Her Billionaire Beast (Her Billionaire CEO, #7) Read online

  “You’re taking me to Sevilla?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Unless you want to go somewhere else.”

  “Sorry, I’m just surprised. I thought...”

  “Yes?”

  “You didn’t want to be bothered with me.”

  “Maybe I want to be bothered by you.”

  She glanced at the car. “I’ve never been in a self-driving car before.”

  “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

  “I’m nervous and excited all at the same time.”

  “I know the feeling, exactly. It’s enjoyable.” He paused. “I know the car, you, and I didn’t have a great start, but...trust me?”

  She could get in a car crash in his hands. Or she could have an exhilarating experience. Underneath his masculine confidence, she sensed his vulnerability.

  “All right,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “Es un placer. My pleasure.”

  As she slipped in the passenger seat, she caught a whiff of his musk scent. As he shut her door, his words offered a delicious promise.

  A night in Sevilla with Alejandro Diaz.

  Never in her life could she have imagined this.

  When he got behind the wheel, the intimacy of the small space heightened her anticipation. Jazz music, turned down low, played on the radio. The interior smelled of expensive leather.

  He spoke in Spanish, as though he were speaking to a lover, his tongue caressing the words. The dashboard lights glowed brighter and the car began to move.

  He patted the dashboard. “Reina is a good girl.”

  “Reina?”

  “The car’s nickname. Sleek and sexy, like a woman, no?”

  Her cheeks warmed. A prickle of delicious pleasure coursed through her veins. He was flirting, and she was enjoying herself. The other stuff—the book, his animosity—seemed to belong to a different world.

  “Did you name her after your ancestor, Queen Isabella?”

  “No, but I suppose I could have named her Isabella.”

  She scrunched her nose. “I’m glad you didn’t or that would have been awkward.”

  “You don’t want me to say things like, ‘I parked Isabella,’ or ‘Isabella is full of gas.’”

  “Especially that last one.”

  They laughed.

  “There’s a map on the dash,” he said. “I could program in a destination, and it will take us there. Or I could set the car to manual.”

  The thought of a car driving for her in a new place with narrow streets and stringent regulations appealed to Isa. Though it still seemed strange.

  “I couldn’t let a car ‘drive’ for me,” she protested. “That would be so weird.”

  “Yes, you can,” he said. “You simply let it move and watch it go. Put your hands back behind your head.”

  “What if it does something stupid or wrong?”

  “It doesn’t account for when other drivers make mistakes. But it will try to avoid it as much as it can.”

  The atmosphere in the car had changed slightly, leaving Isabella breathless. She was aware of the close confines, where she could reach over and touch him.

  Alejandro spoke a command and Reina took off. With Alejandro’s hands nowhere near the wheel.

  Look ma, no hands.

  It blew Isa’s mind.

  The car drove them down the long driveway, saying hello to Max who smiled at her this time, out of the estate through the heavy wrought iron gates, and merged onto the road. No one else was around, and Isa admired the way the car intuitively stayed in its lane and how its wheels hugged the curves of the road.

  Not “the car,” she corrected herself, but Reina.

  Reina proceeded cautiously into a roundabout at the entrance of Sevilla. Funny how the car hesitated just like a human driver. Isa preferred it do that than repeat its earlier accident.

  The nice thing about being in a self-driving vehicle was that Isa could simply enjoy the scenery.

  Sevilla was a mix of old and new, with flowering bushes in the median on spacious modern roads leading up to a walled off fortress of landmarks and Sevilla’s historic district. A tall church belfry and several buildings that could have been part of eighteenth-century Spain towered overhead.

  “Where would you like to go?” he asked.

  “Downtown, somewhere.” Her eyes took in everything. “I’m game for anything.”

  “Your first time in Europe?”

  “No. I’ve been before, as a teenager. My parents liked to expose us to culture.”

  “Where did you visit?”

  “Where didn’t they take us? France, Scotland, Italy—three times because my mother has Italian blood, Germany...it’s a long list.”

  “So you look Italian?” he asked.

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “Isa...”

  “Yes?”

  “Never mind. Let me program the car...for downtown.”

  He swallowed visibly, and she wondered what he had been about to say.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alejandro turned to Isa after Reina parked. The engine hummed, then shut off.

  “Well,” Isa said. “That was pretty near flawless.”

  This, despite the fact that Avril de Feira was going on and there was much more traffic on the roads.

  As he got out of the car, the spring temperatures felt cool on Alejandro’s skin. He welcomed the fresh breeze, and realized he had been cooped up in the castle too much. For a moment, he thought about bringing his walking cane.

  No, he’d leave it in the car. Luckily this historic district was closed off to everything but pedestrian traffic, so they didn’t have to worry about cars.

  He opened her door and offered his hand. Her skin was soft and alluring. He craved more contact, but released her.

  “Do you mind if I take your arm while we walk?”

  “Not at all.”

  Isa touched his hand, sending a thrilling sensation up his arm. He grasped her slender arm lightly, stepping behind her. She described upcoming obstacles or changes in the sidewalk.

