Chapter 2

“You have to leave now, senorita.”

Cara Welsh tipped her head back, and back some more, until she stared into the face of the uniformed security guard who towered over her. I am not leaving, she told him, making no move to vacate the chair she had occupied for over 2 hours in the waiting area of this vast marble foyer.

The big man’s eyebrows beetled together. “You must go. The building is closing.”

The building was the Velga tower---- a great big steel and glass monolith that rose from the heart of Barcelona thriving business district and dwarfed everything around it. It had caused $1.2 billion to construct, had taken two years and three months from foundation to completion, and comprised of 44 floors of bustling head office activity for one of Europe’s largest and most successful multinational conglomerates. Cara was well acquainted with these facts because she had picked up the glossy hardbound book titled the Velga corporation 60 years of success off the loot table beside her and, out of sheer boredom, read the entire thing from forefront to cover do back. Twice.

“I am not leaving without an appointment to see Mr de la Velga,” she said.

This was not news to the security man. She had made the same request on her arrival, and again an hour ago when it became obvious that his call to the CEO’s assistant has garnered no result. He is not available.

Which is why I want to make an appointment,” she explained with exaggerated patience. “So that I can see him when he’s available.”

“Not possible,” the man said, and with that he clamped a giant hand around her upper arm and hold her to her feet. Cara gasped. “Wait!”

She braced her leg to resist, her flat rubber soled shoes giving her a much needed moment of purchase on the shiny marble. You are not seriously going to manhandle me out of the building? I am sorry, senorita, he said, but the sidelong glance he sent her did not look apologetic so much as… pitying. She bristled at the implication of that look. It wasn’t difficult to guess what they were thinking about her.

A man as powerful and will be as they are both must have an abundance of female admirers and hangers on, and his staff were no doubt required to act as gatekeepers on occasion. But Cara was no jilted lover or wannabe mistress. Please, she persisted, heating the disputed note that crept into her voice. “Can you just call his office one more time? Somebody must still be up there.”

Here, it was almost 6:30 PM, but didn’t work hours in Spain differ from the norm at home? And hadn’t she read an online article just yesterday in which the CEO was quoted saying that he not only worked long hours himself, but expected key members of his staff to do the same?

But the guard shook his head. “Call tomorrow,” he said.

Cara felt the sharp bite of her frustration in her belly. She had already called the day before, and the day before that. Each time she had been stonewalled by the CEOs uppity assistant. Which was why she had dragged across the city in the stifling mid August heat this afternoon and shown up in person. She planted her feet and locked her knees, but her strength was no match for the guards. He started walking and she was forced to stumble along beside him, clutching her tote bag and the shreds of our dignity as he marched her towards the automatic sliding glass doors. Her heart lurched. A few more steps and she would be out on the street, back to square one. The glass doors parted before them, letting a blast of hot air, and then she thought of the envelope in her bag, the letter that she had carried 10,000 miles across the globe, and the crushing sense of failure engulfed her. All because she couldn’t find her way to the top of this imposing corporate fortress to see one man.

Her body stiffened out in protest.” I am Mr. de la Velga’s step-sister!” and the guard pulled up short, surprise making his grip slacken just short enough so that’s he could wrench herself free.

Around them the cavernous foyer came to a standstill, the other security personnel in the desk and few office workers making their way to and from the lift having paused and fallen silent in the week of her outburst. A tidal wave of heat swept up her body and into her face. Doing her best to ignore the curious stares, she levelled her gaze at the card and said quietly, “I’m sure neither his assistant, nor you, would like to inform him that you have turned me away.”

The man rubbed the back of his neck, his face grew up in a grimace of indecision. Finally, he said in a graph voice. Please wait. He returned to the desk to make a phone call and two minutes later at all, elegant woman wearing a sleek Navy shift dress and high heels emerged from the left. She looked to the guard, who steered in Cara’s direction with the tilt of his head.

Cara saw the woman give her an assessing narrow eyed once over before striding across the marble floor towards her.

Miss Walsh stone was cool full Mr de la Velga is extremely busy but he's willing to give you 10 minutes of his time.

Her English was extended but good and Cara recognised the voice at once. She was the assistant who had screened her phone calls and refused to give her an appointment.

Cara forged the smile and resisted asking if Mr de la Velga was sure he could spare a whole 10 minutes from his extremely busy schedule. Instead she offered a gracious thank you but the woman had already pivoted on a spiked heel and started back across the foyer leaving Cara to follow. The woman gave her an assessing look and then looked at her and said,” Please follow me.”

