Chapter Four
Mateu washed away the bitter taste left in his mouth by his manipulations with a sweet swallow of vermouth. He stabbed the wedge of orange with the clear plastic spear, then slowly circled it around the rim of his glass as he waited at the bar of the upscale hotel nightclub, Oceà.
He didn’t have a problem with making sure London had a great time. On the contrary, he loved the Huntington hotels. He’d bet his most recent investment that his hotel’s success made him feel the same pride his brother did when little Felip brought home straight As.
What he couldn’t stand was pretending to be someone else while he did so.
But, through London, their reputation would bump back up to number one, and he could focus on his family’s orchard and his father’s health.
He gestured to the bartender for two more glasses, then checked his watch—seven p.m. London would be here any minute, then he’d close the deal by making himself indispensable. He couldn’t be sure she was having a great time if he wasn’t by her side. If he was skilled at anything, it was his powers of persuasion.
He turned in his seat just as London approached the bar in a dress the color of her skin. He blinked twice to keep his eyes from playing tricks on him. Carall.
She was stunning. He followed the line of the dress as it dipped in at her waist then flared out at her hips, making his hands itch to take the place of the barely there material. Continuing his exploration to her toes, he pushed up from the table. Her skin was wrapped at the ankle by metal and leather in such a way that his mind went in a very different direction than footwear.
What were the odds that before she left town she might be agreeable to leaving that dress on the floor? This was one bet he’d be willing to throw his money at.
She could keep on the shoes.
No. He stopped that particular line of thought. She was off-limits. Especially to him.
“You are a beautiful woman.” He gestured toward their drinks. “Would you like to sit, or would you rather something a bit more…intimate?” He dropped his voice so only she could hear.
There was a tightness around her eyes that he hadn’t noticed when she’d walked in, but now he was on high alert. Something was amiss. Gone was the carefree “I’m in Barcelona” attitude, and in its place was a clenched smile.
“More intimate sounds perfect.” Her tone indicated it was anything but.
He watched her, somewhat wary, then dipped his head in the direction of an alcove. He followed behind her with their drinks. Barcelona boasted some of the world’s best views, but London Montgomery was giving his home a run for its money. Her dress hugged her curves, even highlighting the cleft of her ass in such a way that he had to focus elsewhere before he embarrassed himself.
He cleared his throat, then lowered onto the padded bench of the secluded booth across from her.
He slid her vermouth in front of her and lifted his own for a toast. “To new friends, and making your vacation truly once-in-a-lifetime.”
She lightly tapped the rim of her glass to his. “Are we friends now?” Her question held a hint of sarcasm. He was about to ask what had changed when she took a sip. “Oh, this is good.”
“Oceà’s house specialty. Since a vermouth barhop was on your agenda, I thought you might like a small sample.”
Her eyes skimmed over his face, as if she were looking for something more than what she found. “You are efficient; I’ll give you that. Not in Barcelona even one night, and I’m already tasting what it has to offer.”
A waitress slid two water glasses in front of them, and London ran her finger along the top of hers.
His body tightened at the sight. “Oh, but you see, this is just a sip. Barcelona has much, much more to offer before you leave.”
Her lips twisted as if experiencing something distasteful. “What if I don’t like it? I’d hate to leave disappointed with my one chance at a vacation.” She dropped her hand back to her vermouth glass. Lifting it to her lips, she breathed in, then darted her tongue out to test it before she took a sip, sending a swift hello straight to his dick. Her nails were naked, short, and buffed to a high shine, almost as bright as the slivers of gold adorning her narrow ankles.
She had simple but sophisticated taste with an underlying sensual current. Conversation amused her, and she responded with a quick wit and sometimes, a sharp tongue. All of which were great to discover, but weren’t quite yet what he was really after.
What motivated her? What made her say yes? That was what he’d need to find out in order to put his powers of persuasion to work.
Suddenly, ice cold water hit his lap. He shoved away from the table, sloshing the water in his own glass over the rim.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. How clumsy of me.” London’s eyes widened as she handed him her linen napkin.
He frantically looked around trying to understand what had happened. Her water glass lay on its side with its contents now on the crotch of his pants. Forcing every swear word that wanted to spring forth back down his throat, he mopped at his slacks.
“Think nothing of it.” He ignored the cold, wet fabric clinging to his balls and gave her a smile that he hoped was more sincere than it felt.
“Where were we?” He moved his glass over to the side of the table.
“Barcelona.” She sipped her vermouth with a glint in her eye that he couldn’t quite read.
“You’ll be so enamored with my city by the time you’re through, you won’t be able to leave.” He brushed at his pants once more with his napkin.
Her lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile. “You sound very confident.”
“Let’s just say I know how my city performs.” Abandoning his efforts at drying his pants, he focused back on London. “Allow me to show you Barcelona from the inside. My home is a city of decadence and beauty. The people here really know how to live. Isn’t that why you’ve come? We’ve already discussed a tour of the orchard. Why stop there?”
She studied him for a moment, as if trying to figure out a puzzle, then the tightness around her eyes eased. Simple anticipation took its place. “And you say you want to show me?”
