A Diamond for Del Rio's Housekeeper Page 8

  Picking it up, she walked over to the mirror and held it against her. The dress was obviously expensive and very beautiful, in its way, but if anyone had asked her honest opinion she would have said it was a bit flashy, and definitely not something she would have chosen for herself. She preferred to blend into the background, rather than stand out, and there was no hope of blending in a dress like this. With her shabby shoes and custard dress, she looked like a child about to dress up in her big sister’s clothes. And then she saw the shoes lined up neatly on top of their box. But were they shoes, or instruments of torture? She’d never worn high-heeled shoes before. ‘Pride must bear a pinch,’ Doña Anna would have said. And she was being ungrateful, Rosie concluded, pulling a face. Putting her concerns to one side, she headed for the bathroom to shower and change.

  * * *

  ‘Do you want me to give you a hand?’ Xavier’s driver enquired politely when they had arrived outside what had to be the most impressive office building in the city.

  ‘Would you mind?’ Rosie had got herself stuck halfway between the car seat and the pavement. The dress was so tight, and her heels were so high, that she couldn’t find a way of propelling herself forward, short of pulling her skirt above her knickers to free her legs.

  ‘Just put your hand on my arm and trust me,’ the chauffeur advised, ‘and I’ll get you out, somehow...’

  He’d been quite stuffy up to that point, but now, when they shared a look at his suggestion, they both started to laugh. ‘I’ll take you inside,’ he offered when he’d got her out in one piece and had steadied her on the pavement.

  ‘Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine.’ She was terrified, but she had to do this on her own. She had to learn how big business and society worked if she was going to be any use to the islanders.

  Did she want to learn how society worked?

  Not particularly, Rosie concluded, when she was left on the wrong side of the revolving doors, while everyone else pushed past her, but Doña Anna had insisted that part of Rosie’s development as a person must include broadening her horizons, so here she was, broadening them.

  ‘Excuse me, please...’ Pinning a confident smile to her face, she made sure that the next group approaching the entrance didn’t brush her aside so easily, and finally she was inside the building.

  The party was on the forty-fourth floor. She felt like a flamingo on stilts as she exited the elevator and followed the noise down the corridor. The double doors were open wide in welcome, while the room beyond was packed with elegantly dressed people, all of whom seemed to know each other. Breathing in, she begged pardon politely, and wove her way through the crowd towards Xavier. She had spotted him immediately. He was at the hub of everything. He was like a magnet that drew people to him. He was also the tallest and easily the best-looking man in the room, and her heart went crazy, though she determinedly blanked the fantasy of him turning to see her, and holding out his arms to embrace her, as if she were the only woman in the world.

  He was busy talking and hadn’t seen her arrive. She hovered in the background, listening. He was chatting about the island, saying he was keen to get started on his new scheme there, but there were one or two problems still standing in his way. The glances that passed between his guests made Rosie wonder if they thought she was the problem. A couple of the men turned round to look at her. Whether they recognised her from the newspapers, she couldn’t be sure, but she felt uncomfortable when they started murmuring to their companions.

  ‘Ah,’ Xavier said, swinging around. ‘Allow me to introduce Señorita Clifton.’

  It was as if the entire room drew a collective breath. Everyone stilled and turned to look at her. She felt like a curiosity at a museum. Then, a man who was obviously important, judging by the way the crowd had parted for him, took hold of Xavier’s arm and led him away, and the same people who had feigned interest in her only moments before now turned their backs on her and ignored her.

  She stood for a moment, not knowing what to do. Her feet were killing her, and she was surrounded by a wall of backs. Kicking off the heels, she hung them from her wrist like a clumsy bracelet. She could probably have taken her clothes off too. No one would have noticed, but at least her feet were happy now.

  She set off on a tour of the room, trying to engage people in conversation. They either ignored her or moved away. Determined that she would not be shut out, she grabbed a plate of canapés from the bar and started to offer them around. The plate was almost empty by the time she reached Xavier, and not one word of thanks had come her way. She had joined the ranks of invisible people, and vowed in that moment that she would never take anyone for granted, let alone ignore them.

