A Vengeful Affair (15 page)

“I definitely have enough to proceed with the merger.” Edouard’s clipped voice brought her back to reality.

She glanced over her shoulder at Javier. A glint of satisfaction flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t smile.

“Thank you, Edouard,” Vivian said. “You sending us off to meet Laura helped us to fit the pieces of the puzzle together.”

“I’m glad. According to Javier, the wheels are in motion to figure out what happened to Molly. Let us hope the prosecutors will find enough evidence to file charges against Easton.”

“They will,” Javier said from behind her.

“I’m also glad you didn’t close the deal with Easton,” Vivian added.

Edouard chuckled. “I never seriously considered him. I don’t appreciate his business ethics.” He glanced at Javier. “Or his personal ethics.”

“But then why?” Vivian asked.

“It got you running, didn’t it?” He smiled. “I always believed in Javier. Nevertheless, if there was a thread of doubt that could harm my foundation or legacy, it needed to be chased down.”

“I’m sorry for any inconvenience I’ve caused,” Vivian said.

Edouard stood up, his face unreadable. Unsure, she followed his cue, wondering if he would throw her out of his office. It seemed possible.

“Vivian, you are a loyal friend, and you did what you thought was right,” Edouard said gently, his features softening. A part of her wanted to cling to the instant relief pouring through her, while another warned her it was too soon.

Edouard reached over and embraced her, the kind gesture causing tears to fill her eyes. She held him back with more than an appropriate amount of enthusiasm, pressing her lips together and closing her eyes to keep the tears from rolling down her flushed cheeks.

Funny that although she could count on one hand the times she’d met Edouard, a sense of belonging suffused her as they bid farewell.

“I’m glad I had the opportunity to meet you.” Edouard patted her back when she straightened up and wiped at her tears. “I admire brave hearts. If we only acted on what had been proven right, we wouldn’t ever achieve anything or try new things.”

“Thank you.” Edouard had a point…

Javier cleared his throat.

“Don’t you agree?” Edouard turned to Javier, who had his arms lazily crossed over his broad chest and a face as hard as marble. He made no verbal response. There was only the enigmatic glint flashing in his eyes. Edouard shook his head in disapproval and asked Vivian, “Will you be all right, my dear?”

Her lips formed a tremulous smile. She didn’t know how to reply. From now on, her life would never be the same, on so many levels. She knew she needed to make a complete assessment of her past and present, to analyze her actions and the reasons behind them. She could barely begin to think about it now. Within the course of a few days, her whole life had changed—the friend she thought she knew, the man she had met and fallen in love with, the possible legal repercussions of what she had done.

After all, Edouard’s understanding and generosity were one thing. But how about Javier’s? He had been silent about possible implications.

“I’ll be fine,” Vivian said simply, wishing she could believe her own choked words.

“I have to make some calls,” Edouard said. “Javier, could you please show Vivian out?”

“It will be my pleasure.” Javier’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Javier held the door open for her and led the way. The beige walls of the hallway seemed to become narrower and narrower. Vivian felt a lump of heat traveling all the way from her knotted stomach up to her throat.

I have to do something. This is my last chance.

“My jet will take you back to London,” Javier said as they approached the elevators. “When you reach the lobby, the driver will be waiting for you. Your belongings will be in the car.”

Vivian mumbled a thank-you, her palms dampening. She stared at the closed elevator doors. They were on the top floor, and it would take a few moments for the elevator to arrive.

“Human Resources will contact you and take care of whatever dues are owed to you,” he continued.

Her job… In the middle of all the changes of the past several hours, her job as a receptionist hadn’t even entered her mind. She’d only applied for it because of her desire for revenge. She had other plans for her career, anyway.

She gathered that Javier didn’t plan to take any legal action as retaliation for the delay in his merger. Yet her termination had a far stronger implication. He wouldn’t trust her to work for him, and she understood that. But it also meant she wasn’t going to see him anymore.

No more Javier, not even from behind a reception desk.

No more kissing his tantalizing, full lips.

No more talking and sharing with him about things from her past, things that had made her feel unappreciated and singled out until she had heard herself speak them aloud and begun to question them.

“Javier.” His name slipped from her parted lips before she knew what she would say. She swung around to face him.

Javier arched an eyebrow.

Vivian took in the sight of his intriguing black eyes, his granite-like features, his provocative full lips closed. He appeared calm and unstressed.

Look at him, Vivian, because after this moment, he’ll only be a haunting memory and a face printed in the newspapers for you.

Would he forget her quickly?

