Chapter Seven

Siobhan ignored Joaquin’s order to rest and spent the weekend Christmas shopping.

She even made a point of watching children who were blinking in wonderment at toys and pausing to listen to a choral group singing before a massive decorated tree, trying to remind herself why she used to love Christmas so much.

It cheered her a little, but she couldn’t seem to shake a leaden feeling in her limbs. No actual sniffles or cough arrived, though. She wasn’t running a fever or even feeling achy. She was merely tired and her stomach was a little unsettled so she stuck to bland foods and skipped coffee and wine, hoping to feel better by Monday.

She didn’t, but she wasn’t any worse so she didn’t feel justified calling in sick. There was still so much to do and she didn’t want to let Joaquin down.

She didn’t want to miss a chance to see him. That was the real reason.

You could make this easier.

She’d been deeply stung when he had rebuffed her remark about his engagement. All she had been able to learn online was that it had been announced a few weeks before his brother passed and was called off shortly after. But he was right. It was very personal and none of her business. She shouldn’t have brought it up at work or anywhere else.

She had been deeply surprised by his reason one million for not wanting children, though. It had struck a pang of distress in her because she wanted children someday. She didn’t really believe in fate, either, but the way she and Joaquin had come together so coincidentally after parting in San Francisco had made her secretly wonder if greater forces were conspiring to throw them together.

His aversion to children told her they weren’t as sympatico as she’d hoped. Not that she should have any hopes where he was concerned. Even if he was physically attracted to her, his remark in the elevator told her he didn’t want to be.

She wished she had his Teflon air of aloofness. It was taking all her effort to hide her crush on her boss while he looked through her half the time and, when he did acknowledge her, put up barriers so quickly afterward, it was like walking into a glass wall, halting her in her tracks.

Despite that, she inwardly jumped for joy when she picked up an email from him, addressed to her and Oladele.

I’ll be meeting with investors all week. I don’t want any delay in responding to my father’s legal action. My assistant has instructions that I can be interrupted at any time if you need my signature or authorization to keep things moving.

Twice that day, Oladele handed Siobhan a folder and asked her to run upstairs. Twice Siobhan gave strangers an apologetic smile while she patiently waited for Joaquin to skim the paperwork and sign off.

“I’m confused,” she told Oladele when she returned the second time. “Why is he meeting investors individually? It doesn’t seem very efficient. Why doesn’t he hold a conference call and be done with it?”

“My educated guess is that these are his own investors in ProFab. Lorenzo is trying to undermine him, suggesting Joaquin took on too much debt by purchasing LVG. Lorenzo wants them to pressure Joaquin to back off, but he’s reassuring them instead, and doing it in Lorenzo’s office, which is a nice touch.” Oladele’s mouth quirked.

Siobhan had to admire the power move. “I guess coming here shows them what he’s purchased, too.”

“The personal touch will have a ripple effect. Word will spread,” Oladele added.

It was the sort of tactic Siobhan’s brother-in-law would use. Why host a press conference if a whisper campaign was more effective?

She started back to her desk, then paused.

“Can I ask… How did you meet Joaquin?” That wasn’t really what she wanted to know.

“Through Fernando. Joaquin sometimes came to the parties he and Zurina hosted.” Oladele gave her a circumspect look. “If you’re asking if I conspired with Joaquin to oust Lorenzo, I did not. I could tell the board was leaning toward handing things to Joaquin, but Zurina spearheaded that. Lorenzo left me a voice mail the morning it happened, asking why the board was meeting without him. I didn’t know it was happening until it was.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t implying that you acted improperly. I know you wouldn’t,” Siobhan assured her.

“I don’t think you would act improperly, either.” Oladele held her gaze for an extra millisecond, allowing the significance of her statement to sink in before she switched back to work mode. “Can you get Señora Perez on the phone for me?”

“Of course.”

Oladele knew, knew there was more to Siobhan’s relationship with Joaquin than either of them admitted to. Should she confess that their romance had lived and died before she got here?

Tuesday was more of the same. As Siobhan was searching through old records, Oladele handed her a folder.

“Upstairs?” Siobhan guessed.

