The Unforgettable Spanish Tycoon Read online

  ‘Because you were responsible for it.’ It all made sense now. Cold, cruel sense.

  ‘No! At least not directly. You were crossing the road to talk to me and you didn’t look properly.’

  ‘And why was that?’

  She didn’t seem to be able to meet his eye. ‘I guess you were distracted.’

  ‘You mean I was angry with you for not taking no for an answer?’

  She visibly swallowed. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And then you stuck around when you thought I couldn’t remember what had happened.’

  ‘I was trying to make things right between us.’

  ‘You mean when you realised I’d forgotten all about it you thought you’d be able to get what you wanted by pretending to care about me. By charming your way into my bed!’

  Her eyes widened in dismay. ‘What? No—!’

  ‘I know exactly what you’ve been doing, Elena—you’ve been playing me this whole time, hoping to seduce me into giving you what you needed when I’d already told you no,’ he bit out, anger and humiliation and heartache making his voice shake.

  She gaped at him in stunned surprise, her face now bleached of colour. ‘No, Caleb.’ Her voice came out as a ragged whisper. ‘That’s not what happened!’

  * * *

  Elena felt sick.

  How could he suddenly be acting so coldly towards her after the closeness they’d shared?

  Who was she kidding? She knew how, because she’d done exactly the same thing to him fifteen years ago.

  She swallowed hard, her mind whirring, trying to think of some way to convince him that she’d meant well by staying here to look after him and that she genuinely cared about him, but before she could say anything else he frowned, then shook his head as if another revelation had just struck him.

  ‘You only went to that dinner meeting with Carter with me so I’d feel compelled to say yes to your own partnership.’

  Gritting her teeth, she let out a moan of frustration. ‘You asked me to go with you and I wanted to help you! Not for my own benefit, but for yours!’

  He was nodding now though, as if he wasn’t listening to her and things were suddenly making sense in his head. ‘You guided me towards asking you to help me, planting the idea about me needing someone who understood the business. You manipulated me.’

  ‘I did not,’ she said as calmly as she could manage, trying like mad to control the shake of anger and hurt in her voice. ‘It was your idea and there was no way I could refuse to help and leave you alone with your head injury. And I wanted to help, Caleb. Genuinely.’

  He let out a low, disdainful laugh. ‘Being genuine is not one of your strong points, Elena.’

  ‘Maybe not fifteen years ago but, I promise you, it is now.’

  ‘They why didn’t you tell me everything when we had all our heart-to-hearts? There were plenty of opportunities.’

  ‘Because I was afraid you’d kick me to the kerb. I was worried about you—about the fact you didn’t seem to have anyone else to look after you. From what I’ve seen, you still seem intent on pushing away anyone who gets even vaguely close to you. I don’t want you to end up old and alone. You deserve more than that. You deserve to be loved. And to be happy. You’re a good man; you just need to believe it.’

  He snorted. ‘I know my own worth, Elena.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes. I would never have slept with someone who couldn’t remember the callous way I’d treated them in the past.’

  She shoved her fingers into her hair in frustration. ‘You told me you’d remembered.’

  ‘Did you really believe I’d forgive you for the way you treated me back then, just like that?’ He snapped his fingers, shooting her a look of disgust.

  Dropping her head into her hands now, she let out a long, low sigh. ‘I guess I knew deep down that something wasn’t quite right, but I really wanted to believe things were okay with us again so I pushed any misgivings I had to one side.’

  When she looked up again he was staring at her as if he didn’t believe a word of it, his expression dark and unyielding.

  ‘Yes, okay, I was being naïve,’ she said, frustration making her belligerent now. ‘It was wrong of me to let it happen.’

  ‘So why did you?’

  His question brought her up short. ‘I—’

  ‘You could have stopped me.’

  ‘I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.’

  ‘Why not, Elena?’

  ‘Because I wanted you, all right!’ she blurted, furious with herself for losing her cool.

  ‘You wanted my battery, you mean,’ he bit out, leaning towards her.

  ‘No!’ She took a breath, trying to calm her raging emotions. ‘Well, yes. Okay.’ She leant forwards too, fixing him with what she hoped was an honest and open expression. ‘I need your battery because I have a lot of good people relying on me to find a way to save their jobs, but sleeping with you was a totally separate thing. I wanted to do it for me. For us.’

  ‘For us?’

  ‘Yes! I’ve missed you over the years and I didn’t realise how much until I saw you again. How unhappy I was without you.’

  There was a heavy beat of silence where they stared at each other, their breathing rapid and the body language tense.

  She thought she saw a flash of vulnerability in his eyes, but the next second it was gone, replaced with cool indifference. ‘If you’re saying that because you’re worried I’m going to back out of the partnership then don’t bother. I’m not that much of a monster,’ he growled, reaching into his jacket and withdrawing a sheaf of papers, which he tossed onto the table in front of her. ‘It’s a contract I had drawn up earlier today which agrees to a partnership with your company.’

