The Penthouse Secrets: A NYC Billionaire Romance Trilogy Boxed Set

by Amanda Horton

  Margaret beamed. “If that’s what it takes for you to figure out what you really want from life, I will.”

  “I pay you good money to give me all this shit?” Diane pretended exasperation.

  To her surprise, Margaret stood, drawing her into a hug. “You pay me good money to tell you the truth. Please, Diane. Do this—for you.”

  ***

  Diane sat cross-legged on a yoga mat on the terrace of her new beachfront apartment. She’d fallen instantly in love the minute she stepped into her new home. It had five bedrooms, four bathrooms, a variety of terraces and a private path to a small secret beach. The house offered a magnificent sea view in every window with the waves of the Mediterranean Sea crashing onto the shore leaving a froth of sand and foam on its wake that reminded Diane of a foaming frappucino.

  It’s a good thing you need less sleep as you age...because it would be criminal to miss a morning like this. She breathed in the sea breeze appreciatively, feeling the morning sun on her face. She had hoped that without the New York traffic in the background, she would finally sleep longer. However, on this morning, her first in her new home, she’d been unable to resist the siren call of the waves and the seabirds.

  Diane assumed the downward dog position, supporting her weight on her hands and toes, her bottom stuck in the air. As she exhaled deliberately, she felt some of her anxiety ease. Moving to Spain had been full of challenges. First and foremost: convincing herself she hadn't lost her mind. Margaret’s words came back to her. “Whatever it takes, go where you can be simply Diane.” She thought it was an impossible suggestion until she received a letter seeking financial support for an ailing medical facility in Torrevieja, a town thirty minutes away from Barcelona. A crazy idea took root.

  She couldn’t ignore the opportunity. She loved her charitable work, and restoring the medical facility was just the challenge she needed. Most importantly, it would be a fitting tribute to the love of her life, The William Hawkins Cancer Research Facility. She would move to Spain and acquire the medical facility, hire scientists and medical personnel who would devote their time to cancer research. It was perfect.

  Spain was far enough away that she’d have to do it alone, without the contacts and friends she’d made in New York. Moving meant she wouldn’t be constantly intruding into Wolfe and Miranda’s lives. The fact that it was removed from anyone who knew her was just an added bonus. Several emails later, the crazy idea was a fully-fledged plan. In less than a month she had found her new home in Barcelona.

  As she exhaled, she became aware of a mysterious sound, almost like singing. She frowned. It must be my imagination. This is a private beach! Certainly she hadn’t seen another person since she’d slipped out of bed.

  As Diane listened, she heard the sound again, closer this time. A cacophony of male voices joined together in a chant. Then they came into view, a cluster of male joggers plodding down the shoreline. The rising sun glistened on muscled legs as they thundered along the wet sand, never breaking the musical tempo. Their footprints left indentations on the sandy shore like pockmarks on the moon. Diane’s eyes widened as the group grew closer. Her vision was intruded by the one-piece-jogging-suit that left nothing to the imagination. Her cheeks flooded as she inadvertently took in the bulge beneath pair of tight shorts. That is way more information than I wanted!

  Her sudden presence must have surprised them as well because they slowed down and looked her way. Voices raised in unison. “Hola, como estas?” A wolf-whistle followed.

  Flushing, Diane hastily sat down. What a way to meet my new neighbors...wearing only yoga clothes and with my bottom in the air! Summoning her usual calm, she gave the men a tentative wave. The men exchanged grins, then, as one, returned to their exercise. Their faces took on a look of concentration, focused on a finish line somewhere in the distance.

  Diane rolled up her yoga mat and stood, watching them disappear. The first thing to do would be to complain. Didn’t these men know that Diane Hawkins was not to be whistled at?

  Diane paused. They didn’t know. She was in Spain, not New York. Spain had a different code, far from her personal measure of appropriateness.