  He felt a rush of gratitude. “You’ve guided before?”

  “I had an aunt who was blind for most of my life,” she explained. “She lived in Georgia and I visited her for two weeks every summer. We used to take strolls like this. She would hold on to my arm and we’d chat about everything.”

  Alejandro reveled over her arm in his, their intimate closeness. Under his fingertips, the fabric of her blouse was smooth and soft. Just as the inside of her arm was warm and soft.

  In the mixture of sensations surrounding him—the puttering of engines, people talking, the scattering of footsteps—he singled out her scent, a subtle floral note that pleased him. It struck him as innocent, or at least, not jaded. Hopeful.

  Everything he wasn’t at the moment.

  He bristled at the reminder.

  “Did I say something to offend you?” she asked.

  “What?” He roused himself from the dark emotions. “Why would you say that?”

  “You’re scowling.”

  “You should be used to me scowling by now,” he harrumphed.

  “I’m actually getting used to you smiling more.”

  “Oh, really?” He tried to scowl, only partially succeeding. “That wouldn’t do. Charities will come knocking at my door begging for donations.”

  “If they do, I’ll welcome them myself and authorize payments. In lumpsum.”

  “As long as they are in centavos.”

  “Miser.”

  But she said the word lovingly.

  Did he really just think that? He had been nothing but beastly to her. Why should she regard him with affection?

  “Where are we going, exactly?” she asked.

  “There is a restaurant coming up, Calle Roja.”

  “The Red Street, yes, I see it.”

  “We’ll turn that corner.”

  The smells of dinner met him full-on as they passed the restaurant. “One of my
favorite places,” he said.

  Her hand covered his, startling him. “What is this building to the right? It looks like a church...”

  The pleasure of her touch washed over him in lovely waves. He leaned toward her, explaining the church’s history. She slowed, her body turned to him as well. He felt her fingers brush against the front of his shirt.

  In his sinking darkness, he sensed a reprieve. Both of them seeking each other’s light.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Was this the same man who had tried to run her out the door the first, second and third times?

  As they surveyed the chart, side by side, his aftershave tantalized her. They had unlinked their arms, but the warmth of his arm remained imprinted in her memory.

  She liked Alejandro Diaz. A lot.

  Purely on a professional level, of course, even as her eyes traveled over his handsome face, his stubble, the chest hair visible at the top of his open shirt. She tried to not stare. If the tables were turned, and she was visually impaired, she wouldn’t want him to stare at her.

  Or would she?

  She beat back that thought, leaning away to put some space between them.

  He spoke. “Would you like to enter the church? I think we have time before...”

  His words trailed off.

  She glanced at him curiously. “Before what?”

  “Before a surprise.” He smiled.

  Intrigued by both, she agreed. “I hope the church is still open.”

  It was, luckily. The church was in semi-darkness, with a few well-placed lights glowing from sconces onto some amazing art. An artificial candle glowed above the little box by the altar for the Blessed Sacrament. A few churchgoers were scattered on pews or benches, kneeling or sitting in contemplation.

  Isa guided Alejandro to the bench farthest in the back.

  They sat in a hush. Alejandro draped an arm casually over her shoulder, putting his lips against her ears to whisper. “Are you a church-goer?”

  The feel of his lips was distracting. She managed to whisper back, “Yes. And you?”

  “Yes. It’s a habit highly ingrained in me.”

  “Church is good.”

  “I’m beginning to see that.”

  His double meaning was not lost on her. His arm stroked the sleeve away from him. If she were to turn her head, their lips could meet. She kept her face turned forward, and still, his nearness overwhelmed her.

  His intimate whispers continued, tantalizing her. “You seem to understand some Spanish?”

  “Enough to be dangerous.”

  “So I won’t be able to talk about you with my servants?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not that fluent.”

  “Where did you learn Spanish?”

  “Not from ‘I love Lucy,’ for sure,” she assured him.

  They laughed quietly.

  “I took classes in college,” Isa explained. “I dated a Bolivian my sophomore year. That taught me Spanish quickly.”

  “Do you have a boyfriend now?”

  It was an innocent-sounding question. Then why did a lot seem to hinge upon it?

  “No,” she said. “I’ve been too...busy.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  Did she just imagine it, or did he look pleased?

  “And you?”

  “I’m not dating anyone, either.”

  Good. Because what they were doing should make a significant other jealous.

  Sitting so close, their thighs were touching, his arm around her, his fingers stroking her sleeve, his breath warm against her cheek.

  In a church, no less.

  He turned his head her direction, his eyes searching. “I wish I could see you. From your voice, you seem beautiful.”

  Her cheeks warmed.

  He continued, “A woman is even more beautiful when her beauty comes from the inside. You are a kind and compassionate woman. That accounts for much of your beauty.”

  His words filled her with pleasure. “Thank you.”

  “May I?”

  “May you what?”

  “Touch your face?”

