The Unforgettable Spanish Tycoon. Christy McKellenЧитать онлайн книгу.
For a second he wondered whether his mind was playing tricks on him as a familiar lone figure on the street opposite his building caught his eye. His stomach lurched as he watched her pace back and forth, then throw her gaze up towards Araya Industries and frown, as if hatching a plan to get back in here and torment him again.
Apparently he couldn’t have been more wrong about having chased Elena Jones away for good.
Well, he wasn’t having it.
‘Hold my calls for a while longer,’ he said to his PA as he swept out of the room past her and headed towards the lift that would take him down to street level.
Apparently he hadn’t made it clear enough to Elena that there would be no further opportunities to meet with him, so he was going to rectify that right here and now. He was going to tell her to go home and that he wanted nothing more to do with her.
Storming onto the street, blood pulsing feverishly through his veins, he called out her name and she turned to meet his eye, her expression registering first surprise then hope.
Hope away, cariño—you’re not getting a thing from me except a wave goodbye.
The street was quiet as he drew level with where she stood on the pavement opposite and he glanced quickly left, not seeing anything coming his way, anger at her audacity buzzing in his head.
Elena’s eyes were fixed firmly on him as he began to cross the street towards her but, as he stepped into the middle of the road, something made her glance away then quickly back to him again.
This time there was an altogether different expression on her face.
Panic.
Blood thumping in his ears, he swivelled to look at what had spooked her and time seemed to slow down. There was a motorbike coming towards him at speed and he knew in that moment, with absolute certainty, that there was no way he could get out of its path in time.
Memories flashed before his eyes: of him and Elena laughing together after one of their classes at university, of her sitting in his room telling him she was thinking about splitting up with her childhood sweetheart, and all the blood rushing from his head as he realised he finally had a chance to have what he’d wanted for so long, of the look of abject hurt and distress on her face just now when he’d told her he wouldn’t partner with her.
Lights and colours danced before his eyes and a strange kind of euphoria lifted his senses, making his surroundings hyper-loud and vividly real.
And then the bike hit him, the impact throwing his body into the air, knocking all the breath from his lungs. In a panic he flailed his limbs wildly as he tried to grab hold of something, anything, to anchor him as he spun through the void. A moment later his body made rough, painful impact with the ground, quickly followed by his head.
And everything went black.
ELENA STOOD IN SHOCK, her arms still outstretched as if she’d thought she could do something, some kind of magic perhaps, to stop Caleb from being hit by the motorbike that had sped round the corner just as he’d stepped into its path.
She felt light-headed and displaced from reality, as if this was all some horrible dream—though the heavy thump of her heart in her throat and the adrenaline that roared through her body told her otherwise.
The rider was picking himself up from the ground after coming off his bike and miraculously seemed not to be injured in any way, but Caleb’s slumped body, which had been flung at least ten feet, was still lying half on the pavement and half on the road. And he wasn’t moving.
A cacophony of noise suddenly rushed in on her as people began running towards where Caleb lay, finally shocking Elena out of her dazed state. She stumbled towards him, falling to her knees by his side, barely registering the rough ground biting into her skin, and put her shaking hand onto his torso. His eyes were closed, but she could feel his chest rising and falling with his breathing.
So he was still alive. Thank God.
She could feel tears pressing at the back of her eyes but she blinked them away, determined to keep it together for his sake.
‘Caleb? Can you hear me?’ she whispered, leaning in closer to him and breathing in the distinctive scent of him that had haunted her throughout the years, usually at the most inopportune moments.
Somebody—a woman—asked her a question in Spanish and Elena shook her head, mouthing back ineffectually, totally unable to summon even the basic Spanish phrase for I don’t understand.
The woman frowned, then asked, ‘Are you English?’
Was it that obvious?
Judging by the fact she was wearing a highly inappropriate woollen suit for the weather and had skin so light it was almost translucent, she guessed it must be.
‘Yes!’ Elena said, relief flooding through her that the woman would be able to help her. ‘I don’t speak Spanish.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I need to call an ambulance. Can you help me?’
‘Don’t worry,’ the woman said, gesturing behind her. ‘My husband has already called them.’
Caleb let out a low groan and Elena swivelled back to look at him, her heart leaping with relief. ‘Caleb? Are you okay? I’m so sorry—this is all my fault.’
At least it felt like it was her fault, even though rationally she knew it had been an accident. But it was also another thing for him to hold against her.
She should have left this area and gone to regroup somewhere else—to give Caleb a chance to calm down—then come back again once her head was clear and her plan fully formed, instead of pacing about in front of his building like a lunatic. He must have seen her prowling around out here and decided to come out to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing.
When she’d heard him call her name from across the street her first thought had been that he’d changed his mind and decided to listen to her after all and her heart had leapt with excitement and relief. But as he’d crossed the street and she’d seen the look of frustrated fury in his eyes it had become powerfully obvious that she’d been very wrong to suppose that.
He hadn’t wanted to turn back the clock. He’d wanted her gone.
The woman laid a hand gently onto her back, dragging her out of her distraught reflection. ‘He’ll be okay, don’t worry. The ambulance is on its way.’
Elena nodded gratefully, this time unable to stop tears from welling in her eyes. ‘He was crossing the road to meet me and didn’t see the bike.’
‘It’s okay. Not your fault,’ the woman said in a soothing tone, rubbing Elena’s arm in sympathy.
If only that were true. She already felt guilty enough about the anguish she’d caused Caleb in the past and now she’d hurt him again, only physically this time. He never would have been out here if it wasn’t for her.
A moment later the sound of a siren broke through the low murmurs of the crowd that had gathered around them and an ambulance sped round the corner and parked up nearby, its flashing lights bouncing off the windows of the buildings opposite.
The paramedics jumped out of the cab and ran towards where Caleb lay, pushing their way through the large group of bystanders that had gathered to ogle the drama playing out in front of them.
The helpful woman disappeared from Elena’s side as the paramedics came to kneel next to Caleb and check his vital signs. The female paramedic turned to ask Elena a question in Spanish, indicating towards Caleb, and Elena guessed she must be asking whether she knew him.
Novia meant friend, didn’t it? It sounded like a friendly kind of word.
‘Sí, sí!’ she said, her voice sounding shaky and weak from shock. The woman nodded and gave her a