One Night in Madrid: Spanish Billionaire, Innocent Wife / The Spaniard's Defiant Virgin / The Spanish Duke's Virgin Bride. Jennie Lucas
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Автор: Jennie Lucas
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные любовные романы
isbn: 9781408936740
isbn:
And then he had strolled back into the room, large as life and twice as arrogant, assuming something else. Assuming that she would be sitting there—preferably lying there—waiting for him to take up where he had left off. So that he could deal with the problem as quickly as possible and be on his way.
And, fool that she was, she had been waiting. She had stayed in that room, silent and—damn it—obedient to his wishes! No wonder he had thought that he could take what he wanted from her, that she would pander to his every desire. If she had had any sense she would have snatched the opportunity while the porter was at the door to come out of the bedroom, sweep past him and out of the door before he had a chance to protest or complain. And the thought of him trying to explain why a half-dressed woman with no shoes might need to get out of the hotel suite as swiftly as possible brought a certain grim satisfaction to her mind.
‘Why should I want to sit down? And what could we possibly have to talk about?’
‘I have a proposition I want to put to you.’
‘A proposition?’
Alannah eyed him warily. He still looked calm—worryingly so. What had happened to the hotly passionate lover of just a few short minutes before—and the arrogant swine who had declared ‘I don’t have to snap my fingers—just use them to touch you, and you’ll be mine to do exactly as I command’? It seemed that in the space of just a few brief moments Raul Marcín had been at least three different men, if not more. There was the hotly passionate lover, the man who with calm good humour and spectacular arrogance had dismissed her protests as unnecessary and now here, it seemed, was the businessman who had a proposition to put to her. And she had no way of beginning to guess just which of them was the real person.
‘What sort of a proposition?’
Why was she even asking? She didn’t want to spend any more time in his company. It was too upsetting, too disquieting, too dangerous to her peace of mind and her sense of self-preservation. She wanted to get out of here.
Didn’t she?
But just as her mind threw the question at her she knew that she had already hesitated for too long even to convince herself. The angry impetus that had fired her, driving her feet towards the door, refusing to let her look back or even consider any other possible alternative, had seeped away from her, her yearning senses were already reminding her of what they were missing and the nagging ache of frustration low down in her body was almost too much to bear.
‘Sit down and I’ll tell you.’
Raul gestured towards the settee but the memories the big leather sofa held were too strong, too devastating for her to be comfortable. So she deliberately chose another seat, one of the big armchairs that matched the settee, and sat there stiffly, legs primly together, her hands clasped on her knees. She was painfully aware of the way that there must be a huge contrast between her position and the state of her tumbled hair, the still gaping dress.
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