A Billionaire In Barcelona (International Alphas Book 8)

by Cherry Kay

  “You haven’t done this in a long time, have you?” Ildefonso began, still not looking at him.

  He shook his head. “No, sir. Not since junior high.”

  “I won’t ask how it started. I will however, ask if this was all worth it.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s leaving for America soon. I don’t know when exactly, but she told me she was.”

  “After all the trouble you went through…”

  “I guess there are some things I can’t control and some things… or people, that I can’t have,” he finally said, conceding defeat.

  “You’d allow that to happen?” his father turned to face him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You got beat up, you’re in a hospital, you were engaged in a newsworthy fight, and yet, you’re giving up on this Iesha lady?”

  Alex looked at his father, confused.

  “I remember when I was in college, and someone else was dating your mother, but I wanted your mother. I got beat up for it, twice. I wasn’t going to say no, ever. I wanted your mother in my life, and I knew I’d marry her.”

  Alex didn’t know about that at all. He remained quiet, wondering what else his father had to say. His father was looking at him intently.

  “It seems to me you’ve found the one,” his father finally said.

  He frowned and looked at Ildefonso. “What?”

  “You heard what I said. What do you plan to do about it?”

  “I’ll fight for her,” he found himself saying, surprised at what his father was trying to imply.

  “Good, now get out of this place and go to her.”

  The Final Chapter

  Iesha got back to her apartment, plopping onto the couch, without a shower, without brushing her teeth yet, without breakfast. That would be the last time she’d see him. She had gotten her ticket back to California this afternoon. She was finally leaving, not quite ready for that sudden change, a change she hadn’t mulled over in a while. This sudden departure was a product of being emotional, she knew, but emotions pulled her through most of the time.

  Her last words weren’t even romantic; they held no depth as to what she felt for him. She couldn’t very well say it there, not after he had been beaten black and blue by way of cheating. She hadn’t seen where Terrence had gone, and while she cared for him still, she knew she needn’t bother. Alex had been her priority, and he was going to be her priority until memories of him faded.

  Moments later, she began typing her resignation on her laptop, glad that it wasn’t a full time job yet disappointed in herself that she couldn’t last the remainder of the agreement. Alex had pulled a few strings for this job that enabled her to survive her extended vacation.

  She knew her mother would be surprised, as would her father. They didn’t expect her until March. Go home in defeat? No, she was going home to fulfill her dreams, whatever they were. Her dreams were scattered, but she would gather those back even if it took her blood and sweat. She looked at her sketches, carelessly stashed away inside a folder, and she took them out one by one, eyeing each design. This was what she did best, and she would thrive in it, if she couldn’t thrive in Spain. She would thrive in flamenco, perhaps do more classes, and teach people herself once she got back to California.

  I can do so much more, she thought. She quickly began packing all her things, glad that her vacuum sealed bags were still intact. She stopped, seeing the dress he had given her for his parents’ party. It was a beautiful dress, one she couldn’t bear to leave. Was it going to be part of her memory of him? A beautiful and sad memory?

  We had good times, she thought. If only the good times had lasted longer. Her sketches proved she had loads of good moments with him. Good designs came out of happy experiences for her, which was how she worked. How long would it take her to have this much inspiration again? She shook her head and continued packing, and in less than two hours, she was ready to go. She called her landlord and transferred rent good for two months’ worth, a small price to pay for her sudden departure. He expressed surprise, thinking she had been doing well, and she assured him she had been enjoying her time in Barcelona and in the apartment, but an emergency had come up in California, one she couldn’t ignore.

  Moments later, the concierge hailed a cab for her, and she bid goodbye to the apartment that had served as her home for the past two and a half months. Familiar places rolled away, and she couldn’t help but feel melancholic, that she was leaving without so much as a proper goodbye. It was for the best, she told herself. I need to heal, and Alex needs to heal.

  Closing her eyes, she willed herself to stay strong and not shed a tear.

  *

  “Iesha?” he knocked on the door. “Iesha?”

  He looked around, and then he strained his ears, willing for her to make a sound, even if it was just a snore, or a sneeze. Nothing. Where was she?

  “Iesha?” he called out again, rapping on the door consecutively. “Please, open up.”

  He heard the shuffling of feet behind him, and he spun around.

  “Can I help you?” a middle-aged man asked him, looking at him curiously.

  “My uh… friend,” he began, knowing how ridiculous he looked with his head in a bandage, with half of his face bruised and swollen. “The one who lives here…”

  “Ah, my tenant? Well, former tenant,” the man said. “Iesha Thompson?”

  “Yes, yes, Iesha,” he said, excitedly.

  “She left a couple of hours ago,” the man said. “Something about an emergency.”

  Emergency? Or did she leave because she felt like she had nothing to go on for in Barcelona? No, no. What flight was she on? Where was she going? Back home, right? Did she leave with Terrence? God, no, please no. He closed his eyes, willing himself to think. What was he going to do next?

  “She didn’t say anything else?” Alex asked him.

  The man shook his head. “I just got a call. I do have her U.S number. This seems like it’s important.”

