by Pamela Ann
“Let’s leave in forty minutes?” he replied.
I caught sight of my face, still layered with thick makeup from the production earlier. I couldn’t wait to wash it off and use my own lighter toned cosmetics.
Leaving the light on, I stepped out of the fitted white marbled bathroom and strode back into the bedroom, where Juan remained rooted, openly regarding me.
“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.
A decent man—a principled man—would choose to ignore the sexual tension existed. He’d respect me enough not to pursue the fleeting nonsense. He’d walk away, giving us space to breathe. Yes, in an ideal world, Juan could easily be that man, but the insufferable bastard chose to be a royal pain in the ass. “Sorry, I hope you didn’t feel abandoned,” he huskily said as he took the seat across me and casually placed his phone on the table before diverting his attention solely to me.
I didn’t know how I felt anymore. A part of me regretted coming here tonight. Sure, it seemed like a brilliant idea at the time, but sensing Juan’s mood at the moment, the man wasn’t done making me hyperaware of him. Those damning eyes, it was so explicit I could feel my nipples harden underneath the lace dress.
Jesus, I inwardly groan with frustration.
“Stop looking at me like that!” I snapped at him after a few minutes. How did one survive such explicit exploration of one’s body? Yes, I was fully clothed, but his nasty eyes told me otherwise. It felt like he was probing into me, penetrating me.
What the fuck is happening? I nervously swallowed the lump in my throat before reaching for my sangria and gulping it down.
He held my gaze while he circled the rim of his wine glass. He did it in such excruciating manner that it felt as if it were my nipples he was teasing. Like that first scene we did.
“Does it bother you that I love looking at you, cariña?”
I’m thirsty, I thought with panic as I flagged the waiter and ordered another drink. This time, I ordered something with a harder kick, two martinis.
Placed in a very puzzling position, I convinced myself that hankering for a fight wouldn’t be worth my time. Instead, I took my phone out and decided to check Instagram while killing time until the food arrives. The first update on my feed was River. A picture of him getting off his jet with Rock, Willa, and Phoenix following him in the background with a caption stating that they had arrived in Stockholm. Upon seeing that gorgeous face, my heart rapidly thumped in my chest.
I miss you. My eyes took in the photo with that striking smile of his.
Would he approve of me spending alone time in Barcelona with another man? I already knew the answer to that. River was territorial, and he’d gut me alive if he ever found out. He wasn’t the kind of man who tolerated situations that were borderline cheating.
Like this … what I was doing now was prime example.
Even though I knew I wasn’t doing anything wrong, technically, River might see it differently. He would see it differently.
With that startling thought, I decided against texting or calling him until I landed in Stockholm tomorrow. River would be too curious, and I’d rather avoid his
interrogations until I got there.
Our food arrived and dinner was surprisingly a calm affair. I had expected Juan to resume goading me. But surprise-surprise, he reverted back to his jovial demeanor, as if he just hadn’t rattled my little secured cage and threatened to break the barriers that protected me.
Maybe in his universe such notions were far and in between, but I regarded my relationship as high priority, no matter what he seemed to believe. He could provoke me all he liked, the result would remain unchanged. Not even his persistent flirtations could persuade me to walk over to the dark side.
With that belief refreshingly cemented back in my mind, I felt secure.
After dinner, when Juan offered to slip my killer heels back on my feet, I declined his generous offer. Boundaries needed to be blatantly set, loud and clear. This Spanish flirt wouldn’t dare question or impose where he stood in my life.
I went to the nearest bench that faced away from the crowd since I was wearing such a skimpy short dress. One wrong move and the onlookers would be blessed with the sight of my cute little kitty. My lacy thong wouldn’t hide much from the view coming from my behind. Strategic planning needed to be taken. It took me a little over ten minutes to accomplish it, but it was a job well done.
“Where to next?” I asked the moment the tiny shoe strap was tightly secured around my ankle.
