A Vengeful Affair (4 page)

She’d met Roger only once, after Molly’s death, when he’d approached her and asked her to take Molly’s place and assist him in taking the merger away from Javier.

Vivian didn’t know what Javier had done to Roger. Certainly, the older Scottish gentleman was no saint himself. He wanted information about the merger—wanted to take Javier Rivera out of the running—and he had no scruples about using two women who craved revenge to get what he wanted.

As long as Roger helped her, Vivian didn’t care.

With his help, she’d been hired at the Rivera office. She had studied the security system, the positioning of the cameras, and Javier’s routine. And when the rumor about the merger became water-cooler gossip, both Vivian and Roger had agreed it was time to start looking for concrete information. Contracts, notes, dates. Anything would help.

Vivian stepped out of the shower and grabbed a fluffy, monogrammed hotel robe.

By the time her hair was dry, the rest of the suite had fallen silent.

She opened her door far enough to check the hallway and living room lights. They were all off.

Vivian tiptoed out of her room. The open drapes framed the seductive full moon outside, its light shining into the otherwise dark common area of the suite.

Perhaps Javier is a heavy sleeper.
She didn’t waste time imagining his frankly male body sprawled on a large bed. Sleeping or awake, it didn’t matter to her. She needed to get in touch with Roger again.

Making calls from her room wasn’t an option, because the number would show on the bill. She would have to use a guest phone in the lobby. Roger would know exactly what to do and how to move her plan forward.

The door at the end of the hall was closed. She stretched out her hand to open it.

Suddenly, a cold metal bracelet clutched her wrist, and she heard a clicking noise.

Vivian screamed. She turned to face her assailant, a dreadful chill racing up her spine.

“Going somewhere?” Javier stood bare-chested by her side. She raised her eyes to his.

“You frightened me.” Vivian let her breath out slowly. When she moved her hand to touch her chest, her wrist caught.

She looked down. She was handcuffed to Javier.

“What are you doing?” She shook her hand, bouncing the short chain between their wrists. “Take these off,” she shouted, shaking her hand again.

This can’t be happening…

“I’ve known you for a few hours, and this is the third time I’ve seen you do something you don’t care to explain,” Javier said, his eyes accusing her.

“I wanted to get some fresh air. What kind of man would ambush a virtual stranger in the middle of the night to handcuff her?”

What else does he have planned?

“Consider it a security measure to make sure you don’t go anywhere,” Javier said casually. “Tomorrow there will be a bodyguard here to watch you while I take care of an important matter.”

“I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“He will make sure you are looked after.”

“Yes, my well-being is high on your priority list, isn’t it?” Vivian pulled the chain.

“Of course,
mi querida
.” Javier flashed a crooked grin.

“Then take this off. It’s making my skin itch.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Javier said, moving toward her bedroom.

Vivian balked. She didn’t want to get used to the handcuffs, or to share a bed with Javier. “Is that an expert’s advice?” She wished she could wipe the cynical smile right off his face. “Actually, I don’t want to know.”

“Come to bed, Vivian,” he demanded.

“No.” She raised her voice.

“There’s no option. A quick call, and my lawyers will be on you. Even the cleaning lady can be a witness to your reckless behavior.” His voice was emotionless.

Vivian stopped short, recognizing the truth of what he said. Determined to see Javier get what he deserved, she refused to let the chance to teach him a lesson slip through her fingers. If spending a night by his side was part of the package, she would deal with it. Somehow.

“Can’t you at least wear a shirt?” She stumbled along beside him into her bedroom.

She’d avoided looking at him before. Now, with the bedside lamp on, it was hard to ignore the well-muscled arms, the strong, broad shoulders framing his chiseled chest. Her gaze slid downward, catching a tantalizing glimpse of dark hair disappearing into dark blue, silky pajama pants.

“You should be glad I had these on. I usually sleep in the nude,” he said nonchalantly.

Vivian knotted her robe as tightly as she could. “This is outrageous.”

