The Unforgettable Spanish Tycoon

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.

CHAPTER TWO

ELENA STOOD IN SHOCK, her arms still outstretched as if she’d thought she could do something, some kind of magic perhaps, to stop Caleb from being hit by the motorbike that had sped round the corner just as he’d stepped into its path.

She felt light-headed and displaced from reality, as if this was all some horrible dream—though the heavy thump of her heart in her throat and the adrenaline that roared through her body told her otherwise.

The rider was picking himself up from the ground after coming off his bike and miraculously seemed not to be injured in any way, but Caleb’s slumped body, which had been flung at least ten feet, was still lying half on the pavement and half on the road. And he wasn’t moving.

A cacophony of noise suddenly rushed in on her as people began running towards where Caleb lay, finally shocking Elena out of her dazed state. She stumbled towards him, falling to her knees by his side, barely registering the rough ground biting into her skin, and put her shaking hand onto his torso. His eyes were closed, but she could feel his chest rising and falling with his breathing.

So he was still alive. Thank God.

She could feel tears pressing at the back of her eyes but she blinked them away, determined to keep it together for his sake.

‘Caleb? Can you hear me?’ she whispered, leaning in closer to him and breathing in the distinctive scent of him that had haunted her throughout the years, usually at the most inopportune moments.

Somebody—a woman—asked her a question in Spanish and Elena shook her head, mouthing back ineffectually, totally unable to summon even the basic Spanish phrase for I don’t understand.

The woman frowned, then asked, ‘Are you English?’

Was it that obvious?

Judging by the fact she was wearing a highly inappropriate woollen suit for the weather and had skin so light it was almost translucent, she guessed it must be.

‘Yes!’ Elena said, relief flooding through her that the woman would be able to help her. ‘I don’t speak Spanish.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I need to call an ambulance. Can you help me?’

‘Don’t worry,’ the woman said, gesturing behind her. ‘My husband has already called them.’

Caleb let out a low groan and Elena swivelled back to look at him, her heart leaping with relief. ‘Caleb? Are you okay? I’m so sorry—this is all my fault.’

At least it felt like it was her fault, even though rationally she knew it had been an accident. But it was also another thing for him to hold against her.

She should have left this area and gone to regroup somewhere else—to give Caleb a chance to calm down—then come back again once her head was clear and her plan fully formed, instead of pacing about in front of his building like a lunatic. He must have seen her prowling around out here and decided to come out to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing.

When she’d heard him call her name from across the street her first thought had been that he’d changed his mind and decided to listen to her after all and her heart had leapt with excitement and relief. But as he’d crossed the street and she’d seen the look of frustrated fury in his eyes it had become powerfully obvious that she’d been very wrong to suppose that.

He hadn’t wanted to turn back the clock. He’d wanted her gone.

The woman laid a hand gently onto her back, dragging her out of her distraught reflection. ‘He’ll be okay, don’t worry. The ambulance is on its way.’

Elena nodded gratefully, this time unable to stop tears from welling in her eyes. ‘He was crossing the road to meet me and didn’t see the bike.’

‘It’s okay. Not your fault,’ the woman said in a soothing tone, rubbing Elena’s arm in sympathy.

If only that were true. She already felt guilty enough about the anguish she’d caused Caleb in the past and now she’d hurt him again, only physically this time. He never would have been out here if it wasn’t for her.

A moment later the sound of a siren broke through the low murmurs of the crowd that had gathered around them and an ambulance sped round the corner and parked up nearby, its flashing lights bouncing off the windows of the buildings opposite.

The paramedics jumped out of the cab and ran towards where Caleb lay, pushing their way through the large group of bystanders that had gathered to ogle the drama playing out in front of them.

The helpful woman disappeared from Elena’s side as the paramedics came to kneel next to Caleb and check his vital signs. The female paramedic turned to ask Elena a question in Spanish, indicating towards Caleb, and Elena guessed she must be asking whether she knew him.

Novia meant friend, didn’t it? It sounded like a friendly kind of word.

‘Sí, sí!’ she said, her voice sounding shaky and weak from shock. The woman nodded and gave her a reassuring smile, then turned back to help her colleague tend to the now silent and deathly still Caleb.

A short while later he was lifted onto a stretcher wearing a neck brace, then into the back of the ambulance.

Elena stood there stupidly, watching as they secured the straps to keep the makeshift bed from rolling around in the back of the vehicle, her chest tight with worry.

What if he died?