  Alex breathed out a sigh of relief. That was one obstacle down, right? “Thank you, thank you,” he murmured, feeling a fresh pain shoot up his skull and face.

  “What happened, if you don’t mind?” the landlord asked.

  “I got into a bad accident,” he replied, “but I don’t really mind. What’s important is that I see her again, before she leaves.”

  The landlord smiled. “Ah, young love.”

  If I still have love, Alex thought desolately.

  *

  He was running against time, he knew. He had taken the liberty of borrowing his sister’s car and driver for the day (actually Anita had asked her husband to drive for Alex), and they sped through the streets, heading for the airport.

  His brother-in-law protested, seeing his physical state, his sedated state, but in the end he relented, knowing how much this meant not just to Alex, but to his wife.

  “I didn’t know she wouldn’t be there anymore,” Alex said.

  “Well, here’s to hoping she hasn’t boarded yet,” Miguel said, stepping on the accelerator.

  There were two flights headed for LAX, one was due to leave in thirty minutes, the other in two hours. The airlines wouldn’t give him the passenger manifesto due to security and safety concerns, and his contacts at the aviation authority were unavailable. He was almost on his own… almost.

  Come on, come on, he thought, looking at the traffic build-up. There was some emergency road repair—just his luck! “I’m running for the airport,” he announced to his brother-in-law.

  “What?” Miguel said, almost shouting, “as your physician, I forbid you to run, not while those stitches are still new, and not with that hairline fracture.”

  “I have to stop her from leaving,” Alex said. “How far away are we?”

  “Three kilometers from airport,” Miguel told him, sighing. “Don’t let me stitch that up. I’ll see you—”

  Before his brother-in-law could finish, Alex bolted out of the car an
d began to run down the crowded streets. He ran like his life depended on it, knowing he only had a few minutes before the first plane for California took off.

  Please, please, he begged to no one in particular, please let me get to her. Please let me see her before she leaves.

  He ignored the throbbing pain coursing through his skull, ignored the bruising pain coursing through his body. He had to get to her. He hadn’t been able to show the full extent of how he felt. He hadn’t told her he wanted to be in a committed relationship with her. Come on, come on, he told himself, breaking sweat and probably tearing his stitches for all he cared.

  He reached the airport, gasping. His knees, lungs, and head felt like they were on fire as he ran to the nearest information center, asking for the flight to California.

  “Sir, it took off a minute ago,” the receptionist said apologetically. “Are you okay? You look like you need assistance.”

  “I’m… I’m fine,” he said, crestfallen. “The next flight? What time does it take off?”

  “In two hours, sir. I doubt you can get in departure though. Anything else I can help you with?”

  “I just… I just want to know if this person got on that plane to California, the one that just took off?”

  The receptionist smiled at him empathetically. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that…”

  He nodded, “I know.” I just wanted to try.

  “I can, however, ask someone else,” the receptionist whispered to him. He felt his heart leap, suddenly filled with hope. He watched as she placed a call, her voice low and calm. She nodded.

  “Sir, can I have the name of the passenger?”

  Alex showed her his mobile phone screen, with her name displayed on it. She nodded and thanked the person on the other end. “Sir, she was on the plane that just left.” Her voice sounded dejected for him, or maybe he was just imagining things, because he felt hope quickly drain from him once more.

  His phone rang, and he picked it up, walking away from concierge after thanking her for all the help. “Miguel.”

  “Did you get to stop her or something close to it?” Miguel asked. “I’m pulling up the driveway.”

  “No,” he said. “I’m heading out.”

  His legs felt heavy, like lead. Miguel’s car stopped in front of him, and he reluctantly got in, feeling the full weight and pain of what he had done to his body just to get to her.

  “Where to next?” Miguel asked him.

  Alex closed his eyes. I don’t know. She’s gone. Where to next? That’s a good question. “I don’t know,” he finally said.

  “You’re going back to the hospital,” Miguel said firmly. “We’re checking on that hairline fracture of yours, and your stitches.”

  Alex nodded, knowing there wasn’t anything else he could do for now.

  *

  One month later…

  It was a balmy day, perfect for a walk outside or maybe a day of shopping, and her store just rang up her second customer for the day, just mere minutes after she had opened. She had expanded her business, venturing into bespoke dresses, apart from her limited RTW line. She sat down, ready to sketch another dress, all the while looking at her mother’s large oil painting of tropical orchids. Perhaps, her next line could feature colors in that order, she thought.

  She had picked herself up slowly, but surely. Last she had heard from her father, Terrence had gone back home, without a case at all. Alex had dropped charges, or rather, it seemed like he refused to press charges. She didn’t elaborate to her parents everything that had transpired, just that Terrence had been violent to someone she had grown close to while in Spain.

  Terrence hadn’t tried to approach her or her family either, and she spent her days in her store, from nine in the morning until five in the afternoon, keeping herself busy with her steadily growing clientele. She hadn’t dated anyone, and her family didn’t press for her to go on dates, knowing that whatever had occurred in Spain affected her greatly, far more than Terrence’s betrayal. She had returned home far more composed, with her emotions in check. It worried her mother at first, and then Luisa realized it was part of her defense mechanism and a way to get over things.

