Grapes of Wrath (Billionaires' Secrets Book 2) (12 page)

Susannah realized that the hand holding the check had started to shake. She snatched it into her lap.

Tarrant looked much healthier than he had the previous week and his face beamed with uncomplicated cheer. She suspected he didn’t know about the affair. If he did, he wouldn’t order her to go back down there. Would he?

Her stomach churned. Did Amado even want to see her again?

He’d invited her to his Manhattan hotel room and driven her wild with pleasure, his passion almost angry in its intensity. On the tango expedition, he’d tormented her into a state of tortured arousal—only to peck her goodnight on the cheek.

And that was that. She found out third-hand he’d returned to Argentina.

Without saying goodbye.

She shrank into her chair, the enormous check clutched in her sweating hand. Blood money, in a literal sense. She was paid for retrieving Amado’s genetic material. For cornering him and bringing him back here.

And now she had to shove herself down his throat again?

Hey, guess what, I’m back!

She could always quit her job right now. Hand the check back and retain the last pathetic shreds of her dignity.

But then she would certainly never see Amado again.

Those final tatters fell silently to the carpet as she nodded. “I’ll arrange a return trip for next week. Which wines were you hoping to secure for our cellars?”

“All of them.”

Chapter Eleven

A
stride his horse, Amado watched from the hillside. The small white car approaching the house could be carrying only one person.

He knew because his skin prickled with awareness.

Susannah.

His horse pranced sideways and he lost sight of her as she entered the avenue of cypress.

No need to rush back. She’d be waiting for him when he arrived.

He’d instructed Rosa to put her in Marisa’s old room. The whole house was suddenly haunted by the ghosts of the past. Surely it was only right that Susannah get more intimately acquainted with them?

Ignacio hadn’t spoken to him since his trip to New York. Or was it he who hadn’t spoken to Ignacio? Now that Ignacio’s deception was revealed, Amado found himself questioning the man’s authority over any aspect of his life.

Old wounds had broken open and festered in the sour air of mistrust.

And Susannah was to blame.

She’d reawakened feelings he hadn’t experienced since Ignacio drove away the woman he loved more than ten years ago. Valentina taught him to dance and taught him to love. But she hadn’t been a suitable wife for a son of Ignacio Alvarez.

Amado issued a curse that rang in the air. What a joke.

When she left, he tried to follow her but she’d turned him away. She’d implied that she didn’t want him without the estate.

Proud and angry, he’d returned home, thrown himself into his work and moved on.

Now he wondered how much Ignacio’s little misguided attempt to save the family honor had cost Valentina, as well as himself.

He hadn’t lived as a monk in the years since. He enjoyed the company of women. Loved to cherish and pleasure them, savor a delicious tango between the sheets, then leave them with a smile on their face.

Until now. Something about Susannah scratched beneath the surface and left him aching.

She’d seen and experienced so much more of the world than he had, and she was fascinating to talk to. She could dance and make love with him, then glance coolly at him as if he meant nothing to her.

Irritation coiled in his gut, interlaced with longing. He hated the power she had over him. That he lay awake at night hungering for the touch of her skin.

He’d like nothing better than to see that icy demeanor melt in the heat of desire. He enjoyed a flicker of satisfaction at the prospect of seducing her. Just because he could.

By the time he climbed the steps to the house, the setting sun bathed the land in a fiery glow that matched his mood. Inside, he pulled off his gloves. Found himself smelling the air, testing it for her presence.

She was here.

A subtle floral scent. Jasmine and a hint of citrus.

He ignored the heat and tension rising in his limbs.

No sign of her in the living room. He heard Rosa moving in the kitchen, but no sound of conversation.

He finally spotted Susannah standing on the terrace. He hesitated a moment, watching her through the closed glass doors. The red ball of the sun hung at the ridgeline of the mountains. Almost a silhouette, she stared out into the distance, slim and fragile against the harsh backdrop. A breeze pressed the skirt of her dress against her long legs.

Why did she always wear a skirt? To torment him with what he couldn’t see?

He flung open the doors. “Susannah.”

She spun around. Her face lit up, and a smile started to spread across it. Then she hesitated and he watched her get control of her features. “Hello, Amado.”

Her big brown eyes looked up at him. Wary.

And so she should be.

He lifted her hand and kissed it, cavalier style. “The pleasure, once again, is all mine.”

She flushed. Sweet. And so predictable.

She had no control over her attraction to him.

The thought gave him a vicious ripple of satisfaction. She might wish to put him behind her—a job well done— but he wouldn’t let her.

Not until
he
was done with her. Which was the reason he’d left her hungry and aroused in New York. They had unfinished business.

She tucked a long lock of dark hair behind her ear. “How are your parents? I haven’t seen them yet.”

“My parents? You’re forgetting that my mother is dead and you’ve just left my father in New York.”

She swallowed. “I mean, Ignacio and Clara.”

“They are still living.” Why should he make it easy for her? Today she wore a blue-and-white patterned dress. She favored tailored jackets. Dresses fitted enough to show her slenderness, but not tight or suggestive. Necklines that revealed her delicate collarbones but nothing else.

As always, she was perfect. Irresistible. Desire swept through him like a sickness.

He took a step toward her, invading her space. “Ignacio no longer calls me ‘my son’ as he used to.” He let his gaze linger on the curve of her cheekbone, painted pink by the setting sun.

“It must be hard.”

“Yes.”