Javier gently pulled her to the bed and turned down the covers. Goose bumps rose on her arms as awareness of what was about to happen sunk in. It had been a while since she’d been intimate with a man. Her last lover had been an art merchant she dated for a while. But that had been a relationship…and this was pure torture. This large, commanding Spaniard made the worst jerk she’d ever dated seem as sweet as a basket of puppies by comparison.

“We’re just sleeping.” Her voice trembled against her will. “No funny business.”

“You have my word.” Javier flashed a smile and signaled for her to get in bed first. “I’ll behave.”

“You’d better.” Vivian leaned onto the bed, her mind racing as he followed suit.

His laughter was rich and sarcastic. “Vivian, if I had a hidden agenda, I could think of a few women who wouldn’t mind obliging.”

“I pity them.” She sighed. “Poor women, wasting their time with a man who’s not fulfilling their needs.”

He sat next to her, stretched out his legs, and lay down on the bed. Vivian moved close to the edge to ensure a safe distance, hoping her limbs wouldn’t rub against his. Sharing a bed with him was so disturbing and intimate.

“I can guarantee you, Vivian, I know a thing or two about fulfilling a woman’s needs.” His diabolical grin did nothing to dampen her inner turmoil.

“I was talking about having a committed relationship, Mr. Rivera.” She pulled a pillow close to her and punched it several times with her free hand, wishing she could do the same to the man by her side.
All in good time…

“I take it you are the committing kind?”

“My love life is off-limits for discussion. Sharing a bed with you is bad enough.” She punched her pillow one last time.

“We’ll see about that.” He turned the lamp off, their hands lightly rubbing as he moved. “Good night, Vivian.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and realize this was all a terrible nightmare,” she said, and the last thing she heard before drifting off to sleep was his low laughter.

…

Javier observed the strand of light shining through the drapes from the full moon. Aside from it, the room was dark. The intrusive beam of light outlined the dangerous curves of Vivian’s sleeping body.

Was it just his imagination? Was the light powerful enough to shine from her wavy hair down to her dark red manicured toes?

Javier clenched his jaw.

When he had ordered the concierge to deliver a pair of handcuffs to his room in a rush, he’d been certain the efficient employee had imagined they’d be put to an entirely different use than what Javier in mind. He was glad luxury hotel concierges were reliable when it came to unusual VIP requests.

Vivian could not be allowed to escape.

Though her accusation that he had killed Molly had surprised him at first, his shock had quickly given way to caution. Vivian could become a huge liability for his merger, as the media loved this kind of sensationalism. He couldn’t let her frolic on the streets of Paris—or London, for that matter—until he’d secured the deal with Broussard.

He remembered the hot intensity in her eyes when she’d accused him, but he doubted the truth of what she’d told him. No one would put herself on the line for the memory of her best friend—no one would jeopardize her own security, invest the time, face charges if he took it that far.

He did know, though, that Vivian Foster was strong, and she wasn’t collapsing. The intensity of her strength challenged him, aroused him, and bothered him.

Did she want money? He’d offered her money. Did she want more?

His thoughts were interrupted by a jerk on his cuffed wrist.

“No…” she said, shaking her head from side to side.

“Vivian.” She didn’t react to his voice.

She was probably still sleeping. Her breath caught. Javier was about to close his eyes when she moved again.

“No,” she repeated.

He tapped her shoulder to wake her up, but all she did was sway against him, shaking her head from side to side.

Javier tensed, wondering whether to turn on the light and wake her up. He eased his weight onto the mattress with his elbows, then turned to his side and faced her shadow. What did he know about the decorum of waking up a woman from her nightmare? Especially a woman who was his prisoner.

“It’s okay.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, her soft skin making his own skin tingle in response. He’d experienced many nightmares as a child, but he’d seldom received the comfort he craved. He had feared walking into his mother’s room and waking his stepfather—the source of his nightmares.

As her mumbling continued, he brushed a few stray strands of her hair from her face. A stab of tenderness made his heart ache, and he had to fight the impulse to run his long fingers through her auburn tresses and hold her tight.

“No…” He heard her broken voice, and although she was still asleep, he took it as advice.

No. She was not his lover.

“Shh,” he whispered, and her mumbling began to fade.

