What man would offer a girl dinner in a dodgy place like this?
My eyes drift over to the only couple sitting in the dining area. The man is old and overweight, and his partner is half of his age. Exactly my point.
I glance back at Eva and shake my head. “No, of course not here. I was thinking more of…” Okay, Nathan, you need to come up with something grandiose, a proposition that will sweep her off her feet. “A dinner by the ocean.”
“Ocean? You do realize we’re not living by the seaside, don’t you?”
I do, but I need a legitimate excuse for us to spend time together. Otherwise, how is Eva going to fall for me? I only have seven days to make it happen. Doing some sightseeing could create the perfect frame. I wave. “My private jet can take us there at any time. So what about tomorrow? Maybe we could even make it a day trip. Go and have a walk in San Diego, then eat in a nice restaurant.”
The thick files I left on my table flash through my mind, but I cast away the worry about not being able to address them. It won’t do me any good to get those cases worked out if I don’t win this lousy bet.
“Wait, wait!” Eva holds up her hand. “What? Did I hear that correctly? Are you saying we should fly to the ocean tomorrow and spend an entire day together?”
I square my shoulders. “This would be my idea, yes.”
Eva’s face turns into an unreadable mask. “I’m sorry, but did you think this through?”
What did she hope I would suggest? “Yes, I did. You don’t like it?” A confused frown settles between my brows.
“Let me get this straight.” Eva brushes back a dark tress from her forehead. “You saw me dancing. You thought I looked good. So you invite me to share your fancy lifestyle for a day?”
“Yes.” Except I don’t usually fly to the ocean, or basically anywhere, except to AMEA’s subsidiaries or to my clients.
Eva throws her hands in the air. “What an offer! What’s not to like, right?”
Maybe we’re getting to the same page? “Right,” I add, relaxing a bit.
“I see.” Eva smiles and leans closer. “Did you also hope that after a tiring day of walking around…” Her nostrils flare. “I don’t know…maybe… I’d come to rest right in your bed?”
Her words and her closeness make my breath catch.
Eva snorts and moves back. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but no. I’m very busy, so I have no time. I’m sure, though, that you will”—she waves her arm around the bar—“find someone else who feels spending a day with a rich man she doesn’t know is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” She stands up. “I don’t.”
I’m trying to get my head around her words. Did she just refuse me?
From the corner of my eye, I catch a self-satisfied grin on Murphy’s face. He’s watching my humiliation with a gloat on his lips.
I jump up. I can’t let Eva off like this. I agreed to this game. If I give up now, I’m proving that Murphy’s right about me. That I can’t affect people the way I want to.
I position myself in Eva’s way.
She stops.
I reach out and grab her hand. “Eva, wait.”
She flinches but doesn’t pull back. “What?”
“I-I-I…” Oh heavens, now I’m stuttering. Did Murphy mix something in my drink to make sure I lose the bet? It would explain the waves of heat rolling over me. “It was nice to meet you, Eva.”
Her brows arch. “Nice meeting you too, Nathan.”
I release her, and she lowers her hand immediately. But she doesn’t dart off. She stands there, staring into my eyes for a long second. At least I think it’s long, because I can count at least thirty throbs in my jugular artery while we’re looking at each other.
Eva clears her throat. “Anyway, I need to go now.” She pushes me gently to the side, and this time I let her. She hurries to the bar and, after a second, disappears.
I shuffle back to Murphy, trying to digest what just happened. It’s been years since a meeting where I intended to achieve something blew up so disastrously in my face. Is it because I didn’t prepare enough mentally? Or does it have to do with this weird tingling in my fingers? Maybe Eva’s attractiveness has blinded my judgement and made me behave inefficiently and poorly focused?
I’m still replaying the last few moments of our encounter in my head as I reach my brother at the bar, and I hop up on the barstool beside him.
Murphy pushes a beer to me. “Drink up. You might need some refueling. From what I could see, it wasn’t smooth cruising. Yet.”
I roll my eyes at him, because he’s stating the obvious. Then his last word hits me. “Yet?”
