Savage Unapologetic(48)

"What the fuck does that mean?" I grumbled in protest.

Sliding my key into the slot, I panted as I entered my suite, still affected by his unadulterated desire for me.

The prickly aftermath would've been bearable if he hadn't bestowed me those come-hither eyes. If he intended to seduce me with his machismo techniques  …  well, he could think again.

Though I never gave any sign that his intentions were reciprocated, he didn't appear to be discouraged. It was all about the Spanish bravado. Men around here apparently weren't taught what the word "no" meant. They went after what they wanted, no matter the cost. They had a deep-rooted love affair with the color crimson. It represented fiery passion, virility, blood, and raw power. The Spanish altered angst to a new playing field.

How was that for modus operandi?

//

After shooting, we immediately hopped on to our flight. I didn't get the chance to freshen up nor change my outfit, so I was stuck wearing a crumpled white sundress and stilettos-I knew it wasn't the ideal airport footwear, but I couldn't spare time to change.

My flight to Stockholm was at seven in the morning, so I had little time to engage in whatever endeavors Juan would indulge me in.

There was a chauffeured car ready to take us to our next stop. Ever since we landed, Mister Don Juan hadn't taken a breather from his phone. I didn't get the opportunity to properly ask where we were staying. I should've inquired during our flight, but instead I took that opportunity for a quick nap.

I get it that he was so darn popular, but hello  …  I needed some info here.

I scrutinized his expressive face before diverting my attention to the moving scenery. I had a tough time seeing anything since it was dark and the driver aimed at breaking world records with his superb driving skills. The man had some fixation on using the breaks at every goddamn opportunity. I lost count how much I almost hit my forehead on the back of the front seat's headrest. And all the while, Juan Torres, still oblivious, was engaged in a verbal battle with someone.

The man spoke with his hand. It darted in the air, snapping fingers, slapping his knee in frustration. Had I not been slowly stewing in my sad, little corner over here, I would've found it amusing.

When it appeared that he finished his endless round of calls, we arrived at our destination.

"Where are we?" My eyes roved at the gleaming building where a uniformed concierge began to pace towards our parked vehicle.

Juan glanced at me with his lips pressed together, as if his mind was elsewhere. "Hmm? Oh, um, it's one of my parents' homes. I figured we'd be more comfortable here than staying at a hotel since we've been living in one for some time now."



       
         
       
        

Did that mean his parents were here or what? It felt daunting to be in that bizarre position.

A worried look must have begun to set on my face because Juan's gave me the gleaming eye.

"Calmate cariña, the apartment's empty." He reached out across the small gap between us and gave my hand a light squeeze, as if to reassure me. "My friend's having a party at midnight, so we have a couple of hours to kill. We'll go have dinner, then we'll see where to go from there before we party, sí?"

I made a nod as I consciously pulled my hand away. "Very sí." If my ears were to judge my intonation of Spanish, I sounded highly retarded. Hopefully after the filming was done, I could go home and be able to moderately speak it.

Juan opened the door and slid out of the black leather seat, as did the driver. As they began to exchange words, I gathered my nude Chanel handbag and my scarf, and vacated the car.

I stood on the pavement, eyes surveying the view that I had over looked before. A seafront view of the beach. I took a deep breath and silently noted that Cala Galdana had sweeter air. Without much traffic on the island, pollution wasn't rampant compared to one of the largest metro cities in Spain. Even still, beachfront views guaranteed beautiful sunsets and sunrises; some of the simplest yet beautiful experiences to have.

"Hola Señorita." The concierge nodded his head towards me before the driver opened the boot of the car. "Señorito Torres, como esta usted?"

"Oye, Pablito! Buen amigo, como estas?" Juan laughed and happily hugged him.

Juan's genuine happiness was infectious, and I found myself smiling at the two. They looked like they had known each other for a long time. I supposed Juan used this place quite often.

After they finished their cozy reunion  , Juan then spun in my direction, eyes warm and smiling as he gently placed a hand at the base of my spine. With his looming, tall frame, he hovered above me before his slightly dipped his head. "Agustín will bring our things upstairs. Come, I want us to get settled quickly so we can venture out and explore to your heart's delight."