will never sell La Belle Amelie to you!”
Alejandro dragged in a breath, willed calm to replace the seething fury roiling inside him. “I’ll have it demolished first, Rebecca. You can pick through the rubble and see what you can salvage then.”
She remained unnaturally silent, her slender form shaking. He’d expected fury. Tears maybe. Pleading if she thought it would work. Sex as a last resort.
But the last thing he ever expected was for her to tackle him.
CHAPTER TWO
EVERYTHING went wrong the instant Rebecca lunged. Fury ate at her gut like battery acid. She’d planned to shove his arrogant carcass into the pool and go back to her room. And then she was going to call financier Roger Cahill. What Alejandro accused her of couldn’t possibly be true.
Except the momentum required to throw Alejandro off balance tipped her too far forward. Her arms windmilled like crazy before she lost the fight and splashed down, landing on fifteen stone worth of angry Spanish male.
Something collided hard with the top of her head, and then she was sinking beneath the surface. She sucked in a breath, gulped chlorine. She needed to fight her way back up, needed to kick hard and breach the liquid barrier above her. But she couldn’t seem to do it. Her limbs wouldn’t cooperate.
How ironic to die in Alejandro’s pool. The last thought rattling through her brain was that if there were any justice in the world, he’d get blamed for her death.
A second later, air burst into her lungs. She coughed sharply, spitting up water. Her head lolled against something hard and warm.
Alejandro.
“Querida, speak to me,” he urged in a harsh voice.
Her back pressed down on a hard surface and she realized he’d laid her on the tile beside the pool. A moment later he hovered over her, his hands bracketing her head, water dripping from his skin onto hers.
She coughed again, her throat raw and burning. A sob welled up from somewhere inside, but she refused to give in to it. She gulped it back and stuffed it down deep. The last thing she would ever do was show weakness in front of this man.
“Rebecca, amor, say something. Call me a name if it pleases you.”
“Arrogant idiot,” she sputtered, though it came out as little more than a whisper. “Foolish Spaniard.”
He grinned down at her. “I said one name, did I not?”
Her heart lurched. Not a good thing. “It makes me happy, calling you names.”
It also made her happy to see him smile at her, but that was a piece of information she had no intention of sharing. One tear slipped from the corner of her eye and blazed a hot trail down her temple. She’d only been here a few hours and already a part of her longed for what used to be. Get over it, Becca. He’s not the right man for you, never was. He used you, same as Parker Gaines did.
“What happened?” she asked, dashing the tear away with her fingers.
“I was trying to move out of the way when you fell on top of me. Your head connected with my elbow.”
“Oh.”
His fingers spanned her skull, probing softly. He was so close his breath whispered over her skin, sent a shiver skimming. “No bumps. I think you will live.”
“Sell me the hotel, Alejandro,” she urged, her eyes searching his. “It means nothing to you.”
“And everything to you.”
“Yes.” She pulled a deep breath into her lungs, savoring the sweet night air, forcing herself to go on though her throat was raw. “They built it together. He knew she missed Paris, and he gave it a French theme. There are family antiques in the hotel even now.”
“You may have them.” His eyes were flat, the concession seeming to cost him a great deal to say. “I won’t prevent you from taking what is sentimental to you.”
“The hotel is sentimental to me. I—” she swallowed “—I was born there. I beg you to reconsider.”
His gaze slid down her body, over the wet dress clinging to every curve. One dark hand settled on her thigh, traced the outline of her leg, moving slowly up to her hip. His touch burned her, even through the layer of wet material between them. Mercy, what those fingers had done to her the last time they’d been together.
Rebecca bit her lip.
“To what lengths are you willing to go, bella, to secure your hotel?” His look was intense, as if a word or a nod from her would set in motion a seismic event that could not be stopped until they sprawled together in bed sated, replete—utterly ruined.
Her heart tapped hard inside her chest. His head descended in slow motion to her throat, his tongue pressing against an erratic pulse-point. “You want this,” he murmured. His fingers spread over the wet material on her thigh. Her skin was cold from the pool and the night air, but his hand sizzled where it touched, branding her.
Once she would have welcomed his touch. Would have opened herself to him and reveled in the way he made her feel. Part of her still wanted to.
But she couldn’t. It would cost her too much.
“No,” she said softly. And again, stronger, “No.”
His head lifted. His eyes searched hers, almost as if he couldn’t believe what she’d said. Oddly, it gave her courage. She pushed him away, satisfied when he rocked back, breaking all contact between them.
She lifted herself onto her elbows, and then to a sitting position when her head no longer spun. “I will buy it from you, Alejandro. I won’t sleep with you for it.”
“My, how you’ve changed.” Sarcasm thickened his voice. “You weren’t so principled five years ago.”
“It’s funny that you talk about principles when you were the one with a secret fiancée. Or was I the secret mistress?”
He unfolded from the tile deck, rose to his full height. “The only secrets were the ones you kept while you lied to me about your true reasons for being at the Villa de Musica.”
Rebecca shook her head softly, stopped when a wave of nausea threatened. “You’re unbelievable, Alejandro. You say I lied to you and stole your deal, but you were the one using me to learn how to expand your reach beyond Spain—”
“What?” He looked incredulous, his voice snapping into the night like a whip.
Rebecca shoved herself to her feet. The movement was too quick, and she almost sank to the ground, but Alejandro reached out and steadied her.
“I’m fine,” she said, shrugging away from his touch. “We talked all the time, Alejandro. You asked me about every detail of the business, and I told you all I knew. You used me.”
His hand dropped away. “I did not need you to succeed, Rebecca,” he said coldly. “That I now own Layton International
