The Unforgettable Spanish Tycoon

They hadn’t bothered to get to know him at all.

Elena, on the other hand, had made him feel as if he didn’t need to pretend to be somebody he wasn’t when he was with her. She’d liked him for his erudite conversation and refreshing views on the world. Or so she’d said.

After growing up as the poor, pitied son of a woman who was infamous in the small town where he lived for being the mistress of a married man and a woman of loose morals, he’d promised himself he’d make sure his adulthood would be very different.

Because of the disgrace that surrounded his family, his early life had been pretty tough by all accounts: friendless, violent and isolated. But after he’d been threatened with expulsion from the elite school that he’d later found, to his chagrin, that his mother’s sugar daddy had funded, he’d pulled up his socks and eschewed everything and everyone for a life dedicated to study so he could get away from the small town and its even smaller mentality.

He was going to be someone that people looked up to and respected, and Elena had made him feel as though he’d achieved that—for a short time anyway.

To his shame and regret, it had turned out he’d been very wrong about how much she’d actually cared about him and she’d been the first and last person he’d ever trusted.

The memory of her betrayal had stayed with him over the years, tarnishing every relationship he’d had, as if she were a devil on his shoulder, judging his choices, prodding at his conscience, reminding him he could never truly trust anyone with his heart.

When he’d seen her name in his diary this morning it had sent a shock of such intense regret-fuelled nostalgia through him he’d had to sit down and take a few deep breaths to regain his composure. He’d been on the cusp of telling his PA to cancel the meeting, but curiosity and a deep-seated urge to regain some sort of equilibrium over past hurts had stopped him at the last minute.

He wanted to feel as though he finally had a handle on his feelings about Elena Jones.

It had been going well, with him feeling in control of the meeting until she’d caught him out by accusing him of being a bully.

It had shocked him to his core.

Was that really what she thought he’d become?

It had been such a long time since someone had stood up to him like that, he had no idea whether his behaviour was out of line or not. The thought that it might have been had rattled him. She’d rattled him, despite his determination not to let her get to him.

He stabbed at the buzzer on the phone to summon his PA.

Benita hurried into the room, her hands tightly clasped in front of her and her gaze lowered as if she was afraid she’d get another dressing-down for what had just happened.

He’d been furious when she’d let it slip in front of Elena that things weren’t exactly going to plan with the Americans. He’d not wanted her to know that things weren’t running as smoothly as he’d wanted to project, for the sake of his professional pride, but he was aware, now that he’d calmed down a little, that he’d perhaps been a bit too harsh on the woman. She’d not been working for him for long, having stepped into the role after his usual PA had gone on maternity leave, and they hadn’t found the right rhythm for working together yet.

But he wasn’t a complete monster, as Elena had so brazenly suggested. He was firm and expected total professionalism at all times, but he made sure to reward those who did a good job for him.

‘Benita, I wanted to say good work on putting that file together for me yesterday. It was very helpful in my meeting.’

His PA stared at him, as if in shock.

Surely it wasn’t that surprising that he’d offered her a compliment.

Was it?

No. He was letting Elena Jones get into his head and that was the last place he wanted her to be. He was over his feelings for her. It had taken him years to get rid of the ache he’d carried around after she’d rejected him, but he’d finally managed it.

‘Thank you.’ Benita paused, a worried frown now pinching her brow. ‘Are you okay? Is there anything I can get you?’ she asked with hesitation in her voice.

He opened his mouth to dismiss her misplaced concern, annoyed that she’d noticed his agitation, but pulled himself back at the last second, now hyper-aware of Elena’s comments.

Damn the woman!

‘I’m fine,’ he muttered, forcing his mouth into a smile.

But, instead of seeming reassured by this, his PA took a hurried step away from him as if suspicious about his sudden change in attitude.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, pacing to the window to look down at the street below and collect himself.

What was happening to him today? His head was a mess.

At least he was free of Elena now though. His outright rejection of her proposal would surely mean she’d never darken his door again.

The street was busy with people milling about between office blocks and cafés and he watched them scurrying around for a moment, his thoughts jumping between relief and dissatisfaction. He knew he’d been petty, not even agreeing to look at the proposal she’d brought all the way from England, but she’d humiliated and hurt him once and he wasn’t prepared to let her get anywhere near him again.

A partnership between them—their companies, he corrected himself—could never work.

For a second he wondered whether his mind was playing tricks on him as a familiar lone figure on the street opposite his building caught his eye. His stomach lurched as he watched her pace back and forth, then throw her gaze up towards Araya Industries and frown, as if hatching a plan to get back in here and torment him again.

Apparently he couldn’t have been more wrong about having chased Elena Jones away for good.

Well, he wasn’t having it.

‘Hold my calls for a while longer,’ he said to his PA as he swept out of the room past her and headed towards the lift that would take him down to street level.

Apparently he hadn’t made it clear enough to Elena that there would be no further opportunities to meet with him, so he was going to rectify that right here and now. He was going to tell her to go home and that he wanted nothing more to do with her.

Storming onto the street, blood pulsing feverishly through his veins, he called out her name and she turned to meet his eye, her expression registering first surprise then hope.

Hope away, cariño—you’re not getting a thing from me except a wave goodbye.

The street was quiet as he drew level with where she stood on the pavement opposite and he glanced quickly left, not seeing anything coming his way, anger at her audacity buzzing in his head.

Elena’s eyes were fixed firmly on him as he began to cross the street towards her but, as he stepped into the middle of the road, something made her glance away then quickly back to him again.

This time there was an altogether different expression on her face.

Panic.

Blood thumping in his ears, he swivelled to look at what had spooked her and time seemed to slow down. There was a motorbike coming towards him at speed and he knew in that moment, with absolute certainty, that there was no way he could get out of its path in time.

Memories flashed before his eyes: of him and Elena laughing together after one of their classes at university, of her sitting in his room telling him she was thinking about splitting up with her childhood sweetheart, and all the blood rushing from his head as he realised he finally had a chance to have what he’d wanted for so long, of the look of abject hurt and distress on her face just now when he’d told her he wouldn’t partner with her.

Lights and colours danced before his eyes and a strange kind of euphoria lifted his senses, making his surroundings hyper-loud and vividly real.

And then the bike hit him, the impact throwing his body into the air, knocking all the breath from his lungs. In a panic he flailed his limbs wildly as he tried to grab hold of something, anything, to anchor him as he spun through the void. A moment later his body made rough, painful impact with the ground, quickly followed by his head.

And everything went black.

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