So, with the help of an old friend, she had set about burning her bridges completely.
Ali shoved aside the memories that still had the ability to hurt and concentrated on putting some distance between herself and the dangerously disturbing man Rafael Alvarez had become. She had done her duty for the night--it was time to retreat, sleep off the caffeine buzz and strengthen her defenses.
Exiting the main room, she ducked into a quiet corner and extracted her PDA from her purse. The small device combined Internet and email capability with a digital organizer and mobile phone.
After using the Internet browser to search for the number of a local taxi company, she made the call. She had just lifted the device to her ear when Rafael found her.
“Setting up your next engagement for the evening? Why aren’t I surprised? I imagine this party’s a little too tame for someone of your particular… appetites.” He spoke with an indolent drawl.
Ali threw him a glare before turning away and plugging her ear. He was obviously in the mood to be obnoxious, but that didn’t mean she had to rise to his bait.
“Five Star Cabs. How may I help you?”
“Hi. I’d like to order a taxi--“ Before she could say anything more, the phone was plucked from her hand. She swung around to glare at Rafael, momentarily shocked at his audacity. “Hey, give that back!”
He glanced at the device and disconnected the call. “I will drive you home,” he said with maddening certainty, though Ali could see he had a leashed anger about him. His eyes were so intense that even a brief glance shortened Ali’s breath.
“I don’t think so. But you will give me back my phone. And you will leave me alone.” She held out her hand.
He shrugged and tossed her the phone. “I will take you home, Ali.”
“Absolutely not.”
His eyes narrowed. “For God’s sake, haven’t you put your father through enough? The last thing Mason needs, now that he’s home from the hospital and his beloved daughter has rushed to his bedside, is to have her catting about town and crawling in at some ungodly hour. Couldn’t you at least have waited a few days? Or shown a bit of discretion?”
Ali shook her head, irritated by his obvious insinuations but determined to keep her frazzled emotions under control. She wasn’t going to let him get to her. She would remain polite and professional. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
Rafael watched her closely, amazed at her barefaced lie. “Playing the innocent again, are you? I fell for that once before--you can’t expect it to work a second time.”
He wanted to shake some sense into the woman.
Morbid curiosity had him wondering which of the men who had swarmed after her had been about to hit the jackpot tonight. From the sounds of it, she had arranged to meet the hapless fool somewhere else--to ensure they wouldn’t be interrupted, no doubt. He brushed aside the irrational anger he felt at the thought. After all, he hardly cared how she chose to conduct her affairs these days. But he did care about her father’s reaction to such promiscuity--and that, Rafe reminded himself, was the real reason for the biting fury that surged through him.
Mason Witherspoon had been more than a mentor to Rafael--he had been like a second father. Better, in fact, given that Rafe’s own father had run off in search of greener pastures years ago, leaving a wife and infant child to make their own way in the world.
But Rafe had survived--and succeeded beyond his mother’s wildest dreams--in no small part thanks to Mason. And, given the other man’s fragile health, Rafe was damned if he would allow anyone--least of all Mason’s wild and wayward daughter--to place any stress on the older man.
Rafael grabbed her arm and started walking. “Come. We will go now.”
“I can find my own way home,” she snapped, walking alongside him as she tried to wrench her arm from his grasp. His hold didn’t slacken.
“Perhaps, querida. But I won’t be making any detours.”
“If you seriously think that after being up for over twenty-four hours, I’m ready to do anything other than sleep--“
“And forgo the oldest restorative in the world, my dear?”
“I’ve actually had more than my fill of coffee for the day, thanks,” she said with patently false sweetness. She had given up trying to wrest her arm free, for the moment at least.
Rafael continued walking, careful not to look at her. She had become a vision of cold perfection, and after seeing her earlier this evening for the first time in eight years, some part of him wanted to melt that façade of hers.