“Sí, por favor.”

Siobhan hurried to the elevator with too much eagerness. She waved the folder at Joaquin’s assistant, who nodded at her to approach the inner sanctum. She moved down the hall, past the empty boardroom and paused when she found a bodyguard stationed at Joaquin’s door.

It was the first time she’d seen one here, but it was a fairly normal sight to her because Cinnia and all of her in-laws employed them. That was how Siobhan knew Killian. He handled all the security for her sister’s family. Siobhan had taken self-defense classes with one of his instructors when she’d been a teenager and still practiced on a regular basis.

She showed her work badge to the man, but before she could knock, the door was pulled inward.

Joaquin’s voice was saying, “—appreciate your making time—”

He cut himself off as he noticed her.

“¿Firma, por favor?” She waved the folder as an explanation and stepped back to allow his guest to exit. Her cheeks warmed with pleasure at how arrested Joaquin had seemed by the sight of her, though.

“Give my best to your family,” Joaquin said absently.

“I will,” promised a male voice as a strange man stepped out.

Siobhan had conjured a polite smile for Joaquin’s guest, but it fell off her face. He wasn’t a stranger at all. The handsome man in his forties was very well-known to her.

“Dorry,” he said with surprise.

---

“Ramon.” Siobhan breathed the name with shock and enough familiarity to raise Joaquin’s hackles.

He’d started to open the door and found her unexpectedly outside it. In that millisecond of being hit by the sight of her, he’d been taken aback by how beautiful she was. By how pleased he was to see her.

Today she wore a thick gray knit dress that fell to the tops of her knee-high boots. A chunky belt of square silver links nipped at her waist, and its neckline draped like a scarf. Nothing about it was particularly sexy or daring, but she made it look runway chic.

Then Ramon Sauveterre stepped out and hugged her.

A deeply regressive emotion exploded through Joaquin. He clamped down on it, but the atavistic taste for blood stayed on his tongue.

Because Siobhan hugged Ramon back. And she offered the other man a bemused, untampered laugh. Not the kind she muted as quickly as it formed, the way she’d been doing around here, if she suddenly realized he was watching her. This was natural and lovely and full of genuine affection.

“It’s good to see you.” Ramon hung on to her arms, continuing to smile fondly at her. “I knew you’d taken a job in Madrid. I didn’t know it was here. I’ve already sent the family south, but I wanted to take this meeting.” He glanced at Joaquin with bemusement.

Whatever was in Joaquin’s face erased Ramon’s good-natured humor. He pulled his brows together. The temperature in the corridor dropped several degrees.

“I do work here.” Siobhan’s tone grew reproachful. “And everyone here knows me as Siobhan.”

“Oh, hell.” Ramon gave his jaw a rub then held out his palm. “My bad, but when have I ever had to call you that?”

“Today. Right now. This is the moment you were supposed to call me that.”

They shared a look of laughter and apology and history. So much history it made Joaquin want to pull Siobhan into his office and lock out everyone else, most especially his too-suave business partner.

Joaquin had never been a jealous person. He hadn’t been allowed to be. He’d had a taste of it with his assistant last week and learned the emotion didn’t sit well with him. At all.

“How are you two acquainted?” he asked coolly.

“Oh. Um.” Siobhan folded her arms and flickered a look between them.

“I’ll let you fill him in.” Ramon gave her shoulder a squeeze. “My plane is waiting. Do you need a lift? Should I wait for you?”

“No, I need to work, but thank you. I’ll see you again soon.”

Ramon kissed both her cheeks, needling the green monster within Joaquin before he gave Joaquin a last thoughtful look and left with his bodyguard.

Joaquin opened his door wider and jerked his head at Siobhan to enter.

“What—” he said as he pushed the door closed with a hard click “—was that?”

“Someone I know.” She shrugged it off, avoiding his gaze as she set the folder on his desk. “Oladele is waiting for this. Do you mind? I have a lot of work that needs to be finished by end of day, and the big boss is looking for any excuse to fire me.” She delivered the facetious remark with a distant smile that could have come from his own arsenal.

He hated it.