The guard held the lift doors open and then boarded with them taking opposition at the rear as they hurtled it upwards to the forty-forth floor.

Cara’s heart raced and her hands grew clammy. After all the careful thought she had put into this the endless days of agonising in decision and the time spent working out what she would say if this moment came she hadn't expected to feel quite so nervous

But then it was no small thing that she was about to do. She had no idea how Xavier de la Velga would receive her. How he would react. She wasn't sure how she would react herself in this position.

She cast a critical glance at her reflection in the highly polished panels of the lift doors. In a sleeveless white blouse khaki capris and a pair of comfy shoes she looked plain and unremarkable next to the tall stunning Spanish woman. Are one feature was worthy of note her long copper red hair was pulled into a high no fuss pony tail and the tinted moisturizer she had rubbed into her skin that morning was the closest thing to make her nappies had seen in weeks.

The lift doors opened and all the thoughts of her appearance were swiftly forgotten as she followed the other woman into a large suite of offices. They walked along a wide corridor and she was conscious of the guard trailing close behind them of the thick carpet underfoot high walls hung with the expensive artwork and a hushed atmosphere. But escalating flutter of nerves in her belly met everything else are blur.

And then they entered a big corner office and every shred of attention was snagged and held by the man sitting behind the massive oak desk.

Cara Hansen photos of him online. Not many mind you. Unlike his younger brother of whom there were literally hundreds of photos scattered across the Internet Xavier de la Velga appeared to value his privacy. But as her breath caught and her hands inexplicably shook she realised those 2 dimensional images had not in anyway prepared for this personal up close encounter with this devastatingly handsome man full

And his eyes.

Grey. Just like Matilda’s.

Her throat thickened and she had to swallow hard and blink fast to contain her emotion.

He stood and she was struck by his height. 6 foot at least with surprised her. Her stepmother had been tiny and her figure had been perfectly proportioned but petite. By the time Cara had turned 16 she had been able to rest her chin on top of Matilda's head when they hugged. He walked around the desk and she saw everything about him from his meetly cropped black hair to his tailored grey suit and expensive looking leather shoes was Immaculate. Even the full Windsor knot in his tie looked as if it had been flawlessly executed.

He had an air of authority about him and something else that she couldn't quite pinpoint.

Arrogance? Impatience? Hargis went to the hardline of his jaw and app then to his high intelligent forehead and slashing jet black eyebrows.

Yes she concluded with a touch of unease. This man looked like he had little tolerance for weakness or compromise. Suddenly she was conscious of the silence banqueting the room. Of the fact that he was returning her scrutiny with heart narrow dyes. He didn't smile. He didn't step forward or offer to shake her hand in greeting. Which was probably such a not a bad thing given her hands felt as damp as soggy dish rags.

When she reached there, she looked at the man sitting there staring at her as if she was prey and said,” Thank you Anna. Leave us please.”

He looked at his guard and said something in Spanish or perhaps he spoke in Catalan since she had read that he spoke both languages fluently along with English and French and she tried to pretend her niece hadn't gone just a little weak she loved the romance languages despite his forbidding demeanour there was something indescribably sexy about the ways Xavier de la Velga spoke his native tongue. The guard responded but whatever he said it only drew a Thurs dismissive word from his boss and he quickly joined Anna in the vacating room closing the door on his way out.

Those green eyes are shared or 2 darker than Matilda’s she realised now, settled on her again.

The woman who had escorted her here left the room. “My staff are concerned for my safety.” It wasn't the start to the conversation that she had anticipated.

She blinked confused. Why?

“They believe you might pose a threat he elaborated watching her closely. Do you miss Welsh?”

Her eyes widened. “A physical threat you mean?” The notion was so preposterous a little laugh bubbled up her throat. “Hardly.”

“Indeed. Are you a journalist?” He asked her abruptly.

“No,” she said trying to ignore the disconcerting pulse of heat that fire through her body in week of his cursory appraisal. “Why would you think that?”

His many treating as logged onto hers. “Journalists have a tendency to get creative in their attempts to access whom ever they are pursuing.”

She frowned. “I'm afraid I don't follow.”

“You claim to be in my step sister.”

“Ahhh!” She felt her cheeks growing pink. “I can explain that.”