Time had honed the soft curves of her youthful form into sharper angles--the more defined, angular beauty of a grown, mature woman. The years in England and Germany had stolen the burnished warmth from her complexion, transforming her from the golden goddess he remembered into an ice princess.
At least she had discarded the false promise of soft, honeyed sweetness. He had fallen for it all those years ago.
Even as he guided her expertly through the crowds in the front entry hall, his body hardened at the proximity of her slender curves, tightly sheathed in the sequinned evening dress. She was still obviously a tease, as was evident from the exquisite expanse of pale flesh exposed by the plunging back of her gown, which made it blatantly obvious she wore nothing underneath.
His hand tightened on her arm as he dodged a tipsy guest intent on a passing drinks tray.
“You’re quite good at this, Alvarez--don’t tell me you have some experience with forcing a woman to accompany you against her will?”
“You insult me, querida.” He flashed her a smile. “Coercion is never an issue with me--except when I’m trying to prevent a woman from making a fool of herself and sweet reason has failed.”
“Ah, so ‘sweet reason’ in your books is a euphemism for unfounded conclusions? Why you’d even think I’d be heading off in search of some frenzied grope--”
“Unfounded conclusions?” They had reached the wide steps outside the house. He started down them at an angle, with her still in tow. “Surely you must remember how I found you and that beatnik lover of yours all those years ago.” He shook his head, his mouth hard. “In flagrante delicto, despite all your protestations of undying love for me. Though I’m sure you recollect how you set me straight on those claims.” He turned to her as they reached the bottom corner of the steps. “Or have such sordid scenes become so depressingly standard in your repertoire that you can no longer recall the specifics?”
The slap came from out of nowhere.
“You bastard.” Her eyes glittered in the dim light of the front gardens.
Rafael grinned, and not at all nicely. So the ice princess had a few gaps in her armour, did she? He would not forget.
With an ironic inclination of his head, he released her arm. “My lady, your carriage awaits.” He gestured towards the place where he had parked his Porsche.
“What makes you think I’d come with you after that?”
“You have little choice in the matter, Ali. You’re just lucky no-one seems to have noticed that little love-tap you gave me. What would your father’s clients think?” He knew as well as she did that a number of Mason’s clients counted on being the first to get access to the venture capital stock Rafael offered through his company.
She closed her eyes a moment and drew in a deep breath. Then, with a brusque nod, she began walking towards his car. “Fine. But no more nasty comments. If you can’t manage to keep a civil tongue, I’m all for abstaining from conversation.”
“You? Content with abstinence? But then, I suppose novelty always does have some appeal, to paraphrase your very words from so long ago.”
She turned to give him a frosty glare. “Shall I call a taxi after all? You can always follow me, if you doubt my destination.”
He held his hands up, his mouth wry. “What’s say I call a truce? After all, if we’re to be working together, then we’ll need to be able to converse civilly.”
She eyed him, not
bothering to conceal the mistrust in her expression. Then she nodded slowly. “All right, Alvarez. But I’ll believe it when I see it.”
He opened the passenger side door for her.
With a final suspicious glare, she slipped into the car.
“Your father had a meeting scheduled for Wednesday. I assume you’ll be attending in his stead?” Rafael asked as he pulled up the curved driveway of her father’s house. Since the declared truce, he had been affability itself. Ali trusted that like she trusted a snake.
“That’s right.” Ali did her best to make it sound like she wasn’t speaking between clenched teeth. Bad enough that he had taunted her into a fury earlier--anger, at least, seemed an appropriate reaction to an unscrupulous jerk.
But the thronging, sexual tension she felt, with Rafael so close beside her in the confines of his sports car, his spicy male odour further inflaming her edged senses, was about as far from appropriate as possible. At least he had chosen to keep conversation to a minimum during the short drive. “I’ll be taking over all of Dad’s business commitments.”
“Excellent,” he drawled as brought the car to a stop and shifted out of gear. Ali opened the door before he had even engaged the parking brake. She slid out and stood, pulling in a deep breath of clear, evening air. “See you Wednesday.”