Murphy grins and takes a sip from his bottle. “Yes. You didn’t quite have her eating out of your palm, but I saw flickers of chemistry between you two.”
Flickers of chemistry? It’s the understatement of the year if he’s describing my bodily reaction. I’m not sure about Eva’s though. I did detect a glint of interest in her eyes just before we parted. But it could have been my imagination.
I pick up the round cup holder from beneath my bottle and roll it back and forth between my palms. “Or maybe you’re not as good an analyst as you think,” I murmur.
Murphy puts his palm on the cup holder, halting its movement. “Nope. My instincts rarely deceive me. With Eva, you’re still in the race.”
My eyes dart to him.
He seems convinced of what he’s saying. Murphy isn’t as untalented at predicting the emotions of others as I like to depict. As much as I hate admitting it—especially now that he’s the judge of my future—my brother has decent gut feelings about people. So if he thinks I still stand a chance with Eva, despite her clear refusal, he’s likely right.
This thought infuses me with new confidence. “You’re right. So what if round one went down without a victory, huh? A war is made up of many battles. I still have a week to convince Eva…”
I pause.
Wait a minute… Why is Murphy encouraging me? Isn’t it strange?
Murphy points at my furrowed brows. “I can read your unspoken question. No, Nathan, I don’t wish for you to lose this bet. I want you to give it your best and prove that the worries Mother and I have about you are baseless. That’s what I want.”
“If it were me, I wouldn’t want you to win. But we’re as different as an apple and a banana, right?” I empty my beer with a few eager gulps, then straighten. “Anyway, I have to go back to the office now and finish up some documents…”
“You know you could delegate some work once in a blue moon. It wouldn’t kill you. But spending as much time at work as you do, might,” Murphy says in a disapproving tone.
Typical. Murphy doesn’t understand that, if you want something to be done well, you need to do it yourself. But before I can shoot back a comment, he squints. “Unless…you’re using your duties as an excuse to brainstorm strategies concerning Eva. If so, then you have my blessing.”
His teasing remark hits the bull’s eye. I was planning to reevaluate my plans for how to conquer Eva, since simply approaching her in the bar didn’t work. “Maybe I’ll think of her a little as well.”
“I hope so, Nate.” Murphy pokes me in the chest. “But you’ll need to behave differently than you do in a business negotiation if you want to succeed with this girl. Remember we’re testing your people skills, not your bulldozer sales skills. Are we clear on that?”
“Sure, don’t worry. I know what I’m doing,” I say with a bit more assurance than I feel.
I toss a few dollars for my beer on the counter and say goodbye to Murphy, before dashing to the door.
I don’t want to be around if Eva happens to come out into the bar again. No, the next time she sees me, I’ll be prepared for wooing her for good. I just need time, and a clear head to think.
Chapter 6
(Eva -Day 2)
“Esperanza, come! I’m waiting for you.”
Abuelita’s voice grows shrill, then she stops and sighs tiredly. She s
louches on a kitchen chair, putting her legs up on the small ottoman in front of her. The flooring creaks loudly at her movement.
I turn off the water at the sink and dry my hands on a cloth. “Wait, Abuelita. I’ll go fetch the naughty princess for you.”
“That’s kind of you, Eva. We’ll be late for church if she doesn’t get ready.”
“You need to stop chasing Juan and Espie. If you call them, they must come to you. Or else, punishment. You can’t be running around with those legs. You’ll hurt yourself,” I scold her tenderly.
My eyes travel to her ankles. They are swollen and slightly red. A clear sign that she’s done too much this morning.
My grandmother gives me a benevolent smile. “Ah, honey. Punishment doesn’t teach people a thing. Only love does. Don’t forget that. You’ve become a bit of a warrior since your mother passed away. I know you need your wits to survive, but I wish you would let down your guard sometimes.” She wiggles her white brows. “Especially with men. I want to see my great-grandchildren before I die.”
I lean back against the large cupboard that my mother hand-painted with flowers to cover up the cracks around its handles and roll my eyes. “Oh, Abuelita!”
