Chapter Three
Two weeks later…
Siobhan had barely learned how her new boss, Oladele, liked her coffee when she came in to find the woman already at her desk, still wearing a raincoat speckled with the drizzle of Madrid’s December morning. Among the handful of people who had also trickled in before nine, there was an air of alertness. Something was going on. Something big.
Oladele was VP of Legal here at LV Global. She’d risen in the ranks under the previous president, Fernando Valezquez, and still choked up when she spoke of him. He’d passed suddenly over a year ago. It had been an electrical accident of some kind. His father, Lorenzo, had since come out of retirement to retake the helm.
“We’re in a state of transition,” Oladele had told Siobhan on her first day. “Señor Valezquez will return to retirement once a decision is made on his successor.” Her expression had been pleasant, but as deadpan as a high-stakes poker player’s.
Siobhan’s antennae had gone up, thinking there was a lot that Oladele was leaving unsaid, but she wasn’t likely to be forthcoming until Siobhan had proven herself trustworthy. Oladele had hired Siobhan for her legal aspirations, her fluency in six languages, including Modern Standard Arabic, her stellar grades and the security abstract she had voluntarily attached to her CV.
Siobhan had a feeling that last item had been the clincher because there seemed to be ample staff here at LV Global who could have stepped into the shoes of Oladele’s very pregnant EA.
After two days of orientation with that EA, Siobhan was on her own. She loved everything about the job and the new life she was starting. She had leased a gorgeous one-bedroom flat in the barrio de Chamberí and, so far, was still unrecognized as Dorry Whitley. She would ride that horse as long as it had legs.
The only stitch in her side was the memory of returning to Joaquin’s hotel room in San Francisco to find the door propped open. A young woman from housekeeping had been sweeping up the broken glass.
“He said to tell you he had to leave, but to charge your dinner to this room and take the champagne.” The woman had pointed at the bottle in the bucket of melted ice.
Siobhan had stood there in a hotel robe over fresh lingerie that she had put on for him. She had felt so cheap, so scorned, so foolish, she had wanted to die.
She should have celebrated her new job alone, she kept telling herself. But that thought was always followed by a slithery reminder of how delicious the sex had been—which she almost wished had been terrible because now the bar had been set so high, she feared she was spoiled for anyone else.
Why were men so awful? Why was she so terrible at seeing how awful they were?
“I’ll be right up,” she heard Oladele say. The phone landed hard in its cradle.
Siobhan snapped out of her funk and finished removing her coat. She dropped her bag into its drawer and rushed into Oladele’s office.
“Did I miss a text about an early meeting?” It was a mortifying thought. She prided herself on being thorough and prepared.
“I only learned an hour ago that there was an emergency board meeting.” Oladele started to remove her coat and Siobhan hurried to help her. Oladele was a diminutive woman of fifty-three with narrow shoulders and a very short haircut, which formed a cap of tight curls against her scalp.
“I’ll make your coffee. What else do you need? Did you miss breakfast?”
“I did, and yes to the coffee, but we’re needed upstairs. Bring your laptop.”
“May I ask what happened?”
“We’re merging with another firm.” Oladele flicked her gaze to the open door. “That’s the language you will use,” she added quietly with a warning tilt of her brows. “I didn’t expect it to happen like this, definitely not this quickly, but here we are.”
Siobhan didn’t have time to process what that might mean. Within moments, they were hurrying off the elevator onto the top floor, which was the company president’s domain.
She hadn’t been up here yet. It was ten times more luxurious and imposing than the offices they occupied two floors below. The entire building was tastefully updated from the original construction a hundred years ago. Everything she’d seen was sophisticated and refined.
She had barely taken in the beautiful inlay of the mahogany and oak in the parquet floor, or the oval-shaped wall that separated the empty receptionist’s desk from the rest of the floor, when the sound of an age-graveled baritone struck her ears.
“You thief! You think you can do this to me? You vile piece of—” An ugly streak of insults was hurled, growing loud enough to send a spike of alarm through Siobhan.
Another male voice responded, low and cold, saying something about protecting it for the children.
Shock waves went through her as she heard the second voice. It wasn’t just the lethal tone. He almost sounded like—
No. She was imagining things. Joaquin was Spanish, but he wouldn’t be here. That was too much of a bizarre coincidence.
In front of her, Oladele checked her step. Siobhan copied her, moving to set her back to the wall as a man with iron-gray hair strode with purpose toward them. His navy suit was well tailored to accommodate his barrel chest and stocky frame. His jaw wore a frost of stubble, as though he’d missed shaving this morning. His hair was slicked back, but untidy. His face was purple with fury.
He glared at Oladele as he passed them.
“Lorenzo,” Oladele murmured, offering a deferential nod.
“You helped him, didn’t you?” He was so livid, spittle had collected in the corners of his mouth. He glared blame at both of them. “Judas. I should have fired you when I had the chance. This is not over.” He moved past them to jab the button for the elevator.