  She stared at it in shock for a moment before dragging her gaze back to his.

  ‘Caleb, thank you—’

  But, before she could finish her sentence, he cut her off. ‘My colleagues will be handling it from here so we won’t need to have any more contact. I hope that makes you happy.’

  She glared at him, her heart thumping against her chest and her jaw tight with frustration. ‘Don’t be ridiculous—of course it doesn’t make me happy to not have any more contact with you!’

  He huffed out a disdainful laugh, the expression in his eyes hauntingly distant, then without another word he went to stand up.

  ‘Please, Caleb, stay,’ she said desperately, reaching out a hand in an attempt to stall him. ‘We need to talk more about this.’

  ‘There’s nothing left to say,’ he stated coldly, brushing away her attempt to touch him and standing up, and before she could utter another word he turned and walked swiftly away from the table without looking back.

  Elena sat there, numb with shock, battling down a painful ache deep inside her, afraid that once she let it rise to the surface she wouldn’t be able to stop the tears that would inevitably come with it.

  Everything might have just gone to hell but there was no way she was going to blub in the middle of a restaurant.

  Gesturing to a passing waiter, she asked him to bring the bill for the champagne that she’d ordered and that neither of them had touched. She paid with her credit card, her movements jerky with anguish, then got up shakily and brushed herself down, setting back her shoulders before walking out of there, hyper-aware of the fascinated looks she was getting from the other diners.

  Dumped on Valentine’s night. It didn’t get much more humiliating than that.

  Once outside, she walked quickly down a side alley, away from prying eyes, and leant against the wall, burying her face in her hands.

  But she refused to let herself cry.

  She’d known, of course, on some subconscious level that Caleb had been lying about getting his memory back—that he�
��d been swept up in the excitement of closing the deal with the Americans and had wanted to celebrate with her the best way he knew how. And, to her shame, she’d let him, pretending to herself she believed that he remembered her even though he’d not remotely reacted in the way she’d been expecting.

  Because she’d wanted him so badly she’d ached with longing.

  The truth was, she’d been utterly selfish. She had taken advantage of his memory loss after the accident, not admitting it to herself at the time, but hoping—praying—it would never come back.

  She’d brought all this on herself.

  Just like she’d done fifteen years ago.

  Caleb had trusted her implicitly then too, so much so he’d opened himself up to her—the first person he’d ever done that with after enduring such a punishing and isolated childhood—and she’d thrown his love and trust back in his face, deeming it worthless.

  Then she’d hidden, like a coward, avoiding him at every turn until he’d been forced to come to her dorm room and practically break down the door to speak to her. She’d been afraid to face his disappointment in her so had put up a wall of ice to protect herself, telling him she’d made a mistake, he was too wild, too unpredictable for her, they could never be happy, not in the long run. She needed someone more stable, like Jimmy. He’d looked at her as if his world had just crashed in around him, before turning and walking away.

  And that had been the last time he’d ever spoken to her. From that point on he’d acted as if she didn’t exist. He’d looked through her as if she was nothing—a waste of space.

  And she’d known deep down that she’d deserved it.

  He’d practically gone to ground after that, skipping the lectures where she’d normally see him and never seeming to be at his dorm room when she dropped in, hoping to catch him and apologise and explain her horrible behaviour. And then he’d gone back to Spain as soon as the last lecture had finished, pushing past her when she’d tried to talk to him as if she meant nothing to him any more.

  It had left an aching hole in her that had never closed over, even fifteen years later.

  Because he’d been the love of her life.

  It had tormented her more than she’d wanted to admit to herself over the years, chipping away at her self-respect, causing her to find fault in every man she’d dated, leaving her to wonder whether she’d ever be happy in a relationship again.

  Until now.

  But just when she’d thought she’d paid her dues and things were finally good between them again she’d lost him all over again.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CALEB MARCHED INTO his apartment, slamming the front door so hard behind him the angry sound of it reverberated around the space for a good few seconds.

  How could he have let this happen? He’d known there was something strange going on but he’d blamed it on his memory loss instead of looking harder at the woman who had appeared out of nowhere like a ray of sunshine on a dark day.

  Slumping onto the sofa, he winced in pain as his cracked rib reminded him that he’d been weakened by the accident in more ways than one.

  But then hadn’t he known, deep down, that there was more to her story than she was telling him and he’d let himself fall for her anyway?

  Because he had—hard and intensely. The thought of being with her had consumed him over the last few days, just like it had when he was younger. He knew why he’d not wanted to look too closely at what was going on. It was because he’d wanted her to be genuinely interested in exploring a relationship with him—wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

  So he’d allowed himself to trust her, to begin to care about her—no, who was he kidding, he’d fallen in love with her and she’d used that to get what she wanted from him.

  Once again she’d played him for a fool.

  He felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest. All that emotion that had been building inside him from the moment he’d seen her again swelled to an almost unbearable size, closing his throat, crushing his lungs, filling his head with unbearable pain.