  Sometimes, she dreamed of Alex, and there were moments where she thought she’d forgotten his voice already. She would flip through photos, what few she had of them together, to get her through stressful days. I should have taken more, she thought. The photos made her smile and eased her heartache.

  Iesha had asked her shop assistant to momentarily watch the store in her stead, wanting to get a good cup of tea from the small pantry they had in the back room.

  Her phone rang, and she answered it. “Mama?”

  “Where are you?”

  “The store, of course.”

  “Can you stay there for a few minutes?”

  “Why? Are you coming over? I thought we were having lunch somewhere?”

  “Yes, I’m coming over. Stay there, alright?”

  “Alright.”

  She was waiting for the water to boil, when she heard a man’s voice, asking her shop assistant which dress she would recommend for his girlfriend. That’s so sweet, she thought with a bittersweet pang. She missed Alex, but she vowed not to talk to him or try to reach out to him, not until I’m ready. When was she ever going to be ready?

  Iesha didn’t deny that she loved him, and she didn’t deny that she missed him, but leaving him just like that, after he had taken a blow to the head, that would have been hurtful. There was no other way, she had thought. Staying there would only have meant that she was going to prolong an unsure relationship with him, even if she loved him, even if he claimed that he loved her, too.

  She heard her assistant happily aiding him as she sipped her tea. The assistant was asking about his girlfriend’s build, her color preferences, and he answered these calmly.

  “What’s she like, sir?”

  “She’s beautiful,” he said.

  The shopkeeper laughed. “Anything else? What’s the dress for?”

  “A date, it’s for a date.”

  “A date where?”

  “Somewhere by the beach?”

  “How tall is she?”

  “She’s around five foot four, with playful hair, bordering on wavy, like the ocean,” he said with a laugh. “I think this kind of orange would look good on her, or maybe this kind of red. She looked good in a flamenco dress the last time I saw her wear one.”

  Flamenco dress? Iesha stopped drinking her tea. She put her cup down. Her hands suddenly grew cold, and her heart hammered faster. She slowly moved out of the pantry and back into her shop. The man had his back turned, and he was talking animatedly. The faint accent was still there.

  “You just missed out on our last collection, sir, which was heavily flamenco inspired. The ladies when crazy for it,” her assistant said earnestly.

  “I hope I didn’t miss out on something else, or someone,” his voice said.

  She cleared her throat, her eyes unable to hide her surprise. He spun around to face her. Alex was right in front of her, in the flesh, looking as attractive as when she had first seen him. He was here… he was here.

  “Alex…” her voice faltered. “What are you doing here?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? I’m getting my girlfriend a dress,” he said with a smile. He turned to face Iesha’s assistant. “I think she can handle this one,” he said to her. The assistant smiled and excused herself.

  She couldn’t make herself take a step forward. She was just looking at him in amazement. She blinked. “You have a girlfriend?”

  “Might. Hopefully,” he said with a smile. “I’m just taking my chances.”

  “How’s your head?” she began, taking a tentative step closer to him.

  Alex touched the back of his head. “It’s healed pretty well. Although, I thought I hallucinated or had brain damage when you left me all of a sudden.”

  “Yeah… sorry about that,” she said sheepishly.

  He look
ed around. “So this is your store, huh? It’s nice.”

  “It’s small, but I’ll get there,” she said, not knowing what else to say. What else could she say? Who is the lucky girl? Am I the lucky girl? Are you still in love with me, because I am sure as hell still in love with you.

  “Who is she?” she found herself asking, unable to keep it in any longer.

  “Who is she?” he looked momentarily confused.

  “The one you’re getting a dress for.”

  “I’m looking at her,” he said simply.

  She was about to say something, but she stopped. “I…”

  He walked closer to her. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, not when I was in the hospital. I got to the airport just minutes after your plane took off.”

  “You went after me?”

  “I got discharged a bit late. Well, Anita and her husband wouldn’t have it, nor would the resident doctor who stitched me up, so I had to sign some form to get out of there,” he admitted self-consciously.

  “You drove?”

  “Miguel did. But I ran the last few kilometers, thinking you were still boarding. Hurt like hell, but it didn’t beat how I felt.”

  “Do you still feel hurt?” she asked him. “I wanted to say sorry for leaving so suddenly. I just felt so trapped, and because of old issues, you got hurt in the process. I never wanted for that to happen to you.” She shuddered, remembering how beat-up he had looked, how she’d panicked, and how she had hoped and prayed desperately that he’d be alright. She remembered that promise she’d made to herself, that if they were to meet each other again, it would be because they were truly meant to be. Subconsciously, she had been waiting for this moment, hadn’t she?

  “It was bound to happen, and it only made me feel better about the whole thing.”

  “What?” she was confused. How could it have? He was sent to the emergency room. He got stitches, got knocked out. His masculinity and ego were affected, she was sure, and that made him feel better? “Why? Cause you saw me sleeping beside you when you woke up?”