“I do. The romance, the charm of Barcelona, is lost if you feel like you’re being shoved along a sight-seeing conveyor belt. Skip the public tours. I can show you the real Barcelona.” He ignored the pinch at the base of his neck.
She coughed into her hand as if she were choking. Through watery eyes, she declined with a shake of her head. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea. With your work…”
Gripping his hands under the table, he forced his face to relax. He wouldn’t accept a loss, especially not before the game had even begun. “But you’ve already invited me to spend your vacation with you.”
“I certainly did not.” She straightened her spine and lifted her chin just a bit.
“Oh, but you did.” A look of confusion furrowed her brow, so he pushed. “I can rearrange my schedule, so don’t worry about my work. Come, you said yourself you’d planned this trip with your friend. Besides, it’s been awhile since I’ve taken the time to enjoy my city. It’s easy to miss the beauty in front of you every day. If this is your big chance to live a little, don’t waste any time.”
He reached out his hand. “Let me share my Barcelona with you.”
They shook in agreement as she nodded. She tried to tug her hand free, but he resisted and placed a kiss to her knuckles to hide his relief.
Victory.
Shaking her head, she slid her hand to her lap. “I don’t know what to do with you. Are all Spaniards like you?”
He resisted a scowl. How little foreigners knew of the true Barcelona, but he’d forgive her the slight. Him, a Spaniard? Please. “Not a one.”
“Promise me a five-star experience?” she asked.
His insides froze, but he forced his expression to remain neutral. The statement was a sobering reminder: one victory down did not mean he had this in the bag, but he would. He’d gain her trust, which would give him her time. That’s all he needed. No reason for deceit beyond that.
“Six.”
Huntington Place Barcelona would sell itself. He threw back the rest of his drink. Her eyes followed the glide of his tongue. She was playing straight into his hands.
…
London refused to glance away from the intensity of Mateu’s gaze. Six stars? Holy hell, yes please.
At least that’s how she would feel if he wasn’t a sexy son-of-a-bitch who was only pretending to help her for his own gain.
And so she’d keep reminding herself.
Of all the nerve. He’d confirmed her suspicion that he was planning to work her for a good review as soon as he asked to show her around. And the bit about being able to arrange his own schedule? He must have meant the one where he was supposed to manipulate the Huntington’s newest guest into giving a five-star review. Well, then she imagined he certainly could make all the time in the world.
And she’d make the most of all of it. Her vacation was back on track.
Even though she hated handing control of it—or anything—to a man she didn’t trust.
“It’s a deal,” she said.
Mateu stood and assisted her from the bench. The shock on his face as he’d tried to figure out what the hell had happened with her water had been hilarious. Nothing like a little discomfort to push him from his calm, cool, and overly confident demeanor. But she had to admit, he’d handled himself well.
Maybe next time, she’d use a whole pitcher.
She waved toward their glasses. “Oh, we forgot to ask for the check…unless you put them on your tab already?” She made sure to add an innocent note to her voice with the question. If the Huntington was so desperate to show her a good time, it could start by paying for her drinks.
He dipped his chin. “But of course.”
She adjusted a strap on her heel. He studied her footwear with warm caramel eyes that showed more than casual interest as he stepped aside and directed her out of the bar. His smile was slow and sure, leaving her to dig her nails into her palms to keep from slapping it from his face.
She had to hand it to him, the man was not lacking in his confidence with the ladies, but he was definitely lacking on his estimation of her intelligence. That was fine. He didn’t know her well enough to read the warning signs. And that was a good thing.
He should assume from business that if it’s too easy, it’s probably too easy for a reason.
Actually, the first thing he should remember was to assume nothing, but this was a close second for sure. Either way, he’d broken both rules. He’d assumed she was an easy target, and that he’d just bagged a win. Well, lucky for her, she loved playing a good game of cat and mouse.
The fact he thought he was the cat was all the better. And thankfully, his little game would easily keep her libido in check.
His eyes traveled back up the length of her legs. “Those heels are incredibly sexy.”
Pausing, she turned her ankle from side to side. “I think so, too. They’re decadent. Like this trip.”
“Decadence is my specialty.” He stepped close but didn’t touch her.
Now she just wanted to laugh. His specialty was deceit. “I’ll be the judge of that. Thank you for the drink.” She waved good night and weaved her way through the hotel back toward her room.
She hadn’t yet discovered exactly why the review meant so much to him, but he had his reasons, and most likely it revolved around money—didn’t it always? Money or power or both.
Anyway, if the look in his eyes was any indication, her sex-on-heels had more than paid for themselves. It broke her heart to have to take them back. Maybe she’d ease the pain by finding a hot Spaniard to kiss. Anyone but Mateu.
Her mother’s dalliances had left London with an open mind to pleasure and an early acceptance of being alone. And she was the better for it. Years of seeing the pain her mother had been put through by her father with his lies and deceit had taught her that relationships were rarely worth the sacrifice.
And knowing from the beginning that Mateu was full of shit would let her have fun guilt-free for a week and a half with a sexy-ass Spaniard.
And wasn’t that fantastic?
He’d played right into her hands.