Rebecca sucked in a breath, surprised it wasn’t shaky or short. Strong emotion buffeted her, threatened her, but she held steady. She would not panic over this. Or over him. Not ever again.
“You’re more worried about a dip in stock prices than you are about me or our baby. You need someone to blame, and I’m convenient. The truth doesn’t matter to you at all.”
And neither did she. It hurt, but hadn’t she always known it deep down?
“No, you are more concerned with getting your precious company back. You are selfish, Rebecca. Selfish and manipulative. You planned this all along. You didn’t take your pills, you got pregnant on purpose, and you faked a panic attack to get me to marry you!”
Icy calm wafted over her, chilled her down to the bone. Inside, her heart bled. Outside, she was detached. So cold it frightened her. She could see with such clarity now. She’d been right about him. The man she’d loved was controlled by the angry, grief-stricken, suspicious man before her now. She’d tried to reach him, but she’d failed. Alejandro didn’t want to be reached. He wanted to lash out and blame others rather than confront the truth of his own shortcomings. He wasn’t willing or able to trust, and it was going to ruin him. Unfortunately, it was going to ruin her too.
“Then why did you marry me if you didn’t want to?” she demanded. “No one held a gun to your head. We could have worked out visitation.”
His eyes widened. “Visitation? This is my child.”
“Are you sure?” As soon as she said the words, she regretted them. The raw pain on his face told her she’d stabbed deep. But she was furious, hurt, and she wanted to hurt him back. She knew that no good could come of wounding each other this way, yet she’d stooped to his level. It didn’t make her feel any better.
His face clouded. “If not for the timing, I might doubt it.”
Rebecca swallowed a bubble of hysteria. “Of course you would. My God you make me sick.”
After everything she’d told him about her life, everything she’d felt and believed. It was too much to process. She didn’t bother gathering the sample book. She was done. So very done.
“Where are you going, Rebecca?”
“Away from you.”
“You cannot hide from the truth, mi esposa. I know what you are.”
She turned back to him. Her body shook with emotion as she stared him down.
“And I know what you are, Alejandro. You’re a coward. You’ve perfected the art of hiding from the truth.”
29
Confronting Rebecca did not make Alejandro feel any better. In fact, he felt worse.
He thought he would feel exhilaration, triumph, all the things he usually felt when he’d won the fight. When he vanquished his foes, he felt like he could conquer anything. It had been so since his days in the ring, and it had carried over into his life as a business tycoon. Winning was everything. It had brought him farther in life than anyone could have expected.
But he did not feel much like a winner this time.
Why not? He should be triumphant. He’d figured out what Rebecca was up to and he’d thwarted her. He’d expected strident denials, but instead he’d gotten anger and insults. Rebecca had been furious with him.
And hurt. He’d seen the hurt in her eyes, and it had made him want to beg her forgiveness—which of course meant he’d shoved those feelings down deep and pushed back when she’d tried to reason with him. He didn’t believe her father had committed suicide any more than she did. But he’d had the means to do it, and it was a hell of a story for the press to dig into. Who knew how long it would take them to lose interest?
Meanwhile, Ramirez Enterprises would have to weather the storm. They were far from broken by it, but it was inconvenient and would cost a lot of money. Alejandro growled as he stared in the direction Rebecca had gone. She’d turned his life upside down in the space of weeks and he was at a loss for whether to go after her or head to his study and try to do damage control.
Ultimately, he chose the study because at least there he could get a handle on his temper. Rebecca would still be around in a few hours when he’d had a chance to calm down again. Doubt niggled at him as he thought of her face when he’d confronted her. She didn’t look like a woman who’d been caught red-handed. She looked like she’d been blind-sided.
“She’s good at it,” he muttered as he headed inside. Yet his belly churned with doubt. If he ignored it, it would go away.
Señora Flores appeared in the door, looking angry as she hustled past him to pick up the tea tray from the table where Rebecca had left it. She didn’t speak to him as she slipped by again. Alejandro continued to his study and closed the door.
It was many hours before he looked up and realized he hadn’t heard a peep out of anyone. There was no movement outside his door, no sounds of voices in the house. Señora Flores had not called him to dinner.
He pushed back from the computer and rubbed his eyes. Then he pressed a button on the house intercom. Señora Flores answered and he asked her to bring him a plate from the kitchen. A few minutes later she appeared with the food he requested. Her face was set in a stony mask as she dropped the plate on the desk. She also dropped a glass of water with a thud, marching away without bothering to wipe up the splashes that landed on the mahogany.
He blinked after her, surprised. She was angry with him for yelling at Rebecca. Perhaps he should not have yelled, but the things he’d said had needed saying. There would be no doubt in the future where he stood, or what he would put up with. Once Rebecca knew he would not sell her Layton International no matter what she did, then she would stop trying to force his hand. They could go back to the way they were, though he wasn’t stupid enough to think she would welcome him in her bed tonight.
Alejandro turned his attention back to the headlines he’d been reading. It was all there on his computer screen and it made fresh anger churn inside him. The sensational story about Jackson Layton’s supposed suicide and Alejandro’s part in pushing the man over the brink featured in all the business publications he regularly browsed.