Let her pure heart fill with pity for him. A sympathetic woman could be very..
.giving.
And he looked forward to taking everything she had to give.

“And Clara? How is she taking it?”

“Like a mother who has lost her child.”

Now, he did look away. The pained expression on Susannah’s face cut to his heart. Poor Clara hadn’t been herself since his true parentage came to light. Pale and harried, she kept her distance from him, ashamed by her decades-long collusion in a lie that shaped all their lives. She hadn’t been to his house in a week.

“Do you think that perhaps she’d come to believe the lie? That she’d almost forgotten she didn’t give birth to you?” He frowned.

“Possibly.” It had never crossed his mind that Clara wasn’t his true mother. She’d never betrayed a single clue.

But that was all over now. “The story’s been in the papers. The gossips are whispering.” He shrugged. “Nothing to be done.”

He could see Susannah’s overactive brain ticking away behind those soulful eyes.

“Trying to figure out how to save the day? Don’t. You can’t.”

During dinner, Amado charmed and flirted. His earnest and thoughtful conversation, combined with wicked, sensual glances, had Susannah laughing and blushing like a schoolgirl.

She could see what he was doing—toying with her— but she couldn’t seem to help her response.

He slipped out of the room after dessert to talk to Rosa, and she collapsed back in her chair, gasping for air. How did he do this to her?

Whenever she’d tried to guide the conversation in the direction of business, he’d steered it off somewhere else with a twinkle in his eye.

He had a genius for nosing out subjects she loved to talk about—places she’d visited, books she’d read, world affairs—so she was totally unable to resist engaging in heated and passionate conversation with him.

Without getting any work done.

The front door clicked shut as Rosa left. Any minute now, Amado would be back with steaming coffee. Maybe he’d offer to massage her feet? Her pulse picked up in anticipation and she cursed herself for it.

She didn’t have an ounce of self-control where Amado Alvarez was concerned.

And worse, he knew it.

Instead of coffee, he returned carrying a black shawl. “Let’s walk outside.”

“In the dark?”

“There are many stars.” Stars sparkled in his eyes.

He’d donned a dark sweater, clearly intent on going on this walk regardless of her opinion. “This’ll keep you warm.” He held out the fringed shawl.

“Woven from the hair of the finest local llamas?”

“Vicunas. Their wool is softer.” A smile eased up the corner of his mouth.

“I can hardly say no, then, can I?”

Amado didn’t bother to reply. And why would he? They both knew she could never say no to him.

They slipped through the front door into the thick, inky night. The slight chill in the air was no match for the luscious wool wrapped around her shoulders.

No electric lights pierced the darkness. Even the large winery was invisible. “Where are Clara and Ignacio?” It felt odd that she hadn’t seen them all day. They seemed to have vanished.

“How should I know?” Amado walked straight ahead. “They don’t tell me everything.” His voice thickened. “As you know.”

Susannah clutched the shawl about her. How could the whole family fall apart, decades of love and affection dissolve into nothing, all because of the news
she
brought?

Even though she knew she wasn’t to blame, her chest ached with guilt and the painful longing to put things right.

The slim sickle of moon gave little light. Amado strode so fast she had to hurry to keep up with him.

“Where are we going?”

“To visit a friend.”

The brusque answer was a stark contrast to his calculated charm at dinner. Susannah got breathless trying to keep up. Her medium heels weren’t ideal for half-running across gravel, and now a rather crooked brick walkway.

She stumbled and almost lost her balance, which caused Amado to turn and frown at her. He glanced down at her feet.

“Yes, I’m wearing heels. I didn’t realize there’d be a midnight trek involved.”

“Usually you wear more sensible shoes.” There was a hint of a question in his voice.

“Not always,” she protested. She didn’t want him to know that she’d bought new shoes especially for the visit. Her feet had remembered the lavish care and attention he’d paid them last time. “Besides, your vineyard is so well maintained, I didn’t even bother to bring boots this time.”

“You should have. What if it rains?”

He held her forearms. Her skin hummed under the firm pressure of his fingers and thumbs.

“Maybe I wasn’t feeling sensible.” Her breasts tingled as the confession slipped out of her.

“It’s important to be sensible on a business trip.” His eyes glinted in the darkness. “And this is a business trip for you, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She swallowed. All her insecurities bubbled to the surface like scum. “I realize you probably didn’t want to see me again. I understand that. I brought unwelcome news that has changed your life. I didn’t ask to come.”

She wobbled in her new shoes.

Amado held her forearms tighter. “No. I asked for you to come.”

“You did?” Her mouth fell open. “But I thought... Tarrant...”

“Oh, he has his own reasons for your being here, no doubt. But I asked him to send you.”

A shiver of nameless emotion rippled through her. “Why?”

“Because I could.”

He let go of her arms, turned, and marched forward into the velvet darkness.

Susannah stared after him, mouth gaping. Her heart pounded and indignant protests rose to her tongue. She’d cancelled a long-planned trip so that two wealthy men could trade her around like a party favor?

“Come on.”

She heard his voice receding. She turned to assess the distance back to the house, but it was impossible to even see it in the tarry blackness of the night.

High above, the stars winked at her, mocking.

She hurried after him.

Soft light appeared in a doorway. She pulled the shawl tight around her and followed him inside.

A barn. A caged light fixture illuminated a clean wooden floor. She smelled hay, fresh and slightly sweet.

She walked slowly, keeping her heels light on the floor.