the-charmer

by Myra Scott

  “Stop, you’re going to make me blush,” I chided, looking away shyly.

  “Good. I love making you blush. I live for it,” he teased. “You’re so damn sexy when you get all bashful on me. I hope I never stop making you blush.”

  “Te amo mucho,” I murmured, turning to kiss the palm of his hand.

  “I love you, too,” he replied, smiling. “Damn, to think we went from business partners to… well, another kind of partner. It’s funny, you know. When I first met you, I immediately built up this fantasy in my head of what it would feel like to be with you. To love you and hold you and sleep with you. A wild fantasy. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

  “And?” I prompted, a little nervously. “Did the reality match up to the fantasy?”

  “No,” he answered. My heart sank. Then he winked at me. “The reality blows the fantasy right out of the damn water, Diego. Of course.”

  “You scared me for a moment there,” I sighed, melting into his arms and resting my head against the crook of his shoulder.

  “Don’t worry about a thing, Diego. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t feel so strongly about you. I have never felt this way before about anyone, actually. I mean, I’ve had flings and crushes, of course, but nothing like this. When I’m with you, the world feels so much smaller. Conquerable. Like I can do absolutely anything as long as I have you by my side,” he mused aloud, stroking my hair. I looked up at him adoringly.

  “Wow, Mr. Anderson. I did not take you for a poet,” I teased. He chuckled.

  “Well, that’s all your fault. You made me go all soft,” he accused softly.

  I sat up and fixed him with a sultry smirk. “I would like to think I could make you hard again, though, if you wanted that instead,” I insinuated. The humor on his face transformed into pure lust and he leaned forward to kiss me hard, his hands gripping my shoulders. I moaned into the kiss, feeling that familiar wave of warmth roll down through my body. All it took was one look, one kiss from Zane and I was on fire. Burning for him. Desperate to be touched.

  As he broke the kiss, I murmured, “I thought to myself once that you were like an addiction. And I still feel that way, Zane. I’m hooked.”

  “Good,” he replied, and kissed me again.

  “But it’s a good addiction. Not like a drug. Like a… runner’s high? Is that what the term is called?” I asked, tilting my head slightly. Zane laughed.

  “Yes. That’s the one. I won’t make you run for it, though. You can have me whenever you want, wherever you want,” he promised. He stroked my cheek, staring into my eyes deeply.

  “What about my desk? In my office. At La Torre,” I inquired pointedly.

  Zane blinked a few times and then chuckled. “Well, that is very specific.”

  I shrugged. “As long as we’re sharing fantasies.”

  “In that case, I would love to fuck you in the VIP lounge of our new nightclub when it opens. We could christen it if you like,” he growled seductively. I loved when he got this way. Goosebumps prickled up on my arms and legs and I moved closer, gazing into those blue eyes intently. I could feel my heartbeat quickening.

  “I can’t believe how lucky I am,” I murmured, shaking my head in awe.

  “What?” Zane asked, taken aback by the sudden change in tone. I grinned.

  “You. You’re amazing,” I told him simply. “I finally know what it feels like.”

  “Alright, you might have lost me a little, Diego,” he replied, amused.

  “Love. Real, true, genuine love. All those years I was stuck with Alvaro, I had no idea what it was supposed to feel like. How good it could be with the right person. He was my first and I just kind of learned everything I thought I had to know from my experience with him. I just assumed that was the way it had to be. Painful. Lonely. Afraid. I never knew there was anything different, anything wrong with my relationship. Not at first, anyway. After a couple years, I started to notice things. Most importantly, I noticed that I was not happy. I had not been happy for a long time. I still cannot believe how long it took me to realize that love is supposed to make you feel better, not worse,” I explained with a sigh.

  “You were with him so long, he messed with your head, Diego. He taught you exactly what he wanted to in order to keep you quiet and compliant,” Zane said, that flame of fury flaring up again. He rolled his eyes and chuckled, letting out a deep exhale. “You know, I would still kick his ass if he showed his face here again.”