No. She couldn’t think like that. He’d be fine. The paramedics weren’t rushing around shouting and wielding scary-looking equipment as if they were worried that he was in grave danger. Mercifully, there was hardly any blood on the ground where he’d lain, just a little from where he’d cut his temple.

Perhaps he’d just been knocked out and not badly hurt. Just a bit bruised and battered.

Please.

Please.

Elena didn’t realise the female paramedic had said something to her until the woman waved a hand in front of her face and spoke again, her expression registering sympathy. ‘You come. To hospital.’

Elena nodded dumbly, not entirely sure it was appropriate that she should be the one to go with Caleb, but no one from his company had rushed out to be here with him. It looked as though the paramedics wanted to get him straight to hospital now so there wasn’t time to go into his building and find someone.

She should just go with him and call his office from there to let them know what was going on. Then she’d leave him be and go back to the hotel to get her head together.

One thing was for sure, going to pieces was not going to help anyone right now.

Mind made up, she gave the paramedic a wobbly smile and climbed into the back of the ambulance.

* * *

There was something wrong with the light in his bedroom, Caleb thought fuzzily as he woke up from a deep, dreamless sleep. And his cleaning lady seemed to have used a different kind of product than usual because he didn’t recognise the smell in here either.

‘Ah, you’re awake,’ came a voice from somewhere to his left and he wondered wildly who he’d gone to bed with the night before.

He couldn’t remember.

In fact, now he thought about it, he found his mind was strangely blank, as if it had been wiped of details. How much had he drunk last night to wake up in this state? It must have been a lot because he had the unsettling feeling that he wasn’t at home at all. In fact, he realised with a lurch as his vision cleared, he had no idea where he was or how he’d got here. The walls were painted an institutional green colour and were disturbingly free of any kind of decoration. Turning his head, he saw with a shock that he was lying next to some kind of flashing, beeping, monitoring machine with wires and drips hanging from it.

Which were attached to him.

He tried to sit up and felt his whole body complain, pain shooting through his abdomen.

‘No, no, don’t try and get up. You had an accident and you’ve cracked a rib and banged your head so you may feel dizzy and disorientated for a while.’

‘An accident?’ he asked, shocked by how rough and raspy his voice sounded. His throat was so dry it felt as if he hadn’t had a drink in days.

‘Here,’ the voice said and he turned towards where it came from to see a middle-aged woman in a crisp white uniform standing next to the bed where he lay, pushing a straw towards his mouth.

He sipped gratefully from the drink, feeling the cool liquid soothe his throat and begin to refresh him.

‘Your girlfriend’s very worried about you,’ the nurse said, taking the cup away once he’d finished and putting it on the nightstand next to his bed. ‘She saw you get hit by the motorbike and is blaming herself for the accident because you were crossing the road to see her when it happened, so be nice to her when she comes in to see you.’

‘My girlfriend?’ He didn’t remember having a girlfriend.

His heart began to race as panic swept through him, nausea welling in his stomach as the room started to slowly spin. He shook his head, trying to clear the feeling, determined not to give in to it.

He didn’t do panic, dammit.

Not appearing to notice his disorientation, the nurse helped him sit up a little so she could fluff up his pillow and he gripped the rail at the side of the bed hard, racking his brain for the memory of how he came to be here in an attempt to centre himself. The nurse had said a motorbike had hit him but he had absolutely no recollection of it.

How could he not remember something so serious?

‘I think she needs a hug and some reassurance that you don’t hate her,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘Judging by the way she’s been pacing the halls and badgering us every ten minutes for updates on your condition, she obviously cares about you very much. You’re a lucky man to have someone who loves you like that.’

He just nodded, not wanting to let on that he had no idea who she was talking about, or that he was becoming more and more aware of other rather worrying gaps in his memory. He knew his name and that he owned a company called Araya Industries, which he’d built up from scratch, and that he lived in the L’Eixample district of Barcelona. He even knew what the inside of his penthouse looked like, but things like where he grew up and who his friends were seemed to have escaped him. And he definitely didn’t remember being hit by the motorbike. The last thing he did remember was getting into work this morning and turning on his computer, but after that it was all a blank.

This disjoin in his memory made him feel sick if he thought about it too much, so he decided to put it out of his head for now. It would all come back after he’d been awake for a while and had got his bearings again. And he didn’t want any fuss; he just wanted to get out of here, back to his home. Maybe once in familiar surroundings his mind would catch up with everything else.

‘I’ll let her know you’re awake so she can come in and see you,’ the nurse said, coming over to him and smoothing down the sheet that was covering him up to his armpits. It seemed they’d stripped him of the rest of his clothes, perhaps to check him over for injuries.

