A Vengeful Affair

by Carmen Falcone

  If the circumstances were different…

  He could think of a pleasurable way to make her talk, and moan. He would take that silly ponytail apart and run his fingers through her dark auburn hair. He’d kiss those rosy lips until they swelled, slide his mouth down her neck as he inhaled the fresh lavender fragrance she wore. The same fragrance that had caught his attention and prompted him to open his closet doors.

  And he would outline her curves with his bare hands, a much more intimate exploration than his impersonal frisking.

  His eyes moved to the outline of her full breasts, the indentation of her waist…and those long, long legs lost inside a shapeless pair of pants.

  Basta! He cleared his throat. A few months without sex could really compromise a man’s common sense.

  Vivian Foster was an industrial spy. She was the last woman he ought to be wasting his time fantasizing about.

  In a few days, he would make his imprint on the global market forever and not only surpass his stepfather’s wealth but prove that he’d made it all on his own.

  Nobody would stop him. Certainly not Ms. Foster, with her sparkling blue eyes.

  Discovering the identity of his real enemy was paramount. Vivian Foster was not the one who was trying to ruin him, but if he played his cards right, she could take him to the man who was—whether she wanted to or not.

  “Mr. Rivera, can I please go now?” Vivian got to her feet the moment her eyes found his. He smiled inside, recognizing that her defenses were on full alert.

  “How did you get the master key?”

  “There was an old copy in the manager’s box. This is the first time I’ve used it, and believe me, it will be the last. I went out of my way to please you, and yet you have completely misread me.”

  Javier took a deep breath, desperate to remove from his mind the image of the guarded woman in front of him going out of her way to please him. “Today is Friday. It didn’t occur to you to drop the faxes in Mrs. Wright’s box?”

  “No, Mr. Rivera. You work on weekends, and I thought it might have been urgent.”

  “Why did you hide when I walked in?”

  “Because I was a woman alone in an empty office building at night.”

  “Ms. Foster, I have no time to waste. My private jet is waiting for me, and I’m expected in Paris for the weekend.”

  “Well, sir, you should go.” Vivian gave him a dismissive shrug and tried to brush past him.

  “I intend to. But having to call the police to question you would delay me.” He reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. “You are not authorized to be in my office. You had something of mine in your bag, and you had your passport with you as though you were planning to leave the country.”

  “So?”

  “My solicitors can give you quite a headache if I want them to. We will talk to security, look through the security tapes, dig into your background, and look for witnesses to your trespassing and theft. But I prefer to avoid that fuss. That’s why you are coming with me.”

  “What? What kind of crazy idea is that?” She widened her eyes. “No.”

  “Yes. We are leaving for Paris in an hour. I have important business to attend, and you will accompany me.”

  “But I’m a receptionist. Traveling with the CEO isn’t part of my job.” Her cheeks flushed again as she protested.

  Damn. This woman is good. She can even summon a blush on command.

  “Neither is snooping around my office. Yet here we are.”

  “But Mr. Rivera, I already explained—”

  “No, you have not explained. Not the part that matters. But you will.” Javier glanced at his watch. They had to leave soon. He took his briefcase from the file drawer in the credenza located behind the black leather sofa. “Either you come with me so I can ask you a few questions in private, or I call the police and my solicitors, and they take care of you.”

  “You wouldn’t.” Panic flared in her enormous blue eyes.

  “Try me.” He waved his phone. “No time. Yes or no?” Javier flipped the lights off.

  “For how long?”

  “Only enough time for me to make sure you are who you say you are, Ms. Foster.”

  “I can’t believe this,” she muttered under her breath.

  “And I can’t believe you. But if you are innocent, you shouldn’t be afraid.” Javier looked at the shadow of uncertainty in her eyes, the one she was obviously trying so hard to hide.

  Who was she working for? And why? Was it only money that motivated her, or was she helping a lover?