It’s the same old track Abuelita has been playing since I moved home. Though she is, of course, right on some level. I might have developed a radar for danger that works too well. It tends to classify harmless people, especially men, as possible sources of trouble, so I stay clear of them. But it’s better to be safe than sorry, right? The last time I trusted someone, it turned into a disaster. I surely won’t do that again soon. Likely never.
No matter how mesmerizingly grey his eyes are.
Crud, where did this last thought come from? I can’t still be thinking about Nathan, can I?
An image of a sunset on the beach—like I’ve only seen in the movies, given that I’ve never actually been to the ocean, fills my mind. Sunbeams sparkle on the crystal champagne flutes as a waiter fills them with a light bubbly on the terrace of a fancy restaurant. In the background, the soft buzz of a private jet’s engine plays a duet with the murmuring of the waves.
I shake my head and my sensible side kicks in just in time.
Stop with this hideous fantasy. Nathan’s proposal was just a shameless attempt to woo me with his wealth. Women like me serve only one purpose for men like him. And not the fairy-tale kind.
I should know. If wealthy men thought differently, I’d have a father.
Abuelita’s face creases and she stands up. She limps to me and puts her arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry, Eva. I didn’t want to criticize you. You already have so much weight on your young shoulders.”
She must have assumed that mentioning my mother’s death fazed me. I don’t want Abuelita to feel guilty. “It’s not that. I’m just thinking about how annoying rich people can be.”
And how puzzling. And attractive. No, I didn’t even think this last one. Or at least not consciously.
My grandmother lowers her glasses slightly on her nose and peeks at me from above them. “Eva Flores. Why would you say such a thing? Did something happen yesterday night? Did you meet someone?”
“No, nothing happened. I didn’t meet anyone worth mentioning.”
Except a billionaire who thought he could dazzle me. Well, he didn’t.
Abuelita pulls down the droopy skin below her left eye with a finger. “Careful, my dear. I know you better than you think. You can’t lie to me.”
“Lie? Who lied?” My sister’s high-pitched voice mixes with my little brother’s squeaks as they dash to us.
“I know, I know. Eva lied, Eva lied,” Juan recites in a sing-song voice. His mantra catches on with Espie, and soon they’re dancing in a circle, chanting, “Eva lied.” The parquet creaks beneath the drumming rhythm of their feet.
“No, I did not.” I raise my voice to put an end to their foolish cheering and step over to them. “Abuelita only misunderstood something.”
My grandmother purses her lips. “Sure, but your comment about well-off men is still dubious.”
I didn’t even say men. I said people. Why did Abuelita immediately assume I was talking about guys?
Espie pushes herself between me and our grandmother, raising her pointy nose in the air. “What’s the matter with men who are loaded? Don’t you like them, Eva?”
I exhale loudly.
Perfect, just what I need. My seven-year-old sister interrogating me. Also, where did she learn to use the word loaded? She must have been playing with those kids from that blue house. They speak like little adults. Correction—badly educated little adults.
But it doesn’t matter what slang my sister used, my answer is clear. I don’t like them. And the only reason I spent a bit of time last night—okay, perhaps slightly more than necessary—pondering about Nathan is because his behavior was cheeky…and inappropriate. It’s not because I felt drawn to him or anything. Not even when he took my hand as we said good-bye.
Especially not then.
Espie bounces on her toes. “Eva, answer me. Do you or don’t you?”
I stroke her silky hair. She’s the only one in our family who inherited my mother’s tresses. Everybody else, including me, has a thick mane, much rougher to the touch. “I don’t particularly fancy rich men, Espie. They too often take things in life for granted. They don’t go through the same trouble of getting what they want like the rest of us. They assume that everything should fall into their lap when they say so. I don’t think it’s fair.”
I think back to Nathan’s startled face when I refused him. Maybe I taught him a lesson that will serve him well? Men like him have to learn that not all women will fall head over heels for them just because of their wealth.