“Tell me.” He approached the desk and closed his hand over the pen she held out, capturing her fingers in his grip. Not tightly. Just enough to hold her full attention. Just enough to hold her and convince himself she was, in some small way, his. For now.

“You’re asking me to share something highly personal.” She could have pulled her hand away, but she didn’t. Her chin went up a notch. Her lashes flickered and he thought her breath stuttered. “Too personal for the workplace.” Inappropriate, her defiant glare said as she slid a pointed glance to his grip on her hand.

She was getting back at him for that day in the corridor, when he’d told her she was out of line with her personal question about children. He’d felt small when he’d slapped it down, but every moment around her was a struggle. Even as he commuted to the office, before he saw her, he would wonder what she would be wearing today. Hair up or down? Glasses or contacts? Heels or boots? Did he have a meeting scheduled that would bring her up to his floor? Or did he have to engineer a glimpse of her from afar?

Then, when he did see her, he had to fight the urge to fall into bantering with her. He fought standing too close. Fought asking her to dinner. Fought pulling her near—

He wanted to yank her into his arms right now.

He let go of her hand.

The pen dropped to the desktop.

“Tell me how you know him or I’ll imagine you were lovers.” He drew the folder closer, pretending disinterest even though his vision was still violent green.

She made a choked noise. “Why would you care if we were?”

“I care,” he ground out and jerked up his head.

Her breath cut in and her eyes flared wide at whatever she read in his face. Her mouth softened and her jaw went slack.

Angry with himself for revealing so much, frustrated at this sensation of being eaten alive, he said bitingly, “I thought you had hard boundaries around adultery. He’s been married for years. They have children.”

“I know that,” she said with a flash of her own temper. “My sister is married to his brother.”

“Henri?” Joaquin had met Ramon’s identical twin on more than one occasion along with both their wives. “Your sister is Cinnia?” The resemblance seemed obvious now as he looked past Siobhan’s dark hair. “This is the wealthy family you’re related to?”

“Yes.” She folded her arms and radiated defensiveness. “Why does it matter?”

Because wealthy was a gross understatement. Joaquin was wealthy. The Sauveterre family, two pairs of identical twins, were celebrities. The younger pair of girls was royalty. The family’s wealth and fame had made them targets, though. When Ramon and Henri had been teenagers, one of their sisters had been kidnapped. She’d been recovered and all the siblings were married with children of their own now, but they still maintained a heavy security presence as a precaution.

“When your boyfriend took those unauthorized photos, it was them?”

“Ex,” she corrected tightly. “Yes. Ramon’s children. I was staying with them while I went to Cambridge.”

“Why?”

“I was working on my language degree.”

“Why were you staying with them?” he spelled out.

“Because I was going to Cambridge,” she said with exasperation. “Ramon was working out of the London office. Izzy had just had their twins. They had nannies, but I had already helped Cinnia with their twins and Izzy doesn’t have siblings. She didn’t have a network in London and needed someone she…” She cleared her throat. “Someone she could trust. It seemed like a win-win for me to stay with them.”

“But it wasn’t? Because of what your ex did?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Her shoulders hunched in disgrace.

“Why did Ramon call you Dorry?” he asked in confusion.

“I told you I changed my name.”

“Yes, but why?”

“Why do you want to know?” Her voice thinned with persecution.

“Because you don’t need this job.” He stabbed at his desktop. “Which makes me wonder why you fought so hard to keep it.”

“Oh, my gawd,” she muttered, striding toward the pair of sofas that faced each other over a coffee table. “You’re right. I don’t need to work. Henri has been paying me an outrageous allowance since I went to live with him and Cinnia at fourteen, when she had their twins.”

“They didn’t have nannies?”

“Yes, but Cin was actually very sick when she delivered them and they were taken by C-section. Plus, she and Henri had just got back together. He thought she would feel isolated if she didn’t have family around. I was already homeschooling and helping Cin with her estate practice so it made sense. I stayed because I liked being part of their family.” Her voice softened and she traced the seam on the back of the sofa. “Henri’s siblings all treated me like I was one of them. It was nice.”

“He still supports you?”