He’d had his public phone lines sent to an answering service hours ago. Reporters would be calling non-stop. Hell, there were probably a few camped outside his gates even now. Could Rebecca see them from the window upstairs? What must she think?
A wave of despair flooded him. Rebecca had accused him of hiding from the truth, but what did she know of it? She was wrong. She was the one who had lied, not him. He’d taken her company and forced her out, yes, but everything he’d done was legal. Everything.
It was business. Nothing more.
Liar.
Alejandro put his head in his hands. He stared at the wood grain of the desk, at the way a drop of moisture was beginning to stain a ring in the surface.
Odd how just that little drop could change the wood. The color bleaching out, the grain showing clearer, the visible blotch appearing on what had once been a perfect surface. All caused by one little drop of water. One tiny mistake.
Alejandro frowned as he studied it. What if he was wrong about Rebecca’s part in this mess? What if his desire to punish her over what had happened five years ago was clouding the truth about what had happened now?
The questions he hadn’t allowed himself to really consider earlier came back with a vengeance. Why would she wait weeks to feed this story to the press? What could possibly be in it for her now? They were married and she was pregnant with his child. She’d lain in bed with him every night, holding him, caressing him, crying out sweetly when he made her come. She’d craved him as he’d craved her. That had not been a lie.
And last night? She’d ached with him. Held him tight and swore to him their child would be well. What kind of cold-hearted person could do that and then turn around today and tell the press he’d basically pushed her father to commit suicide?
It made no sense.
Alejandro thought back over the last few weeks, thought of everything he knew about her. He forced himself to l
ook at the facts without emotion. One thing was clear the more he looked at it—if Rebecca was a schemer, then she wasn’t very good at it. Someone with an agenda would have had a better plan. Did it make sense to get pregnant on purpose, but to leave Spain the instant she’d learned he owned the bank that had loaned her father the money for the Thai resorts? Wouldn’t a woman with a plan to get her company back pretend not to know what he’d done? And wouldn’t she plant misleading stories to the press far earlier?
Anyone could have brought this story out now to try and discredit him. Someone with a grudge over the Dubai contracts, in fact. It could be the disgraced former employee in Dubai, but what about Roger Cahill? He was just as likely.
Cahill had been the one to send Rebecca the documents about the bank, and he’d be just crafty enough to plant the story in the press when it would do him the most good. Causing trouble for Alejandro was nothing new for the man. The corporate spy in the Dubai office hadn’t been connected to Cahill in any overt way, but Alejandro would bet his last Euro that Cahill had been involved somehow. Alejandro had fired the spy and considered the incident over—but what if he sent his investigators digging a little bit deeper? What would they find then?
“Maldito sea,” he breathed. “I am a fool.”
Alejandro shoved himself to his feet and ran upstairs to the master bedroom. He needed to have a frank discussion with Rebecca without all this chaotic emotion clouding his judgement. He needed to look her in the eye and ask her how she felt about being here with him, how she felt not working at Layton International anymore. And he needed to acknowledge that she had useful information to impart about her company and the hotel business in general.
Mostly, he needed her to know he was wrong.
But the master bedroom was empty. Every room he went into was silent and empty. She had to be somewhere in the house. He hadn’t heard her leave. No one had informed him she was leaving. Someone would have said so.
His heart began to pound a drumbeat in his chest as he flew from room to room. He searched everywhere, but she was not there. He started to run outside, to see if she was sitting by the pool like she had been when he’d arrived.
Señora Flores met him in the foyer, arms crossed as she stared down her nose at him. No small trick considering she was a good foot shorter. She sniffed at him disdainfully.
“Señora Ramirez has gone away.”
The best thing about being Señora Ramirez was that Rebecca could walk into the Villa de Música, demand a room for the night, and no one would blink. Alejandro would track her down eventually, but at least she’d have a few hours peace.
Not surprisingly, the room the staff put her in was the suite with all the memories of her and Alejandro. Just her luck. She’d managed to avoid the reporters when she’d left Alejandro’s house earlier, but she couldn’t avoid this room.
She’d cried earlier when she’d been angry and hurt, but she was startlingly out of tears now. She couldn’t even muster a whimper. She went into the bedroom and sank into a chair by the window. Below, traffic was moving steadily. Across the street, a man and woman argued. She could tell because she could see their arms waving back and forth. And then they were kissing.
If only her problems were solved so easily.
Rebecca drew in a breath. She would ask for a divorce. There was no other way. She would not live with him, not as cold and unforgiving and suspicious as he was. Just when she thought they were making progress, that Alejandro was moving forward, he proved he wasn’t. That he would always leap to conclusions and blame her for whatever negative thing happened when it involved Layton International.
Well, she was done. It hurt too much to keep trying, especially when she had a baby on the way. She would need all her energy to devote to her child, and she wouldn’t raise him or her in the kind of environment where suspicion and accusations were a normal part of life.
If Alejandro wouldn’t divorce her, she’d insist on her own place. A house nearby or an apartment. They would live separately, but they would parent their child together.
