One Night In Collection

by Various Authors

  And while they’d been on vacation, after their one bright, sunny day, his parents had found out that W.I.’s team of unethical lawyers had managed to convince the courts the giant cosmetics company had created the anti-aging cream. After years of development, the small pharmaceutical firm owned by Marcos’s father had lost everything.

  They had even lost their lives.

  He sat forward, pressing his knuckles against his eyes. If revenge didn’t work, then what? What was left?

  It would work, he told himself fiercely. It had to. He just hadn’t finished the job. He’d ruined Sheldon Winter, and he would make sure the man went to jail. Then he would see Aziz humiliated, disinherited and utterly shamed in front of his whole tribe.

  If that still didn’t work, he would think of something. He would taunt Aziz into a fight. He wanted to destroy him. Only that could finally bury the nightmares that haunted him.

  Marrying you would poison me. It would poison our children. But knowing this, I still wouldn’t have been able to resist you. Thank you for not loving me.

  He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Tamsin was right. Marrying him would have destroyed her. Pushing her away was the only truly selfless thing he’d ever done in his whole life.

  He looked up as she came through the office door. She was wearing a simple blue dress, modest but chic, hiding her curves but somehow accentuating all the right places. The indigo silk matched her eyes, made them deep as the ocean against her pale skin and fiery red hair.

  She’d been an oasis, he thought. A drink of clear water in the dry desert of his life.

  She sat in the nearest chair, crossing her legs. “I talked to Sheldon,” she said. “He’s honestly sorry. He says he intended to pay back our trust funds when he could, and I know I shouldn’t but I do believe him.”

  His eyes involuntarily traced the shape of her legs—shapely calves and sleek ankles that ended in high-heeled black leather shoes. “He slapped you. He tried to force you into a marriage you didn’t want. Is he sorry for that too?”

  “Part of that was Camilla. She was screaming at him that he’d do it if he were any sort of a man. She also assured him that Nicole would be perfectly fine on her own for a week or two and, seeing as she’s a woman and supposed to be intuitive at child-rearing, he figured she’d know.” She held up her hand. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I think he’s a great guy or anything, but after a while … I might be able to forgive him.”

  “I won’t. There’s no excuse for hitting a woman. Ever.”

  “Maybe. But I’m not going to waste another second of my life being angry at him. I’m starting my life fresh and new. For myself. For my sister.” Coming around to his side of the desk, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You did this. You saved us.” She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  He wanted her so badly, it was intolerable. Not just her body. He wanted her optimism, her cheerfulness, her peace.

  He wanted what a life with her would have offered, if things were different.

  It would be so easy to love her …

  He pushed her away, not wanting to feel her touch, not wanting to be tempted by all the feelings that rushed through him when she was near. “It was nothing.”

  She sat down in the chair. “So it’s over.”

  “No,” he said. “It’s not even close to over.”

  She looked at him, her sea-blue eyes tinged with alarm. “Please don’t do more to Sheldon. Not just for his sake, but mine. He’s giving up Winter International. He only took the job as CEO because my father insisted, and he didn’t want to be the one who made it go bankrupt after sixty years of business. Isn’t that funny? He didn’t want it. I did, but my father said that it was a man’s world and I should stay out of it.”

  Marcos shook his head in disbelief. “Your father was a fool.”

  “He was almost sixty when I was born. I don’t think he ever understood people. He only knew how to boss and bully and hit. He was the most vindictive, angry man I’ve ever known.” She started to say more, then stopped herself. Marcos guessed what she’d been about to say: until I met you.

  She cleared her throat. “Anyway, it never occurred to me that Sheldon might feel trapped too. He’s going to go back home and open a golfing shop. He’s always loved golf. And I had this crazy idea.” She lowered her eyes shyly, giving him a dimpled smile. “Maybe I could try and lead Winter International myself. What do you think?”

  Though she tried to sound casual, he could hear the tremor beneath her question. He pushed it aside.

