the-charmer

by Myra Scott

He turned to give me a beaming grin that could melt the heart of the devil himself, and he shook my hand to the sound of a thousand cameras clicking in the audience. We turned to face them, both of our eyes shining and our hearts racing as we touched each other in that electric moment.

  And just as one of the camera flashes nearly blinded me, it hit me like a hot iron: I was crushing on Diego Castillo. Hard.

  ***

  “To the nightclub,” Diego toasted with me, and we clinked our glasses of champagne together, now far removed from the cameras. The two of us were standing out on one of La Torre’s balconies, leaning against the edge and enjoying the warm evening air as we drank chilled, bubbly alcohol together.

  I had tried to invite the guys with us as we headed to the balcony a few minutes ago, but Bart had just given me a thumbs up and a knowing grin. I knew what he was thinking, though, and it was not going to happen.

  I’m not going to let that happen, not with a man who’s still the enemy, damnit.

  “I must say,” Diego said after we nearly drained our glasses, cheeks rosy, “you, Zane Anderson, have a way of working the cameras.”

  “Me?” I half-said, half-laughed. “Don’t be modest, you had such command over their attention that you could have announced you were doubling your prices, and they’d still have applauded.”

  He swirled what was left of his champagne around in the glass and looked me up and down with a curious smile on his face. “I couldn’t give you the microphone because you’re such a smooth talker you could swindle the whole casino from me if you had half a chance, bribón.”

  I gave a smiling shrug as if admitting that it was true. “In my defense, that’s just genetic, for me.”

  “Oh, really now?”

  “I come from a long line of smooth-talkers,” I said as both of us got comfortable leaning on the balcony. “My grandfather, up in the Twin Cities, he didn’t have the kind of success I’ve achieved, so every now and then the family house would get the electricity shut off.” I chuckled as I remembered him telling me the same story by the fire. “But him, he knew the power guy on a first name basis and managed to talk his way into getting it turned back on for free every other year. Never paid a penny in late fees.”

  Diego let out a hearty laugh, and the sound of it sent a wonderful shiver up my spine.

  “You come from a remarkable line of people, then,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I would like to see what you’re capable of when you’re really trying, Zane.”

  “Zane now, is it?” I asked, smirking through a sip of champagne. “Not Mr. Anderson? If it’s going to be Zane, then it’s going to be Diego for you.”

  “We are business partners now, Zane,” he said triumphantly with a vigor in his tone that made my blood run hot. “I think we can safely be that comfortable with each other.”

  I was at my limit. The energy he spoke with, the way his body language was like electricity with mine, the way we commanded that stage together...I couldn’t hold it back any longer.

  “Good,” I said in a low, husky tone, stepping closer to him to his surprise. “Because I like the sound of you saying my name, and I’d like to get a little more comfortable.”

  In a fluid motion, I slipped my hand behind his head, feeling his thick black hair in my fingers as I leaned in to press my lips to his.

  The next moment, I felt a hand on my chest, holding me back.

  I opened my eyes to see the most beautiful face I’d ever looked at with a storm of emotions written all over it, but in a breath, his face hardened with a hint of sadness.

  “Zane, I…” he started, his voice as husky as mine. He bit that full lip of his, cheeks blushing.

  “Do you want this?” I asked, my voice dripping with meaning and my thumb stroking the back of his neck. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating. The heat of his body drove me wild this close up. “Because I want this, Diego. I’m a man who knows what he wants, and I want you.”

  He swallowed, and his heart was pounding so hard I could feel it from his neck. Everything about his body language screamed that he wanted this. The moment was right. We were on the edge of something great, but all I needed to hear was that one word to give me the green light.

  Instead, I heard the five most damning ones.

  “Zane, I have a boyfriend.”

  My eyes widened, and I lowered my hand slowly.

  “I am sorry,” he said, turning away from me and setting his glass on the balcony edge.

  “Diego, I had no idea,” I whispered, taking a step back and running my hand through my hair. I tried to mouth a few words, but I didn’t have anything else to say. I quickly downed the rest of my champagne and set it down, desperately needing another.

  “I never said anything,” he confessed.

  “You didn’t think you’d need to,” I said. There was a tense pause between us before I turned around and started to head for the door back inside. “I need a stiff drink.”

  “Zane—” Diego started to say, but I knew there was nothing more that ought to happen tonight.

  “Good night, Diego,” I said simply as I stormed into the building. “I’ll be in touch about the usual business.”

  I wasn’t kidding when I said I needed a drink.

  CHAPTER EIGHT - DIEGO

  I was standing under the soothing spray of the rain shower in my master bathroom, letting the water wash away the shame and guilt I felt about what had happened last night at the event. I squirted shampoo into my palms and reached up to slowly, methodically massage it into my wet hair. I closed my eyes, willing myself to think about literally anything else. Anything but Zane and the way his eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the lanterns. The way his carefully-tailored suit was tight enough to hint at the lean, muscular frame he was hiding underneath his clothing.