  “I know you would,” I replied with a smile. “I know. But it’s not our problem anymore. Alvaro went back to Spain, probably to troll the bars for another young, naive man to seduce. I feel terrible for the next man who’s about to have his whole life ruined. Men like Alvaro should come with a warning label. ‘Warning: I will make your life hell.’”

  “I think it will take him some time to get over you,” Zane added thoughtfully.

  I frowned in confusion. “Over me? He was never even into me. Not really.”

  “He didn’t treat you right and he sure as hell didn’t deserve you, but losing you? That has to hurt like hell, even for a cold-hearted prick like him. You’re a real catch, and he’s probably realizing just how badly he screwed up right about now,” he added. “If he’s even capable of acknowledging his mistakes, that is.”

  “Serves him right,” I said firmly.

  “No argument there,” Zane quipped. “But enough about that asshole. He’s gone. Out of our lives forever. You’re finally free, Diego, and I am going to do everything in my power to make you happy. Anything you want, anything you need, just say the word.”

  I rolled up the sleeves of my Henley and leaned back against the couch. “I’m already happy, Zane. You are all I need,” I told him meaningfully.

  My phone buzzed on the coffee table and I glanced over at it, mildly annoyed that our moment was being interrupted. Zane said, “Go ahead. Answer. It’s probably Jennifer.”

  I picked up my phone and nodded. “You were right. She’s just sending out some emails to my investors and wants to make sure it sounds okay.” I scanned it quickly and replied to her, then set my phone back down.

  “Sorry. I hate having to answer my phone for business on my time off,” I sighed.

  “I’m the same way. But as soon as our nightclub opens, most of this stress will disappear,” Zane promised. “And after everything is said and done, I think you and I deserve some real time off.”

  “What do you mean? Like a vacation?” I asked, folding my arms over my broad chest and looking at him quizzically.

  Zane nodded. I could tell he was desperately trying to keep something a secret.

  “Well? You have to tell me more than that,” I laughed, nudging him on the shoulder.

  “Okay, okay. I was going to keep it a surprise for longer, but… I really would like to take you home to the Twin Cities,” he explained slowly. “To meet my family.”

  My mouth fell open and I gasped. “Really? Are-are you sure?”

  He nodded, grinning excitedly. “Yes. I’m more sure about this than I’ve ever been about anything in my life. My parents need to meet you, Diego. They will love you.”

  “You think so?” I asked, a smile spreading across my face.

  “Of course. What’s not to love? You’re handsome, distinguished, polite, thoughtful, successful, and one hell of a businessman. Plus, you’re bilingual and one hell of a cook. You are exactly the kind of guy I would love to take home to my mom,” Zane chuckled. “She’s going to ask you a thousand questions about Spain, by the way. She and my dad went out to this new tapas restaurant that opened up a month ago and now she’s obsessed.”

  I laughed and leaned in to kiss him. “Zane, I would love to go,” I told him, beaming.

  “Awesome,” he said, cupping my cheek. His thumb traced over my cheekbone and down along my jaw, careful not to press too hard on my recov
ering injuries. Mine were nothing compared to Zane’s, though. I felt a twinge of guilt again for what Alvaro had done to him.

  “I hope your face heals before our grand opening,” I murmured softly, looking at him with sympathy. He shrugged it off in typical Zane Anderson style.

  “If not, the bruises and cuts will probably just add an air of mystery and intrigue,” he joked, striking a James Bond-esque pose. I rolled my eyes and laughed.

  “As long as they don’t think you got those injuries in some business meeting squabble or something,” I said.

  “From you? Diego, no one who meets you could ever think for one second that you would be capable of causing anybody physical harm,” he replied sweetly.

  “Hey, are you calling me dainty?” I accused, with mock indignance.

