1. Alejandro

Chapter 1

Alejandro

" Bienvenido al Paraiso ."

The bright-faced hotel concierge smiles warmly as I step out of the sweltering July heat through massive hand-carved doors. The marble floor glistens under my feet, the soft white lights dancing across smooth stone beckoning guests visiting Paradise in Madrid to cross the threshold into the majestic wonder of what true hotel luxury should be. A welcome to paradise indeed.

"Gracias." I nod as he takes my luggage.

I walk past a row of stark white-upholstered chairs and walls covered with silk wallpaper in soft-muted tones of beige. Brazilian rosewood tables hold vases of fresh brilliant-colored roses. I tip my head back to admire the exquisite sparkling crystal chandeliers. Every stick of furniture, every piece of art, every detail has been hand-picked by my father. He has been a master at his craft. How will I ever fill his shoes? I quickly push the thought to the back of my mind and head for the mahogany check-in counter.

The young clerk steps forward. "Welcome to Paradise. How may I help you today?"

"I have a reservation."

"And how long shall we have the pleasure of your company, sir?"

"Seven days." I hand the man my credit card.

He glances at the black Amex. "Perfect, Mr. Garcia. We will make certain your week is special."

I turn to rest against the counter while the clerk verifies my room and payment. He has no idea I'm the owner of the hotel, which is exactly the way I want it. I rake a hand through my hair, still confused. Why has my father bequeathed all of this to me? It's my cousin, Diego, who has worked tirelessly beside him every day for the past twenty years. However, in my father's will, he left me the only things he has truly loved in his life: his chain of hotels and his astronomical bank account.

Well, that is not entirely true.

He did love my mother fiercely.

She died when I was nine. A tragedy my father never got over. He threw himself into his work and packaged me off to boarding school. We shared obligatory holidays. And that was it. The sad truth is he barely tolerated me as his son.

I think back to right after the reading of the will, when I approached my father's attorney to ask to have the chain of Paradise hotels given to Diego. Diego is the one who deserves them. He's the one who will make sure they flourish. But my father's attorney flatly refused. "Come to me after a year," he had said. "Deal with your grief first. Then, when your head is clear and you know what is truly in your heart, I will do as you ask."

Now, I'm in Madrid, hoping for some sort of sign to help point me in the right direction. But deep down, I know exactly what I want. I've always known. And it is not the Paradise Hotel chain.

Maybe coming here was a mistake.

Just as I turn to cancel my reservation, a beautiful woman glides through the hotel door onto the marble floor. Her long blonde hair is swept up in a bun, with loose tendrils drifting down the sides of an elegant neck. She tosses her head back and laughs as the concierge welcomes her to Paradise. It is the most glorious sound I have ever heard. Her eyes glitter sapphire blue as the summer sun streams across her flawless face.

Aware that I'm staring at her perfect hourglass figure, I shift over to the rows of tourist pamphlets. I pick one up, flip it open, and hold it in front of my face, low enough to still see her. I hold my breath, waiting to see who is going to walk in to claim her. With her bright purple suitcases in tow, she moves alone about the lobby, stopping to smell the fresh flowers.

As she keeps flitting about, I allow the pamphlet to drop a bit. My gaze scorches a path along every square inch of her dangerous curves. She is magnificent.

She walks up to the counter and beams at the desk clerk.

" Quiero hombre ," she declares in stilted Spanish.

Horrified, the clerk's mouth drops open and her cheeks blaze a scarlet red.

"I do not think that is what you wanted to say." I chuckle.

"Really? And how do you know what I want to say? Hmm?" She tosses her hands onto her hips and turns to the clerk. "Men. They think they know everything."

She swings those gorgeous blue eyes of hers my way. " Quiero hombre ," she repeats defiantly.

"I hope and pray that it is me." I wink.

"What?" She glares.

I turn to the clerk. "Would you give us a few minutes, please?"

"But I want to check in." The pout on her face is adorable.

"I'm going to take a wild shot in the dark here and guess that Spanish is not your native language. Do you have a language app on your phone?"

"Of course, I do," she huffs.

"Perfect. Take it out and put in what you just said."

"I don't take orders from strange men."

"Alejandro Garcia." I nod. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Emily Taylor," she grouses.

"Good. Now we are no longer strangers. Take out your phone."

The beautiful creature looks me dead in the eye, and I know she is planning my murder. Enamored and totally smitten, I hold in my laughter.

"I will wait. I have all the time in the world."

"Fine." She sifts through her purse, takes out her phone, and opens the app.

" Quiero hombre . Go ahead… put it in."

I watch as her fingers bang the letters into the app. Her eyes widen. Her mouth opens and then quickly snaps shut as she stares at the screen.

"I want a man is what you said." I chuckle. "If that is truly what you are looking for, I'm yours."

"I wanted to say, I'm hungry," she whispers.

"Well, I'm glad you did not."

We stare at each other in heated silence.

"Thank you for correcting me." She tosses her shoulders back. "I won't make that mistake again."

"Does this mean you do not want a man?" I cannot resist.

"Never." With her head held high, she walks back to the counter.

As I watch her hips slowly sway, I know…I will follow her anywhere.