  I remembered how, after hours of drinking and networking with the wealthy investors and influencers weaving throughout the party, Zane’s bowtie had been tweaked just ever so slightly askew. It was at a cocky angle and a little bit loosened, and it had taken all of my restraint not to reach over and straighten it out. But I had known last night, even with the warming, inhibition-lowering booze running in my veins, that if I had dared to put my hands anywhere near him, I was a goner. I longed to pull him close, slip my tongue into that gorgeous, tempting mouth, press up against him until he was sighing and moaning. I could picture it all so vividly, the way his strong arms would move me. He could shove me up against a wall so easily. I would go limp and pliable under his control, do anything he asked of me. I would feel his cock stiffen against my leg…

  Speaking of which, I opened my eyes and looked down to see that my own cock was erect, my body fully aroused by the mere thought of Zane putting me in a compromising position. My heart pounding, I reached down to stroke myself, my mind wandering back to the image of Zane with his mouth open, his blue eyes demanding for me to…

  “No,” I said aloud, scolding myself. I could not cross that bridge. I could not allow myself to openly fantasize about Zane and touch myself to the thought of him like this. If I was somehow going to keep our relationship strictly business, I had to be firm with myself. No more daydreaming about his body. No more lusting over his sensual lips and intense blue eyes.

  I continued washing my hair, then washed my body, ignoring my stiff cock and burning desire. In my defense, it had been an awfully long time since I had last been intimate with another person. Alvaro was so far away, the Atlantic Ocean in between us. There had been a time years ago when we were still trying so hard to keep the spark burning. We used to stay up late having phone sex, both of us murmuring into the phone with raspy voices, touching ourselves with our eyes closed. Pretending to touch each other despite the distance that separated us physically. It was never very good. I spent the whole time trying to get him off, completely ignoring my own needs—much the way it had been
when we were in the same country together. Now, though, it was more than just physical distance that kept us separate. The last time I had suggested giving phone sex another go, Alvaro had flat-out laughed at me and hung up. It had taken days for me to work up the courage to ask him in the first place, and it took even longer for me to recover from the humiliation of being turned down so harshly.

  Even on the increasingly rare occasion when Alvaro and I were in the same place, it was nearly impossible to chip through the thick layer of ice that had somehow sprouted up around him. He was cold and unyielding, and even the slightest touch between us felt like a trespass. Alvaro looked at me sidelong, out of the corner of his eye, ignoring me when I was right in front of him. Like I wasn’t worth looking at, and I certainly was not worth eye contact. It was just a massive departure from the way we had been when we first got together all that time ago. Back when Alvaro and I first met, he had smiled more often, touched me more often. He had always been a little uptight about public displays of affection, and that was fine with me, but at home in the privacy of our own space there was a time when he used to hold my hand. Kiss me on the cheek. Even hug me.

  But those were all remnants of the past, and I had a feeling that every tiny hint of affection he had given me was just a trick to make me fall for him. These days, I was lucky if I got him to even talk to me for more than a few curt sentences. I was eternally trying to figure out what I had done wrong to transform our love into mutual discomfort. It seemed like every single day we were apart, the rift between us grew deeper and more impassible. I was no longer certain of what I could do to fix it.

  Alvaro still seemed to care for me when it mattered most. He was always giving me advice—asked for and unsolicited alike—and urging me toward success. It was partly his prodding that led me to such success with La Torre. Every time I was exhausted and burned out, ready to take a much-needed vacation and recuperate from the stress, Alvaro was there on the phone warning me that if I took a break, my casino would suffer. I wasn’t totally blind; I knew that Alvaro’s guilt machine wasn’t wholly for my best interests. He wanted me to be successful, to rake in money, but he was much less interested in my personal wellbeing.

  Still, I counted myself lucky that he even cared about my financial success. At least it showed he cared about something. At this low point in our relationship, I was willing to accept whatever scraps I could get from him.

  I finished up my shower and stepped out onto the marble flooring, wrapping a fluffy white towel around myself. I rubbed a circle of clarity into the foggy mirror and looked at my face. There were slight bags under my eyes, my expression tired and a little morose. My long dark hair dripped water down my shoulders and I shivered. I looked, as I often thought I did, like I was sorely in need of a vacation. I had been working nonstop for years, building up the kind of portfolio necessary to make it big in a fast-paced city like Las Vegas. What was bizarre was that I was not doing most of this for myself. I had not left Spain and come here simply to jump into the rat race and run myself ragged. No. Everything I had accomplished, every step of the way, was to prove myself to someone. First, I wanted to prove myself to my family. My mother and father had always been such successful, classy people, and I needed them to know that I could live in the same world. My siblings were all just like me, only they made it all look so effortless.

  And then, when I met Alvaro, my new goal was to impress him. From the very start, I had felt inferior to him, like I needed to up my game to be worthy of calling myself his boyfriend. So, I had worked my ass off, sacrificing sleep, meals, self-care, whatever it took to claw my way up the ladder. And now here I was: all this time had passed, and I was still clawing, still desperate to prove myself to Alvaro. However, I was slowly beginning to realize that I would never be good enough, no matter what I did. He would not accept me as worthy no matter how far up that ladder I climbed.

  I knew love was never easy, but god, did it have to be this hard?

