A Vengeful Affair by Carmen Falcone Page A

about?”
    “Pleasantries. It’s nice to talk to someone rational for a change.”
    “You don’t waste time, do you, Vivian? Befriending an old billionaire widower, vulnerable to a beautiful young woman’s affection.”
    “Watch your tone, Mr. Rivera. If you don’t begin respecting women, one day you’ll be the old lonely man yourself.”
    “Oh, but I do respect women,” Javier said casually, sending her into a twirl so swift that before she could think, she was back in his arms. A couple dancing next to them cheered with excitement at his perfect timing.
    “In every way?” she asked coolly. “Have you ever bedded a married woman, for instance?”
    “No,” he said immediately, tightening his hand on hers.
    “Do you think it’s appropriate to sleep with an employee?” Vivian locked her gaze on his, challenging him to reveal the real man behind the facade.
    “Is this a question or an invitation?” His eyes trailed down her face, assessing her with the intimacy of a caress.
    No. No. He’d gotten it all wrong… She wasn’t challenging him to bed her.
    “A question, obviously.”
    “It really sounded like an invitation.” His lips turned up in a tempting smile as he tightened his hold on her.
    “It should have sounded like an accusation. You slept with Molly.” She would not forget what had brought her here. Would not forgive.
    He sobered. “She was the only employee I ever slept with.”
    “Were the other employees wiser?”
    To her surprise, he threw his head back and laughed. “Vivian, you amuse me.”
    “That’s me, a natural-born entertainer.”
    “You are not attracted to me?” Javier’s condescending smile proved his ego couldn’t be dented.
    The nerve of the man. He obviously thought no one was immune to his charms.
    She shook her head vehemently. “No.”
    “Then we have nothing to worry about.”
    She lifted her chin. “Absolutely nothing.”
    Javier’s drawl thickened as he said, “And that makes it all the more interesting.”
    “Where were you on the evening of her death?”
    “Her suicide,” he corrected. “I was at a friend’s cocktail party.”
    There was something about the way he danced elegantly while responding to questions about a murder… He remained at ease, but his face displayed a measure of annoyance.
    “Which wasn’t very far from Molly’s flat. You could have gone and returned,” Vivian said.
    “How do you know where the party was?”
    Vivian sighed. She couldn’t tell him Roger had helped her to get that information. “I’m resourceful.”
    He stopped moving for a moment. “What if I give you the names of the people I talked to at the party?”
    “You would do that?”
    “As long as you call them and pretend to be some jealous girlfriend making sure I behaved. I can’t have you telling people I’m a suspect in that crazy mind of yours.”
    Vivian pondered. There was always the possibility he would give her a list of people who would corroborate his version whether it was true or not. But for the first time, her mind seriously considered the alternative. What if he hadn’t done it? What if one of his men had, and he really hadn’t given permission or even known? Did he know now? Was he protecting the real murderer?
    Either way, it was too soon to tell. She needed more information.
    “I’m not crazy,” she said, staring deep into his eyes.
    To her relief, he said nothing. As the song ended, they returned to their table, and the waitstaff served dinner. Vivian picked at the ice-poached oysters and salmon with wild rice she’d been served. Her stomach was unsettled, and it had nothing to do with the food, which was exquisite. It had everything to do with the man sitting next to her.
    Sharing the table with a few other people should have helped. She’d hoped they would mention something business-related, but to her frustration, they all spoke French or Italian. No one, including Javier, made an effort to speak to her. It was as if they saw