  Yes, that made sense… Only a woman blinded by passion would put her freedom, job, and dignity at risk.

  That was why he stayed away from emotional relationships. He was a passionate man—in his work life, in the bedroom with a beautiful woman in his arms. But he was also a strategist who made sure never to confuse lust with love. He had no time for love, no patience for passion that overpowered common sense.

  “Can I have a few minutes to think about this?” Vivian cleared her throat nervously.

  “This isn’t a car sale, Ms. Foster.” Javier glanced at his watch. “But since I’m a generous man, I’ll give you one minute.”

  Chapter Two

  A minute! Vivian wanted to scream. Instead, she chewed on her lower lip and held her ground, though her knees threatened to give out at any moment.

  If you are innocent, you shouldn’t be afraid.

  She wasn’t innocent, and by the suspicion flashing in his eyes, he knew it. But there was no evidence yet. If she stayed and he called the police and his lawyers, if they went through the security tapes, how long would it take him to link her to Molly?

  Not long.

  “Thirty seconds,” Javier said.

  What if she went with him?

  At this point, really, there was no better option. She could buy time to call Roger, the man who had helped her get the reception job. The man who wanted to destroy Javier as badly as she did. Maybe he knew something about this trip to Paris. After all, didn’t Monsieur Broussard live in Paris?

  Vivian folded her arms. It was no coincidence that Javier was on his way to Paris just before the merger signing. Wouldn’t it be easier for her to get the inside scoop if she were close to Javier, rather than far away? He would question her, but maybe she would also be able to find time to do some searching of her own. She would be close to his briefcase, his laptop—not to mention the people around him, who might include employees from the merger team.

  If he tried to hurt her in any way, she would be the one reporting him to the police, and he would get what he deserved.

  “Fine.” Realizing she’d mumbled, she spoke more loudly. “I’ll go with you.”

  Her stomach curled in a tight knot as Javier’s lips formed a slow, triumphant smile.

  …

  She sat silently during the ride from the office to a private airfield. They boarded his luxurious jet, which had a cabin that was larger and more comfortable than her own bedroom. But Vivian didn’t waste much time appreciating the oversized reclining chairs, the built-in rosewood shelves filled with magazines, or the state-of-the-art entertainment center.

  She pretended to read the first magazine she picked up, stealing the occasional glance at Javier. He sat opposite her, which she thought was odd, as there were other seats he could have occupied.

  Vivian broke the silence. “You still haven’t told me how long I’ll be away. You didn’t let me go home to pick up my clothes.”

  Javier had been typing mercilessly on the keyboard of his thin laptop. When she spoke, he paused and raised his eyes from the device to her, but he didn’t say a word.

  “I just thought I needed my things—”

  “For the next few days, I will take care of whatever you need.” Javier’s accent seemed thicker than usual, and she wondered if she’d somehow angered him.

  He returned his attention to the laptop.

  Vivian crossed her arms. For the rest of the f
light, they didn’t exchange a word. She assumed it was because he didn’t want to talk to her with the flight attendant hovering around, catering to his every whim.

  After landing, they rode from the private airfield to the hotel and checked in. The glamorous lobby of the George V, with its high ceilings, nineteenth-century paintings, and accent pieces, felt surreal to Vivian, and the feeling intensified when Javier spoke fluently in French to the concierge, who treated him like a VIP.

  She frowned when the concierge showed them into the massive and opulent penthouse suite. “I want my own room.”

  “You have it.” Javier pointed to another door. “Separate rooms, same suite.”

  Vivian walked into her room. The green-and-gold striped walls harmonized with the four-poster bed of rich, dark wood. A private terrace caught her attention, and she opened the French doors to suck in a breath of smoggy Parisian air. She wrinkled her nose. Still, the majestic Eiffel Tower crowned the city skyline with splendor and grace. The sparkling lights on the tower created a ridiculously romantic atmosphere, which made her uncomfortable.

