Chapter 14

Mira’s POV

The dinner table was filled with an unmistakable tension, though it might have existed only on my side, because Alejandro looked like he was enjoying every single second of the evening.

The salmon on my plate stared back at me strangely, almost like it could see straight through me. Like it knew the dirt buried beneath my skin and the shame clinging to me. I hated that it might be right. I felt filthy for letting Alejandro touch me, for letting myself forget better judgment for even a moment.

“Stop staring at that fish like it’s about to be your next prey,” Alejandro murmured, pouring himself a glass of wine with irritating ease.

I had never met such an assy asshole, if that was even a real word, but it fit him perfectly.

I looked up, dropped my fork, and stood. “I don’t know the game you’re playing, Mr Montenegro, but I’d like to be excluded from it,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

He smirked, his gaze never leaving my face. “What is this about, Miss Martinez?”

I cleared my throat. “Firstly, whatever happened between us will never happen again and should never happen again. Secondly, you do not have the right to tell me who I speak to, so if I decide I want to be involved with your friend Ace, that is none of your business.”

Alejandro sighed slowly. “You never cease to amaze me, Mira. I’ll remind you that this is my house, and whatever happens under this roof automatically becomes my business.”

He rose from his seat too, his eyes locking onto mine. “Now, if you’ve decided to show Ace your collection of lace panties, he’s rich enough to get you laid in a hotel, not my home.”

My fist tightened as heat rushed through my veins. His face would fit perfectly as a piñata at a kid’s birthday party. What a jerk. It shouldn’t have mattered what he thought of me, but it always did. Somehow, he always found a way to crush my pride without even trying.

He grabbed his phone from the table and headed toward the stairs without sparing me a glance. Halfway up, he stopped and turned.

“We leave for that deserted town by seven a.m. Be ready,” Alejandro announced, then continued until his footsteps faded away.

What if I quit now?

It wasn’t like I wouldn’t find another paying job. Still, this was an opportunity to change my life, to fix myself, to heal parts I had buried for too long.

As I walked back to my room, the same question that had eaten at me since the day I was offered this job surfaced again.

Why was I given this job?

I had zero experience. My record was stained by the clubs I worked in as a stripper, and I was certain that before a man like Mr Montenegro hired anyone, he dug deep into their background. Yet I got the job immediately.

Something felt off, especially with the questions he asked during the interview. Still, I refused to ask questions and risk ruining the life I was desperately trying to rebuild. I would not let Alejandro destroy it either.

After a long phone call ranting to Zara about my hot, infuriating boss, sleep took me almost instantly.

Morning came faster than my period after a month of unprotected sex, and I hated it. Another day of seeing Alejandro. Another reminder of what almost happened the night before.

I dressed quickly, packed my bags, and headed downstairs. He leaned casually against the car, phone in hand, wearing a smile I hated more than condoms. And trust me, I really hated the idea of condoms. There was something about skin on skin that felt dangerously addictive.

“Are you going to get in, or are you going to stare at me like the breakfast you skipped this morning?” he asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

I rolled my eyes and climbed into the car without answering. He joined me moments later, and the driver pulled away.

“Ahem,” I cleared my throat, pulling my iPad from my bag. “We should go over the activities scheduled once we arrive.”

I turned toward him, but he ignored me, scrolling through his phone, laughing softly at whatever held his attention.

“Mr Montenegro,” I tried again.

This time he lowered his phone and looked at me. “This is a six-hour trip, Miss Martinez. A little peace and quiet won’t kill anyone. We can go over everything later.”

Before I could respond, his attention returned to his screen.

My job was already stressful enough, and he never missed a chance to make it worse. I shouldn’t even be here with him. His PA should be the one handling this trip.

Urghh! Who was I kidding? My job was to clean up his image, so of course I had to be here.

Minutes later, we arrived at the airport and boarded business class. I fastened my seatbelt tightly and braced myself. This was my first time flying, and for a former pole dancer, I had a serious issue with heights.

As the plane’s engine roared to life, my face drained of color. I gripped the armrests, nausea creeping up my throat.

Alejandro studied me, his brows knitting together. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head.

“First time flying?”

I nodded.

He leaned closer. “Breathe, Mira. You feel it most now and during takeoff. After that, it’ll be fine.” He placed his hand over mine. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and focused on his hand resting on mine.

This version of Alejandro was unfamiliar and unsettling. He had actually calmed me down, and that scared me. We were supposed to hate each other.

Why was he being kind? There had to be a reason. There always was.

The plane lifted off, and even though nausea threatened me, I didn’t throw up. Alejandro held my hand the entire time and didn’t let go until we landed.

Outside the airport, a black BMW waited, and we drove straight toward Willow’s Peak Town.

“Now that we landed safely, what do you want?” I asked as soon as we got into the car.

He turned to me. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Dro. You were nice because you wanted something, so what is it?”

He burst into laughter, shutting his eyes until he struggled to breathe. “You are unbelievable, Mira.”

I frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“You thinking that everyone who helps you wants something in return.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the car stopped in front of a moderately sized building with Randa Hotel displayed boldly on it.

“We’re here, sir,” the driver announced.

As we stepped out, another car pulled in beside us.

I squinted, trying to make out the person through the tinted windows.

“Who’s that?” I asked, turning to Alejandro.

His face flushed as he stared at the man stepping out of the car and when I followed his gaze, a smile crept its way to my lips.