  Diane found her gaze lingering on the men as they continued down the beach. She was intrigued by their casual indifference about their bronzed bodies, exchanging banter as they ran. Even without understanding the words, she knew it was companionable. A sports club, maybe? Would they do this every morning?

  Diane’s heart sank at the thought of being subjected to the frank gazes of the confident young men a second time. Then she steeled herself. That was the old Diane. The new Diane would do her yoga practice anywhere she wanted.

  A delicious smell joined the fresh sea air. Coffee. Diane returned inside, leaving the door open behind her so that the sea breeze would fill the house.

  As she entered the kitchen, her cook, Magdalena gave her a broad smile. “Good morning, Señora. Did you sleep well?”

  “Wonderful, thank you. But I was wondering. I just saw a group of men jogging on the beach. Are they local?

  Magdalena nodded. “Football players. Our local team.”

  “Oh, soccer players, you mean?” That explained their excellent physical condition.

  “Si…Around here they are considered gods. They certainly have the bodies of gods, no?” Magdalena giggled. “What would you like me to bring you for breakfast?”

  A hot Spanish man hung like a horse? Diane had a hard time keeping the smile off her face. The sea air must be making her giddy for such a thought to even occur. “Coffee and some toast with butter. Thank you.”

  The curtains ruffled, drawing her attention to the vivid azure ocean and the sunlight dancing on the sandy beach. Diane felt a reckless feeling rise up inside her.

  “Coffee and toast with butter,” Magdalena repeated with a bow.

  “You know what… This is a special morning. The first day of my new life. I think I’d rather have champagne and Sobrasada sausage.”

  Magdalena’s eyes sparkled. “Si, Señora. You will be happy here, I think.”

  Diane smiled. “I already am.”

  ***

  “The check for twenty million dollars will be sent tonight. I want Vicente Alves’ signature on the dotted line and his presence at football practice tomorrow.” Leon abruptly ended the call.

  As he jotted down a note to himself to call the bank, he reviewed his decision. Vicente Alves was a magnificent player and worth every penny of the twenty million dollars. Not only was the young athlete hotly contested by several other clubs, but Alves would be a good replacement of his current star defender, Jesus Rodriguez, if the guy didn’t clean up his act. The presence of a potential challenger always made his players work harder.

  The visitor waiting by his desk cleared his throat. “Congratulations on your latest acquisition, Señor Alvaro.”

  Leon shook the man’s hand. “I consider it more of an investment. Alves will be good for us on the field, but off it as well.” As manager and owner of the team, he had to be a step ahead of any potential trouble. “Welcome, Martinez. I apologize for making you wait. ”

  Martinez was the official representative of the owners of a medical facility in Torrevieja that Leon was eager to buy. He hoped the lawyer’s presence indicated they were to close the deal today. “We can discuss the terms of the facility sale now. I’m ready to make the payment,” he added, reaching for his checkbook.

  The lawyer blanched. “I’m afraid we can no longer offer you the facility, Señor Alvaro.”

  “What do you mean? Didn’t you get my endorsement from the Mayor of Torrevieja?” Leon’s green eyes flashed dangerously and his bushy brows bunched together in a frown. His nostrils flared in irritation as he waited for a reply.

  Martinez trembled; sweat staining the armpits of his shirt. “Si, Señor. We received the letter. Unfortunately, we had already closed the deal with the Señora from America.”

  “Why wasn’t I informed earlier that you were selling?
We could have closed the deal months ago…long before this...this American dilettante came into the picture.”

  “We are very sorry, Señor…but we did inform the Mayor and he assured us we would hear from you. But when months passed, we came to the conclusion you weren’t interested.”

  “Mierda!” Leon thumped his fist on the desk between them. He saw the lawyer jump, and forced his irritation aside.

  I shouldn’t be surprised. Spanish bureaucracy was rooted deeply in the mañana habit. Everything was put on hold for tomorrow. The Mayor must have forgotten until the offer was made to someone else. Leon rubbed his forehead. “I need that facility. I made a sacred promise on my mother’s deathbed not to let her death be in vain.”