  No doubt she was already at the airport, ready to head home, happy in the knowledge that she’d achieved her objective here: to get him to sell her his battery, no matter what she’d had to do to get it.

  Anger flashed through him, propelling him off the sofa and towards his bedroom where her things were still hanging in his wardrobe and sitting on his shelves.

  Well, he wanted them gone. He didn’t want a trace of her left in his house now. He couldn’t stand the pain of thinking about what he could have had if only she’d really wanted him.

  Grabbing her small suitcase from where she’d stashed it in the wardrobe, he stuffed her clothes roughly into it willy-nilly, not caring how much it hurt his rib to do so—in fact, welcoming the pain it brought because it momentarily overrode the ache in his heart—then went to the bathroom and scooped all her toiletries into it too, forcing down the lid and roughly zipping it up.

  Picking up the case, he strode to the front door, opened it, then tossed it into the hallway, where it bounced a couple of times before coming to rest on its side, looking battered and forlorn in the grandiose, brightly lit space.

  Pushing away a rush of anguish, he slammed the door on it and strode into his kitchen, grabbing a glass tumbler out of the cupboard and splashing a good measure of whisky into it.

  He knocked it back, feeling the burn in the back of his throat and registering the warmth as it hit his stomach, though deriving no pleasure from it whatsoever.

  Pouring himself another large shot, he took it into the living area and slumped down onto the sofa again, staring out of the window at the dark night sky, which had become stormy with wind and rain that lashed against the glass, trying not to think about how painfully alone he was here in this big echoing apartment.

  Despite the way Elena had treated him, his traitorous body still ached for her. His throat was tense from holding back the urge to rage and swear at the world, his chest tight with sorrow and frustration.

  He knew, with ringing clarity now, why he’d deliberately sabotaged his engagement to his ex, Adela. He’d been afraid to trust her love for him for this very reason. His survival instinct had kicked in and he’d pushed her away before she could do it to him first.

  Because he’d been afraid of something like this happening to him again.

  The sad truth was he’d fallen for Adela in the first place because she’d reminded him of Elena. Adela had exhibited many of Elena’s traits; she’d even looked a bit like her, but of course he knew deep down that she could never be her. That was why he’d broken off their engagement. It wouldn’t have been fair to Adela to have always been second best in his heart.

  Perhaps he was destined to always be alone. It would at least be easier that way. Like it had been when he was younger.

  He was also acutely aware now that keeping his relationship with his mother at arm’s length had had a serious effect on the way he dealt with all his close relationships to this day.

  At least after her cancer was diagnosed he’d made sure to visit her more and they’d brokered a kind of unspoken peace between them. He’d never totally understood the life choices she’d made, but he’d come to finally accept them, and her. During those sad, desolate hours at the end of her life she’d made it clear to him that she’d always loved him and that she regretted the distance that had always been between them.

  It had torn him up inside, the futility of it, because she was gone now and all he was left with was a sense of deep sorrow for the time he’d wasted spurning her instead of loving and accepting her for who she was.

  And now he’d lost the woman he’d hoped to spend his future with too.

  The woman he loved.

  Knocking back the second whisky, he closed his eyes and tried t
o blank his mind of her—to shut out the pain and grief that made him feel as though someone had stripped him to the bone—but it was no good; he knew there was no forgetting Elena Jones.

  * * *

  Elena paced the streets, barely noticing the rain as it began to fall steadily from the sky, seeping into her new dress and plastering her hair to her head.

  How could things have gone so wrong so quickly? She’d known before, of course, that there was a chance they might when she’d thought his memory was still missing, but for him to have lied about remembering her, then shown her how wonderful they could be together, only then to regain his memory and reject her was devastating.

  Lightning flashed overhead, shocking her out of her frustrated, meandering thoughts, and she ducked under a nearby awning of a restaurant where a few other tourists had gathered, taking shelter from the storm. What was she doing? Moping around Barcelona in the rain wasn’t going to solve the problem; the only way she was going to get him to listen to her was to turn up at his apartment and refuse to leave until he did.

  She wasn’t going to run from him again, not this time. She was going to do what she should have done all those years ago—be brave and fight for what she really wanted, no matter the consequences. She’d never be able to forgive herself if she didn’t, not now she knew what she’d be missing—a positive, life-affirming partnership with the man she loved.

  Seeing an available taxi driving down the street, she ran back out into the rain and hailed it, jumping into the back seat and giving the driver Caleb’s address in a voice shaking with nerves and determination.

  She would not give up on them. Not this time.

  The journey seemed to take an age as they joined the slow-moving traffic and more and more people jumped into taxis to shelter from the rain. Elena tapped her foot anxiously, wondering what sort of reception she’d get when he opened the door and found her standing there. Would he be angry, cold, indifferent? Or, now that he’d had some time to calm down and reflect rationally on it all, would he be relieved to see her?