  Her heart pounded. Once again, it sounded like an innocent question. She’d seen these moments in movies, and maybe the occasional romance novel. A blind person touching someone’s face. A highly intimate, romantic act.

  “I’ve never had anyone I hardly know touch my face before,” she murmured.

  “You know me well,” he said. “Enough to offer me two million dollars.”

  “We paid you two million.”

  “All right. So you did.” He paused, his voice deepening. “May I?”

  Silence stretched between them. Isa knew he was waiting.

  “Yes,” she whispered back.

  “If you’re sure.”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” She lifted his hand and placed his palm against her cheek.

  His fingertips seared her skin as they traced her jaw and the line of its edge. He raised his other hand and touched her forehead, her hairline, her eyebrows, her eye-lids until they fluttered shut.

  She breathed shallowly, transfixed by the experience.

  His touch lingered over her nose bridge and then moved to the sculpted lines of her cheek bones.

  Her face had never been touched this intimately before, not even by former boyfriends. An ache began to build in the pit of her stomach, a yearning for Alejandro.

  His breath seemed to still as his fingers reached her mouth. His thumb rubbed over her lower lip, then the upper one. They parted of their own volition. Her throat felt dry. Wanting.

  “Que bella,” he murmured, grasping her chin lightly and pulling her closer.

  Was he going to kiss her? She wanted him to, so desperately.

  He slid his lips over hers, two small caresses that set her body on fire and made her crave more even as her mind protested to keep their relationship on a professional level. He shifted angles and deepened the kiss.

  One of his hands settled on the small of her back, pulling her close, while the other grasped her jaw.

  She was lost in a haze of pleasure.

  A crotchety female voice whispered furiously at them in Spanish, causing the two to spring apart. A wizened old woman with beady eyes glared at them from behind their bench.

  Alejandro whispered something back to the woman, sounding apologetic. He grabbed Isa’s hand and pulled her to her feet. The woman shuffled off, not looking placated.

  “What did she say?” Isa asked, though she had a guess.

  He chuckled. “She scolded us for treating this sanctuary cheaply.” He squeezed her hand.

  “That’ll teach us for kissing in church.”

  Secretly, she was disappointed for the interruption.

  And glad. This must never happen again. It would get in the way of the book. How could they possibly concentrate? How could she live under his roof and not be tempted...?

  “I’ve decided I love going to church,” he said, chuckling.

  Despite her resolve, she bit her lip to stifle a giggle.

  She helped him navigate the little church entry, with the raised door frame, and then they spilled outside in happy camaraderie. Sevilla’s night sky was beautiful, strewn with a million stars.

  He consulted his watch for directions to their surprise destination. She realized now that he relied on it heavily.

  “That’s an interesting watch.”

  “Courtesy of my billionaire inventor friends. It is everything to me.”

  She touched the edge of the black contraption, her finger touching his skin. He sucked his breath in, and she wondered if he was thinking of that interlude in the church like she was.

  “Watches for the blind are nothing new, are they?” she asked.

  “Yes, but can those watches give orders to self-driving cars?”

  They passed cafés with customers still filing in, making for a lively street scene. On either side, tall apartments dating back to earlier centuries, towered over the narrow alleys.

&nb
sp; “If I still painted, I would paint you.”

  “I’ve never been painted by anyone before.”

  “A shame.” His smile faltered. “I wish...”

  Then he fell silent.

  “What do you wish?”

  “I wish that I had met you before I lost my sight.”

  Was he flirting? What was he saying?

  Alejandro Diaz intrigued her. If they had met under different circumstances, she would have liked to date him.

  They were both free weren’t they?

  No.

  She moved away and his expression tightened.

  “Sorry,” he said. “That was uncalled for.”

  “It’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I mean, who in their right mind would even want to date a beast like me?”

  Again, he trailed his words. It didn’t take a detective to figure out his train of thought. But assuaging his pride meant she’d have to give him false hopes. Hopes about their relationship that could never be. At the end of this project, she would have to leave him. Surely, they had no future together.

  But he deserved some reassurance.

  “Being blind doesn’t make you a beast,” she said.

  “I’m not as I used to be.”

  “So?”

  He shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  He was retreating into his shell. She could smell his fear.

  A man jostled her as he passed. He apologized and moved on.

  “I think I know how you feel,” Isa told Alejandro.

  His jaw tightened. “Oh?”

  “Stop being beast-like and listen.”

  He gasped, and then laughed. “Touché. All right, I will.”

  “I haven’t dated in a long time. I don’t know what it’s like.”

  He cocked his head. “How long?”

  “Five years, probably, not since college.”

  “Your Bolivian soul mate?”

  “Yes.” She winced. “More like dance mate.”

  “Did he sour you on love?”

  “No. But he didn’t sell me on love either. It was fun while it lasted. I learned Spanish, he learned English, and...”

  “And what?”

  “And I learned how a Latin man kisses.”

  Even with his blindness, she swore he could see right through her. Maybe it was the intensity of his posture, but he made her feel like he could see through her insecurities.