Bride, Bought and Paid For. Helen Bianchin
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the small apartment which had replaced the family home following Maxine’s death, the car, furniture and possessions.
Chilling to learn Andre had been arrested, charged and was awaiting trial with a prison sentence a certainty. None of which he’d revealed in letters, emails or intermittent telephone contact during her absence.
Instead, he’d deliberately waited until a week after her return before confiding the grim facts. A week in which she’d leased a furnished apartment, purchased a car, and taken up her new teaching position.
How could you have been so careless? were words she’d barely refrained from uttering…followed closely by what were you thinking?
Except the tired, care-worn man facing her looked old beyond his years, physically, mentally and emotionally beaten.
Instead, she’d swung into action, verifying fact, attempting to negotiate, but to no avail. Not surprising, given her father’s total debt ran into millions…plural. A horrifying situation with no foreseeable way out. Except one…a personal appeal to Xavier DeVasquez as a last-ditch effort.
Phone calls, messages left, each more urgent than the last. Messages Xavier DeVasquez’s PA assured were relayed. Except none elicited a return.
Which left Romy two options…and giving up wasn’t one of them.
Three years teaching English to children in underprivileged areas had fashioned her into the young woman she’d become. At twenty-seven, she was a long way from the trusting romantic who’d believed a man’s charm to be genuine and spun a fantasy web that had no basis in reality.
A man she was determined to confront today…one way or another. Even if it meant resorting to unconventional methods.
Yet what other option did she have?
None whatsoever.
So…suck it up, she admonished silently as she checked the Directory Board and crossed to the bank of lifts.
All too soon an electronic cubicle arrived, and she stepped inside, depressed the appropriate floor button and took a steadying breath as she was transported to her destination.
Understated luxury was clearly evident as she stepped off the lift and crossed the plush carpet to Reception where a perfectly groomed young woman manned the modern desk.
Romy summoned a smile. ‘Xavier is expecting me.’
‘May I have your name?’ Fingers were poised fractionally above the computer keyboard, ready to check an electronic appointment schedule.
Assertiveness was key, together with a degree of easy familiarity. ‘This is a personal visit.’
‘I need your name so I can alert Mr DeVasquez’s PA.’
The words remained polite, but firm, and Romy merely slanted an eyebrow. ‘And spoil the surprise?’
The receptionist’s mouth thinned a little. ‘The DeVasquez Corporation observes a strict procedure.’
This was going nowhere, and any access would be denied, sans brute force, unless she identified herself. ‘Romy Picard.’
Fingers tapped in the relevant letters, and Romy caught the moment a return message appeared on the screen, for the receptionist’s eyes widened and her features assumed a cool expression.
‘Mr DeVasquez is unavailable.’
Polite words issued without warmth or the hint of a smile, Romy noted as she bit back a few impolite uncool words of her own she’d like to utter.
‘In that case I’ll take a seat.’
‘I should clarify Mr DeVasquez is not available for the rest of the day.’
‘Nevertheless I’ll wait.’
At that moment the phone buzzed, and Romy crossed to a clutch of deep-cushioned chairs, selected one and sank gracefully into it.
There were magazines fanned across a glass-topped coffee table, and she took one and pretended an interest in the pages.
Face it, she remonstrated silently some twenty minutes later. Waiting was a fruitless exercise. Any attempt to face Xavier DeVasquez was going to take affirmative action.
Determination strengthened her resolve…that, and a slow anger simmering beneath the surface of her control.
Dammit, enough was enough.
She rose to her feet and walked past Reception towards a wide aperture, leading, she presumed, to a number of offices, one of which had to belong to Xavier.
‘You can’t go through there.’
The words were sharp and a little harried…concern for the interruption, or fear of repercussion from Xavier DeVasquez himself?
Romy merely lifted her head and kept walking.
She made it halfway down the corridor into a luxury lounge area where an impeccably attired woman barred her progress.
‘Please return to Reception.’
Xavier DeVasquez’s PA?
Romy directed a levelled look that would have struck terror into the heart of any of her former students. ‘Where I’ll be forced to wait indefinitely?’
‘Mr DeVasquez is in a meeting.’
‘Really? Then he’s due for a break.’ She moved to bypass the woman, only to have her step in the same direction.
‘I’ll call security to have you removed,’ came the firm response.
So she could, but it would take time…time Romy intended to use to her advantage.
There were two closed doors bracketing the lounge. Romy took a punt and chose the left, entering without knocking to discover an empty executive suite. She turned back, aware the PA had picked up the phone, and she caught the woman’s distressed expression as she crossed the lounge. It took only seconds to reach the second door, and she felt a moment of elation as it opened beneath her touch.
Five men were seated at a curved rectangular conference desk, and Romy refused to be intimidated as five heads turned towards her, four pairs of eyes expressing varying degrees of surprise, interest and speculation.
With the notable exception of the man seated at the head of the desk, whose eyes captured and held her own.
Dark, dangerously so…forbidding.
Xavier sensed his associates’ masked surprise at the intrusion. No one, without exception, was permitted entry into a boardroom meeting without Xavier DeVasquez’s approval.
At that moment his cellphone pealed, and he brushed aside his PA’s apology, then ended the call.
His gaze didn’t move from her own, and Romy was supremely conscious of his strong facial bone structure, the dark, almost black eyes, and fine lines fanning from their outer edges. Thick black hair worn a fraction too long lent him an air of leashed savagery…elemental and vaguely primitive. A generous mouth…so incredibly sensual, she could remember the ease with which it had captured her own and robbed her of any sane thought she might have had at the time.
Helpless. Utterly and completely helpless, she’d exulted in his touch, believing his apparent rapture mirrored her own…only to discover it to be a figment of her imagination.
Did he have any idea what it cost her to face him? Or know that she’d give almost anything to avoid doing so?
‘I don’t believe you have an appointment.’
Romy’s eyes glittered as she absorbed his drawled rebuke, and her chin lifted fractionally.
‘Difficult to achieve, when your PA refused my every request to make one.’
‘On my instruction.’