Juan’s freckled cheeks move into a frown. “You know what, Eva? I’m going to show Boris at school tomorrow that the world isn’t his. He might have the latest Transformers, but he bullies everyone and thinks it’s okay. But it’s not, is it?”
Oh, fudge. What did I just do?
It wasn’t my intention to turn my younger brother into a vigilante. He might get expelled from school if he starts teaching lessons to his richer companions. Even if some of them are admittedly spoiled rats like that Boris.
“No, no, Juan. That’s not what I meant.” I point at his chest for emphasis. “You are not punishing, nor teaching anyone a lesson, me entiendes? Are we clear? Not before you learn how to act like a good boy yourself. Just look at the mess in this house. Abuelita and I can’t clean up after you all the time. You need to—”
My brother holds up his tiny palms in protest. “Okay, okay. Fine, whatever. You can stop with the preaching already.”
Abuelita puts her hand on Juan’s head. “Go and get dressed, Juanito. I want to leave for church soon.”
“But I’m dressed already. Espie is the one who needs to get ready. I’ll go and kick the ball while she does. Can I? Please? Pretty please?” Juan gives us an imploring look. His chin trembles slightly as if he could start crying if we refuse him. Which is exactly why it’s so difficult to say no when he does that. And I’m sure he knows it.
Abuelita, as expected, nods. “Okay, but just a little. And don’t get dirty!”
Juan rushes to the entrance door to get his ball while Espie pulls on Abuelita’s dress. “Can you make me a ponytail? A long one. I wanna look like Rapunzel,” she whines.
Abuela sighs. “Sure I can. Let’s go, Espie.”
They go upstairs, leaving me alone in the living room.
I feel lucky that neither of the kids asked why I’m not attending the mass with them, as it’s their habit. I don’t want to begin a new discussion with Abuelita about my lost faith. It’s not even true that I don’t believe anymore. I just don’t like going to our church, because everything and everyone reminds me of my mother.
Also, this way I can avoid bumping into my ex or anyone from his gang. Those two-faced jerks don’t mind dealing drugs and dressing up for church on the very same day. It
sickens me that our whole community, including me—someone with first-hand information—keeps quiet about their petty criminal activities. But, as my wise grandmother always warns me, we can’t risk their supplier’s retaliation. Those are big fishes and their revenge wouldn’t be pretty.
The wisest thing to do would be to leave San Sebastian for good…
A twitchy sensation spreads to my legs as I recall the countless times I’ve aired this argument to Abuelita and her dismissive reaction to it. I wish Abuelita didn’t want to stay in our hometown. But, unfortunately she does. She doesn’t want Espie and Juan to have to change schools, and she can’t abandon her duties for our church. Which settles the situation, unfortunately. Even if I know that taking away Alejandro would keep him safe, I can’t leave my grandmother in charge of my two younger siblings. She can’t cope with them anymore on her own.
I swallow twice to rid my throat of the prickling bitterness and decide to focus on something more cheerful. I glance at my watch. I’ve got more than two hours of freedom.
What shall I do with it? Laundry or the market place? Maybe Cathy’s flower shop?
Just as I’m about to decide, Juan returns to me, running. “Somebody is here for you, Eva,” he pants.
“For me? Who is it?” I do a quick mental check whether I’ve made any appointments. Nope.
Juan presses his hands to his mouth and leans in as if to whisper. But as I bend closer, he yells into my ear, “It’s a maa-aan.”
I give my brother an annoyed oh-you’re-just-so-funny grimace and hurry to the door.
Did Fernando send one of his pals to snoop around in Abuelita’s house? It wouldn’t be below him. Abuelita told me that his gang is courting younger kids now too—probably to groom them as early as possible for their deplorable purposes.
As I get closer to the window of our corridor, I glimpse at our driveway.
And my heart stutters. Big time.
There is a dark Bentley parked beside Abuelita’s old sedan. The contrast between the two vehicles couldn’t be more conspicuous. But that’s not the reason my body locks up with tension. It’s the realization about whom I’m going to see as I turn the corner.
Law #1: Never Bet on Love: A Sweet Billionaire Love Story (Laws of Love) Page 5