  Waiting politely until Xavier had finished his conversation, she waved the plate under his nose. ‘Canapé, sir?’

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ he said, frowning with surprise. ‘And what on earth are you wearing?’ he murmured.

  ‘Well, you chose it.’

  ‘I certainly did not.’ He removed the plate from her hand and handed it to a waiter with a few words of thanks. ‘One of the secretaries picked it up for you.’

  How comforting to think she was like a file that could be passed around the office for someone else to deal with.

  Taking hold of her arm, Xavier steered her through the press of people to a cooler spot beside the door. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said.

  He took her to his private office. It was stylish, yet plain, with every gizmo known to man. She was impressed. She tensed as he closed the door, suspecting she’d let him down. She’d fallen at the first hurdle, making a hash of her so-called entry into society.

  ‘Why didn’t you introduce yourself around?’ he said, frowning.

  She had to laugh. ‘You only have to enter a room and you’re the centre of attention. I didn’t know anyone here. More importantly, they didn’t want to know me.’

  Xavier’s frown deepened. ‘You should have said if you were having difficulties.’

  ‘I wasn’t having difficulties. I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation, that’s all. And these are your guests, not mine. I don’t expect you to devote every waking minute to me.’

  ‘Just a few of those minutes?’ he suggested, slanting a smile.

  She didn’t like to think what that smile could do to her. And it was too late to blank it out. It had already warmed her, and reminded her of her favourite fantasy, that involved happy-ever-after with the man of her dreams. ‘A few minutes would probably be enough,’ she said.

  Xavier sighed, and turned away as his smile broadened. ‘I suppose I owe you an apology. I should have been a better host.’

  ‘But it suits your purpose better if I leave empty-handed,’ she said shrewdly.

  He swung around. ‘You’re determined to think the worst of me.’

  ‘Then give me a reason not to.’

  The crease was back in his cheek. ‘Maybe I will,’ he said with a flash of his sexy dark eyes.

  A few long moments, and then he laughed as he spotted the shoes hanging from her wrist. ‘They didn’t suit you?’

  ‘They hurt,’ she confessed.

  ‘And you hate the dress—not a great result, clothes-wise.’

  She plucked at the dress and frowned. ‘I know it sounds ungrateful, but I have to agree, this is not my favourite outfit.’

  Pulling his head back to stare at her, Xavier narrowed his eyes in speculation. ‘How much do you hate the dress?’

  ‘Well...’ she tried to be objective ‘...it’s obviously been designed for someone with far more sophistication than me.’

  ‘That’s very tactful. I think it was designed for someone who likes to be noticed.’

  Well, he was right in thinking she had no desire to stand out.

  ‘I don’t like it much, either,’ he said.

  She shrugged. There wasn’t much she could do about that.

  But Xavier had an answer to just about everything. Taking hold of the dress at
the neckline, he ripped it apart.

  ‘How do you feel about it now?’ he said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE BRUSH OF his hands against her breasts was a scintillating distraction, but it didn’t take Rosie long to find her voice. ‘There’s a party going on outside this room,’ she protested as she tried frantically to gather the ripped fabric together. She glared at Xavier. ‘You’re mad! There are people laughing and chatting on the other side of that door. Your guests!’ she reminded him. ‘Guests who could walk in here at any time and see us together! Like this!’ she added, her voice rising at least another octave. ‘You haven’t even locked the door!’

  Xavier’s powerful shoulders eased in a relaxed shrug. ‘That’s half the fun.’ His voice was low and confident.

  ‘For you,’ she argued. ‘Who dares to criticise Don Xavier Del Rio? You can do what you want, when you want.’ And with whom you want, Rosie silently added. Even she had fallen victim to his spell. She’d get nowhere until she woke up and seized back some control. ‘The dress is ruined, and I don’t have a spare tucked away in my evening bag, in case you were wondering.’

