from their farm—whatever else he was, Stacey’s father knew his horseflesh—and had gone on to become winners, or to earn fortunes at stud. The tech company Luc had founded in his bedroom as a desperate measure to pay off his parents’ debts went from strength to strength. Money kept pouring in. He couldn’t stop it if he tried.
Determined to support his siblings when their parents had been killed in a tragic accident and the bank had called in his parents’ loans, he’d used an ancient computer to put together a program that traced bloodlines of horses across the world. One programme had led to another until Da Silva Inc had offices in every major capital, but his first love remained horses and the wild foothills of the Sierra Nevada where the animals thrived on his estancia.
As the elevator slowed to a halt, and the steel door slid open with a muted hiss, he stepped out on the ballroom level. He couldn’t help but be aware of the interest he provoked. Da Silva Inc was now a top company. Thanks to his talent for tech, and with desperation driving him forwards, he was the owner of all he surveyed, including this hotel. But it was not his natural habitat. Staring at the glittering scene beyond the grand double doors leading into the ballroom, he wished he were riding the trail, but this lavish banquet was an opportunity for him to thank his staff, and to raise money from the great and good for an array of well-deserving charities. No matter that he was already uncomfortable in his custom-made suit, with the stiff white collar of his shirt cutting into his neck and the black tie he’d fastened while snarling into the mirror strangling him, he would move heaven and earth to make tonight a success. Untying the bow tie, he opened the top button of his shirt and cracked his neck with pleasure. There had to be some compensations for running the show, though he longed for the freedom of the trail and a flat-out gallop.
He scanned the bustling space, but while his eyes clocked mundane details, his mind was fixed on finding Stacey. What differences would five years have made? His people had dealt with the minutiae of the contract and briefing meetings so there’d been no reason for him to get involved. He hoped she was happy. She was certainly successful. But how would she behave towards him? Would she be reserved now she was older and presumably wiser, or would that demon glint still flare in her eyes? Part of him hoped for the latter, but his guests deserved a calm, well-run evening with no drama to ruffle their expensive feathers. He’d called her room, but there’d been no answer. The party was almost due to begin. She should be here… So where was she?
He quartered the ballroom, pacing like a hunting wolf with its senses raw and flaring. Guests were starting to arrive. Curious glances came his way. Some women took an involuntary step back, fearing his reputation, while others, attracted to danger, gave him signals as old as time. They meant nothing to him. His only ambition had ever been to blank his mind to the horror of his parents’ death, and then to care for his siblings. He had no time for romance, and no need of it, either. His business had brought him wealth beyond imagining, which made any and all distractions available, though horses remained the love of his life. A string of high-profile, though ultimately meaningless, affairs were useful in that they allowed him not to dwell too deeply on himself.
As he passed the bar he remembered the last time he and Stacey had met. She’d knocked a drink over his companion by accident, costing him a replacement couture gown. He hadn’t troubled her with the detail, as Stacey had very kindly offered to have the dress cleaned. Naturally that hadn’t suited the woman on his arm at the time, who had seen the incident as an opportunity to add to her greedy haul. It had certainly proved a necessary wake-up call for him. He’d arranged for his PA to deliver the usual pay-off to the woman in the form of an expensive jewel, delivered the next morning, together with a new, far more expensive dress.
Why had fate chosen to put Stacey in his way again?
Or had he put her in his way? His people worked on the finer details of an event, but it was up to him to okay the contract. With a short cynical laugh, he acknowledged that he missed their verbal jousting. No one stood up to him as Stacey did, and he was weary of being fawned over. He craved her stimulating presence, even though she used to drive him crazy with the tricks she played on him at the farm. He missed the looks that passed between them and the electricity that sparked whenever they were close. It was ironic that a man who could buy anything couldn’t buy the one thing he wanted: a few moments of her time.
Money meant nothing to Stacey. She’d proved that on the day he’d bought her favourite horse. He hadn’t realised when her father had offered him the promising colt that the animal had meant so much to Stacey. When transport had arrived to take the horse to his estancia in Spain, he’d offered Stacey the same money he’d paid her father if she would just stop crying. He couldn’t have said anything to annoy her more, and she’d flung everything she could get her hands on at him. It had done him no good at all to point out that the money would pay her college fees.
‘I hate you!’ she’d screamed. ‘You don’t know anything about love. All you care about is money!’ That had hurt because he did know about love. The pain of losing his parents never left him, though he rarely examined that grief, knowing it might swamp him if he did. ‘If you hurt Ludo, I’ll kill you!’ she’d vowed. Staring into Stacey’s wounded green eyes, he’d understood the anguish of someone who relied on a madcap brother and a horse for affection; she was losing one of them, when she couldn’t afford to lose either.
‘Is everything to your satisfaction, Señor Da Silva?’
He swung around to find the hotel manager hovering anxiously behind him. Such was the power Da Silva Inc wielded that however he tried to make things easy for people they literally trembled at the thought of letting him down.
‘If anything falls short in your eyes, Señor Da Silva—’ the manager wrung his hands at the thought ‘—my staff will quickly make it right for you, though I have to say Party Planners has excelled itself. I can’t remember any big event we’ve held here running quite so smoothly.’
‘Thank you for the reassurance, señor,’ Lucas returned politely. ‘I was just thinking the same thing.’ As there was still no sign of Stacey, he asked, ‘The team leader of Party Planners—have you seen her?’
‘Ah, yes, señor. Señorita Winner is in the kitchen checking last-minute details.’
The manager looked relieved that he had finally been of help, and Lucas gave his arm a reassuring pat. ‘You and your staff are top class, and I know you will give the party planners every assistance.’
Why hadn’t she come to find him? He ground his jaw as the manager hurried away. Surely the client was important too?
So thinks a man who hasn’t given Stacey’s whereabouts or well-being a passing thought for the past five years, he mused. And yet now I expect her to dance attendance on me?
Frankly, yes. Da Silva Inc was everyone’s most valuable account. To be associated with his company was considered a seal of quality, as well as a guarantee of future success. She should be thanking him, not avoiding him.
Was that his problem? Or was it picturing Stacey as she might be now, a worldly and experienced woman, socially and sexually confident in any setting?
That might be grating on his tetchy psyche, he conceded grudgingly. She’d always had her own mind, and would no doubt appear when she was ready, and not a moment before. And if he didn’t know what to expect, at least he knew what he wanted.
He wanted the wild child Stacey had been as a teenager, the woman who could be infuriating one minute and then caring and tender the next. He wanted all of her and he wanted her now, for, as frustratingly defiant as Stacey was, she could light up a room. Every other woman present would fall short because of her.
Irritating,