Oladele looked shaken, but motioned for Siobhan to accompany her into a foyer where a chandelier in a recessed ceiling hung over a small arrangement of late nineteenth century furniture. Three tall windows looked onto Madrid’s business district. On another wall, shelves of old books were fronted by doors with paned glass.
“Wait here while I step into the meeting room. The board may still be in discussions.” Oladele moved through a pair of open doors into a corridor.
Siobhan shifted to read a few titles on the books, which gave her a view down the hallway. She wasn’t trying to spy, but she heard a door open and a woman’s voice said in Spanish, “I should get back. The children will be awake and looking for me.”
“Of course,” a male voice replied. That male voice, the one that sent a preternatural shiver through Siobhan, making her abdomen clench and her scalp tighten.
She watched in mesmerized horror as a stunning woman stepped from the office at the end of the hall. The elegant brunette wore a wool skirt in gray plaid with a black turtleneck and a camel-colored overcoat. She was tying a green silk scarf over her hair.
Then he stepped out. Joaquin.
Siobhan’s heart stopped. He was even more handsome than when she’d last seen him. The image of him shirtless, wearing only his trousers and a half-lidded look of satisfaction was imprinted on her mind. Today he had the air of a man who’d taken care with his appearance. He was shaved and had a fresh haircut. His somber blue suit fit him like armor, giving an impression he had dressed for an important moment. A ceremony.
Or a burial.
Her jumble of sensual memories collided with harsh reality, sending a piercing sensation through her belly, one that was steely and sharp and locked her in place.
Her morbid inability to look away meant she watched him bend his head to kiss both of the woman’s cheeks with casual familiarity.
“My car should be waiting for you. I’ll see you later—”
He spotted Siobhan and stood at attention. His glare of astonishment traveled down the length of the corridor like a quaking force, crashing into her and knocking her breath from her lungs.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Her heart was already thudding in guilt and horror. Now adrenaline leaked into her blood, urging her to run, but she couldn’t move. She was frozen in shock. In repulsion at him and herself.
He was married?
At that second, Oladele stepped from a door midway along the hall, arriving between them.
“Señor Valezquez,” she said politely. “Señora. It’s nice to see you.” Oladele followed the stark glare Joaquin had pinned on Siobhan. “Ah. No need to be alarmed. Siobhan is covering my assistant’s maternity leave. Siobhan, this is Joaquin Valezquez, our new president. Congratulations, señor.”
Siobhan was probably expected to say something similar. Maybe, “It’s nice to meet you.” She couldn’t speak. She wanted to die. She wanted to run from the building and never come back. She wanted to scream, Married? You’re married?
“You have a busy day ahead. I’ll leave you to it,” the woman in the green scarf said. She offered Siobhan a curious smile as she left to go home to their children.
Oh, he was horrible. He was every bit as cold-blooded and manipulative as Gilbert in a completely different way. She was an idiot.
“Siobhan?” Oladele prompted. “I believe we’re meeting in the president’s office.” She looked to Joaquin for confirmation.
“I just need…” She couldn’t finish. Could barely speak. She dove through the door marked with the stenciled figure of a triangle with a dot on its point. Her behavior was deeply unprofessional, but this was a full-blown panic attack.
She had asked him if he was single and he had lied straight to her face before pulling her into an adulterous liaison.
Hot tears blinded her as she emptied her arms onto the vanity shelf beneath the mirror. She pushed into a stall where she leaned on the door, thinking she might throw up. She sat down, so lightheaded she was afraid she’d faint and knock herself cold on the porcelain.
“I—” Oladele sounded perplexed and took a step to follow Siobhan.
“When did you hire her?” Joaquin asked with acute suspicion, attention pinned to the lavatory door that had closed behind Siobhan.
“She started at the beginning of last week. Why? Do you know her?”
“I’m not sure,” he lied. Hell, yes, he knew her. His body had recognized her with a pulse of animal lust the second he glimpsed her, roaring in a way that nearly overshadowed his astonishment at seeing her here of all places. “Can I see her file?”
“Her credentials are excellent. She’s actually overqualified—”
He shot Oladele a look that had her pressing her lips into a line.
“But if that’s something you would like to review yourself, I’ll go to my desk and forward it,” she said mildly. “I don’t have access to those documents on my phone.”
“Thank you.”
At that moment, the board members began filing out of the meeting room.
Oladele moved into the sea of bodies flowing toward the elevator.
Still twitching with aggression from that volatile meeting, and now at this unexpected interloper, Joaquin kicked the stoppers out of the doors at the end of the corridor, closing it into privacy. Then he walked into the ladies’ room, checked that there was only one pair of feet in the stalls, and turned the lock on the main door.
“Siobhan.”
“What the hell?” The stall door clapped open. “You can’t be in here.”