  ‘I wasn’t.’

  He couldn’t care less. She needed to work out how to walk back into the party with a dress hanging off her shoulders. It was time to man up and take control.

  Well, that should be easy, she thought, fuming when she saw his mocking face.

  Think—think... She wasn’t going to allow him to pull her strings like a puppet all night, was she? It might not feel like it at the moment, but it was Xavier who was on the back foot. Her inheritance was safe. She could fight for the islanders for the rest of her life, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. But he had to produce an heir. If she didn’t make something of her advantage now, then she deserved to lose the island. Her mind raced through the limited possibilities. First on the agenda was sorting out her current predicament. Maybe there was a spare waitress’s uniform she could borrow?

  ‘So, Señorita Resourceful?’ Xavier prompted with amusement. ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘More than you suppose,’ she tossed back at him.

  ‘Oh?’ There was amusement in his eyes, but also a new wariness had crept in.

  ‘You think you’ve got it all covered, don’t you?’ she said. ‘You can walk out of here with a knowing smile, while I’m left to do the walk of shame into a party where I’m already unwelcome. I’m guessing you think this introduction to high society will put me off for good, and that I’ll be only too pleased—grateful, even—to accept your pay-off, and go to live quietly, while you move your bulldozers in.’

  ‘You have an extremely vivid imagination, Señorita Clifton.’

  ‘Do I? I think you see this as the start of returning things to how you imagine they should be,’ she said, still busily tucking and folding.

  Xavier frowned. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘You might even give me a job as a housekeeper on the island, if I’m lucky,’ Rosie said. Raising her head, satisfied she had done the best she could with the dress, she saw Xavier’s jaw clench, suggesting she was right. ‘The Del Rio family will reign supreme once again, and everything in your world will have returned to how it should be—in your eyes,’ she finished grimly.

  ‘You know nothing about my family.’ His tone was ominously quiet.

  ‘I can hardly believe you’ve got one. My theory is that you were raised in a petri dish and then planted on top of the gold at the end of the rainbow.’

  ‘I have as much a family as you do,’ he said.

  ‘We both had Doña Anna,’ she argued.

  He was quiet for a moment, and then he shrugged. ‘If you’re upset about the dress, I’ll buy you another.’

  ‘The dress is the least of my worries. We can’t go on like this—you trying subtly, or not so subtly, to drive me away. I’m. Not. Going. Anywhere,’ she spelled out. ‘That’s the last time I’m going to say it, so what are you going to do about that?’

  Actually, Rosie thought, what was she going to do about it? Seizing control took more than good intentions. If she didn’t like Xavier’s suggestions regarding the future of the island, it was up to her to come up with something new.

  ‘Take the dress off,’ he murmured. ‘It’s ruined.’

  ‘You’re not listening to me, are you?’ she demanded with frustration.

  He smiled, and, though she knew she should stick rigidly to the point, those dark eyes held such danger they excited her. She wasn’t used to flirting, and, though she knew this wasn’t the time for it, the tension between them was threatening to snap. And then he made a big mistake. Putting a hand on her cheek, Xavier dipped his head as if to kiss her—as if it were his right! Don Xavier Del Rio had to learn that she could be dangerous too—

  ‘Que diablos—’

  Buttons bounced across the floor as she reached up and ripped his shirt apart.

  She was filled with an unreasonable passion, born of the desire to assert herself. Why shouldn’t she enjoy the heat of his hard, hot flesh beneath her fingers? Why shouldn’t she lock her hands around what remained of his shirt and yank it apart? She was on fire. There was no chance of stopping her until both his shirt and jacket were on the floor. The fight was on. Xavier gave her no chance to enjoy her triumph. Seizing what was left of her dress, he ripped it from neck to hem.

  ‘What are you going to do about that?’ he challenged as it fell to the floor.