The elevator halted at the floor with a tone that put her senses on full alert.

She glanced at the empty space inside, with its rail and mirror in the middle and no one to take anywhere.

She looked at Javier, who remained standing beside her. He could have shown her to the elevators and left, but he stood…and waited. He stood by her side, and that had to count for something. Maybe this was her time to be vulnerable, just as he had in confiding in her about his past.

I won’t leave Paris without trying.

Overwhelmed by everything she wanted to say, she closed the distance between them.

He didn’t move.

Vivian stared at his firmly shut lips, his implacable features. He looked down at her, and his thick eyelashes nearly covered his eyes, concealing whatever emotion was hidden behind them. She inhaled his minty, masculine scent one last time.

Before she could change her mind, she covered his lips with hers, her arms wrapping around his neck the same way they had when he had been the one initiating their kisses. The feel of his body, his heat trapped under his clothes, and the passion pulsating in her veins encouraged her to run her tongue across his upper lip.

He didn’t react.

She rubbed her lips on his. He suppressed a groan.

“I love you,” Vivian whispered close to his mouth, stripping herself bare.

She…loved him? The realization hit her with the force of an emotional slap.

There was no more denying it to herself. The attraction she had at first found disturbing had turned into a torrid passion and now into a love that made her heart tighten with pain every time she thought about parting from him.

How would she go on without seeing him? How had she allowed a man she barely knew to affect her this much?

Well, in her defense, she hadn’t. She’d tried to put up a wall, to constantly remind herself that they sought different things, that he was not the man for her.

Just her luck, none of it had worked.

Instead, the midnight-eyed Spanish hunk had found a way to conquer her heart, and he’d stirred up intense emotions, long-forgotten memories, and now this wrenching pain faced with the end of something that could never be.

For he hadn’t done it on purpose. Winning her love had never been a part of his plan. Her body, yes. Yet he had her love and didn’t know it.

Well, he knows it now.

She felt more exposed than she had when they had made love in the woods, and fully aware she was probably making a fool of herself. But she would be a bigger fool if she didn’t. For she loved him—the man who had suffered, who had questioned, and who had made a new life for himself.

Her smile died as soon as he tore himself from her and motioned for her to get in the elevator.

“I can’t do this.” A blend of urgency, frustration, and anger laced his voice, and his expression was determined. He sighed as if he couldn’t wait for the awkwardness to be over.

Vivian pressed her trembling lips together. It took an outstanding effort not to fall apart in front of him. Somehow the message must have made it to her brain, because with a strength she couldn’t claim as her own, her feet took a step back, then another, and there she was, inside the elevator, her blurred vision focused on the man she couldn’t have.

He can’t do this? Or he doesn’t want to do this? Or just not with me?

“Good-bye, Vivian Foster.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and his black eyes didn’t leave hers for a moment as the heavy doors closed between them.

Chapter Twelve

Javier ended his teleconference to China and took a deep breath as he turned off his computer monitor. It was only 1:00 p.m., although it felt much later. Not because of all he had accomplished, but rather because of how little sleep he’d had.

Infierno!

He had tried to forget her.

A week had passed since he’d seen her, and neither working himself to exhaustion nor exercising as if he were training for a triathlon had managed to evict Vivian Foster from his head. Every time he was about to congratulate himself for not thinking about her, he’d realize that he was indeed thinking of her—that her wavy, luscious hair, her endless legs, and those big blue eyes were so fresh in his memory, he could do a mental sketch of her anytime he wanted. And he did…often.

He ran his fingers through his hair.

Taking a gorgeous Italian model out to dinner hadn’t helped at all. Somewhere between sitting down in the restaurant and getting the bill, he’d grown bored and lied, saying he had to go, and smoothly turned down an invitation for coffee at her apartment. Lying to himself, though, was a different matter.

She’d lied to him. She’d betrayed him and let him down, and still he would do anything to see her, to bury himself in her curves, to lose all control with her again. Just once.

“Mr. Rivera.” His secretary’s voice through the intercom interrupted his fantasizing. “My son’s day care just called. He’s running a high fever, and I might need to drive him to my sister’s for the rest of the day. May I take a longer lunch break?”

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” he suggested. “Go stay with your son.”

“Thank you, sir,” she answered. “Before I go, Monsieur Broussard wants you to call him immediately.”

Javier made the call, and midway through the conversation Edouard asked whether he would be attending one of his foundation parties. Javier was about to turn the invitation down due to his hectic schedule when Edouard said, “I understand. I was just telling Vivian how hard you work and that I imagined you couldn’t make it.”

