The hotel bar was almost empty.

Santiago twisted the highball glass of vodka tonic on the bar’s gleaming black surface. He’d done well to resist calling Abena. After three days away, his nose buried in inspections for most of those days, he found he missed seeing her face and hearing her tart replies to his inquiries.

Then, of course, there was the fact that she was a free woman now.

He stopped turning the glass and concentrated on Abena’s number staring back at him on the screen of his phone, below an image of her face he’d downloaded from the company intranet, complete with smiling dark eyes and ebony skin. Her rosebud lips were curled into a smile—an inviting smile he’d seen often. The same smile had been extended to him at one time, but not since they fought two years ago in Miami.

More often than not, she remained guarded. But the night her fiancé broke off their engagement, the guarded expression disappeared, leaving only the openness he knew her to have, and a vulnerability he never expected to see in someone so tough. He didn’t only want to sleep with her, he wanted to protect her, too.

Santiago went back to the main screen on the phone. He needed to stop looking at her face before he went crazy.

“Will wonders never cease.”

Santiago stiffened at the familiar male voice. He didn’t have to turn around to know it belonged to his father.

Constantino Vila sat on the stool next to him. “I knew that was you when I looked in here. A man knows what the back of his favorite son’s head looks like.”

“I’m your only son,” Santiago said dryly.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Constantino shrugged.

The nonchalant comment wasn’t far from the truth. Constantino was a true Lothario, moving from woman to woman and breaking hearts along the way. He’d married several times, with none of his marriages lasting very long.

The marriages and multiple short-term affairs had resulted in children from different women. Including Santiago, there were six total—that Santiago knew about—from four different women. Supposedly, Santiago’s mother, Elena, was the one woman Constantino had loved—as much as someone devoid of a conscience could love. She was also the only one who didn’t put up with his shit. Once she learned definitively of his affair, she left him, filed for divorce, and moved on with her life, eventually remarrying and refusing to accept a single centavo from Constantino.

Constantino was a successful restaurateur, though not at the same level as Esteban, a younger and more astute businessman. Santiago had never had much of a relationship with his father growing up, and despite a strong and respectful relationship with his stepfather, he longed for what he considered a true father-son bond. The kind that came from blood and not proximity.

Nothing worked. Not even his mother’s passing, when he was seventeen, served to bridge the gap between both men. By the time he finished school, Santiago had long given up on expecting anything from his father. From a young age, he worked hard and provided for himself, while his sisters received the royal treatment—cars, vacations with friends, shopping trips. His father spoiled them and their mothers, giving them anything their hearts desired. Until the girls turned eighteen, and then he cut them off.

“You’re staying in this hotel?” Constantino waved away the bartender when he approached. His dark gaze swept the area with a hint of disdain, as if the place didn’t meet his standards. Of course he would pretend a five-star hotel was somehow beneath him because Santiago was staying there.

“Yes. And what exactly are you doing here? Run out of puppies to kick back home?”

Constantino laughed easily. Around his neck he wore a similar cross to the one around Santiago’s neck. His eyes were devoid of crow’s feet and his forehead remained smooth, thanks to the wonders of Botox.

“I’m here on business. Working on a top-secret project in an up-and-coming area. When all is said and done, it will be my greatest accomplishment.”

“Good for you,” Santiago said, not bothering to inquire about the project, which he knew his father wanted him to do.

“And you?”

“Meetings. I leave tomorrow.”

“Back to Miami?”

“I head to New York, to check the restaurants there.” And, because he couldn’t help himself, Santiago added, “I’m interviewing Chef Carlucci for our new restaurant.”

Constantino raised his eyebrows. “Massimo Carlucci?”

“Yes.” Nailing down the elusive chef hadn’t been easy and was certainly something to be proud of.

In typical fashion, his father didn’t see the accomplishment in the same way. He laughed loud and hard. “You’ll never get him. The man has sworn off the industry.”

“We’ll see,” Santiago said, more determined than ever to win over the chef. He’d prove to the man beside him he certainly could get Carlucci for their restaurant.

Constantino twisted the knife deeper. “Esteban must be slipping. He trusts you with such an important task as opening his new restaurant and recruiting Carlucci?”

Santiago testily tapped his forefinger on the bar. “Why wouldn’t he? I’m his vice president of operations.”

“He’s taking quite a risk.”

“I haven’t let him down yet, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I don’t keep up with your accomplishments.”

“I’m shocked.” His father was a damn liar. Just seconds ago, instead of asking if Santiago was returning to Argentina, he asked if he was returning to Miami. Clearly, he already knew Santiago had been promoted to VP of North American operations. He’d either seen the press release, or one of Santiago’s sisters had passed on the news.

“You sound sarcastic.”

