to think, as the enormity of her decision to keep Matty a secret from Ramon evoked the nagging guilt that she had tried to push away.
She hurried into the lift and pressed the button to take her to the fifth floor. The door had started to close when a figure appeared, and she gave a silent groan when Guy Hadlow joined her.
‘Off to bed so early, Lauren?’ he taunted.
She ignored him, but he moved closer, trapping her against the wall of the lift. She wrinkled her nose in distaste when she inhaled the strong smell of alcohol on his breath.
‘The question is—whose bed? Are you going to bunk up with your Spanish playboy?’ Guy gave a mocking laugh. ‘No wonder you were picked for the Velaquez job. What did you do? Promise to drop your knickers if he gave you the contract?’
The crack of Lauren’s hand on Guy’s cheek resounded around the lift and he jerked his head back, his mouth thinning to an ugly line.
‘You bitch. I’m only saying what everyone is thinking.’
‘Well, it’s not true.’ Lauren felt sick with shame and misery. She heard the ping of the bell announcing that the lift had arrived at her floor and tried to push past Guy—but he gripped her arms with bruising force.
‘Really? You give it away for free, do you, Lauren?’ the lawyer sneered nastily.
To her horror he hit the button to prevent the lift door from opening. She could tell from his flushed face and glazed eyes that he was seriously drunk, but while she was desperately searching for something to say that would defuse the situation he grabbed one strap of her dress and wrenched it down over her shoulder.
‘For God’s sake, Guy, let me go.’ She could hear the panic in her voice, and shuddered when he lowered his head towards her.
‘I wanted you long before Velaquez,’ he slurred.
Nausea swept through Lauren when he put his hand on her breast, but she quickly took advantage of the fact that he had released his grip on her arm, and somehow found the strength to push him away. The lift was still stationary. She frantically jabbed the button to open the door, and stumbled blindly out into the corridor—straight into the solid wall of a broad, muscular chest.
‘LAUREN? What’s going on?’
Ramon stared down at Lauren’s paper-white face, and the purple bruises already appearing on her upper arms, then swung his gaze to the man still lounging against the lift wall. He had felt a faint sense of unease when he had watched the man follow her into the lift a few minutes ago, and had quickly taken the other lift up to the fifth floor. It seemed that his instincts had been right, he thought grimly.
Lauren shook her head, beyond speech. She was sure she had been in no real danger from Guy, but the memory of his sweaty hands on her skin as he had pawed her made her sway on her feet.
She could have no idea how vulnerable she looked at this moment, Ramon thought savagely, white-hot fury surging through him. He was startled by the strength of his need to protect her. He wanted to take her in his arms and simply hold her—let her know she was safe with him and that he would never allow anyone to harm her—but first he had to deal with the jerk in the lift.
‘Just a moment, querida,’ he said, as he gently moved Lauren to one side. ‘Let me get rid of this trash.’
‘Ramon, what are you doing?’ Lauren gasped, when Ramon grabbed Guy by the lapels of his jacket and raised his fist. ‘No! You can’t hit him. He’s drunk.’
‘And that’s his defence?’ Ramon growled. ‘He hurt you.’
Guy’s bravado had deflated like a popped balloon, and he cowered away from the furious Spaniard. ‘He was just being an idiot,’ Lauren said heavily. She still felt sick when she remembered how Guy had dragged the strap of her dress down her arm, but it was obvious he had had too much to drink. ‘Look at him; he can hardly stand up. Anyway, brawling with him will only make everything a hundred times worse.’
Ramon frowned, but reluctantly released Guy. ‘Go and sober up,’ he ordered the younger man harshly, ‘and if you value your life keep away from Miss Maitland in the future.’
Guy did not argue as he stumbled out of the lift and almost ran along the corridor. Lauren hugged her arms around herself, shivering as shock set in.
‘Here.’ Ramon slipped off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.
The silk lining was warm, and carried the faint scent of his cologne. Lauren hugged it to her as he guided her back into the lift. ‘That was my floor,’ she muttered, her brain finally clicking into gear when the lift moved smoothly upwards. ‘Where are we going?’
‘You need a drink, and I have a bottle of brandy in my room—unless you want to go back downstairs to the bar?’ he suggested, when she looked as though she was about to argue.
Lauren shuddered at the thought of returning to the party with Ramon, knowing they would attract curious glances from the other PGH staff. But she could not risk being alone with him, she thought desperately. Not because she feared him in any way. No—it was herself, and her overwhelming awareness of him that scared the life out of her.
But when the lift halted at the top floor it was easier to follow him down the corridor than to cause a scene—especially as her legs suddenly felt as though they were about to give way beneath her. Unlike her small, functional hotel room, Ramon’s suite was large and luxurious, and she sank down onto one of the leather sofas while he crossed to the bar and poured them both a drink.
‘Here—drink this. It might bring some colour back to your face.’
She was about to remind him that she never drank alcohol, but the expression in his eyes warned her that his patience was dangerously thin, so she obediently took a sip of brandy and winced when it burned the back of her throat.
Ramon dropped down onto the sofa beside her, close enough that she was aware of the heat emanating from his body. He loosened his bow-tie and unfastened the top couple of shirt buttons to reveal several inches of olive-gold skin and a sprinkling of dark chest hairs. After one furtive glance at him, Lauren took another gulp of brandy.
‘So what was all that about?’ His eyes darkened as he inspected the bruises on her arms. ‘You should have let me hit the bastard.’
‘Guy was just being…Guy. He’s asked me out a few times in the past, and didn’t like it when I turned him down. Anyway, maybe he has a point,’ Lauren said dully, feeling another wave of sick misery wash over her when she remembered Guy’s remarks about the reason she had been given the Velaquez contract.
Ramon frowned. What do you mean?’
‘I mean that, according to Guy, everyone at PGH thinks
you picked me to work for you for other reasons than my capabilities as a lawyer,’ she said bitterly. ‘There are several other commercial property lawyers who are more qualified and experienced than me, so I suppose it’s not surprising that people believe I slept my way into the job.’
‘As a matter of fact Alistair Gambrill recommended that you would be the best person to work on my project,’ Ramon told her quietly.
The knowledge made her feel marginally better. ‘But you know what office gossip is like,’ she burst out, jumping to her feet in agitation. ‘People will have been wondering why I was chosen for the contract above more senior lawyers, and the fact that you danced with me all evening will fuel the rumours about me.’
Anger and humiliation surged up inside her, and she spun round to face Ramon, her eyes flashing fire. ‘I’ll be known as the Mata Hari of the legal world,’ she cried wildly, ‘and it’s all your fault.’ Once again he had turned her world upside down. ‘Why did you have to come back, Ramon?’