“I’m still contemplating if we should take a cab or if I should drive.” He seemed to be weighing out his options before glancing at me expectantly. “You know how to drive, right? When I drink, I have a hard time knowing when to stop.”
Well, he’d be quite the designated driver, that was for sure.
“If you’ll be too drunk to drive, I’ll take the wheel. No biggie.”
“All right. Let’s head back to the garage and get the car.” Juan led the way back to the apartment complex’s underground garage where his red Porsche 911 glinted under the fluorescent lighting.
Maybe I was being too hasty naming the driver Lighting McQueen, because Juan made that guy’s driving capability seem gentle compared to his devil may care expertise. He weaved his roadster like he owned the road. Bat mobile had nothing on him.
He didn’t seem too keen on differentiating between the green, yellow, and red lights. He just kept on gunning the engine, shifting gears and weaving through traffic like no one’s business. And even though he looked competent enough, racing and roaring through traffic on a Saturday night in Barcelona wasn’t in my bucket list. If we crashed and died tonight, I would drag him to Hell myself.
My lips pressed together, entwining my hands on my lap while I counted down the seconds, waiting for the damn siren to halt his megalomaniac-style of driving. So far, there seemed to be no authority in sight. The cops surely had been alerted. They had to be. No one got away with a stunt like this in LA, not for this long.
“Slow the hell down or we’re going to get pulled over!” I lightly slapped his shoulder when my screeching didn’t seem to get my point across. Come to think of it, my passport was back in the apartment. If they asked for identification, I had nothing to give them but cash and my top tiered Nordstrom credit card. Somehow, I doubted they’d appreciate my proof of identification as an avid shopper.
“We’re here!” Juan exclaimed as he swiftly parked on a curb before killing the engine.
Here was somewhere dark, and the scarce street lamps didn’t give me much to go on. As for playing the great tour guide, Juan Torres was awful. Next time, if there ever was a next time, I would decline his offer.
I softly panted as I glared at him, contemplating if I wanted to wring his neck or not. “What the hell was that? Do you have a death wish I don’t know about? Because, if you do, kindly let me know so I can get a cab and not ride in this deathtrap!”
He laughed boisterously. “It wasn’t so bad. Relax a little. You might even enjoy it.”
This man didn’t take anything seriously. Everything was fun and games.
He was about to reach out and open the door when I interrupted him.
“Where is here, precisely?” I arched a brow high, lips pursed with dissatisfaction. “Here,” he pointedly said, “is Basílica de la Sagrada Família.”
I paused, blinking at him. “The Antoni Gaudí one?” I had read about this before when my Spanish teacher had come to visit, and she had brought back all these beautiful street paintings she had purchased all over Spain. One that struck me the most was this church.
“The one and only.”
“But it’s late; how are we getting in?” Then it dawned on me. Typical Juan. “If you think I’m about to trespass, you can suck it. Not in this dress, and definitely not in these shoes!”
He frowned at me, disappointment etched on his face as he shook his head. “Are you always this …” He snapped his fingers as if to find the right word.
“Sensible?” I mockingly interjected.
He shook his head, grinning, understanding my intentional pun. “You are that, but … always so … repressed!” he had a great aha! moment. “That’s the word! You’re always so cautious. Life is wild. It’s catching the winds, the fire, the music. Look around you, take a moment to see the beauty of your surroundings. Open your eyes. Feel the wind caress your skin. Taste the rain with the tip of your tongue. Hear the melody nature provides us. That’s what life’s about, Cara. It’s about living every. Single. Moment. You. Have,” he passionately elaborated. “You seize it with your hand, run wild with it, and you let it free you. Maybe you can learn a thing from me, cariña.”
Repressed. Uptight. Ice Queen. Detached. Icy bitch. I have heard them all. This was nothing new to me. Each person was different. We all bore our crosses in the way we saw fit. People shouldn’t project their own beliefs on others. We all varied; some similar, some contrast. But some way, somehow, we found a way to harmonize and respect one’s boundaries.