  Her answer was to launch herself at him. Pummelling her fists against his chest, she gave vent to her passion in animal sounds of anger that all too soon turned to sounds of need. When she had finally exhausted herself, and her blows had slowed, she looked up to find, to her frustration, that Xavier was still smiling. So much for seizing control!

  ‘Why, Señorita Clifton,’ he murmured, ‘I would never have credited you with quite so much passion.’

  She was breathing so heavily it was hard to argue, and the next thing she knew she was in his arms. Holding her firmly in place, Xavier cradled her breasts, and then chafed her nipples remorselessly until pleasure consumed her, wiping every sensible thought from her head. Dipping his head, he claimed her mouth, and with a thoroughness and skill that obliterated the world as she knew it. His kisses were addictive and he felt so unbelievably good. He tasted minty and hot, and, when she pressed her body against his, she loved the feel of his steel against her curves.

  ‘Do you hate me as much as the dress?’ he queried with amusement. ‘I think you must,’ he said, staring down. ‘You lived such a quiet life on the island until I arrived.’

  ‘I lived such a safe life,’ she argued, but that only made him laugh all the more. ‘Don’t,’ she said, in between kisses. ‘Don’t make fun of me.’

  ‘Is that what I’m doing?’ he whispered, staring deep into her eyes. ‘I thought I was making love to you.’

  Cupping her face, he made her look at him, and, though she knew she should resist, she couldn’t see anything but good humour and desire in his eyes. The first was unreasonably attractive, while the desire both terrified and excited her. He was tempting her to kiss him back. She didn’t hate Xavier. She wanted him. She hadn’t even known she was capable of feelings as strong as this. He nuzzled the exposed skin below her ear. The lightest touch of his sharp black stubble made her shiver with helpless need. Her body melted against his, while her breasts felt so full and heavy, and all she could think about was having him touch them again. He didn’t disappoint her. Dipping his head, he lightly abraded the tip of each nipple with his teeth and with his tongue, until she couldn’t deny him anything, and went willingly as he backed her towards the desk.

  ‘It’s the first time I’ve known you lost for words,’ he commented with amusement as she gave a shaking groan.

  ‘It’s not my words I’ve lost, it’s my dress. Aren’t you even going to apologise?’

  Xavier shrugged and his lips pressed down as he thought about it. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, slipp
ing his hand between her legs. ‘Could you possibly ease your thighs apart?’

  ‘That is not what I meant, and you know it,’ she exclaimed on a gasp of shock.

  ‘No, but it’s what you want,’ he said. ‘So relax. Forget about the party and leave everything to me—’

  She woke up like a shot. This encounter meant nothing to Xavier, but if she let him steamroller this too, her cause would be out of the window. She’d seen first-hand at the orphanage how destructive casual sex could be; someone always got hurt.

  ‘Rosie? Rosie, what’s wrong?’

  Xavier’s concern broke through to her. In his favour, he backed off the moment he felt her resistance, but now she was trapped in the past. Wiping a hand across her face, she tried to shake the ugliness out of her head. She must learn to move forward, and not become a victim of circumstance, which meant not doing something now she might live to regret.

  The cocktail party was still in full swing outside the door. A tense silence had fallen inside the room. Then, an exuberant partygoer crashed into the door and the noise brought Rosie to her senses. ‘What am I going to do about the dress?’

  ‘There’s a solution to every problem,’ Xavier assured her.

  ‘Even this one?’ she queried sceptically.

  ‘Of course.’ Picking up the phone on his desk, he held her gaze as he pressed speed dial. ‘Margaret? I’m in my study. I need you to do something for me.’

  * * *

  Margaret was a genius. She handed a shirt through the door, and made no comment when Xavier left the room to join his guests.

  ‘I brought some dresses for you,’ she called out to Rosie.

  ‘Come in,’ Rosie invited warmly, having kicked her ruined clothes beneath the desk. Luckily, some interior decorator had thought a fine cashmere throw would look amazing on one of the sofas and she was using it as a cover-up, so there was no embarrassment—well, not much on her side, and even less on the unshockable Margaret’s side.