  “Your brother is not going to open a golfing shop,” Marcos said. “He’s going to jail.”

  “Marcos, please.” Tamsin stood up, twisting her hands together. “Let it go.”

  There was no point in arguing with her. Marcos turned away in his swivel chair to face the windows. Sunlight hit his face. Warmly. Lovingly. Reproachfully.

  He turned back to face her. “You have the papers that will give you custody. Go to London. I will tell my lawyers to expect your call. Your sister needs you.”

  She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to leave you like this.”

  “That was our agreement,” he said, keeping his face expressionless. “We both know it’s for the best.”

  “Yes. I know.” She stepped towards him and, in the sunlight, her hair was as red as roses. Her eyes glowed the truest blue he’d ever seen, like Christmas lights, or sapphires, or the warm summer sky. She placed her slender white hand on his shoulder. “But I don’t want to leave you. Please, Marcos. Give up your revenge.” She whispered, “Choose me instead.”

  He shook his head, pulling away from her with a bitter laugh. “If you think that after twenty years I can just let Aziz get away with what he did, then you don’t know me at all. In spite of your claim to love me.”

  She knelt before him pleadingly, resting her hands on his knee. “My father let himself be consumed by the need for revenge, and it ripped my family apart. No matter what you think it will do for you, it won’t. It will only feed the darkness in your soul and make you want more. Give it up. Please.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I do love you. I do. That’s why I’m asking you to let Sheldon and Aziz go.”

  Hearing her say she loved him did strange things to his insides. It made him feel dizzy, as if the earth were shaking beneath his feet. It made him feel uncertain of his understanding of the world and his place in it.

  He didn’t like it. And yet …

  The pull she had over him was magnetic. He came closer to her, watching the rise and fall of her breathing. Looking down at her, he gently stroked her cheek, her throat, the bare skin of her collar-bone.

  He had to send her away. For her own good. As soon as possible.

  But he didn’t want to do it. He wanted to make love to her. On his desk, at home, everywhere. He wanted her to wear his wedding ring. He wanted to brand her as irrevocably his. To show every other man on earth that she belonged to him and him alone.

  He wanted her to be his wife.

  He wanted her to bear his child.

  He wanted to wake up to her face every morning for the rest of his life.

  And that was when he felt the horrifying truth like a bullet to his heart: he was already in love with her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BREATHLESS, Tamsin waited for his answer.

  He stared at her for several moments. There was a strange light in his eyes. What was he thinking? Was it possible he’d give up his revenge? Could they be happy after all?

  Then he spoke. His voice was weary, tired, a hundred years old.

  “Tamsin, I can’t let Aziz go free. He must be punished. It’s the only way I’ll ever find peace.”

  She exhaled as hope left her.

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you wanted. But it’s the only answer I can give.” He reached down to caress her cheek. “I can’t lie to you. Not to you.”

  Stumbling backward, she flinched from his hand, afraid that if he touc
hed her, if he kissed her, she would fall into his arms and never have the strength to pull away again.

  So quickly that she might have imagined it, his handsome face contorted in an expression of hurt. He abruptly dropped his hand.

  “I will arrange for your return to London.” He pressed the intercom on his desk. “Amelita, please book the next flight for—”

  “No.” She ripped his hand away from the button. “I can’t just let you throw your life away! I won’t!”

  “¿Señor?” His executive secretary’s voice spoke through the intercom. “¿Puedo ayudarle?”

  “Un momento, Amelita.” Releasing the button, he looked at Tamsin steadily. “You can’t stop me from getting justice for my family.”

  “It’s not justice. It’s revenge and it won’t make you happy. It won’t bring you peace.” She tightened her grip on his hand. “It’s how my father lost his friends, his marriages, the love of his children. He was always angry, always determined to take an eye for an eye. But he wasn’t always like that, I heard. His first wife had an affair with his best friend. It broke his heart and he didn’t stop until he crushed them both. But, even when they were penniless outcasts, he wasn’t happy. He was always watching and waiting for the next person to betray him. Sometimes he would take the first hit, to beat them to the punch.”