  “With these muscles? And those abs? Nobody in their right mind would call you dainty,” he replied, running his hands along my strong arms. I flexed a little, just in case. He looked me in the eyes, a more serious look on his face. “What I mean is that you have a good heart, Diego. And everyone can see that. Hell, I knew it from the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

  My heart swelled with love. “The same goes for you, Zane. You may act cocky and tough, and you are—but you’re also a good man. And you have all of me, now and forever. I’m so happy that finally my heart is in good hands.”

  He kissed me softly and replied, “I love you, Diego. My business partner and partner in life. I promise to take care of you and make you happy every day.”

  “And I promise you the same,” I answered, feeling downright elated. “Ahora, mi amor, should we watch soccer or this stupid reality show I am embarrassed to say I’m addicted to?”

  “I won’t make you watch sports with me,” he replied, laughing.

  “Gracias a dios,” I swore, cuddling up next to him as I turned on my dumb reality show. “This is how I know you are a good man.”

  Zane chuckled and hugged me tight, and I was happier than I had ever been before.

  EPILOGUE - ZANE

  “Champagne for the happy couple?” asked an excited voice off to my left. I turned and grinned at the sight of Gage offering two glasses of Dom Perignon on a tray. He was already a solid few drinks deep, and his balance was not exactly on par with the well-trained waiters walking around. The tray was wobbly, the delicate glasses threatening to fall over at any time. My eyes widened and I laughed as I reached out to grab the glasses before he let the very expensive bubbly spill to the floor and go to waste. Diego realized what was happening and jumped in next to me, snatching a champagne flute just as the tray began to slip out of Gage’s very inexpert grip.

  I looked over at Diego, who smiled wryly, the tiny lines of crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes. He looked so goddamn handsome like this, smiling and happy, with that spark in his dark brown eyes. He had his shoulder-length, nearly-black curls scooped back into a ponytail that was somehow both neat and artfully messy at the same time. He was wearing a perfectly-tailored black suit, the top few buttons of his starchy white shirt unbuttoned, revealing just the slightest peek of his dark, downy chest hair. The sleeves of his black blazer were rolled halfway to his elbows and there was already a ruddy blush on his cheeks from the two or three tequila shots he had already taken. He looked like a damn work of art, sexy and professional and relaxed all at the same time. It seemed like no matter how much effort I put into my own look, no matter how I scrutinized my ensemble for weeks ahead of time, I would never possess the kind of seemingly effortless style Diego had. I often teased him about it, joking about his innate “European panache.” He generally rolled his eyes at me, but I could tell that the compliment actually made him feel pretty good.

  I had a feeling that his ex, that abusive bastard, had not been giving him much attention and positive feedback for a very long time, possibly ever. Diego had survived one hell of a shitty ride with Alvaro, and he had been lonely and kicked-down for too long. I had decided to make it my mission in life to build him back up, reassure him and make certain he knew just how fantastic he truly was. If that meant I had to endure the occasional eye roll, then so be it. Besides, even when he was rolling his eyes at me, he was also blushing. And I lived to see him blush.

  “Good catch!” Gage shouted, leaning in between Diego and me so we could hear him over the pulsing bass beat that vibrated through the floor. We were standing in the VIP lounge of our brand-new nightclub, and this was our wildly successful and hotly anticipated opening night.

  I had wanted to open it much sooner, getting ahead of myself. The construction team and architectural committee had put in overtime, working around the clock to pull off this gargantuan project. It was a lot of sweat, tears, and even some blood that went into building it. For the past few months, Diego and I had been spending a lot of late nights paired with ungodly early mornings, doing everything in our power to make the nightclub happen. There were countless meetings with uptight investors and bank officials, planning committees to get the zoning permits and building permits and work permits we needed. It seemed like a never-ending parade of paperwork and calculations. Endless schmoozing and fundraising.