As soon as her shoulders relaxed, he pulled his hand away and moved to the far side of the bed.

She was not his lover.

The Broussard merger would ensure that he got to the place he’d wanted to be for a long time. He’d learned at a very early age that a man’s success was measured by his achievements, by his financial profits. The long years he’d endured child abuse, hatred, and neglect within his own family were behind him. He’d made himself into a new person, alienating those who had doubted he could ever succeed on his own. Many dreamed of acquiring the empire Broussard had spent his lifetime amassing, but Javier would be the one to take it, just as he’d taken whatever he wanted since that rainy autumn afternoon when he’d left his home in Spain forever.

No one would stand in his way. He would ignore the thoughts that crept into his mind when he least expected them. Thoughts of her endless long legs wrapped around his torso, her head tossing back as she moaned with him thrusting deep into her…

Enough!

Vivian Foster was cloaked in a veil of mystery, and he couldn’t wait to strip her naked.

Chapter Three

“Rise and shine.”

Vivian heard the powerful voice from far away. Mumbling in reply, she buried her face deeper into the pillow and hugged it tight with both arms. “Wake up, Vivian.”

With a sigh, she rolled across the bed. Reaching the other side, she half-opened her eyes with a yawn, her cheek lingering against the silkiness of the goose-feather pillows. She was so relaxed and…free, she realized as she stretched her arm.

The handcuffs were gone. Vivian opened her eyes with a start.

She touched her wrist with the other hand, her fingers wrapping around her skin to make sure this was not a dream. A chuckle from disturbingly close by startled her, and Vivian glanced over her shoulder to see Javier, fully clothed in an elegant, dark-blue business suit, sitting on the edge of the bed with a wicked look on his face.

She sat up at once, blushing when she noticed her robe had come loose in the night and exposed the valley of fair skin between her breasts. “What’s happening?” She crossed her arms.

“I have business to take care of, and you could use some pampering.” Javier’s drawl was smooth as silk.

Her eyes lit on a beautifully set breakfast tray, complete with a range of cheeses, breads and jam, rich pastries, juices, and coffee. “Oh, room service!”

He looked toward the door, and three smiling women entered her room, all wearing the monogrammed uniform of hotel employees. “You will have a spa day. I also asked to have some clothes brought up for you.”

She wouldn’t argue about clothes. She needed them. Well, perhaps not this kind of clothes, Vivian realized as the women brought several cases into her room. There were makeup containers, a folded massage table, and a swiveling rack full of glamorous dresses. Shoeboxes with designer labels were stacked at the bottom of the rack.

She blinked when she spotted sexy nightgowns hanging on the rack and recognized a luxurious lingerie store logo on one of the closed boxes. “That’s a bit much.”

“You’ll need something to wear for a couple more days.” He stood up. “I’ll be unavailable the whole day.” His next comment poured cold water on her lovely distraction. “There’s a bodyguard outside.”

“I’m trapped in here.” Vivian made a face and looked down at her hands. Though the handcuffs were gone, she was as much a prisoner as she’d been the previous night, with no access to his room or any of the other rooms. How could she hunt for clues about the merger if she was stuck in here?

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Vivian, this is hardly a trap. You will be pampered, and in the evening I will stop by and take you to dinner and finish that conversation we started.”

“I can hardly wait.” Vivian watched as a woman unfolded the massage table and began to set the mood by dimming the lights and opening a bottle of oil. The scent of lavender filled the room.

“I like you better when you’re sleeping.” He headed to the door.

Vivian snorted.
Whatever that meant…

She had to think of a way to get into his room. But with a bodyguard at her door and the aestheticians hovering around, what could she do? She pondered the problem as they analyzed her skin to decide what kind of facial she’d have. Vivian had not had so many people working on her since…well, ever.

They gave her a pedicure, buffed her nails, and waxed her eyebrows with military precision. The hairstylist offered options for a new haircut, but Vivian settled for a trim and blow dry. She already had too many changes in her life. She didn’t need to radically alter her look, too.

