ever thought that their relationship could work?

He was used to driving over everything in his path and she’d never been meek and submissive.

They’d been an accident waiting to happen.

Sensing her presence, he turned, issued a set of instructions and then terminated the call and dropped the phone onto the nearest available surface. His eyes swept over her in one swiftly assessing glance. ‘You’ve lost weight.’

His comment shot like a spear through her self-confidence. ‘Lost weight’ good, or ‘lost weight’ bad? ‘It’s your shirt,’ she muttered. ‘It’s too big for me. There weren’t any female clothes.’

‘Why would there be?’ His tone was heavily laced with sarcasm. ‘On the whole I don’t find the financial sector take me seriously if I arrive at a meeting wearing a dress.’

The question burned inside her and she looked at him, desperately wanting to ask and hating herself for that weakness. Their relationship was in its death throes. Why demean herself by voicing the fears that had been gnawing at her insides since he’d dragged her into the apartment?

The apartment she hadn’t known about.

Raul shot her a look of sizzling impatience. ‘You are totally transparent. But I don’t play those games, Faith, I told you that when we first met. I was with you. I didn’t want anyone else.’

The fact that he’d read her so easily should have bothered her but she was too lacerated by his use of the past tense to care. ‘Women want you—’

‘I’m an adult, not some hormonal teenager,’ he said curtly. ‘Do you think I jump into bed with every woman who looks at me?’

Obviously not, or he’d never get any work done.

Faith tried to breathe evenly. ‘I just thought—’

‘I know what you thought,’ he snapped. ‘And for your information I have never brought another woman here. This is convenient accommodation, not a love nest. When I’m here, I’m working.’

Wishing she hadn’t exposed so much of herself, or her feelings, Faith looked away. ‘This is so difficult.’

‘You’re the one who made it difficult.’

‘You expect my trust but you don’t give it in return.’ She turned to him. ‘What did I ever do to make you believe that I’d lie to you? And lie about something so enormously important?’

He stilled, his face ashen beneath his tan. ‘You cannot walk around Buenos Aires wearing one of my shirts.’

So he was going to stampede right over the issue, then. Her legs gave way and she plopped onto the sofa. ‘I didn’t have any luggage.’

‘You left Argentina with nothing?’

She wanted to turn the conversation back to the subject that he’d abandoned but her woman’s intuition warned her that it was best left. If Raul was avoiding it, then he was avoiding it for a reason.

And suddenly she wanted to understand that reason.

Only now was it occurring to her that she was being punished for someone else’s sins.

‘When I left, I was upset, Raul.’ In fact she’d been in such a state when she’d fled to the airport that it was fortunate her passport had been in her handbag or she wouldn’t have gone far. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’

‘Evidently.’ The mockery in his voice was sharp as a blade. ‘As you evidently weren’t thinking when you stepped in the path of a taxi. You don’t need luggage, cariño, you need protection. From yourself.’

‘That’s not true. And I wouldn’t have taken any luggage, anyway.’ She bit her lip. ‘I didn’t want to take anything that was yours.’

‘You were mine,’ Raul said with lethal emphasis, his thick dark lashes veiling the expression in his eyes. ‘You were mine. And unlike you, I take incredibly good care of my possessions.’