The Spaniard's Pleasurable Vengeance

by Lucy Monroe

  An atavistic shiver went down her spine. “That’s a lot of people.”

  He shrugged. “My father had run Perez Holdings into near bankruptcy by the time I was twenty. There was no time for me to get an MBA. My education came in the cutthroat halls of big business.”

  “And you were determined to win?” This man would never accept anything less.

  “For the sake of my family and the Perez name? Oh, yes, I was more than willing to become a pirate.”

  “You’re kind of a ruthless guy, aren’t you?” So different from her, and yet not.

  Family was important to both of them. The welfare of children mattered to them both. During one of their hiatuses between sexual bouts, he’d told her he admired her career choice and believed children deserved the best the world could offer them.

  “There is no kind of about it.” He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “There is no room for sentiment in business.”

  “Wow. I’m not sure I could dismiss people’s feelings like that.” And honestly, she had a hard time seeing him do it, too.

  He reached for her jacket, lying over the back of her sofa, and held it up for her to put on. “You do what you have to when you are backed in a corner.”

  “I bet you didn’t stay cornered for long.” She flipped her hair from out of the jacket collar.

  “You’d be surprised.” Instead of going toward the door, Baz stepped in closer to her. “Bringing Perez Holdings from bankruptcy to the multibillion-dollar international entity that it is today did not happen in a week, a month or even a couple of years.”

  “So does that ruthlessness translate to your interpersonal relationships?” she asked, breathless from his nearness and doing nothing to hide that fact.

  That ship had sailed.

  “I can be pitiless both on behalf of and with my family when it is necessary.” There was no apology in his voice, no sense of regret at what he considered necessary action.

  Suddenly realizing just how little she really knew about this man, Randi shivered.

  Baz’s brows knitted, his espresso eyes filling with concern. “Are you well?” he asked solicitously.

  “Yes, of course.” She’d just had another wake-up call, which she shouldn’t have needed, but apparently did.

  His hands landed warmly on her shoulders. “My father has been married many times, but the first time lasted the longest. She turned a blind eye to my father’s infidelity and he was utterly loyal to her and my siblings.”

  “What happened?”

  “I did.” Baz looked surprised by his own admission. “My mother was my father’s mistress, but she got pregnant and suddenly he had to weigh having a child of his grow up without his name and protection, or divorce.”

  “He chose divorce.”

  “Sí.” And from the look in Baz’s dark gaze, he still carried a sense of responsibility for that fact.

  “You know you were innocent in the choices your parents made, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “I cannot say.” He brushed his thumb up her neck, leaving shivers in the wake of the small caress. “Are you ready to go look at properties?”

  “I am.” Only didn’t they have to step away from each other and, well, leave the apartment for that to happen?

  “First things first, though.” Oh, man, those dark eyes of his.

  Who could resist them? Not her.

  “Wha—?”

  His lips cut off her inquiry, his mouth instantly heated and possessive against hers.

  Despite knowing how all this was going to end, with him in Spain, probably with some gorgeous European supermodel, and Randi in Portland, doing what she’d always done, she gave herself to the kiss, allowing Baz to pull her into his arms without hesitation.

  He held her close, his hands inside her coat, warm and sure against her back.

  After several minutes of blissful loss of self, she made an instinctive protest when Baz stepped away.

  He winked. Seriously. Winked. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll never get to all the properties on our agenda tonight.”

  The man was too delicious and good at kissing for her to be thinking logically right then. “And that’s important.”

  “Isn’t it?” he asked, his tone teasing and arousing at once.

  She took a deep breath, let it out and forced her brain to function. “You know it is.” She smiled. “And I appreciate your efforts on behalf of Kayla’s for Kids a lot.”

  “While I believe in what your sister wanted to do with these shelters, make no mistake, I’ve offered my help on your behalf.”

  Heat suffused her, but she wasn’t losing her head again. “I can’t believe your broker found such great possibilities.”

  “Sometimes, in real estate, it is who you know. Not all properties get listed on the MLS immediately. Some never do.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.” It really didn’t. “Wouldn’t people want to have the biggest pool of potential buyers?”

  “Sometimes the only buyer you need is the one who prefers exclusivity.”

  “But we’re not looking for a multimillion-dollar property.”

  “No. Your budget is not exactly that of a pauper, either, however.”

  Funny, that wasn’t the way her original Realtor had behaved. Her continuous message was that they needed to increase their budget, or lower their expectations.

  “Besides,” Baz went on, “you’re buying on behalf of a nonprofit. If the seller is very wealthy or a corporate entity, they may be in a place where they desire the write-off of offering the property under market value. They save on capital gains as well as increasing their yearly tax shelter.”

  Okay, that did make sense. And was kind of smart, to boot.

  Randi grabbed her backpack purse and slung it on. “Is that how the broker found properties in our price range that fulfilled most, if not all, the items on our wish list?”