The stylist asked her to try on some of the party dresses and casual outfits to ensure that the sizing was right. Vivian sighed and went along. She raised an eyebrow when the stylist brought out a long, one-shouldered red gown.

The gown was beautiful, and it made her feel like royalty, with layers of silk falling asymmetrically down her body from an empire waistline. It hinted at her curves without making them too obvious. Vivian couldn’t help but smile. She had never worn anything so decadent and beautiful.

“Is that the dress you will wear for the fund-raising party, mademoiselle?” the stylist asked.

“The fund-raising party?”

What party?
Javier had said he would drop by to continue their chat in the evening and take her to dinner. He’d said nothing about a party.

Of course, Vivian realized. He would probably be in meetings related to the big merger all day. He had used the spa day and the new clothes to distract her… She figured he’d told the stylist to bring her clothes, and the woman had assumed she was one of his many lovers. The truth was, he didn’t intend to take her with him to the party. He would go by himself, or with another woman, and probably later he would drop by to escort her to dinner as he had told her he would—just when she was about to burst with cabin fever.

“It’s tonight?” Vivian asked.

“Yes, mademoiselle. Everyone is getting ready.” The stylist grabbed a couple of high heels from different boxes and showed them to Vivian, holding them close to the dress.

“Because the party will be at the hotel?”

The older beautician shot the stylist a subtle warning look and spoke a curt sentence in French.

“Who is the ball for, again? I’m sure Javier mentioned, but it must have slipped my mind.” Vivian put her hand to her forehead, as if making an effort to remember.

“I’m not sure.” The stylist looked away.

Was she paranoid, or had Javier told the beauty team not to talk to her about anything other than facials and color coordinating?

Vivian smiled. “Not to worry. I’ll find out soon.”

Other body and facial treatments filled the rest of her long spa day. The novelty of caviar-based facials and hot stone massages wore off quickly. The massage should have soothed her nerves, but instead it only unsettled her. If the comments made by the masseuse were anything to go by, the knot in her stomach must have worked its way up to her shoulders and neck. But how could she relax when she had made no progress? She couldn’t let any opportunity slide between her now-hydrated, French-tipped manicured fingers.

The last of the spa employees left right after a small fruity snack had been brought up to the room. The sky outside had begun to shift, the afternoon sunlight fading as the dinner hour arrived. The room became blissfully quiet.

An hour later, Vivian looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror. The red dress complemented her skin, her hair fell loose over her shoulders in lustrous waves, and although her makeup had seemed a bit much when they applied it, now she appreciated the effect. The dark, smoky eye shadow made her eye color stand out, her lips appeared red-hot and sultry, and her cheeks had a soft pink flush.

She walked to the entrance of her room and saw a large man in a dark suit sitting on a chair in front of her bedroom door.

“Let’s go.” Vivian headed toward the exit, setting an impatient pace. The bodyguard quickly placed himself between her and the door. “Mr. Rivera gave me express orders not to let you out of my sight.”

“Good, because I’m on my way to see him.” She tossed her hair behind her shoulder.

The man scratched his short beard. “He told me he’d come pick you up. He said nothing about you going anywhere.”

Vivian laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Men! They just can’t handle the details sometimes.”

The guard stared at her in silence.

“I was getting ready the whole day for the fund-raising ball downstairs, and you have to accompany me to it. You can take me to your boss yourself.”

“I don’t think—”

“Unless of course you want me to tell him that you made me late. He hates tardiness.” Vivian rested both hands on her hips. “What’s it going to be?”

…

Vivian crossed the entrance of the salon with the bodyguard, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She’d pulled it off. She had no idea what to do next, but one of the things she’d decided in the past twenty-four hours was that improvising was a skill she would master by the time she returned to England.

Would she gain access to privileged information by the end of the night? Would she catch a break and find an opportunity to return undetected to Javier’s room for a quick search? She didn’t know. The possibilities were endless. But she was sure her odds were better if she wasn’t stuck inside her room, powerless as a china doll.

They reached the narrow area where a well-coiffed blonde asked their names to check against the guest list. The bodyguard said something in French that made her nod and leave immediately.