  Sentry and La Torre were both on fire, bringing in far more revenue in this brief window of time than ever before. Part of the increase in popularity was due to the excitement surrounding the nightclub being built, but perhaps more integral to our combined success was the fact that we had masterfully used the media in our favor. It had taken some convincing on my part to get Diego to agree to my plan, but when he finally gave in and agreed it was a good idea, we tracked down the author of that article from months ago who wrote about our meeting. As I expected, she was over the moon to hear from us, and we sat down with her to give an interview, in which we confirmed that we were, in fact, dating, and on top of that, our respective companies were doing a collaboration. She wrote up a new article, outlining the both of us as up-and-coming movers and shakers in the Las Vegas LGBTQ community. Diego and I were both standing in the spotlight. All eyes were on us, and business was booming as a result.

  So, when we finally began to publicize the grand opening of our nightclub, interest in our business went sky-high. People were begging to be invited to the opening night. Celebrities sent their assistants to my office and Diego’s office at La Torre, pleading their case to be involved as celebrity endorsements. We were overwhelmed with the public interest, fielding emails and letters and write-ups in the local newspapers and journals. As it turned out, our story was intriguing to the people of Vegas, and we were quickly becoming icons in our own right. Earlier in the evening, a reporter had asked us what designers we were wearing, as though we were actors on a red carpet somewhere. Diego had given her an adorable sound byte about the socks he was wearing, which were far from a designer item; they were hand-knitted by my mother, given to him during our visit to the Twin Cities over Christmas. To absolutely no one’s surprise, my family adored Diego, but not half as much as I did.

  I grabbed Diego’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze. He tore his attention away from Gage, who was half-drunkenly telling him about the hot guys hanging out at the cocktail bar near the entrance. I leaned in and kissed my boyfriend on the cheek, and as usual, he melted into me. It was often damn near impossible to keep my hands off of him, even after all this time. All my friends, who were understandably more cautious and pessimistic than I was, had warned me that once the infatuation period of our relationship was over, some of that electric magic would fade away. But so far, the infatuation had only intensified between us. Six months later, Diego and I were stronger than ever, and my heart was full to bursting with love.

  “How was Christmas in the Twin Cities?” Gage asked loudly, his words slurring a little.

  Diego brightened and lifted his pant leg slightly to show off his knitted socks, which made Gage laugh out loud. “Those from Mama Anderson?” he asked.

  Diego nodded happily. “Si
. I love them.”

  Gage looked at me and asked, “So I assume the visit went well, then?”

  “Very well,” I replied. “My family adored Diego. I’m almost afraid they might like him more than they like me.”

  “Well, of course they do. He’s a lot better looking than you are. And that accent? Yeah, you can’t compete with that,” Gage joked.

  “Better looking than Zane?” Diego asked, genuinely incredulous. “That’s impossible. There is no one sexier than Zane Anderson.” He leaned in and kissed me.

  “Thank you, baby,” I replied, beaming joyfully at him.

  Gage waved his hand dismissively at us, annoyed at our cutesy show of affection, and said, “You guys are gross. I’m going back to the bar.” He walked away, wrinkling his nose. Diego and I just laughed and shrugged. We were done hiding our love for each other. These days, I couldn’t care less what anyone thought about us. We were both out and proud, and head over heels in love.

  “It’s not even midnight yet and Gage is a mess,” Diego told me, leaning close. I could feel his warm breath tickling my neck and it sent a shiver of desire down through my body. I put my arm around him and pulled him close.

  “He’ll be totally obliterated by the time the countdown begins,” I replied. “But that’s okay. We’ve all been working our asses off. Tonight is about celebrating our success and letting off steam. Which means that whether you like it or not, you are going to dance with me at some point tonight.”

  Diego rolled his eyes and laughed. “Why are you so set on watching me embarrass myself, mi amor?”

  “It’s not embarrassing!” I exclaimed. “It’s adorable.”

  “Oh, now you are just being cruel,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me even as his mouth turned up at the corners.

  “No, no. I love the way you dance. You might just be the only Spanish man in the world who can’t keep his rhythm,” I teased, tucking a loose curl of dark hair back behind his ear. He snorted and shook his head.