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Kept by the Spanish Billionaire(61)

By:Cathy Williams


He would tell her straight away that Elizabeth was no longer on the scene. That bit, he thought, would be the easiest. Less easy would be when he started talking to her about his feelings.

Rafael frowned. Where, he wondered, did a man start when it came to discussing feelings?

He imagined James would be pretty good in that area. He, on the other hand, tended to be more prosaic. He also wasn’t entirely sure how much of those feelings he was inclined to reveal. Honesty was one thing, but he also needed to protect himself.

He was sitting in the car, flirting with his delaying tactics, when a movement interrupted his line of vision. Not that he had been looking at anything in particular. Just absent-mindedly looking in the general direction of her house.

It took a couple of seconds for him to register that her front door was opening, that she was standing at it, that she was with a man. And the man was sticking on his coat, patting his pockets as though feeling for something.

Rafael found himself fascinated by the unfolding tableau. In his head, he had been prepared for pretty much anything, including having the crockery thrown at his repentant head. What he hadn’t banked on was to find a man emerging from her house. There had been no recent ex in the background. So who the hell was he?

Jealousy, an emotion he had never had much time for, slammed into him with such force that he actually gasped. Then he was opening his door, at much the same time as the man was leaning into her, enfolding her in an embrace that spoke of pure intimacy.

He didn’t think he was running, but he must have been because they both detached themselves to look in the direction of his feet pounding along the pavement.

Rafael had only ever been involved in a fight once before in his life. He had been a teenager at the time and a remark had been made about his nationality. The passing remark had led onto further insulting remarks and the raucous jeering had triggered something in him that had made him see red. He had piled into the lot of them single-handedly and had only emerged from the fracas when they had scattered to the four winds. A bloody victor. It had been an ugly scene and the loss of self-control had been a brutal learning curve for him. Yes, his mother and stepfather had given him the expected lecture about rising to taunts, about physical violence not being the answer to anything. In actual fact, they need not have bothered because it was a lesson he had learnt for himself.#p#分页标题#e#

He could feel the lesson flying out the window as he reached forward and grabbed the man by the lapels of his coat to slam him back against the wall while Amy tried to yank him off.

He was aware that people were staring and he propelled the man back into the house, with Amy still ineffectively trying to prise him off, then he kicked the door shut behind him with one foot.

‘Right,’ he said grimly, ‘who the hell are you and what are you doing here?’

‘Will you let him go?’ Amy screeched from behind him. Rafael ignored her. Every ounce of his concentration was fixed on the terrified, confused face of the man who seemed to have lost the power of speech.

‘Listen, mate.’

‘I’m not your mate,’ Rafael bit out, keeping his voice under control and his fist too, even though he wanted to lay into the guy, who, it had to be said, was no match for him physically. A good few inches shorter and slight in comparison to Rafael’s muscular build.

‘Look, just let me go and…’

Then there was a jumble of words, with the man begging to be released and scrabbling to find some kind of vantage point, Amy yelling at Rafael, asking him what in heck was he doing and Rafael informing the man, still in a very controlled voice, that he was going to dump him outside and letting Amy know that he had every intention of finding out what some guy was doing under her roof.

Amy assured her brother she was fine and then turned to Rafael, hands on her hips, every inch of her bristling in stupefied anger.

She made for the door and Rafael’s arm shot out, barring her way.

‘No chance. You’re not going anywhere until you tell me who that was.’

He removed his coat and pitched it over the banister. Yes, he was calming down, but, no, he wasn’t going to feel guilty about what he had done even though she was looking at him with those huge, enraged eyes.

‘Who do you think you are, Rafael Vives? Barging into my house like that! How dare you?’

‘How the hell am I supposed to react when I find you making out with some man in your doorway!’ Especially when you’re dressed like that, he thought savagely, in a tight little pair of faded jeans and a tight, old long-sleeved tee shirt under which it’s obvious you’re not wearing a bloody bra…