Mediterranean Tycoons: Dark & Demanding: At The Spaniard's Pleasure / A Most Passionate Revenge / The Italian Billionaire's Ruthless Revenge. JACQUELINE BAIRD
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a glass of champagne and took a good swallow, cursing Nick under her breath for deserting her, but at the same time realising it was inevitable. He had passed her off as a friend of the family, and that was how she must stay. Deviousness was not in her nature, but Nick was a master at it. He had dismissed her honest question as not important and sadly she realised it was not important to him, because she was not important to him. He didn’t actually care how she felt as long as he got what he wanted.
Liza could not tolerate deceit of any kind, and unfortunately, Liza realised, drawing on the harsh lesson she had learned nine years ago, wanting someone was not enough. Respect and trust had to be part of the equation, not to mention love. Better to nip the affair in the bud now, before Nick actually broke her heart. Her decision was made; she was definitely going to leave in the morning.
She only had to get through tonight. Draining her glass, she placed it on a convenient table and, straightening her shoulders, she lifted her head and looked around.
Nick leaned against his desk in the study and listened in mounting anger as Carl filled him in on the latest developments.
The case had taken a nasty twist. Two men had beaten up Daidolas’s receptionist at the shop—probably the sailors the police were trying to find. They knew there had been a delivery and they wanted to know where Daidolas was; he owed them money or they would take diamonds. The terrified receptionist had revealed an English girl had delivered a parcel but she knew nothing about it, or where her boss was. The police had checked Liza’s hotel, and worse was to follow: somebody had called and asked to speak to Mr Brown’s PA, and the talkative girl on the desk, probably the same one Nick had spoken to the night before, had quite happily revealed Liza had left with a Señor Menendez, and that Liza’s luggage had been sent for a few hours later.
Nick cursed the downside of being a high-profile businessman as Carl informed him it was more than likely the two men knew Liza was in Spain with him and everyone had heard of the Menendez stud.
A few telephone calls later and Nick left his study, his handsome face hard and slightly grey beneath his tan. He had arranged for round-the-clock security on the estate, by his own men and the local police. But he was still not content. It was a big party, and with over a hundred guests anybody could have slipped onto the property in the bustle of arrivals. He wanted Liza out of here.
Liza placed her empty glass on a window ledge, and looked around the crowd of people. There was still no sign of Nick. Fortunately at that moment Thomas’s son, Marco, appeared at her side.
‘The lovely Liza, and alone. Can I have this dance?’ he asked with a grin.
She was relieved to see a friendly face, having been introduced to him at lunch. Marco was a young man in his twenties, very attractive and very aware of it; she had an inkling he was a bit of a flirt, but it was just what she needed.
‘Yes, thank you, Marco.’ And when he put his hand around her waist and led her through the crowd to the dance floor, she felt none of the tension Nick’s touch aroused in her.
‘You don’t remember me, do you?’
‘Should I?’ Liza grinned; he was a handsome young man.
‘I stayed here once when you were here. I was twelve and you were sixteen and I had the most enormous crush on you, but you only had eyes for one of the grooms.’
‘Oh, no.’ And she laughed it off with, ‘Was I that obvious?’
‘Only to me, probably.’ Marco grinned and spun her around.
Marco was a great dancer, and Liza was no slouch, and when the music ended she was naturally included in the group of his friends.
It was as she finished dancing with one of them over an hour later that she bumped into a hard male body. A strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back a few steps.
‘Enjoying yourself, Liza?’ Nick’s mocking drawl feathered across her cheek. ‘Giving the young men a treat, I see.’
Spinning around out of his arms, she took a step back, and looked up and froze at the derision in his angry black eyes. But, pride coming to the fore, she flashed him a brilliant smile that did not reach her eyes. ‘What did you expect, Nick? That I would stand at the side like a wallflower until you deigned to return?’ she drawled sarcastically. ‘Well, sorry, buster, but this is a party, and I intend to enjoy myself.’ Once she would have been quelled by his attitude. Now she was just furious.
‘Oh, I can see that.’ His firm lips twisted in a sneer. ‘The last boy you danced with had you hauled so close he was almost having sex with you. Not that I am surprised; you were sharing a suite with Henry Brown when I found you,’ he drawled derisively.
The music had stopped and the last sentence fell like a stone in the muted conversations around them.
Liza spared him a bitter smile, and, jerking around, she pushed her way blindly through the crowd of people, tears prickling at the backs of her eyes. As humiliating moments went, that was a corker, and she had to get out of here. Now…
‘Wait, Liza.’ A large male hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. ‘I’m sorry, I…’ But she never heard him, as with a violent shrug she dislodged Nick’s grip.
She was suddenly, furiously, magnificently angry at his undisguised contempt and his total humiliation of her. Why should she run away? He was the villain here. ‘What for—so you can slag me off some more?’ she prompted bitterly. ‘I don’t think so. You are a two-faced pig, you take what you want when you want it, and to hell with everyone else.’ And she glanced up, her lovely face tense with strain and anger. Violent black eyes clashed with hers, and she shivered, her mouth running dry. She had gone too far…
A dark tide of red washed up over his high cheekbones. ‘Are you through?’ Nick demanded between gritted teeth. ‘Trying to embarrass me in front of my whole family?’
Gathering what little will-power she had left, she plastered a smile on her face, and played the part of vamp he had obviously cast her in. She jutted her hip and put her hand on it, and, deliberately fluttering her long lashes up at him, she declared, ‘What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander…big boy,’ and then lifted her other hand and traced a slow path up his arm to rest on a hard bicep. ‘But don’t worry, I am out of here in the morning.’
Her mocking response set Nick back on his heels, and he had to fight down a twitch of reluctant amusement at her brave performance. He had never known such an infuriating bloody woman. Yet through the red haze of rage that had consumed him from the moment he saw her dancing with that handsome young man he suddenly realised she had given him the perfect solution to his problem…
‘Depend on it.’ He wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her hard against him, and, dropping his head so only she could hear—they had been enough of a floorshow for one evening—he added, ‘I’ll see you off the premises myself.’
He had a ski-chalet in the mountains above Granada. It was the perfect place to keep her safe. ‘I will even help you pack. But first you are going to dance with me, smile at me and try to behave like a lady for the rest of the evening. Understood?’
Her chin tilted fractionally. ‘Perfectly.’ And she bit her bottom lip hard to stop the sudden tremble. He could not have made it plainer what he thought of her. So what if it had been her suggestion to leave? In her heart of hearts she had not expected Nick to be quite so eager to see her go. He might have been overcome with lust last night and this morning but obviously he had very quickly had enough of her.
She held herself stiffly in his hold as they reached the dance floor. The music had changed to something slow, but she let her hands rest defensively on his strong arms as he urged her closer.
His dark head bent towards her and she felt his warm breath against her temple. ‘No one will believe we are old friends if you persist in dancing like a puppet with a scowl on your face that would make a child cry at ten paces,’ he mouthed against her skin and as he slipped lower his breath shivered over one earlobe.
Liza