Juan had just undermined what made me the way I was. He knew nothing of my past and why I became this bounded, sometimes unfeeling person. I wasn’t born a cold, guarded pessimist. Like all babies, I, too, needed nurturing, to be loved, to be kept from harm’s way, but I’d had no such protections. No one shielded me from life’s harsh realities. My experiences molded me this way. I didn’t ask for any of this. So, for him to judge me in such a condescending manner, well, I didn’t take that lightly.
“Listen, bubba, if I needed a lecture about life, I’ll make sure to seek advice from someone else. Now, if you’re done subjecting me to your ‘carefree’ standards, can we get a move on?” I wasn’t going to apologize for the way I was, not now, not ever. This was me—take it or leave it. I couldn’t care less.
“Easy, cariña.” Juan held up his hands, as if waving his surrender, before bestowing me his disarming smile. “I meant no harm. I adore you, claws and all.”
His perception of me stung a little. Often, I’d been teased about being too suppressed. All throughout middle school and high school, they nicknamed me “Wednesday” from the Adam’s Family because I wore black on most days, I rarely smiled, and was dead bitchy when grated the wrong way. Sure, I wasn’t all that friendly, but I couldn’t care less. The wider and bigger my barriers were erected, the better for me. I had been subjected to all levels of bullying, yet I never lashed out. River was the only person who kept me grounded. He kept me sane. He protected me from the people who intended to do me harm. He was there, standing guard, until the bullies dispersed and left me be. He was my stoic knight, protecting me always.
“Whatever, Juan,” I muttered as I yanked my door open. But before my foot landed on the gravel, Juan had already rounded the car and held the door for me. He probably suspected he hit a raw nerve, because I caught him cautiously peeking at me, wary and unsure of himself.
Juan Torres was a lot of things, but unsure definitely wasn’t one of them.
I murmured my thanks as I slid out of the vehicle.
Upon closing the door, Juan appeared tense and unusually quiet. I stood inches from him, and
in the dimmed lighting, his gorgeous dark looks became profoundly pronounced.
“If you have something to say, just say it. I’m not going to bite.”
Juan tilted his head, his serious face replaced with a knowing smirk, illuminating his handsome features. “I love it when you bite me. My neck is pretty sensitive, you see.” He grinned wickedly, sending a battalion of butterflies in my gut.
The sex scenes. I always left him with red marks from the scratching and biting. Even Martin Lombardo previously remarked how my passionate nature knew no bounds. For Juan to address that was a little humiliating.
Red-faced and mortified, I smacked my purse on his shaped arm. “Stop it!” I groaned out, chagrined.
I was about to whack it again when he caught it in a tight grip, catching me off guard.
We stilled for a moment, eye to eye, before we broke into a string of laughter. This whole thing seemed silly … up until I felt him casually wrap his arms around my waist, hugging me from behind.
My heart went into a frantic tizzy as I softly panted, his smell assaulting my senses. I could feel the hard, frantic pounding of his heart on the back of my shoulder. The very smell of him, so close, so near … everything went haywire, an attraction so acute I felt hysterical, faint, conflicted from what he evoked within me.
His soft lips hovered around my ear. Hot breath grazed my skin, making my nipples unconsciously harden from his alluring proximity. “I live for your smiles, Cara. Try not to deprive me of them.”
Before I had the chance to react, Juan had already untangled his arms from my body. He took a step back with his lips slightly ajar, aroused, just as I was. “We should hurry, or we’ll be late for our appointment.”
My senses reeled from the swiftness of his transition as if someone just doused me with a bucket of iced water, lifting the sexual fog Juan had just cast upon me.
“Okay,” I heard myself murmur, bewildered from my shameless reaction to his touch.
He led the way to the Basilica. We both simmered in our own conflicting thoughts when the gargantuan beauty came into view. My lips slightly parted as my eyes took her in. A majestic sight just as imagined it would be.