She stepped out, pale face flushing red with high emotion, every bit as enticingly beautiful as he remembered.
He had to consciously keep his gaze from wandering to the open collar of her striped shirt and well-cut, single-button blazer. Her outfit was professional and conservative, exactly as it should be for her role as assistant to their head of legal.
He still found her entirely too sexy.
“I just acquired the building with the company.” He leaned on the partition that separated the sink area from the vanity nook. “I can go anywhere I want. What are you doing here?”
“In this room?” She pointed to the floor. “Trying not to vomit over the fact that I slept with a married man. Who has children. You absolute disgusting scumbag. How dare you lie to me about something like that?”
Her anger was incendiary. Thrilling. She radiated the energy of a typhoon, terrifying yet awe-inspiring. There was also something perversely gratifying in her temper. She wasn’t merely offended. How dare you lie to me. It was personal. She was jealous.
He shouldn’t like that. At all. But he did.
“You’re referring to Zurina?” He lifted one patronizing brow. “She’s my sister-in-law.”
“Oh.” Her hard boil of fury simmered down to an annoyed scowl. She narrowed her eyes on him, though. “You really aren’t married? Because—”
“I am exactly as I presented to you when we met. You are the one with something to explain. How the hell do you come to be working for my father?” That was highly suspicious. Highly.
“I don’t.” She was taken aback. “I work for Oladele. Aside from when your father walked by us ten minutes ago, I’d never seen or spoken to him.” She moved to the sink to wash her hands.
“You want me to believe your working here is a coincidence?”
“Unless you planned it, then yes. That’s exactly what it is. I told you I was starting a new job covering a mat leave.”
“You let me believe that was in Australia. Or San Francisco.” He didn’t know what he’d thought, but he sure as hell hadn’t imagined she was coming here.
“You said you live on your plane. Maybe if you’d stuck around, instead of skittering away like a spider under a door, I would have told you I was coming to Madrid.” She shook out a cloth hand towel and wet it under the tap. “You could have simply let me leave without asking me to come back. That second trip down the hall really was a walk of shame.” She gave the wet towel a hard wring and dabbed a corner of it under her eyes, fixing her smudged makeup.
Tears? He might have been more disturbed by that if he wasn’t seeing them here, amid an outright war with his father.
“Zurina called me with an emergency.” He hadn’t liked leaving without a word, but he hadn’t relished knocking on doors to find her, then trying to explain.
He hadn’t liked that there’d been a part of him that had leaped toward asking her to accompany him. For that reason, a clean break had seemed easier. Safer.
But the clean break hadn’t happened.
“Go back to explaining how you’re here,” he demanded.
“You really think I’m here by design? Until Oladele said it a few minutes ago, I didn’t know your last name.” She pivoted to face him, forcing him to quit ogling the shape of her ass in her blue trousers.
“You didn’t investigate the company you were applying at?” he asked skeptically.
“I used a placement agency. They gave me an abstract, but I wasn’t told it was LV Global until I’d been offered the job. I spoke to Oladele at one point, but that was about my duties. When I did look it up, it said the president had passed away over a year ago and that his father had come out of retirement to run things.” She threw the damp towel in the laundry basket. “Frankly, I didn’t need to know more than that. My priority was to be closer to my sister and gain experience in legal. I’ve been meaning to read more about the company, but I’ve been busy moving continents and visiting with family.”
This all seemed too tidy for him to believe. On the other hand, there was very little on line that linked him to his father. He certainly didn’t take any pains to acknowledge his relationship to Lorenzo.
She waved at the door. “Is Oladele out there, wondering why you’re accosting her EA in the toilet?”
“She’s downstairs.” He stole a quick glance at his phone. The file hadn’t been forwarded yet so they had another minute. “You can’t work for me.”
“I don’t. I work for Oladele.”
“She works for LV Global, which I have just acquired. You work for me.”
“So? Are you unable to be professional because we had a brief interaction in the past?”
“Interaction,” he scoffed. In the past? It was two short weeks ago. Still a very vivid memory that he relived at least once a day. In the shower. It was all he could do not to think of other uses for that counter ledge right now.
Dios, her effect on him was as strong as it had been when he’d first glimpsed her. Stronger, now that he knew what a volatile match they were. Distracting.
“What do you want to call it?” She held her chin up, mouth tight, stare as cold as ice. “You made it clear it was nothing significant. I feel the same.”
Liar. She was too angry for him to believe that. And, try as he had to diminish it into a pleasant but trivial memory, he couldn’t.
“Blame fate. She’s having a laugh, I suppose.” Her lips stretched in a facetious smile before she added in a mutter, “But if you think I made a choice to see you again, you’re wrong.”
He narrowed his eyes, surprised how deeply that got under his skin.
His phone pinged, notifying him of Oladele’s email.
“She’s on her way back.” He unlocked the door and peeked out, then held it open. “My office.”