“Right.” Ali slammed the door to Rafael’s cabriolet, before turning and running up the front steps. She didn’t look back.
“Hell Rafe, tell me you haven’t totally lost your mind!”
Rafael raised an eyebrow at Paulo. “I haven’t totally lost my mind.”
His friend let out an explosive breath. “Then why the hell are you doing this?”
“I have a debt to repay.”
In the four days since he had danced with Alicia Witherspoon, Rafe had honed and perfected his plan.
“Just leave it. She may be a black-hearted witch, but it’s not your job to keep her in line. Just walk away.” Paulo pushed himself out of his chair and began pacing.
Rafael’s jaw tightened. “I can’t do that, Paulo.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Mason’s in no condition right now to deal with the stress of his daughter’s antics--it could be the end of him. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that happen. Alicia’s wild behavior has already come close to doing him in at least once before.”
Paulo paused, turning to frown at his friend. “What are you talking about?”
“About three years ago or so. She was still in England at the time.”
“And good riddance, too. I just wish she’d stayed away. It took you years to get over her.” Paulo ran an agitated hand through his hair and dropped back into his seat as he glared at his friend. “I’m probably risking a black eye by saying this, but the fact is, you’re still not over her in some ways.”
“Paulo…” The name emerged as a growled warning. Rafael’s expression had shuttered as he leaned suddenly forward, the bunching of his powerful muscles visible through the burgundy fabric of his shirt. When next he spoke, it was in a tightly moderated tone, his accent grown suddenly thick. “Because it is you, I will let that pass. But if you ever say that again, I’ll toss you out of this office myself--minus a few teeth.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Paulo refrained from pointing out that Rafael’s reaction reinforced his point quite nicely. He sighed. “All right, so what happened while she was still in England?”
Rafael shrugged, sitting back once more. “I don’t know. Mason has always refused to talk about it--he still can’t admit his little princess is anything less than perfect. He got the news one night and was gone by the next morning.”
“What news?” Paulo shook his head in exasperation when Rafael did not respond. “Gone where?”
“England. Afterwards, on the phone, all I could get out of him was that it had something to do with Ali.” Rafael’s mouth twisted. “Her wild ways were bound to get her into trouble sometime. I expect her fate finally caught up with her--probably something to do with a man. Or drugs. Or who the hell knows what.”
He frowned, then propelled himself from his seat, walking over to glare out of one of the tall windows overlooking Burrard Inlet. “But what I do know, Paulo, is that I have never seen a man change as fast as Mason did after that prolonged visit with his darling daughter.” Rafael spat out the last few words. “In a few short months, he had aged ten, twenty years.”
Rafael turned to face his friend. “And for that, she deserves whatever she gets, Paulo. Mason is better than a father to me. He has been my friend and my mentor as well. Without him--“
“I know, I know--you wouldn’t be where you are today.”
Rafe gave a curt nod. “It is a matter of honour. I will ensure Alicia stays on her best behaviour, at least until Mason is better--even if I have to seduce her myself.”
“You’re walking on thin ice with that woman, Rafe.”
Rafael leveled a cool stare at his friend. “You think I have not learned anything in eight years? That I am still the callow youth she reeled in and played her games with back then?”
Paulo sighed, shaking his head. When he spoke, his tone was tinged with weariness. “No, I don’t think that. If anything, you’ve gone the other way. You never allow yourself to lose control these days, do you?”
Rafe shrugged. “It is best that way, I find.”
“Evidently.” Paulo watched Rafael through narrowed eyes. “So this has nothing to do with you and her?”
“I will not deny that there is some element of personal revenge involved.”
“Rafe…” Paulo began, shaking his head.
“Enough.” Rafael’s gesture marked the end of the conversation. “I have decided.”
Paulo nodded slowly, his expression resigned. “Right. Hell or high water.” He stood. “Well, I have work to do.”
