Savage Unapologetic(50)

"Forty-five minutes, it is." I nodded before shooing him away so I could start getting ready. "I'll see you then." Those were my parting words before closing the door on him. I had a feeling that had I not done that, he'd fancy lingering around, and we didn't have time to spare for that kind of nonsense.

I intended to lay out my outfit for tonight, but before I did so, I quickly darted inside the bathroom to turn the dials on the shower.

With tonight's agenda on my brain, I studied my outfit. It consisted of my favorite go-to Dolce white mini lace dress, a pearl choker, and my fierce four-inch Giuseppe Zanotti dubbed "cruel" sandals. One could never go wrong with white or nude shoes. Ages ago, I read somewhere that nude shoes gave the illusion of elongated stems, and in my five-foot-four stature, I needed all the help I could get.

Hastily, I carefully placed the items on the bed, double-checking that my ensemble for tonight was on point.

A smile played about my lips, satisfied.

Little trivial task done and prepared, I strolled back into the bathroom. The idea of being in Barcelona after long, rigorous weeks in Minorca was long overdue. And I, for one, couldn't wait to see what this city had to offer.





Chapter Fifteen



The restaurant was situated right on the beach so we only had to cross the street and walk a few steps to get there. Had it been longer than that, I'd have protested since I wasn't used to walking such distances with four-inch heels. Impractical, yes, very. But what the hell; I was on vacation.

I took in the sight before me. String lights surrounded the open restaurant. A pleasing smile played about my lips, loving the first moments of being in this city already.

Then, out of the blue, Juan knelt on his knees, shocking me.

"Uh, what in God's name are you fucking doing?" I hissed at him as I scanned the crowd, embarrassed to the core.

"I'm not about to make a fool of ourselves. I'm just taking your shoes off, okay? I don't expect you to walk in sand with those shoes, unless of course you have some super powers I need to know about?"

Okay, had he warned me first, then I wouldn't have freaked out like a total moron.

Without glancing down at him, I tried to show composure by straightening my shoulders. "You like to mess with me too much. Cut it out!" Juan's playful nature grated on the wrong side of me. I was already edgy where he was concerned. It was like he wanted to see how far he could push me. 

Juan began to unstrap my shoes. Once done, he stood up with a massive smile on his annoying face before he brushed his hand against his jeans.

My feet felt odd as I began to tiptoe on the dipping sand. Each step I took, soft coolness greeted my stubby white painted toenails. And even though I wasn't in any difficulty, it'd been great to have someone to lean on for stability. But pride and other valid reasons made me not reach out for Juan's arm. Even though he offered several times before we reached our table.

We sat at the very front where we had a great view of the moon hanging low above like a massive, beautiful, glowing orange, luminous, mystical, and quite breathtaking sight.

I ordered sangria since I could do with a little sweet and refreshing to sip on. Stronger drinks were for tonight's party.

"Estás bonita, cariña," he faintly murmured. Magnetizing eyes captured my own, holding me captive.

My brows furrowed, immediately rejecting his compliment. His amorous nature needed to be kept in check.

"Much more so when you're on the verge of anger," Juan quietly added with mischief heavily gleaming in his eyes.

When he's in full-on flirtation mode, Juan never ceases to unnerve me.

Like, for this instance, I badly wanted to claw that gleam from his eyes. But something always stops me from lashing out. Therefore, I settle scores with my barbed words and bitchy attitude. None of it seemed to work. The more I pushed him to a corner, the more he make himself known, fucking and goading with my mind.

Throwing him an poisonous stare, I viciously groaned out loud, almost at the breaking point, "Stop flirting with me! I have a boyfriend. And quite frankly, I'm not interested!"

Juan considered me a moment, licking the bottom of his lip as he cocked his head to the side, eyes full of mischief. "So, you keep saying, cariña, so you keep saying."

His phone rang, saving us from another argument. He then excused himself and strode over a few steps away. He was in my peripheral view, but I didn't glance in his direction. Still, I could feel him watching me with acute concentration while he spoke on the phone.

I silently fumed from his recent comment. What was he trying to prove? That I wasn't true to my heart? If I had the audacity to dissect what he was implying, it seemed he was trying to convey that I was using River as an excuse, that deep down, I was terrified to want him, to give in to him. He was dead wrong. Sure, I was attracted to him, but that was all.