  They left the apartment, Randi turning off lights just before shutting and locking the door.

  Baz answered her question on the way to the elevator. “I would assume so, yes.”

  “I’m beyond impressed.”

  “He’s a very savvy guy. He wouldn’t be working for me otherwise.”

  “That I believe.”

  He grinned, looking younger than his thirty years for a brief moment. “My reputation precedes me already.”

  She shook her head in wonder. “You’re really confident, aren’t you?”

  “Some call me arrogant.” And he didn’t sound like that bothered him at all.

  “That doesn’t bother you at all?”

  “Not particularly, no.”

  “You write your own rules to life.” That was for sure.

  “And you, whose rules do you live by?”

  Randi wasn’t sure she had an answer to that. She’d spent so much of her adult life, and early childhood, reacting.

  “I think I live by the rule of survival.”

  “So then, we have that in common. The survival of the Perez name, my family’s survival, my company’s survival, these are paramount to me.”

  They were on their way to the first property when she asked about the family he kept mentioning as being so important.

  Baz cast her a sidelong glance as he pulled the luxury car to a smooth stop at a red light. “My father maintains a nominal position in the company while he negotiates his fifth marriage.”

  “That’s a lot of wives. He must have tons of kids.” And pay a lot of alimony.

  No wonder the man’s company had been doing so poorly.

  “Actually, there are only three of us.” Baz pulled into traffic again, his olive-toned hands curled loosely around the leather steering wheel.

 
“Are you close to the others?” Randi asked, thinking how much she wished she’d grown up with Kayla as part of her life.

  “Not really. My older brother and sister were content to keep to themselves once our father divorced their mother.” There was something subtle in Baz’s tone that implied pain at that truth, despite his nonchalant attitude.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” She laid her hand on his thigh in what she hoped was comfort. “Finding Kayla is one of the best things that has happened in my life.”

  “That is a sweet sentiment.”

  But he didn’t do sentiment and maybe she understood his stand on that a little better. A dad who went through wives like disposable commodities, siblings who ignored his existence and a young adulthood spent learning life’s lessons in the merciless school of big business, Baz had little opportunity to appreciate the softer emotions.

  “What about your mom?”

  “She married my father for his money and negotiated their prenup with more acuity than any woman or man I’ve faced across a conference table, with lawyers lining both sides.”

  “She knew her marriage had a sell-by date.”

  “She was smart enough to realize that even though she was only the second wife, she would not be the last.”

  “What about her relationship with you?”

  “I lived with my father after the divorce.”

  “What? Why?”

  “His first wife had taken his children to another country. He insisted on that provision in the prenup. In exchange for a very generous divorce settlement, he got primary custody.”

  “That must have been heartbreaking for both of you.”

  “Not so much. She got visitation, and my father, for all his womanizing ways, was a decent parent.”

  “My mother kept my sister from me. I didn’t even know about her until this last year. I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive her for that.” Not to mention other things her mother had done that kept her firmly out of the running for decent human being, much less Mother of the Year.

  “My father did not keep me from my siblings, or from my mother.”

  But someone had, at least from his siblings. Because she could read between the lines and the message there was that Baz did not feel like he was a part of their family, despite how he saw them.

  “Your loyalty to your family is surprisingly strong.”

  “My father may have failed spectacularly at marriage, but his familial loyalty to his own parents, siblings, wives, ex-wives and children was and is absolute. He required no less from me.”

  Add that to the guilt Baz so obviously carried in regard to his father’s first marriage’s breakup, that made for some compelling motivation for his sense of loyalty toward people that might not deserve it.

  “But not your siblings?” She also had to assume that by familial loyalty, Baz did not mean sexual fidelity. Or there wouldn’t have been four ex-wives to this point.

  “After taking them back to her own country after the divorce, their mother remarried quickly. They didn’t just take on their stepfather’s last name. They were raised with a different set of values.”

  “You’re more understanding than I would have thought considering your pirate nature.” She used the small tease to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere in the car.

  “Yes, well, I can be surprising.”

  “You’ve shocked my socks off since meeting, that’s for sure.”

  He cast her a heated glance. “It’s not merely your socks I’m keen to see you out of.”

  Randi blushed to the roots of her hair. Darn him. “You didn’t get enough of that last night?” Or that morning? They’d been intimate again after breakfast, necessitating a second shower before checking out of the hotel suite.

  “I believe I have already told you that one night would not be enough.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “I am glad you think so, though I consider myself the one favored by fortune.”

  She patted his thigh, hard muscles bunching under her fingers, distracting her and forcing her to think about what she was going to say. Oh, that was right. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a sweet-talker.”

  “I am not. I mean what I say.” His hand settled over hers, pressing them both more firmly against his leg.