“No.” She crinkled her brow at him. “You must know their family history, that Henri’s sister was kidnapped when they were young?”

“Of course.” It had dominated the headlines, especially here in Spain.

“Henri is very careful about security because of that. He wanted me to live with them because he knew I was safe there. He put me through the self-defense courses that Cin and his sisters took and I was drilled on all the security protocols. I knew what was at stake and didn’t make social profiles, but Dorry Whitley was well-known enough that if people heard my name, they would ask me about them. I learned to spot when I was being befriended because someone wanted access to them. Then I missed one.”

“What’s his name?”

“Putrid McDogmeat.” She stood with her arms folded, back stiff. “I had always felt wrong about accepting Henri’s support. It felt as though I was being paid to be Auntie Dorry. When I put Ramon’s children at risk…” She shuddered. “I couldn’t be on the family payroll after that.”

“Did Henri blame you? Because Ramon doesn’t seem to be holding any grudges.”

“No. They’ve always been very magnanimous. Ramon says it was his mistake because he allowed me to introduce Gilbert to his children. But it was my mistake. I dated the man. I vouched for him.” She turned to stab between her breasts. “I couldn’t stay with them after that. And I didn’t want any footprints leading back to them, either. I moved to Australia and asked Killian to give me a new ID and school records, so I wasn’t Dorry Whitley anymore. I kept a low profile, worked my butt off for top grades and got this job on my own merit. That actually means a lot to me. I like being Siobhan Upton.”

Joaquin leaned his hip on the desk. “That’s not the only reason, though, is it?”

“For what?”

“For changing your name. You don’t want to be Dorry because you’re mad at her. You’re punishing her.”

“No.” She scowled into the middle distance, mouth twitching sullenly. “Maybe. I deserve to be punished. It was a horrible, dangerous mistake.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion even if you’re wrong.” She looked to the side.

He snorted and moved close enough to catch her gaze. “I’m never wrong. Like you, I’m perfect. Never make mistakes.”

She frowned, mouth pouting. “Can you please—” she cleared her throat “—not tell anyone who I am?”

“I won’t say a word,” he assured her.

“Thank you.” Her shoulders relaxed. “I just don’t want people to…”

“I understand.” It was a lot to carry. He was annoyed that Henri had put that much pressure on her, but he also had the impression she put a lot on herself.

Dios, her scent went to his head when he stood this close. It wasn’t bold enough to be perfume. It was a subtle combination of shampoo and hand cream and the summer peach fragrance of her. He searched for its source, gaze tracking into her throat then back to her cheeks.

She tilted her head back and her gaze tangled with his. She licked her lips.

He was a man, not a machine. With temptation this close and the nip of jealousy still in his blood, his resistance to her all but vanished. He hooked his finger in her belt and tugged, inviting her closer.

She flowed into him so he was able to slide his arms around the soft column of her. His mouth found hers and her taste washed through him. Lust flexed its claws deep into his skin, fueling his hands in their quest to map her shape and meld her to his front.

“Joaquin,” she moaned as he sought the fragrant skin of her throat. Her arms climbed behind his neck so it was no effort at all to hitch her hips onto the back of the sofa and push her skirt up, exposing her thighs in thin black leggings to his restless hands.

This was where he had longed to be again. He pushed deeper into the V of her thighs until he felt the heat of her against the ridge of his erection. Until her mouth was firmly under his again so he could devour her.

The wrinkled suede of her boots pressed erotically against the backs of his legs, urging him to press harder. The gorgeous weight of her breast filled his hand, her nipple pebbled firmly enough he could feel it through the knit. He set his other hand on her tailbone, the bar of his arm keeping her from falling to the cushions while he ground himself against her.

She said something. It could have been a demand or a plea. He didn’t know. All he knew was that he was starving and needed this. Her.

As lust began to overwhelm him, compelling him to claim her, he drew her back onto her feet and turned her to face the back of the sofa.

She gasped and thrust her ass against his fly, crushing the ridge of his erection in the most delicious way. He dragged her skirt up and caught the waistband of her leggings, starting to drag them down, revealing her round ass and the midnight-blue lace that cut across her cheeks.

