Kept by the Spanish Billionaire(51)

Then there had been the small matter of the apartment, so-called company apartment, in its prime location in Manhattan. And his fantastic car. The list was endless and Amy could have kicked herself for not paying a single scrap of attention to any of the warning signs that had been flashing in front of her in bold neon lettering.#p#分页标题#e#

In the middle of her clamouring thoughts, she realised that he had stooped down so that he was now on her level, looking at her squarely in the face and way too close to her for her liking.

Amy stared at him blankly.

‘I was wrong,’ Rafael told her grimly. ‘And you’re going to listen to what I have to say whether you like it or not. And I don’t intend conversing to you squatting on the floor.’ He stood up and yanked her to her feet and Amy toppled against him and pulled back in dismay.

She opened her mouth to repeat her mantra about having nothing further to say to him, but she didn’t get very far before she was being swept off her feet and carried—carried!—over his shoulder, out of the kitchen and into the sitting room where she was unceremoniously placed on the sofa.

Rafael could no more believe he had done that than she could.

He briefly contemplated locking the door and pocketing the key but every civilised instinct in him reared up at that extreme.

Instead, he went across to the sofa. She had scooted up one end and was watching him warily.

‘I should have told you who I was from the beginning but I didn’t because I honestly didn’t want my time interrupted. I might not be known to the English crew, but everyone else would know exactly who I was and would be damned curious to find out why I was skulking in the grounds. My mother asked me to be there and I did what she wanted.’

‘But then even if you had been tempted to tell me who you really were, you soon wised up to the fact that you would find out a lot more about me and my motives if you kept quiet.’

‘Correct.’ He looked away and relaxed back into the chair, stretching out his long legs in front of him and clasping his hands behind his head. ‘I wanted to find out for myself if you were after James for a reason.’ He shifted so that he was looking at her now. She had come prepared for a night of hard work, had tied her hair ferociously back into two plaits, was wearing the plainest of clothes. But she still looked edible. In fact, just as he had remembered her.

‘By the time we made love, I knew that you weren’t interested in James and, if you had been, his money had had nothing to do with anything.’

Amy felt hot and shaky. He was certainly respecting her space, was making sure to keep a healthy distance between them, but his eyes were boring holes through her. She didn’t like it when he referred to them making love. It was easier to concentrate on his deception and feel angry about it when she wasn’t thinking of him as a man, as her lover.

‘Does that make you react?’ Rafael asked softly. His posture was relaxed but his gaze, fixed on her flushed face, was intent and watchful.

‘What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Oh, yes, you do. The memory of us…in bed…don’t you want to know why I’ve come over to London?’

‘No. And I don’t care.’

‘I couldn’t get you out of my head,’ Rafael confessed.

Amy snorted. ‘You mean after you dismissed me without a backward glance?’ She had an embarrassing recollection of asking him, on her point of departure, whether they might try and prolong their relationship. Remembered just as clearly his immediate, negative response.

‘I wasn’t on the lookout for a relationship with someone from this country.’ He thought of Elizabeth. ‘Or any country, for that matter,’ he added.

‘Oh, stop pretending, Rafael. You weren’t on the lookout for a relationship with me. Do you remember telling me that I was out of James’s league? Well, face it, you could have added your name to the category.’ She heard the hard edge in her voice with dismay. Never before had she been bitter. She just wasn’t a bitter person. At least, not until now.#p#分页标题#e#

She badly wanted to talk to someone in her family. One of her sisters. Or brothers.

She needed a familiar voice to tell her that she was going to be just fine.

‘You were out of his league because James only looks at a certain type of woman. Call it lack of imagination on his part.’

‘And you were imaginative enough to seduce me even though I wasn’t your type.’

Too much talking. That had been the problem. Conversation with past girlfriends had been skin deep and work related. It seemed that he had done way too much talking with Amy. Had he really told her that she wasn’t his type? Unfortunately it sounded horribly probable. One of those passing remarks to establish that he wasn’t in the market for commitment. And she had listened and filed away the remark for future reference. She was a very good listener, he realised belatedly. He wondered what else might be brought up in evidence of his exploitative, horrible character.