Prologue
Alejandro de Ramirez was the kind of man who always got what he wanted. And right now he wanted the beautiful hotel heiress sashaying across the mezzanine. Her deep chocolate hair, kissed in gold, fell in silky waves to her ass. She wore a turquoise wrap dress that had him itching to untie the knot at her waist and test her curves with his palms.
Perhaps later, once they’d been introduced.
Her legs were long and slender, her feet adorned with peep-toe heels that accentuated her elegant gait. She moved toward him, not yet seeing him among the crowd, and he enjoyed the sight of a gorgeous woman who could turn heads. More than one set of male eyes followed her progress. Strangely, it made him want to snarl. An odd reaction for a man who didn’t believe in limiting himself to one woman’s charms.
He told himself it was the fact she already possessed what he wanted that attracted him so strongly. She had a hotel empire, and he wanted one. He intended to build one, too. He was on his way, though the grand old hotel they currently stood in was the only one he owned at the moment. That would change. He was determined it would change.
He didn’t know why she was in Madrid, or why she was in his hotel, but when he’d seen her name in the registry he’d sent an invitation to her room expressing a wish to meet her. She’d accepted immediately, and he’d briefly wondered if perhaps she was the one orchestrating events and he’d simply fallen into her trap and done what she wanted.
Too late now.
Rebecca Layton made her way to the entrance of the hotel bar and stopped to wait. He could have taken her to his private suite and talked somewhere more quiet, but he’d wanted to take her measure. Was she here on a mission from her father? Was Layton International seeking to acquire the Villa de Música? Or was it simply coincidence that she’d chosen his hotel to stay in?
She let her gaze slide over the mezzanine and then looked at the slim gold Cartier watch on her wrist. He wasn’t late but he wondered what she would do if he delayed much longer. After another moment, he separated himself from the crowd and strode toward her. At first she looked through him, but when he kept walking she blinked and dropped her gaze over him—sizing him up. Then she met his eyes again, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d walked into a maze of tangled emotions. It stunned him, but he recovered himself long enough to hold out a hand and tip his head politely.
“Miss Layton? I am Alejandro.”
“Oh. Hello.” She slipped her hand in his, and her lashes dropped again. He couldn’t help but feel the surge of electricity that flowed between them. “Please. Call me Rebecca.”
He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Rebecca, then. Welcome to Madrid, and to my hotel.”
“Th-thank you,” she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper. “It’s lovely.”
He let go of her hand and held his out, indicating the bar. “Allow me to buy you a drink.”
“That would be lovely. Thank you.”
He couldn’t help but notice that she’d used the same words again. Was she nervous? Or shy maybe? He didn’t think she was shy, but he could be wrong.
The waiter who greeted them ushered them to a table that was far enough from the others to enable a little privacy. He returned with wine and tapas and set them down before disappearing again. Alejandro poured and Rebecca accepted gracefully. Her fingers trembled, just a tiny bit, but she soon seemed more at ease as he asked her questions about her trip and whether or not she intended to stay long.
“I’d heard that someone renovated this place,” she said as she gazed up at a ceiling adorned with frescoes. “I wanted to see it for myself. I tried to talk my father into buying it when it was first for sale, but he wasn’t interested.”
Alejandro lifted his glass. “Then that is good for me. I imagine Layton International doesn’t often fail to get what they want.”
She took a sip of her wine. “It happens sometimes.”
He wondered what she meant, but decided she meant nothing other than an attempt to make small talk. “So you are here to see what has become of it then?”
She nodded quickly. “I have business in Barcelona, but I wanted to fly into Madrid and see what you’ve done before taking the train to the coast.”
He felt a twinge of something. Disappointment, maybe?
“And are you satisfied, Rebecca?”
She gave a little shiver—or maybe he imagined it. “I think it’s beautiful. Yes, very satisfied.”
He arched a brow as he shot her a look that had worked on more women than he could count. Strangely, while he wanted it to work on her as well, he also wanted something more. But what?
He was happily single. He had wealth, fame, and his pick of lovers. So why was one pretty American suddenly so intriguing?
“It’s very good to be satisfied, querida,” he said. “I make it my business to provide complete satisfaction to my guests.”
Her gaze dipped again. Was that a hint of a blush staining her cheeks?
“Then you will do well in the hotel business,” she said. “It’s all about the guest experience, after all.”
“Sí, I believe this is so.”
Her blue eyes met his. So striking. “Why did you choose hotels?”
It was not an unusual question, or unexpected. “Why not?” He shrugged. “I am finished with bullfighting, I don’t want to breed bulls, I have no desire to appear in films, and I’m not prepared to retire to the coast and grow lemons. Building a hotel empire is a challenge, is it not?”
She nodded. “It is.”
He smiled then. “I like challenges. I thrive on them.”
She sipped her wine but he didn’t miss the way her pulse thrummed in her neck. There was more to the lovely Rebecca than met the eye. She was beautiful, and she surely knew it, but she had an innocence about her that was completely at odds with her seeming worldliness. He was intrigued.
“Will you dine with me, Rebecca?”
She looked startled. And then she smiled softly. “I would be delighted, Alejandro. Thank you.”
He stood and she gaped up at him, confusion written on her features. He held out an arm. “I have a private dining room in my suite. We can talk uninterrupted, and I will ply you with the best food and wine in Madrid. There will be servers present,” he added.
She unfolded herself from her chair and slipped her arm into his. “Thank you for saying that,” she said as he led her toward the elevator. “I feel as if I should apologize for insulting you, however.”
He ushered her inside and slid his key into the card reader. “I’m not insulted, querida. It’s wise of you to consider who you spend time alone with, especially when it’s a man you’ve only just met.”
“I’m glad you understand.”
“I do.” He wasn’t going to say what he was thinking, but then he decided why not? “You should know that I intend to get you into my bed, querida. Willingly, of course.”
Her laugh was surprised. “You waste no time, do you, señor? Another man would at least get me a little drunk first.”
He liked the sound of her laugh. “I’m not like other men, Rebecca. And I believe in saying what I want.”