  She sucked in air at how quickly she got turned on by that simple move. “And I’m glad to hear that.”

  They toured two properties, the banter between them never abating, and were now in the third facility.

  “It looks like a school,” she said uncertainly. On paper this property had all the room the shelter required, but she’d never considered it might be an institutional building.

  “It was a boarding school. The remodel necessary for your purposes would be minimal. The entire second floor is already living quarters. The classrooms, offices and public spaces dovetail into your vision for this new Kayla’s for Kids.”

  She loved that he’d paid such close attention to the things she’d told him.

  When they got inside, she saw exactly what he meant. The building was in surprisingly good repair and offered everything she could want for the housing of hard-to-place foster care children and homeless teens, and offering after-school activities to even more at-risk youth.

  She stared around the dining hall, shocked it was still furnished with tables and chairs. “Is there a note the furnishings are for sale, as well?”

  “They are.”

  “The seller would probably want more than our budget.”

  Baz referred to something on his phone. “She’s a seventy-year-old very wealthy philanthropist. My guess is when she finds out what you want to do with the property, she’ll either offer the furnishings for nothing or well under market value.”

  Randi got the best kind of chills. “You think so?”

  “I do. She was instrumental in funding the school as well as providing the facility.”

  “She sounds like an amazing lady.”

  “Perhaps we can arrange a personal meeting if you buy this property. It never hurts to have another benefactor for a nonprofit.”

  Randi stepped closer to Baz, taking his lapels in her fists. “You’re always thinking, aren’t you?”

  “Sí is a word I like. No, not so much.” His sexy grin sent thrills through her.

  She huffed out a laugh. “I totally believe it.”

  An hour later, after a quick text exchange with Kayla that included a ton of pictures, Randi and Baz had worked out an offer for the property with his broker.

  “I’m certain this will be accepted, particularly once we apprise the seller of what you are buying the property for.” The broker shook first Baz’s hand and then Randi’s, showing that despite her being the buyer, he knew who buttered the broker’s bread.

  “Shall we go out to celebrate a successful evening’s work?” Baz asked when they reached his silver metallic sports model Mercedes.

  “I don’t want to jinx it by celebrating too early.”

  “Surely you are too well educated and intelligent for such superstitions.” The locks snicked and Baz opened the passenger-side door for her.

  She slid into her seat, but looked up at him as he leaned against the open door. “No one is too educated or smart to learn life’s lessons.”

  “And you have learned that dreams do not always come true?”

  “I told you I have.”

  “But not why.”

  Last night she couldn’t imagine sharing one of the worst times in her life with this man, a practical stranger. After he’d helped her, shared insights into his own life and, well...made love to her so many times, he didn’t feel like a stranger anymore.

  She brushed her hand over the leather dash of the Mercedes as Baz climbed into the driver’s seat. “I wouldn’t have thought you could rent a car like this by the
week.”

  “Money makes many things possible.”

  The fact that he didn’t pressure her further into sharing confidences took away the last of Randi’s reservations about doing so.

  “Five years ago I was driving back to my dorm at the university after visiting my dad.” She was glad they were in the car for privacy, but she wished he was driving. Meeting his eyes right now was hard, but she did it. “The street I was on only had a thirty-mile-an-hour speed limit and I was going under. I was always cautious because as well as businesses, there were houses and apartments along that stretch.”

  Baz made no move to put his seat belt on or start the car, but stayed facing her, his focus entirely on Randi. “And?”

  “And a little boy ran out from between two parked cars. He’d been with his mother at a park two blocks away. She had no idea he was gone until she heard the sirens.”

  “What?” Baz looked shocked, his olive complexion going pale.

  An understandable reaction to where the conversation was obviously going, she thought.

  “I couldn’t stop fast enough.” She paused, taking several shallow breaths. This never got easier to talk about. Randi wasn’t even sure she would have told Kayla until the whole fiasco a few weeks ago when a reporter discovered that Randi Smith used to be Randi Weber from Southern California. “There were cars in the oncoming lane and parked cars beside me. I had nowhere to go. Though I tried. I still clipped that tiny body with my car. It was the most horrific moment of my life.”

  Even worse than the terror and emotional agony she’d felt when her mother had tried to drown her when Randi was six.

  “I would imagine.” There was a strange quality to Baz’s voice.

  “Believe me when I say I’d had other terrifying moments, but nothing that compared.”

  “Was the child okay?”

  “Eventually. He was in a coma for weeks and he had to learn how to speak and walk again once he woke up. It was my worst nightmare.” It would have been anyone’s.

  “You say there was nothing you could have done?” The still quality to Baz’s voice gave Randi pause.

  And made her feel defensive, which surprised her. She shouldn’t be, though. His reacting with understanding would have been the true shock, wouldn’t it? No one else had. Not until Kayla and Andreas learned about what had happened.