She paused to look in the mirror in the employee lounge and winced at her tired appearance. The first break she got on her shift, she’d have to work some magic with the makeup. Turning, she left the lounge to head to the restaurant.
After spending most of the day in meetings and on phone calls, Andrés looked forward to an evening of relaxation. He took the lift up to the penthouse and then moved outside, onto the balcony to look over the view. He breathed in the warm breeze rolling off the Mediterranean and let his gaze wander over the crowded resort below.
Spain was his home, but soon his business here would be concluded and he’d be on his private plane heading to Paris, for as long as business would keep him. Travel was a necessity he didn’t mind. There was no family that called his heart to return home. But then, he preferred his life this way. String-free, with no emotional attachments.
His mobile rang and Andrés plucked it from the inside pocket of his suit. Very few people had this number, and his suspicion that it was Pablo was confirmed when he glanced at the caller ID. “Have you found her?” he asked calmly.
“Sí, Señor. Just moments ago.”
He had expected nothing less, and yet Andrés straightened from the railing, his grip tightening around the phone.
His mind flickered over the image of Chloe last night. In his arms, her body trembling while he’d tasted her flesh and pleasured her. Desire slid through him, hot and potent. Quickening his blood.
“And?”
“Her name is Chloe Wilkinson. She is a twenty-four-year-old from Seattle,” Pablo said and then hesitated. “She is in Spain on a visa and has spent the summer working as a waitress at your resort.”
Andrés closed his eyes and unleashed another swift curse beneath his breath. She was an employee of the resort. This was certainly unexpected. It complicated things, even. But Cristos, how he wanted her.
Did she know who he was? He thought back on her actions, her hesitancy to get involved. It was a possibility. Perhaps she feared getting involved with someone who was responsible for her paycheck. A wise woman.
“How would you like me to proceed, Señor?” Pablo asked.
Carefully…
After a moment he murmured, “I will have food sent up shortly.”
“¿Señor?” Confusion entered Pablo’s tone.
“If you could please see to it that Miss Wilkinson is the one to deliver it.”
“Ah, sí, of course. I will handle the details at once.”
“Wait,” Andrés’s voice sharpened. He stroked his thumb down his jaw, his mind whirling. “No contract this time.”
There was a moment’s silence. “But—”
“I said no contract. I will handle the details.”
“Sí. As you wish,” Pablo agreed, once again acquiescent. “I will ensure Miss Wilkinson delivers your order.”
“Gracias, Pablo.” Andrés disconnected the call and walked back inside the penthouse to locate the menu.
Though the food choice mattered little. It was simply the catalyst to bring Chloe to him. Just the thought of having her in his presence sent a rush of adrenaline through him.
He placed the order quickly and then went to shower.
Chloe glanced at the clock. Wonderful, only a half hour left. Could this have been a more awful day? Flirting with the guests had been even more difficult today after the awful assault last night, and she’d known bringing it up to Señora Martinez would get her nowhere.
Twice today she’d had to attempt to be flirtatious while pushing away a guest’s wandering hand. Some days she was tempted to tell the manager of the resort to shove it.
She thought about the relaxing night ahead and smiled. Maybe she could convince her roommate to go out for tapas.
After running payments for the last of her tables, Chloe left the restaurant and headed downstairs to clock out.
“Señorita Wilkinson.”
Chloe winced, her shoulders hunching at the sound of her boss’s voice. But she turned around with a bright smile pasted on her face. “Yes, Señora Martinez?”
“I need you to deliver an order to the penthouse at once,” the resort manager instructed in a clipped voice. Her arms were folded across her chest, her lips tight in a disapproving smile.
“All right.” Chloe hid a frown, because delivering orders to the penthouse was something she’d never done. But perhaps they were short staffed?
The penthouse was one of the places in the resort she hadn’t yet had the pleasure of viewing. And she had to admit the idea of sneaking a peek was intriguing.
“The order is in the kitchen. And please do remember just who Señor Montero is.” Irritation flickered in Señora Martinez’s eyes, but then she was turning away, striding down the hall once more.