In a couple of minutes, the woman reappeared with Javier, who wore crisp black tie. The perfection of the suit’s lines highlighted his manly frame. Although his hair was sleek and his face freshly shaved, he appeared far from calm. No, the glint of surprise in his eyes when he saw her quickly shifted into a blazing fury.

“Vivian. What are you doing here?” He stepped close, speaking under his breath.

“I was all dressed up with nowhere to go.” She smiled, ignoring the trembling in her hands.

Javier and the bodyguard exchanged a few sentences in French. She could see by Javier’s expression he was blaming the bodyguard for letting her out of the suite and nearly into the party.

Javier turned to her again. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Well, why should I be locked up in that room while you live the high life?” Her gaze wandered past him to the sea of well-dressed guests dancing and strolling across an elegant ballroom.

“I told you I would take you out later. Now go back to your room.” He tried to lead her away.

“Mr. Rivera, I will cause a scandal right here if you make me go. I will scream at the top of my lungs. How will that look for you?” Vivian glanced around at the elegantly clad guests walking through the main ballroom door.

He pulled back, his eyes sending her a message that carried a threat and a promise. This man wasn’t used to being told what to do, and he didn’t like it much.

“You want to live the high life?” He shot her a sexy smile and closed the gap between them, leaning close. “Okay. But you will not leave my side.”

“Deal.”

They walked into the ballroom alone. Apparently Javier didn’t want to draw attention to himself. The bodyguard retreated to a safe location just inside the tall wooden doors, where he could watch from a distance.

The ballroom was enormous, lavishly decorated with white lilies and scented vanilla candles. Low lighting created an intimate feel. The hundred or so guests were sophisticated, the women mostly older than Vivian and quite refined, with expensive-looking jewelry, silky gowns, and haute couture clutches that probably cost a small fortune.

The men were also older, impeccably dressed in black tie. She hated to admit it, but Javier was more charismatic and powerful than anyone else in the ballroom, and completely in his element. He belonged there more than she had ever belonged anywhere.

Well, I belong here. At least for now.

“What kind of charity fund-raiser is this?” Vivian glanced at the tables, all set with more silverware than she knew what to do with.

“It benefits women who have been abused,” he said. She spun around to look at him. He wore a poker face—expressionless—and she wondered how he could talk so casually about a subject that should haunt his conscience after what he’d done to Molly.

“Really?” she asked. “Emotional abuse as well?”

“I suppose.” Javier frowned.

How ironic.

As he guided her to their table, his hand firm on her bare back, Vivian attempted to focus on anything other than the brush of his fingers on her skin. She glanced at the five-tier chandelier that hung over a larger table at the front of the room, the long purple vases that contrasted with the white lilies and candles. She inhaled, wanting to relish the smoky vanilla scent, but Javier’s minty aftershave overpowered her senses, and his fingers left a trail of tingles where they pressed into her bare flesh.

Vivian stiffened when his hand moved gently up her shoulder blade, circling around the small tattoo she’d had inscribed on her back after her parents’ death.

“What does this mean?” he whispered from behind her, closing the gap between them.

Her pulse quickened. “It means
family
in Japanese.”

“I wouldn’t take you for the family type.” He moved around to face her, holding her wrist as if waiting for an answer.

“I could say the same about you,” she managed to say.

“Why don’t you have any emergency contacts in your employee file?”

“I don’t need to trouble anyone in the event of an emergency,” Vivian said truthfully. She didn’t have anyone to call. Not anymore.

“Not even your parents?” Javier pressed, loosening his grip on her wrist.

“My parents died in a car crash when I was seventeen.”

“Did they leave anyone behind besides you?”

“I lost everyone who mattered.”

“My condolences,” he murmured, his hand rubbing lightly over her back.

Vivian looked deep into his eyes. The usual arrogance that crowned his hardened features was gone. With a sigh, she resumed walking, and soon they reached their table at the front, close to the raised podium. She smiled as a few guests greeted Javier, wishing she knew who these people were, if they were business partners, acquaintances, or friends. Javier Rivera wasn’t known for having many friends.