Lucia
Nerves skate down my spine as I make my way up the stairs, and I feel that heat again burning me up from the inside out. It’s as if a volcano is waiting to erupt inside me.
The little vest top and wrap-over skirt I’m wearing might be suitable wear for the humid weather in Brazil, but it’s doing nothing to cool me now.
Not when I know I’m moments away from seeing Alejandro, and now that he’s here, all I have in my head is last night.
I’m on fire, and from that sinful look in his eyes when he stood at the door, I could tell he had plans for a repeat of last night.
He didn’t come in to say hi or join us for dinner. That little appearance seemed to be just for me.
Seemed to be? Come on, Lucia. Let’s not be humble here.
If he didn’t see anyone else, only me, and made a point of making sure I understood why he was looking at me, then he was there for me.
I drag in a measured breath, and my steps slow when I see the door to the room ahead.
This is it. I’m here. I’m doing this again. Giving myself to him. I can’t even hold back. Everything comes out the moment he touches me, but I can’t help but feel like a prostitute again.
That is what I am, right?
Damn it. I need to get myself together and not think like that. Every moment I’m with Alejandro is a chance to get some information. It doesn’t matter what I feel or how shitty the reality of this is.
It’s the way.
With that reasoning, I try the door and the handle turns. It wasn’t locked, which means he’s inside.
The moment the door swings open, I notice him standing by the window shirtless, smoking a cigar. As if he didn’t look sexy enough as it was. Now he looks like one of those exotic adverts with a hot guy smoking. This one is hot and Latin, a deadly combination.
Again, I scan over his tattoos and find myself entranced by the artwork on his hard body.
“Hello, Miss Ferreira,” he says in a slow, purposeful way.
“Hi.”
He pushes away from the wall at the same time I close the door behind me.
“Good day today?”
“Yes. Estelle showed me all the ropes.” And I’ve finally come to the conclusion that she really doesn’t like me.
At least yesterday, I just thought she might not. Now I know. I’ve never been scowled at so much or made to feel like I’m incompetent.
“That’s great to hear.”
I could say more, but I don’t want to complain about a woman who is obviously dear to him, and this is just small talk. I’m not here to really talk about my day or training with Estelle.
He takes one last draw of his cigar and blows out a ring of smoke before he puts it out and walks closer to me.
When he gets a breath away, I surrender to his presence and I’m wrapped in the scent of him. That strong scent of musk, sandalwood, and power. He smells like power even when you pick all those scents apart. They all blend into one to create Alejandro Ramírez.
The potent blend gnaws away at any resolve I thought I could have at preserving my sanity. Now all I’m conscious of is his virile appeal and that maddening stroke of arrogance about him that makes me want to submit.
His large hand reaches up and holds my face gently. He searches my eyes, holding me hostage with the intensity of his gaze, then tracks a finger over the edge of my cheek. I can’t read his stare and it’s unnerving.
I keep thinking something is going to happen and he’ll figure me out, or I’ll slip up in some way.
“Ready for tonight, Bonita?”