  Marcos clenched his hands into fists. “I’m not like that.”

  “Maybe not yet. But you will be.” She glanced at the papers on his desk. “You’ve got Sheldon’s confession. Did it make you feel a sense of peace?”

  He clenched his jaw. “It’s a start.”

  “It’s a lie. Revenge won’t make you feel better, and it won’t bring your family back.”

  He jerked his hand away. “You know nothing of my family.”

  “So tell me!” she nearly shouted. “Tell me what happened!”

  He stood up from his chair and, without looking at her, crossed to the wet bar. “Sheldon and Aziz ruined my family and caused their deaths. Isn’t that enough?”

  She rose unsteadily to her feet. “How? How did they do it?”

  He poured himself a short bourbon. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Yes, you do,” she said. “I think you’re tired of not talking about it. I think not talking about it is killing you.”

  Holding the glass, he gave a scornful laugh. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  “They ruined your father’s business, I get that. But how did that cause their deaths?” She folded her arms across her chest. “You’ve been planning revenge for so long, I would think you’d be eager to explain the details of their crimes.”

  He came closer to her. With a quick swallow of bourbon, he set his glass down on his desk. When he looked at her, all the mockery was gone from his expression.

  “Tamsin, just let me go,” he said quietly. “It’s better for me to face Aziz than always wonder if he’s behind us, waiting to strike. I will take care of him. Then you won’t have to worry.” He reached for her, softly stroking her hair, and she couldn’t move away. “I need that. I need to know you’re safe and happy.”

  Anger pulsed through her. “Don’t you dare say you’re doing this for me! Do you honestly think that ruining Aziz and throwing Sheldon in jail will make you feel better?”

  He slammed his open palm against his desk.

  “Yes!” he exploded. “¡Maldito sea! It must!”

  His anger frightened her, but she wouldn’t back down. Reaching up to grasp his shoulders, she looked intently into his eyes.

  “Just tell me. Tell me how your family died.”

  He clenched his jaw. “Madre de Dios, you never give up.”

  “Right.” Not when it comes to loving you. “So you might as well tell me.”

  “And if I do, you will leave Madrid at once? No more arguments? No more attempts to save my soul?”

  She pressed her lips together silently.

  “I want your word,” he demanded.

  No, she thought. No, no, no.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He sat down heavily in his chair. Looking out through the wide expanse of windows, he rubbed his forehead with his hand. “I was twelve years old. My family was on vacation in England. I knew my father was having some kind of difficulty at work, but we were sure he’d win his case. How could he not? Justice was on our side.” He closed his eyes. “But we lost my father’s patent, a patent it had taken ten years of research to develop. My father’s company, his fortune, his life’s work were all wiped away in the blink of an eye.”

  “And that was my brother’s fault.” Her cheeks burned with shame. Standing behind him, she put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  He continued talking, staring out through the window as if he hadn’t heard her. “Overnight, my father turned from a giant to a walking shadow. My mother couldn’t stop weeping. My brother Diego was only nine, and he didn’t understand. Neither did I. But I was the oldest son. They’d hurt my family. I had to make them pay.”

  He rubbed his forehead wearily.

  “So what did you do?” she asked softly.

  “I ran away.” He glanced back at her with an ironic, self-mocking smile. “I’d been saving money to buy Diego a new kite for his birthday, and so I thought I had enough to fly back to Madrid. I was going to find the men who’d hurt us and force them to give everything back.”

  So young, she thought. He really had been on a quest for revenge for twenty years. Two-thirds of his life. What would that do to someone?