“Vivian?” A frisson ran down his spine. “You’ve been talking to her?”

“Yes, we keep in touch. I offered for her to come and help me sell some artwork for fund-raising purposes, and she’s considering it.”

“How is she?”

“She’s good.” Edouard’s short answer intrigued him even further. It was obvious that Vivian had developed some kind of friendship with the older man. But Javier wasn’t about to swallow his pride and beg for any snippet of information about her he could get.

It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going.

…

“More champagne, Monsieur?” asked the uniformed waitress.

Javier shook his head, his fingers tapping on the glass he had held for what felt like forever. He shouldn’t have come.

But he’d had to. He’d pondered the difficult decision for two long weeks until it finally became clear to him that the only alternative to losing his mind would be to attend the function. How bad could it be, seeing her?

Not knowing how she would react had tipped the scale. Would she run to him? Would she treat him with disdain? Or, worse, would she act as if they were old friends and be completely immune to him, as if he didn’t matter?

He looked around. The stuffiness of the silent auction party crept into his blood, and his heart rate increased every time he glanced at the large french doors, hoping Vivian would walk in.

Two hours into the auction, he was burning with frustration. She wasn’t coming.

He searched for Edouard, and when he found him, he couldn’t resist asking about Vivian. The older man told him she had changed her mind.

“Why don’t you go and find her?” Edouard suggested gently, his eyes full of sympathy.

Javier snorted. “It’s too late.”

“My dear friend, it’s never too late. You don’t have to impose unhappiness upon yourself only because you had no control over the beginning of your affair.”

“She told me she loved me at the very end. She couldn’t have meant it.” Javier spoke his thoughts out loud, staring at the gardens where people were mingling with hors d’oeuvres after the auction.

“Why not? Are you unworthy of her love? You never say much about your past.” Edouard gave him a questioning look, and Javier stiffened. “I gather from malicious gossip and common sense that you didn’t get what you deserved growing up.”

“I don’t want to discuss this.”

“You don’t. Nobody does. But let me tell you this, the beginning doesn’t dictate the end. You can have the end of your choosing.”

Javier scanned the elegantly dressed guests, who chatted away about the paintings and objets d’art as uniformed waiters served them fine champagne and exquisite appetizers. “She was never supposed to come,” he said to Edouard.

“She told me she couldn’t,” Edouard admitted, scratching his beard with a mischievous smile.

“Why did you tell me she would be here?”

“Because you needed to come to feel how empty your life is without her.” Edouard sobered. “I lost my wife and then my daughter, and I found out the hard way. I don’t want you to lose her just because of your pride.”

Edouard returned to his other guests.

“Sneaky old man,” Javier mumbled.

The words echoed in his head.
The beginning doesn’t dictate the end. You can have the end of your choosing.

If he could choose, what choice would he make?

Maybe a part of him was jealous because Vivian’s devotion toward Molly was something he’d wanted from his mother—or at least her attention to the abuse he’d suffered. As a child, he had yearned for an advocate, for someone who cared deeply enough to fight for him, to take him from his misery and show him what happiness was. Then he’d grown and become self-sufficient, and such cravings had disappeared.

Self-reliance was a much safer bet.

Vivian had brought old ghosts to life in a way he hadn’t expected. And after discovering what she had done for Molly…he hadn’t wanted to believe at first. The idea of someone putting everything on the line for a friend didn’t make any sense.

Anger and frustration had overtaken him when little by little he’d started to realize that yes, Vivian wasn’t perfect. She had lied to him and deceived him at first. She was stubborn, and once she got something in that little head of hers, she saw it through, regardless of the cost. Yes, Vivian Foster was nowhere near perfect…but he loved her anyway.

The realization hit him like a punch to his stomach.

I love her.

He pulled his mobile from his pocket and stabbed at the numbers. “I need the jet now. We’re going to London.”

…

Bail denied to entrepreneur Easton Finn.
Vivian read the headline on the news Web site before turning off her sleek computer and sliding down from the tall stool. Jennifer, the chatty blond employee, had already logged off and seemed to be looking for her car keys in her bag.

Vivian had gone to the police a couple of times and had told the lawyers she would testify if needed. Helping any way she could gave her a sense of purpose, though she doubted her testimony would be instrumental. They had far better evidence—the confessions of the men who had stalked Molly, identified by security tapes, along with Easton’s fingerprints. Easton had killed Molly himself, out of what they assumed was fear that she would come clean to everyone, as she had threatened to do. He hadn’t wanted the whole world to know what a bastard he was.