  She’d been to Paris once on a high school field trip, but that was years ago, and it had been a very different experience.

  Now here she was in the City of Light with a man who undoubtedly hailed from the Dark Ages. A man without a heart.

  A man who had killed Molly.

  Vivian closed her eyes and remembered why she was here. Her best friend had been there for her through thick and thin. She’d helped Vivian cope with the loss of her parents. Molly’s annoying insistence that she get a life outside of school had encouraged Vivian to go on any number of awkward, ill-fated first dates, but at least the dates had given them both something to laugh about afterward. Molly’s love for all living things made it a true irony that she had died far before her time.

  And Vivian missed her. Every single day.

  She startled when a low voice spoke from behind her. “Worried about something?”

  Javier stood against the doorframe. While she’d been contemplating the view, he’d changed into a pair of black slacks, a striped shirt, and a dinner jacket. His hair was damp, which meant he’d either showered very quickly or she’d been lost in the view for too long.

  She shook her head.

  “Great. We should get dinner.”

  “I’m not hungry, Mr. Rivera.” She crossed her arms and resumed staring at the view.

  Javier closed the gap between them. “Vivian… We are now on a first-name basis, don’t you agree?”

  “I don’t know you well enough.” Vivian shot him a glance over her shoulder. “You brought me here against my will. What other option did I have? To be questioned by the police and cross-examined by solicitors? To lose my job over nothing? If you wanted me to come with you, fine. But this is a work assignment for me.”

  “And who are you working for?” Javier asked.

  I’m working for justice. “For you, yet I have no idea how I can be of service in Paris.” Unnerved by his proximity, she moved away from him into the room, then realized her mistake. The dimmed lights gave it a note of unwanted intimacy.

  “Come with me,” Javier said, following her inside.

  Vivian sighed.

  “We’ll talk. And eat. We either go out or do it right here.” He stood in the middle of the room. His presence so near the big bed, with its crisp linens and plush pillows, was downright…bothersome.

  Just how dangerous was Javier Rivera to her own well-being? She blamed him for Molly’s death. It stood to reason she should fear for her own life, too.

  But he didn’t frighten her. Not in that way.

  “I’d rather eat out.” Vivian cleared her throat and brushed her neck with her fingers, creating an invisible layer of protection against him.

  He can’t do any harm in a public place. I hope.

  “I knew you’d change your mind.” He grinned, and she hated him for having his way.

  …

  The swanky restaurant had an upstairs nightclub. Vivian wondered if he’d chosen somewhere more modern and upbeat just so she would look out of place with her saggy ponytail and old suit. All the women within view sported expensive jewelry, sophisticated gowns, and designer handbags.

  Some of them smiled at Javier, and Vivian caught one raising her eyebrows at his companion—tall and too-awkward Vivian, with her unflattering clothes and her complete lack of glamour.

  “They are jealous of you,” Javier said after the waiter left.

  Vivian glanced at him across the corner table, feigning a lack of comprehension.

  “The women.”

  “Well, they shouldn’t be.” She tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.

  “That’s where you are wrong,” Javier said smoothly, his eyes warm and inviting.

  “Why, because they think I’m with you?”

  “Because you are beautiful.”

  He made the compliment sound more like an insult, and Vivian didn’t know how to take it. His accented words had a primal effect on her, sending a shot of hot liquid through her veins. She’d never known animosity could affect her this way.

  Then again, she’d never hated someone as she hated Javier Rivera.

  “I have to go to the ladies’ room.” She rose to her feet, needing to escape him, if only for a moment.

  “Of course.” He stood immediately.

  “I can find my own way.”

  “I won’t let you out of my sight. Deal with it.” Javier brushed her elbow with his hand, then dropped behind and shadowed her to the women’s restroom door.

  “Do you mind?” Vivian rolled her eyes, and although it didn’t appear to faze him, he let her enter the restroom without him.

  Once she’d escaped Javier, she relaxed, her shoulders dropping from their position by her ears.