  “I hitchhiked to Heathrow Airport,” he said. “My parents guessed where I was going and followed me in the rental car. It was a rainy night, very dark, and they skidded around a slippery bend on the M25. They crashed into a slow-moving truck and were crushed beneath the wheels. My parents died instantly. My brother lived for an hour. At least, that’s what I was told. I wasn’t there when they died. I was at the airport, trying to buy a flight to Madrid for twelve pounds.”

  “Oh, Marcos,” she whispered as she took his hands in her own. Tears spilled over her lashes.

  His jaw line was dark with five o’clock shadow and his handsome face was haggard as he looked at her. The expression in his tortured eyes cut through her.

  “You blame me for their deaths,” he said hoarsely.

  “No!” Desperately, she kissed his hand, pressing it against her cheek. “It wasn’t your fault, Marcos. It wasn’t. You were just a boy. You had no way to know that—”

  “Stop lying!” Pulling away from her, he rose unsteadily to his feet. “You blame me. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “I don’t blame you.” She brought her hands to her mouth with a sudden intake of breath. “Oh, my God. No wonder you’re so angry,” she said softly. “For twenty years you’ve been dreaming of revenge against my brother and Aziz. But it’s not true. That’s not what you want. The one you really want to punish is yourself.”

  For a moment he seemed to sway towards her, then his face hardened. “So stop trying to save me. Leave me in peace to do what I must do.”

  “Marcos, please. It wasn’t your fault. You have to know that. I love you—”

  “Take back your love, Tamsin,” he said harshly. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t want it.”

  “Marcos!” She tried to reach for him, but he wouldn’t let her. He opened the office door and looked back at her with strange dead eyes.

  “No more delays. No more excuses. I expect you to honor your promise now.” He turned to speak to his assistant. “Amelita, Miss Winter will be leaving Madrid at once. Please arrange her flight.”

  “Sí, señor.”

  He faced Tamsin. “In the future, if there is anything you ever need, money or help of any sort—or if there’s a child—you will contact my lawyers immediately. Promise me.”

  “Don’t leave—”

  “Promise,” he demanded savagely.

  “I promise.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Please, Marcos. Stay. Talk t
o me. There must be another way …”

  “There is nothing to discuss. Your future is in London, and my path lies in Morocco.” Blinking fast, he turned away. “Goodbye, Tamsin.”

  The home of Sheikh Mohamed ibn Battuta al-Maghrib was an imposing three-story citadel with crenellated towers situated on the Tata River. Surrounded by a ksar, or fortified village, the kasbah was set to the far east of Agadir in a desert oasis near the Anti-Atlas Mountains.

  Narrowing her eyes to see through the decorative mashrabiyya screen on the window, Tamsin watched the sun set over the mountains, the rosy light moving over vivid ochre- and violet-colored rock. She folded her hands together to keep them from shaking. After everything that had happened today, she should have been numb.

  She’d just lost the love of her life.

  An hour later, she’d discovered that she wasn’t pregnant.

  Strange to think she’d been so terrified of having Marcos’s child. Now, she mourned the loss of the dream. She imagined their baby gurgling in her arms, smiling and cooing, looking up at her with the dark, serious eyes of his father.

  No child meant no hope. No reason to see Marcos again. No living memory of her love for him.

  Tamsin knew she was young and unprepared to be a mother. It would have been inconvenient and difficult. But now she knew it would have also been wonderful, and she grieved the loss as if she’d always known she wanted Marcos’s child.

  What next? Would she lose her family’s company too?

  “The Sheikh will see you now,” his dour aide-decamp said in heavily accented English.

  “Thank you.”

  The older man pursed his lips disapprovingly. He held the door open for her at a distance, as if afraid to be close to any woman mad enough to travel alone to the isolated village of the al-Maghribs, known throughout Morocco not just for their extensive argan fields but for their production of daggers and guns.

  It was indeed a man’s world. Sheldon had offered to travel with her, but she had refused. He was busy dealing with lawyers in the dissolution of his marriage. And he’d already helped her more than he knew, by explaining the reason Camilla was so eager to get a divorce.