“You’re a genius. Now I see how you’ve managed to make so much money. Very intuitive.” He tapped the side of his head.

They could go on like this for hours, lobbing barbs at each other. He and his father were competitors, in life and in an industry that chewed people up and spit them out on a daily basis.

“You’re in rare form tonight,” Constantino observed.

“I have you to thank.”

Constantino harrumphed.

“I take it you’re not staying at this hotel, so why are you here?”

His father’s lips expanded into a smile. “I’m taking a lovely woman out for drinks.”

“You’re going to be late.”

“She doesn’t mind waiting for me,” Constantino said smugly. “You know, she may be your next stepmother.”

“You shouldn’t make those kind of jokes.”

“Why?”

“Because knowing you, she probably will be. How old is this one? Did you try to go a little older than twenty-one this time?”

His father laughed again, perfectly relaxed. “I’ve decided to go a little older this time. She’s closer to my age. From Argentina and a successful businesswoman.”

“When you say closer to your age, do you mean she’s twenty-five or twenty-six?”

Although his father had dated women his own age before, they were all in the past, during his twenties and thirties. He became older, the women did not. In recent years, none of them had been over twenty-five. His father took great pride in being able to attract younger women, even as he pushed sixty years old.

“She’s almost fifty.”

Santiago frowned, staring at his father. “She must be something special.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. I’m not sure yet.”

“Are you saying you like her?” Santiago noted the cagey smile. Did his father really like her, or was this poor woman another conquest for him to use and discard when done?

Constantino chuckled softly. “Maybe.” The shrug again. “Okay, I like her. A lot. She makes me feel alive. But very confused.” He laughed. “Can you believe that? At my age?”

“If you really care about her, then you can’t screw this up.”

“I know. I’m sure I can handle her, no matter how much she consumes my thoughts.”

“This sounds serious.” He’d never heard the old man talk this way before.

“She’s intriguing. A brilliant, intriguing businesswoman, and quite unlike anyone I’ve ever met. I think I’m in love.” The declaration was quietly spoken, but no less shocking than if he’d yelled at the top of his lungs.

Speechless, Santiago didn’t say a word.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” his father asked.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Hm. Well, I’m going to ask her to marry me. If she says yes, I’ll introduce you.” His father stood.

A pang of guilt hit Santiago in the chest. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so dismissive. Perhaps his father had finally found someone who could change him from a soulless automaton to a human being with a heart. “Wait. Don’t go yet. Let’s talk.”

“Forget this conversation. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll call you the next time I’m in Miami.”

“Father.” Santiago saw himself in his father’s behavior and wasn’t so sure he liked what he saw. Thirty years from now, would he still be alone, looking for the next thrill, finally learning how to love?

He thought of Abena, and the kind of woman she was. The kind of woman a man would be lucky to call his wife—if he were inclined to be the marrying kind. Sexy, smart, and someone who obviously cared about others. She managed Esteban’s household staff with a firm, but gentle touch, and could easily smooth vendor issues with both eyes closed and one hand tied behind her back. A woman like her was an asset—not only to a business, but also to any man lucky enough to call her his own.

“Don’t screw this up,” he said to his father, softening the words with a smile.

His father smiled back, the first genuine smile Santiago had seen in a long time, but for a moment the smile shifted, and he caught a glimpse of a hidden emotion he couldn’t comprehend. A chill raced down his spine. He didn’t know where the uneasy feeling came from, but it was there. Present. Between them.

“I don’t plan to screw up. This woman sees something in me, and I don’t know why, but I want to live up to her expectations.”

“Don’t be afraid to share your feelings,” Santiago advised.

“I’m surprised to hear such advice from you.”

“Why?”

“Romina Calderon.”

Santiago stilled. The name dropped into the conversation like an atomic bomb into the middle of the ocean. Memories, regret, and emotion gushed up and sprayed everywhere. “Our relationship ended a long time ago.” Almost nine years.

“Mhmm. But she taught you a valuable lesson.”

“She did.” Santiago nodded.

“She hurt you.”

“It was a long time ago,” Santiago said testily.

“Ah yes, but with her, you wore your heart on your sleeve, and she hurt you.” Constantino wagged a finger at his son. “You’re like your mother. You feel too much. You’re sensitive.”

Santiago bristled.

Constantino chuckled and patted Santiago’s shoulder. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Santiago shrugged off his father’s hand. He should have known better than to think the man had suddenly grown a heart. Constantino was incapable of any genuine feelings. He felt sorry for the poor woman.

Before he left, Constantino kissed Santiago on the cheek and patted his shoulder one more time. His fake affection only irritated Santiago more, but he said nothing as they said goodbye and his father left for his date.

Santiago ordered another drink, all the while hoping he never turned into his father.