  She turned the tap to cold and washed her hands before sprinkling some water onto her tired eyes and her neck. Perhaps the cool liquid would soothe her and allay her doubts and fears.

  She wouldn’t let Javier intimidate her. Not the way he had intimidated Molly.

  Vivian turned off the faucet, dried her hands, and patted a paper towel on her face.

  Think, Vivian, think. She sighed, looking straight into her reflection in the mirror. Behind her, a janitorial cart held the door of the handicapped stall wide open.

  A short woman in a cleaning uniform came out of the stall, mopping the floor.

  The woman mumbled a greeting, and Vivian noticed a mobile phone at the belt of her uniform.

  Vivian stepped closer. “I know this will sound strange, but I need your help.”

  The woman half-smiled, gestured, and replied in French.

  “I need to use your mobile.” Vivian pointed at the device. “It’s an emergency.”

  The woman shook her head. Vivian grabbed the last pounds she had left in her pocket and handed them to the woman, carefully taking the mobile out of the holder on her belt.

  “S’il vous plaît…emergency,” she pleaded.

  The woman counted the money, and Vivian called the phone number she’d memorized.

  “It’s Vivian,” she said when Roger answered, his voice a familiar rasp. “I don’t have much time…”

  She summarized the past few hours’ events.

  “You are in Paris with Rivera now? This means the deal will go through sooner than expected. Find a way to search his bedroom for any notes or copies of the contract. I need to know why Broussard has chosen his proposal over mine.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Make it happen, Vivian. We need to buy time.”

  She sighed and leaned her head against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment and massaging her temple with her free hand. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she murmured, and for a moment, saying it out loud felt better than chocolate. She couldn’t ignore her need to share her despair with someone, although she doubted Roger really cared about her feelings. All six months since Molly’s funeral, she’d been alon
e. All those years since her parents’ death…

  “If you can do what?” Javier’s angry voice from behind her made her jump.

  Vivian clenched her palm around the mobile at her side, the quickening beating of her heart suffocating any temporary relief she had been feeling. “This is the ladies’ room.” She turned to him as he stepped closer, the muscle in his jaw jumping, his eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Neither should you.” Javier crushed her against the wall, pressing his body against hers. She didn’t like the vulnerability that blanketed her or the feel of his muscular thighs against hers, his right hand cupping her own where she clutched the mobile. His unforgiving black eyes hinted he was not someone who walked away from a challenge.

  Well, neither am I.

  “Get away from me.”

  “Vivian, open your hand,” he demanded.

  “No.”

  Javier glared at her with a frank masculine defiance. With his index finger, he began drawing invisible circles on her hand. She swallowed, cursing the dryness in her throat.

  “Madame et monsieur?” The cleaning woman coughed.

  Javier exchanged a few short sentences with her, his gaze flickering between the mobile nestled in Vivian’s hand and the other woman, who spoke abruptly. Although Vivian didn’t understand the words, she could tell by the tone that the woman wanted her mobile back and nothing to do with Vivian.

  “No, you don’t understand,” Vivian pleaded.

  “Vivian, give her what is rightfully hers. Otherwise we can call the manager, or the police,” Javier said. He backed a few steps away from Vivian. “What is it with you and stealing?”

  “I was not—” Vivian started, but then sighed. It was no use. With a slight shake of her head, she handed the woman her mobile back.

  Javier took a few large bills from his pocket and handed the money to the cleaning woman in exchange for the mobile.

  “You bought it from her? Oh, for Pete’s sake.”

  He raised the phone to his ear. “Hello. Who is this?” His frustrated groan, along with the busy signal a couple of seconds later, gave her momentary relief. He stabbed at the buttons, apparently attempting to call back the number she’d dialed. When he lifted the phone to his ear again, she heard it ringing. Clearly, he’d succeeded in reaching the number, but he was getting no answer. Roger must have heard some of the commotion and decided against picking up.