  My mind wandered back to Zane immediately. Compared to how uncomfortable and nervous I felt around Alvaro, being next to Zane was the easiest thing in the world. He was charming and accommodating, and even though he had a tendency to tease and poke fun, it was always just that: fun. He had never cut me down, broken my spirit with his words the way Alvaro sometimes did. If I had thought there was chemistry between us at the dinner days ago, it was nothing compared to the electricity crackling between us at the event last night. Every time Zane had been within five feet of me, it was like I had lightning pulsing in my veins. It was like he and I were two magnets, drawn to each other even across a crowded room.

  “Diego, get ahold of yourself,” I sighed, raking my fingers back through my wet hair. I shook my head disapprovingly at myself in the mirror. “Zane is not your boyfriend. You already have a boyfriend. His name is Alvaro and you love him, remember?”

  I stared at myself, a little angrily. I was usually so good at controlling my thoughts. I prided myself on loyalty and devotion. I had never cheated on a partner before in my life, and I was not about to start now—not even just in my head. Not even when our relationship was hardly worth salvaging anyway.

  Even though it would be so easy. Zane was already raring to go. Last night, he had lunged at me, closed that space between us so quickly and smoothly. He had come within centimeters of a kiss, so close I could feel his hot breath on my face. I remembered the way it made me shudder with desire. I could feel the heat radiating from his powerful, impressive body. I could just imagine the way his chest would feel pressed against mine, his hand sliding around to grope my taut ass. I would melt right into him. He looked like the type. He could make me fall into his arms and let him bend me over and do whatever he wanted with me. Every glance of his blue eyes, every time those lips turned up in a wry smile, I felt it in my groin. He could make me do anything he wanted, and I would do it gladly.

  My phone rang and I gasped in surprise. I looked down at my cell phone, buzzing across the granite bathroom counter. To my infinite dismay, it was Alvaro’s name on the screen. I hastily answered it. “Hola, Alvaro,” I said, leaning back against the counter.

  “Did you accept the deal? How did it go? Was there a signing bonus?” he asked, straight off the bat. Not so much as a hello, I noted sadly.

  “Si y no. Yes, I accepted it, but no signing bonus. It’s not that kind of deal,” I told him honestly. “It’s meant to benefit us both, so neither party is on the hook more than the other.”

  “You could have haggled for it, Diego. You are too passive. You never fight for a better deal even when you have the upper hand,” he scolded.

  “I don’t have the upper hand. That’s what I just told you,” I explained, trying to fight back my anger. “Mr. Anderson and I are on the same playing field here. Neither of us is sacrificing anything.”

  Alvaro chuckled, but it was completely humorless. “No, tonto. You have the bargaining chips. La Torre is doing better than Sentry on its own already. You are sacrificing some of your success to share it with Mr. Anderson,” he said. I was still paralyzed at his insult.

  “You were the one who urged me to make this deal in the first place,” I replied quietly, through gritted teeth.

  “Si, pero I did not think I had to coach you through it the whole way. Just because you are both going to benefit does not mean you should relinquish control. You are doing him a favor,” he informed me. “Now you’re not only shaking hands, you’re bending over for him, too.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. I did not answer. Finally, Alvaro sighed, a little dramatically.

  “Por lo visto, you need my help, Diego. This is too big of a deal for you to handle on your own,” he began. My heart sank. “I’m going to fly out there to Las Vegas to guide you. I will handle the deal myself, since you cannot be trusted to do it.”

  I shook my head, my stomach twisting into knots. This was the last
thing I needed.

  “No, no. Alvaro, I can do this. Please, just let me handle it. I don’t need you to step in, I swear. La Torre is my business. Yo puedo hacerlo,” I insisted.

  “I will be there in a few days. I will be in touch. Please send a car to collect me from the aeropuerto,” Alvaro quipped shortly, and hung up.

  “Mierda,” I muttered to myself.

  CHAPTER NINE - ZANE

  The next night, all five of us—Gage, Mick, Bart, Diego, and I—all went out to one of the higher-end clubs on the Strip to properly celebrate the beginning of the collaboration in a way that was more private than the publicized, ritzy dinner we held for the announcement.

  In all honesty, after what happened that evening, I was fully expecting Diego to politely turn down the invitation.

  It had been awkward. There was no way around that. But I’d had no idea, and Diego had given me no indication that…

  I shook the thoughts away from my head. Those were instant buzzkills, and I was not about to let them get in the way of what was going to be the celebration of one of the biggest landmarks for the Sentry’s history. This would be something that could evolve into bigger and brighter business deals in the future with a man I was growing to thoroughly enjoy working with.

  That was what mattered tonight, and that was what I would focus on, both for my sake and for the guys’.

  And to Diego’s credit, on the whole limousine ride to the venue, he got along with the other guys swimmingly, never letting out a hint of what happened the other night.

  “...And so I watched my security guard run full-tilt across the casino floor and dive—yes, dive—across a craps table to get a hold of this man the ladies were complaining about. The man’s drink went flying out of his hand, and one of the other guests caught it without spilling a drop.” Diego finished his story to the roaring laughter of Bart, who had already gotten a head start on drinking from the beers in the limo cooler.