  Leon saw all the plans he’d made to immortalize his mother’s memory turning into dust. “No! I do not accept that. I will do everything in my power to stop you selling to that woman. Who has more right than me? This is my country—the facility is a landmark of my town! And she—who is she anyway? Some wealthy American who wants an ailing facility so she could claim a contribution to mankind? She’ll probably get bored and abandon it.”

  “Señor, she is well-known in New York City and has run many successful foundations.” The lawyer caught sight of Leon’s expression and added hastily, “Of course, the owners would have preferred you...But our hands are tied. If we do not proceed with the sale, she can sue us. The whole town of Torrevieja will lose. We could be locked in legal battle for years to come. In the meantime, the facility will deteriorate till it is no longer useful…even to you.”

  “I cannot just sit on my ass and watch a foreign woman trample on a promise I made at my mother’s grave.”

  The lawyer squirmed. “Señor, I-I have a suggestion…if you will hear me out.”

  Leon gave the man a flat look. “What?”

  “We have an appointment to see her tomorrow. If you can come along, you might convince her to let you buy it instead.” The lawyer’s words came quickly. “I’m sure a man as popular as you are could change her mind, where a lawyer like me would have no chance.”

  The lawyer was clearly desperate. Leon was tempted to tell him to do his job himself, or threaten legal action of his own. I have no desire to grovel at a foreigner’s feet—especially not an American woman. Had the lawyer forgotten it had been an American woman who had destroyed his life?

  I can try and stop the sale. Leon had friends in high places. The current Prime Minister was a fan and a friend. Congressmen relied heavily on his generous donations.

  The lawyer tugged at his collar. “Er...Señor? Are you willing to sit down and talk to her?”

  Leon was about to disagree when a thought occurred. Maybe there is some sense to this idiot’s suggestion. If that woman decides to fight, this could turn into a circus. The newspaper would have a field day pitting me against a woman. I cannot afford another scandal to my name, especially not with the football season about to start. No!

  Leon’s club was still reeling from the humiliation caused by the defender Jesus Rodriguez. His star player was discovered with a married woman who happened to be the wife of a major sponsor. Leon winced. It had taken all his persuasive skills to mollify the husband. It must never happen again. A moment’s temptation could ruin an entire season, and in a football crazy country like Spain, his players were demigods. Women threw everything—even underwear—just to get attention from a player. He knew only too well what the effect of attention like that was like. His own name was legend in Barcelona. But as the team’s owner, he had to instill discipline. His task was made harder because he himself was mired in a similar scandal…

  Martinez tried again. “Señor Alvaro, are you willing to meet with…”

  “Si,” Leon said shortly. “I will meet this impostor and convince her to go back to New York where she belongs.”

  The lawyer wiped the perspiration off his forehead. “Muchas gracias.” He made a beeline for the door.

  Leon slowly sunk back into his armchair. Nothing will stop me from getting that facility…and certainly, not another American woman. He knew them too well to be taken in by their wiles. After all, he used to be married to one.

  Amy Mansfield’s attractive face rose in his memory. Bile rose in his throat. Any memory of his ex-wife incensed him. His hilltop home suddenly felt stifling. Leon took a deep breath and stepped out onto his balcony. He could see the moon just making its presence felt above the horizon. Its glow cast silvery threads against the calm and placid waters of the Mediterranean. The view instantly calmed him.

  He heard the heavy thump-thump of paws even before he saw his Tibetan mastiff. Nomad sauntered onto the balcony and dropped the leash he carried in his mouth onto Leon’s feet. “Hey you.” Leon stroked the immense dog’s coat; the light catching on his fur turned the black-brown color into a shade of gold. “Ready for your stroll down by the beach?”

  Nomad raised himself on his hind legs, settling his enormous feet against Leon’s chest.