‘Who?’ he asked distractedly, still trying to get a handle on the anxiety that stubbornly surged through his body.

‘Your girlfriend, Elena.’ The nurse frowned, as if beginning to suspect that all was not entirely well with him.

He shot her a quick smile and said, ‘Okay, good, I’d like to see her.’

Perhaps as soon as he saw this Elena he’d recognise her right away and the rest of his memory would come flooding back with it.

The nurse nodded curtly, clearly still a little suspicious about his well-being, but then turned and left the room.

A moment later there was a tentative knock at the door. He sat up a little straighter in bed and called, ‘Come in.’

A woman with ice-blue eyes and long blonde hair hanging loosely around her slim shoulders entered the room and walked towards him, coming to a stop a couple of feet away from the bed. Her movements appeared graceful and controlled, but he could see from her strained smile that she was tense and worried.

Something about her shot a bolt of intense sensation through him, almost like déjà vu, though he could have sworn he’d never set eyes on her before in his life. He had vague memories of relationships with other women, beautiful, smart women, but there was something about Elena, something almost untouchable, that unnerved him. Or was that just his addled brain playing tricks on him? He’d obviously banged his head pretty hard if he’d forgotten he was having a relationship with a woman as attractive as this.

‘How are you feeling?’ she asked in English, which for some reason seemed absolutely right and totally expected.

‘I’m okay—a bit banged up, but I’ll live,’ he said, patting a space on the bed next to him, wanting her to come nearer so he could study her closer. He had the strangest feeling that if he touched her he’d feel more grounded.

She looked at him warily for a moment then visibly swallowed before stepping up to perch on the edge of the mattress, as if worried about getting too close and knocking him and causing him pain.

Desire shot through him as the scent of her perfume hit his senses and he closed his eyes for a moment, feeling another wave of déjà vu sweep through him.

Come on brain, catch up.

‘It’s good to see you awake. I was really worried about you,’ she said, her voice sounding a little croaky.

‘You’re trembling,’ he murmured, reaching out to touch her arm, feeling her practically vibrating under his fingertips.

‘I wasn’t sure what to expect when I came in here,’ she said, her gaze darting away from his face to look down at where his tanned hand rested on her pale skin.

‘Well, you don’t need to worry. I’m fine,’ he stated vehemently, hoping to reassure her—and perhaps himself a little too—though, judging by the tremble in her bottom lip, it didn’t appear to have worked.

He was fine though, he told himself hazily, just a bit disorientated...that was all. Just because the sight of her hadn’t brought his memory back, it didn’t mean it was gone for good.

Perhaps if he kissed her, it would spark something in his brain.

She certainly looked as though she could do with some proof that he was still the man she knew and cared about. What was it the nurse had said? That she blamed herself for the accident because he’d been crossing the road to see her at the time? Was that the problem here—was she worried he was angry with her?

‘Come closer,’ he said, moving his hand up to slide his fingers under her jaw, feeling a strong urge to wipe the concern from her beautiful face now.

She stilled under his touch and her eyes widened as if she was surprised by what he was doing.

‘Stop worrying,’ he murmured, then drew her towards him and pressed his mouth firmly to hers.

She sucked in a startled-sounding breath but he paid it no mind, pulling her closer to him, ignoring the twinge of pain this caused in his damaged rib and hoping against hope that this would make everything right again.

Her mouth felt wonderful against his but he was blurrily aware that the kiss wasn’t having the effect he’d hoped for. Determined not to give up that easily, he opened his lips and slipped his tongue into the heat of her mouth. As he’d suspected, she tasted incredible, like honey and harmony and sex...

And then his brain seemed to switch gear and suddenly he couldn’t get enough of her. It was like having that first drink of water all over again, his body reacting with a forceful relief that shook him to his very soul. Her full mouth was soft but not as pliant as he would have liked, so he kissed her harder, feeling the pulse in her neck racing against the heel of his hand where he cupped her jaw.

A deep growl rumbled in the back of his throat as he began to lose control of his restraint and she let out a breathy moan in reply and dug her nails into the flesh of his upper arms.

He sank into the possessiveness of her grip, lost in the sensual taste of her, feeling the strangest mixture of comfort and desire and relief—until he suddenly became aware that she was trying to pull away from him.

Reluctantly, he slid his hands away from her jaw and let her go.

‘What’s wrong?’ he ground out, frustrated that she’d cut the kiss short when he’d been enjoying it so much.

It had been the first time he’d felt anything like himself since he’d woken up here.