And how is that going to work, Rebecca?
She pushed a hand through her hair. She didn’t know and she didn’t have the energy to think about it right now. She just sat and stared and planned random scenarios, none of them truly viable. But it was what she needed right now. Making plans for the future, even a future where Alejandro was only a small part of it, helped her feel as if she had some control over the situation.
Her respite didn’t last very long. An hour, maybe two, and then she heard the chime announcing someone had entered the suite. There was only one person it could be.
“Rebecca.”
She didn’t glance at the entry. She’d felt his presence before he’d spoken. The soft, sexy timbre of his voice stroked her abused senses. She was far too weak with this man.
But she’d reached her limit. She was done being weak. What good was it to love a man who refused to trust you?
It wasn’t.
“I want a divorce, Alejandro.”
“No.”
One word, cool and unemotional, and it set off a storm inside her.
She bolted up from the chair, faced him across the room, her arms rigid at her sides. She’d never felt more like doing battle in her life.
“I will not stay married to you, living in that house and putting up with your abuse. You wouldn’t know the truth if it fell on top of you, so don’t you dare come in here with the idea you’re going to force me to go back with you. Not tonight, Alejandro. Maybe not ever.”
He looked resigned. “Sí, I agree.”
Shock vibrated through her. Her eyes narrowed as she took him in. Really took him in. He looked a little haggard, as if he’d been working hard and hadn’t had enough rest. He wore black trousers and a dark button-down shirt, and he looked so delicious she wanted to press her mouth to the hollow of his throat and taste the saltiness of his skin.
Never again.
Folding her arms beneath her breasts, she stared at him. “So now you agree to a divorce?”
“That is not what I said.” He came into the room, his hands shoved in his pockets, and went to the window. Close to her, but not too close. She would have to take at least three steps to be beside him.
“Then what are you saying, Alejandro? Because I’m too drained to figure it out.”
“The truth, Rebecca. It has been staring me in the face.”
She frowned. She didn’t know what to say anymore.
“Will you sit?” he asked. “I want to say things.”
“Fine.” She went over and perched on the edge of the bed, away from him. He leaned against the windowsill as if he realized she would not welcome him moving close again.
“I found Parker Gaines,” he said softly. “I did it the night after you told me about him.”
Her heart suddenly felt like it was beating in a sea of molasses. “Okay,” she said stupidly.
“He’s in a California prison for embezzlement.”
“Good.” Was it wrong to feel satisfaction at the knowledge?
“Yes, I thought so as well. It saves me the trouble of killing him for you.”
“Alejandro—”
“No,” he said, holding up a hand to silence her. “I would do this gladly. You need only ask. When he gets out in twenty years, I will challenge him to a duel.”
Rebecca dropped her gaze in confusion. She didn’t know whether to laugh or ask him if he’d lost his mind. What was he playing at?
“Are you laughing at me, Rebecca?”
“No.”
He sighed. “Ah, well, I am not so amusing then. Will you look at me?”
She lifted her head slowly. He was staring at her.
“I know you did not give the story to the press.”
If he hoped that news would make her leap up and throw herself in his arms, he was mistaken. She was too pissed to do so. “And? Did you hire someone to tell you this? Find the real culprit so you could no longer b
lame me?”
He looked very solemn. “No, I did none of these things. I just know.”
She did laugh this time, and it was as bitter as acid. “How can you suddenly know? It’s not like you, Alejandro! You’ve done something and you’re lying to me about it.”
He moved with a speed that startled her. When she would have scrambled away, he dropped to his knees in front of her, gripping her hands. “I know because of many things, amor. I know you are not capable of this kind of deception. It’s too calculated, too cold—”
She tried to wrench her hands away, but he wouldn’t let go. “But this is exactly what you’ve been accusing me of all along! I’m cold, calculating. I make bargains on my back and—”
“Stop,” he ordered. “I was wrong.”
She searched his eyes, looking for deceit. “I don’t understand you,” she whispered.
“Can you forgive me for the things I’ve said? The things I’ve done? I’ve been an ass, and I’m sorry. The truth has been staring me in the face, but I’ve been too blind to see it.”
She bit the inside of her lip to keep it from trembling. She’d told him as much before, but to hear it said back to her now? Yes, she wanted to forgive him. But was it real, or would he do the same thing again?
“I don’t know if I can,” she said honestly. She stared at their clenched hands. His dark ones gripping her paler ones. “You hurt me too many times. Every time I trust you, believe in you, something happens, and you believe the worst. I’m not sure I can take that risk again. Or that I want to.”
He let her go and she pulled away, stood up and moved out of his reach while he remained kneeling by the bed. He dropped his forehead on the edge of the mattress and stayed that way for several moments.
Her heart slammed her ribs seeing him like that. It was alarming. She didn’t understand him, and she wasn’t sure she trusted him. Had she missed some sort of Spanish law about mothers getting full custody of children in divorces? About foreigners married to Spaniards for less than a month? Did he need her to come back so he could take their baby away?
Filthy Rich Revenge: A Filthy Rich Billionaires Book Page 19