  “Oof!” Leon staggered against the dog’s weight. He wrapped both arms around the dog, fingers barely touching, as Nomad rested his massive head on his master’s shoulders. “You gotta stop doing that Nomad. You’re much too heavy for me to carry.”

  Nomad dropped down on all fours and looked up at his master. His almond-shaped eyes glowed with expectation.

  Leon laughed. “Okay, okay. I get the picture. You want to go for a walk. But you have to promise me. No more running away.”

  Nomad dropped his head, but the fierce wagging of his tail indicated that the dog was undaunted by the scolding.

  No matter. Leon adored the dog, and would have been hardpressed to deny him anything, let alone a few seconds of freedom. As he picked up the lead and made his way to the beach, he found his natural high spirits returning. You didn’t give up when the game went against you. Instead you fought harder. This American woman, whoever she was, would regret ever crossing paths with Leon Alvaro.

  ***

  Diane looked down at the bathtub in her bedroom with satisfaction. A bubble bath surrounded by her favorite scented candles…exactly what she needed. But as she prepared to slip out of her dressing gown, she was conscious of a feeling of dissatisfaction. I want more. The bubblebath, once a favorite indulgence, was no longer special.

  Maybe a glass of wine? Diane padded noiselessly across the tiled floor, enjoying the feeling of her bare feet on the tiles. She was entirely alone in the house, but leaving her room in her scant robe gave her a daring feeling.

  Glancing out the window, she saw the moon, gloriously large in the night sky. Remembering her namesake, Diana, goddess of the moon, Diane made the impulsive decision to enjoy her glass of wine in the moonlight. She found a bottle of Chateau Margaux, poured herself a glass, and then sauntered onto the terrace.

  It was a sultry Spanish night. The shimmering moon painted a halo of mysterious patterns on the dark water. It was like viewing a painting from a collection of old masters in the flesh. The wind blowing gently from the east felt warm on her skin.

  The serene landscape was a stark contrast to the confusion she felt inside. The more time she spent away from New York, the less confident she felt about her decision to move. Although she’d passed a pleasant few days settling into her new home, directing the unpacking of her possessions and arranging her new home, she couldn’t silence the fear that once she was settled in, she would have nothing to distract her from the emptiness threatening to destroy her.

  No, Diane said to herself. Not tonight. She savored the aromatic wine before depositing the crystal glass on a wooden table.

  As her eyes fell on the beach below the terrace, she blushed, remembering her encounter with the soccer players—or as Magdalena had called them, football players. One of them had actually whistled at her! If he knew that I was old enough to be his mother...

  Diane imagined she heard her therapist’s voice. Why should you care what anyone thinks? You’ve lived your life following the norms and obeying con
vention. Isn’t it time you forgot those rules?

  In daylight, Diane would have laughed at the thought. But in the moonlight, with the Margaux inside her, it suddenly made sense. “Why not? I may not be young, but there is some life left in this antiquated shell.”

  Prove it then. Do something different. Swim naked in the sea. No one is around. You have your own private paradise. Go do it now.

  It was like another person inside her struggled to break free. Diane took a tentative step, unsure if this was the right thing to do. She looked around the empty beach. The waves lapping gently on the shore whispered her name. The strange person inside took control. Before she even realized what she was doing, Diane stepped out of the robe and stood in the moonlight; naked as the day she was born.

  Diane stood still savoring the moment. Her heart beat fast, but at the same time she didn’t feel afraid. She felt larger than life, untouchable. She tossed the robe onto a nearby hydrangea bush. The sand felt warm between her toes. She strolled towards the water’s edge and into the waves. The warm ocean embraced her toes, calves, and ankles. Then she was knee deep in the buoyant liquid. Invigorated by the pleasant sensation, she plunged onward until she was waist deep. It was glorious…liberating. Diane floated on her back gazing up at the myriad stars above. The sea was like a warm cocoon around her naked body. The waves rocked her gently, keeping her afloat, keeping her safe and warm.