Christy McKellen - The Unforgettable Spanish Tycoon

Which was quite possible.

She’d been wrong about a lot of things.

There was a quiet knock on the glass door and Caleb’s PA crept, hunch-shouldered, into the room.

Before she could speak, Caleb let out a growl of frustration and snapped, ‘I thought I told you I didn’t want to be interrupted!’

Because Caleb had spoken to her in English, and perhaps in deference to Elena’s presence there too, his PA replied in English. ‘I’m so sorry, but I thought you’d want to know about this straight away. Apparently there’s a problem with the meeting with the Americans on Monday. Señor Carter’s PA is saying he’s having second thoughts—’

Caleb held up a hand to stop her speaking, his gaze flicking momentarily to Elena before returning to his PA, his expression thunderous, as if furious that Elena had been a party to hearing about the setback.

This time he replied in Spanish and, even though Elena didn’t understand a word of it, not being a Spanish speaker, she could see that his words had cut his PA deeply when she backed out of the room with tears glinting in her eyes.

‘How can you be so cold? So mean!’ she blurted when he turned back to look at her. ‘That poor woman was just doing her job.’

Mouth dry, she reached for the glass of water but when she saw how much her hand was trembling she quickly dropped it to her side again.

‘How could you treat her like that, Caleb?’

‘Like what?’ he growled.

‘Like nothing. Less than nothing. I would have thought you’d have made every effort to make sure your subordinates were treated with kindness and respect after what you went through when you were young.’

Anger flickered in his eyes. ‘I’m respectful to people when they work hard and make good choices.’

‘But people won’t learn from their mistakes if you don’t nurture them. They become afraid to take necessary risks and everything grinds to a halt.’

‘Is that what’s happened to your business, Elena?’ he asked quietly. ‘Did you drive it into the ground with your inept handling of your staff so you were forced to come here, begging for my help? What a fall from grace that must be for you.’

Hot rage rushed through her body. How could the smart, compassionate man she remembered have become so hard and mean? ‘I knew you could be a bit on the curt side, Caleb, but the man I knew was never cruel. Or a bully!’

Shock flashed momentarily across his face before it was replaced with a stony scowl. ‘Enough! This meeting is over. I don’t need you coming in here, telling me how to treat my staff. Go home and run your own business—’ he leant in closer to her so she saw the conviction plainly in his eyes ‘—without my battery.’

With that closing shot, he turned his back on her and strode out of the room, leaving the glass door swinging in his wake.

* * *

Caleb Araya paced the floor of his corner office, his blood pumping frantically through his veins.

Who did Elena Jones think she was, turning up after fifteen years of silence and presuming to tell him how to run his business and treat his staff?

The woman certainly had some nerve.

And a skewed sense of priorities.

Not that he didn’t already know that from experience.

To his utter frustration, and despite the fact they hadn’t seen each other in a very long time, as soon as he’d seen her standing there in his meeting room he’d been hit hard by that same immediate connection they’d always shared.

It had put him on the back foot.

It had always been like that with her—she affected him like no other woman ever had. The moment he’d met her at the beginning of his Erasmus exchange year to the University of Cambridge he’d found himself drawn to her.

Her cool integrity and assertive sense of self had set her apart from the other immature, entitled female students that had swarmed around him, believing him to be an ideal candidate for the bad boy fling they were so keen to tick off their list before settling down with their rich, boring husbands.

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.