“Damn straight. I’ll see you later, gringo.” The nickname, which originated when Rafael first met the Canadian-born Paulo back in school, had long since lost its bite.
“Hasta luego, sudaca.”
Rafael laughed as Paulo let himself out of the luxurious office.
He hadn’t seen fit to mention to his old friend that the very subject of their heated debate was due to arrive in--Rafael glanced at his Rolex--eleven minutes. He’d rather Paulo didn’t meet her again quite yet. The other man still had too much overt hostility towards Ali because of what she had done all those years ago. Rafael preferred that Ali not be given a hint of how much power she once had over him.
Rafael shrugged, swiveling his chair away from the desk in order to frown out of the window at glistening water and the looming mountains of the North Shore.
Rafael’s eyes narrowed as he thought back to his body’s reaction to Alicia Witherspoon on Saturday night.
Then, he shrugged, resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair as he propped his chin on his templed hands.
His body might respond to her still, but as he had proven again and again over the years, he, Rafael Alvarez, was master of his flesh--and not the other way around. And now, he planned to prove it to her.
“Alicia,” he murmured.
A number of his business colleagues would have recognized the cold smile that curled one corner of his mouth. If Paulo had seen it, he would have shaken his head. “Rafe’s out for blood. It’s take no prisoners this time.”
And he’d be right. Rafe knew his own reputation as a ruthless businessman who drove tight deals and brooked no resistance--he had cultivated and cherished it, in fact. It was what had allowed him to scale the heights he had attained.
And now he planned to demonstrate its truth to the woman who had taught him his methods. Alicia Witherspoon. Cold-hearted, spoiled rotten bitch.
She had Mason twisted around her little finger. But then, she’d always known how to charm when it suited her.
Rafael had never told Mason the real reason why the relationship had ended--and neither, it seemed, had Alicia. Which was fine by hi
m. Now, Rafe just had to keep her in line until Mason was a little stronger--better able to handle the ugly truth about his daughter.
At that point, Rafe would reassess the situation and see what needed to be done. But for now, he would have to use that notorious libido of hers to seduce her and keep her predatory attentions fixed on him. It was the only way he could think of to ensure that she stayed in line. Nor could he deny that it would give him some measure of satisfaction to turn the tables on her in such a manner.
He had learned about subtlety and nuance in the years since he had last seen her. Had learned how to get his opponents’ balls in a vice before they even knew their pants were down--and how keep them there indefinitely. Of course, Alicia would require special measures, but he had little doubt that with a little bit of judicious calculation, he would be able to get her where he wanted her. Wanting him--needing him. Knowing what she would be missing and begging for what he alone could give her. And then he would use that to ensure that she stayed on her best behavior.
Ali stepped out of the mirrored elevator into a sleek interior of glass and marble. Potlights provided a discreet glow of illumination and the click of her heels was silenced by thick carpets in muted tones. Rafael’s office.
“May I help you?” This from a sloe-eyed receptionist as sleek and luxurious as her surroundings.
A lot of things can change in eight years. He had been poor, ardent and ambitious back when she had known him. Her father’s promising young protégé.
Ali took a deep breath and returned the receptionist’s polite smile. “I have a four o’clock with Mr. Alvarez.”
Not long afterwards, another young, generically sophisticated beauty, with a skirt only slightly larger than her microscopic waist, led Ali into Rafael’s office.
“Thank you, Shana. Please close the door behind you,” he said, rising from his seat behind the desk and coming forward. The white of his grin contrasted vividly with his olive skin and dark eyes.
Ali swallowed, acutely conscious of the vitality of his presence as she summoned a stiff smile. He looked utterly devastating. No longer the rawboned, slightly gangly youth she remembered, his body had broadened and filled out over the years--as the tango on Saturday had amply demonstrated. She could still remember--all too well--the way his muscled physique had pressed against her as they danced.
Leaving Rafe Page 2