And now they did.

Vivian smiled.

She looked around with satisfaction. The spacious and airy art gallery she managed was new, and it had already become a hit. The weekly exhibit featured a Paris theme. The oil paintings on the walls captured off-the-beaten-track gems from the City of Light.

She’d thought that starting a new job would help her begin a new chapter of her life. Truth was, she still felt like the high-wire artist who had fallen from the ropes with no safety net underneath: broken and embarrassed, filled with pain that went far beyond the physical.

After a lot of soul-searching, she’d made her peace with what had happened to Molly and had even visited her grave. She understood now that her friend had loved her, and if Molly had left the fine print out of her story to Vivian, it hadn’t been for lack of trust. She’d done it for her own reasons.

People weren’t always what they seemed. Even Laura, Molly’s mom, had gained much respect from Vivian after returning to London and fighting to reopen her daughter’s case. Everyone deserved a second chance.

Everyone but me.

She didn’t want to be bitter. But how could she believe she would ever love someone again when every corner of her heart was fully occupied by the man who had coldly turned his back on her and shut her out of his life?

“You can go. I’ll close it,” she said to Jennifer, who was about to lock up.

“Thanks. ’Night, Vivian.”

“Good night.”

Vivian picked up her purse and leaned down to punch the password to set the security alarm on the pad located under the countertop when she heard the door swing open.

“How can I help—” she started, standing up to face the potential customer.

Her mouth went dry in an instant. She blinked a couple of times when her eyes blurred at the sight of tall, broad-shouldered man in a light gray suit and dark shirt.

“Javier…” Her voice trembled.

He looked as imposing and attractive as she remembered him. Her heartbeat escalated, threatening to find a way out of her dark-red silk blouse.

His eyes caught hers and held them captive. Even drawing a deep breath proved difficult. She needed all the oxygen in the room.

“What are you doing here?” she asked after a moment.

“I need to talk to you.”

She leaned on the glass top of her desk for support, trying to appear casual.

I can’t survive having the ground beneath me torn away once more.

“How did you find me?”

“Edouard told me where you worked.” His eyes darted to the paintings hanging on the brick wall. “Paris.”

Vivian came out from behind the desk, smoothing her black skirt with her hands in order to dry the cold sweat breaking out on her palms. Edouard. Of course. She had chatted on the phone with the Frenchman a couple of times, and he had insisted she help him with his silent auction, but she had pulled out in the end. The possibility of meeting Javier had frightened her too much.

The auction…wasn’t it today?

“Weren’t you supposed to be at Edouard’s auction?”

His eyes returned to her, skimming over her face. There was something about him, a lightness she wasn’t used to seeing in him.

“I was at Edouard’s auction,” Javier replied. His accent had thickened. “Now I’m here…with you.”

“Ah. Well, what do you want from me?”

With only two short steps, he was in front of her, and she could see the dark shadows under his eyes.

“I want you,” he said boldly, a smile on his full lips.

Although the surprise of his words made her heart thump erratically and a familiar heat pool low in her stomach, she remained still. Vivian cleared her throat, the memory of their last moments together flashing in her mind. The hurt had stayed with her. “After our last meeting, I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“I had to say that, Vivian. At that moment, when you said you loved me, I felt a loss of control greater than when I thought I had lost the merger. I’m not used to feeling like this.”

“I thought it had to do with Molly.”

“That would have been a great excuse, yes, but I think it had stopped being about Molly. In a way, of course, I wanted you to believe me. But to learn that you would put everything on the line for a friend also fascinated me, though I wouldn’t admit it at the time.”

“It did?”

“The woods were a big eye-opener for me. I couldn’t be around you without wanting you. It exhilarated me, but it also scared me,” Javier confessed, lifting his finger to outline her jaw.

Vivian quivered at the familiar touch.

“Remember when I injured my foot and you asked me to lean on you to get to the bed-and-breakfast? That was the first time I had ever let a woman take care of me. You took me to the cottage, nursed me, and even though we didn’t see things the same way, you let me make love to you. That night, deep down, I knew I wasn’t the same anymore.”

“What are you saying?” Vivian asked. Her emotions were a mess, as though a palette of bold, bright colors had been thrown on a white canvas all at once.

“I love you,” he declared. He pulled her against him and kissed her once, softly.

“You…you love me?”

“The merger didn’t make sense without you. This last month has been hell. All I could think of was you. I am so sorry for hurting you,
mi querida
, and I want to spend the rest of my days making you happy.”