He followed the dark line of color with his fingertips into the crevice of her thighs, seeking the heat. The dampness. The welcoming clasp of her sheath as he delved into paradise.

She moaned in a way that stroked him like velvet and arched her back. Inviting him to explore deeper. To take.

Condom, he thought and glanced around, only then seeing where he was.

He cursed crudely and pulled his touch away too roughly, pulling back from her so abruptly, she gasped in shock and clung to the sofa while she sent him a wild look over her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

She was nearly irresistible with that sensual flush and her heavy eyelids and her pupils shot wide with passion.

“I didn’t lock the door. This is a dangerous mistake, Siobhan.” She worked for him.

She gasped and yanked her clothes back into order, mouth taking on a bruised pout, eyes wide with speechless hurt. Her ankle wobbled and he tried to steady her, but she disdainfully pulled from his touch.

“Leave the folder with your assistant,” she said in a hollow voice. “I need the ladies’ room.”

“Siobhan.” He took a step to go after her, then stopped himself. Damn it.

He was her employer. He couldn’t do this.

How had this even happened. He had been succeeding at treating her like any other employee until— No. He hadn’t. If he was brutally honest with himself, he would recognize that even when he wasn’t overstepping boundaries, he was a little harder on her, a little slower to offer praise, taking care not to reveal so much as a hint of favoritism toward her.

He was trying to protect her, though. She saw every day the lengths Lorenzo would go to strike at him. Surely, she understood why this couldn’t happen?

Who could comprehend it, though? Really? He didn’t fully understand Lorenzo’s hatred of him. Lorenzo had been equally hard on Fernando, but had at least acknowledged Fernando’s position as his heir and groomed him accordingly. For years it had merely been favoritism of one son over the other, but once Lorenzo had been back here at LVG, it had become outright efforts to sabotage Joaquin. Why?

Yes, he’d been a boisterous child, always getting into things. He saw the same energy and curiosity in his nephew and knew it was easy to see that behavior as defiance.

We caught him putting his dinosaurs in the toaster, Fernando had said of the boy during one of their last conversations. Pulled a chair over to reach it. He wanted to know what would happen.

Fernando had been nonplussed, but proud of the boy’s ingenuity and desire to experiment.

Lorenzo had never been proud of Joaquin, though. He’d saved his praise for Fernando, who’d been smart and athletic, but also deferential and disciplined. Lorenzo had blamed his wife for Joaquin’s strongmindedness. Teach him his place, Lorenzo had told her many times.

Then his mother had left and Lorenzo had taken on putting Joaquin in his place with his own firm hand. Fernando had intervened as often as he could, but Lorenzo had swung enough at both of them that it made little difference. He preferred to punish his youngest, though. The one who didn’t matter.

There were times Joaquin had kept himself on a tight leash, thinking maybe, if he was good enough, his mother would come back. She had sworn to him that Lorenzo had driven her away, not him, but he still blamed himself. He was too quick to speak out, always determined to find a way to whatever he wanted even if he would be punished for it.

He knew now that his mother had taken the brunt of Lorenzo’s anger until she feared for her life, never dreaming her husband would turn on their sons. Then Lorenzo had undermined her financially and socially, making it impossible for her to gain custody of them.

Eventually, Joaquin had realized how much abuse she had taken on his behalf and, in a twisted way, was glad she had left so he didn’t have to worry about her.

Then there was Esperanza. Joaquin never would have engaged himself to her if he had known he would wind up back in his father’s sphere. From the moment Lorenzo was introduced to her at Fernando’s wake, Lorenzo had behaved intolerably toward her. When she broke their engagement a few weeks later, Joaquin knew it was for the best that she distance herself from him.

Women didn’t fare well when they were attached to him. Even his brief liaisons were fraught with the same thing that was plaguing Siobhan right now—he was aloof. Inaccessible. Not outwardly cruel, but carrying a history that left him stunted. Unable to attach.

Women left him and he let them go for their sake and his own.

He wasn’t letting Siobhan go, though. He kept trying to make himself relegate her to his past, but every time he pushed her away, he felt as though he was peeling away his own skin.

Even so, this obsession with her had to stop.