CHAPTER ONE

“Qué cojones. Why isn’t she picking up?”

Lola’s voice was tinged with frustration as she rang her friend’s phone for the umpteenth time. Just as she began to think her signal in the elevator was too weak to place a call through, an annoyingly loud teenager proved her wrong, walking into the large steel box on the seventh floor while watching I*******m reels on his phone, which was connected to a small Bluetooth speaker dangling from his hip as he pushed the button for the 10th floor.

Lola didn’t realize how low her battery was as she kept trying, until her phone ultimately gave up on her entirely. Exasperated beyond comprehension, she leaned on the reflective walls of the elevator, hoping that her trip across the city wasn’t in vain. After all she went through to get here, she could cause a nuclear meltdown if she found out Gabriele wasn’t home.

Finally, the elevator button bearing the Roman numeral symbol for “13”—the highest floor in the building—gave off an orange glow, followed by a ping from the elevator’s speakers. Lola adjusted her denim skirt as the doors slid open, charging into the penthouse like she owned the place.

Against the backdrop of large, ceiling-to-floor windows that dashingly displayed the panoramic view of the Madrid skyline, the interior design of the Morales penthouse was a beauty to behold. But it wasn’t the large, bizarre chandelier shaped like deer antlers that got her attention. Or the white, Greek-styled sofas that stood out against the chrome-painted walls and wooden-brown floors. Or even the strange spiral staircase that led upstairs, with each step appearing to hover above the one beneath.

None of that made her hold her breath and stand still like a sculpture.

It was a person who caused her to freeze like a deer caught in headlights —a bare-chested man who lounged carelessly on one of the large sofas.

Lola recognized him almost immediately. Santiago Morales—business mogul, CEO of Infinity Tech Enterprises (and several other sister companies), billionaire playboy, health and fitness expert, scandal extraordinaire… the list went on and on.

Oh, and apparently Lola’s best friend’s older brother as well.

Waiting in the lobby until Gabriele arrived wouldn’t be too bad an idea, she reckoned. But, even as she stood at the threshold to the enormous living room, it was a struggle to take her eyes off of him. Although a constant presence on social media and even on national television a couple of times, it had been years —probably over a decade —since she saw him in person. New tattoos decorated his broad chest, inked words she couldn’t make out from where she stood. His black, wavy hair curled around his ears and over his forehead. His dark beard, merely a stubble before, had grown fuller, though he still kept it neatly trimmed. And when he finally looked at her, his sea-green eyes reminded her of the wild, reckless college boy she’d met years ago, the night she’d slept over at Gabriele’s place. Even then, as the high-schooler she was, she’d known that he was the dangerously older guy who was too perilous to hang around with. Now, he radiated that same energy in multiple folds.

“You seem… hauntingly familiar.”

The drawl that smoothly rolled off his tongue was so deep it reverberated around the room, causing Lola to shiver slightly.

What is this? She scolded herself. Hot or not, it’s still Gabi’s gross brother. Get over yourself, girl.

“Wait a minute.” Santiago got to his feet slowly, his right hand still cradling his glass of whiskey as he faced his unexpected visitor fully. Her features were similar to those of many of the young women he’d been with; long, dark brown hair, an arched nose, a sculpted face, smooth, tanned skin, average height, and a petite body shape… all crowned with an overall stunning beauty.

But something about the woman before him stood out from the rest. Her amber eyes tugged the memory strings at the far corners of his brain, forcing him to remember who she was. At last, the corner of his lips drew up in a small smile. Not because she was checking him out—which was something every woman did when he wore his favorite grey sweatpants—but because his memory faculty finally came through.

“Lola Navarro, isn’t it?”

Lola managed to tear her eyes off Santiago’s perfectly sculpted body—especially the sizable bulge in his groin—and cleared her throat as she nodded.

“Well, well,” Santiago said, his smile growing wider. “This is a lovely surprise. My sister didn’t tell me I’d be getting such a visit today.”

“That’s ’cause she’s the one I was supposed to see,” Lola retorted. “Where’s she anyway?”

“Probably stuck in traffic on her way from the airport,” Santiago replied unapologetically. “But don’t worry about that. I’ll keep you company. Maybe you can tell me all about your soccer career. Or has it already come to an end?”

Lola’s cheeks grew hot with embarrassment and potential rage. She couldn’t believe that the busiest man on the planet had time to remember a childhood mishap from several years ago.

“I never wanted to be a professional soccer player, Santiago,” she said defensively. “I was just passionate about it in high school.”

“Yeah, right,” Santiago chortled. “The only thing you were passionate about was dropping balls in the back of your own net. A terrifically terrible goalie you were.”

“It was just one time!”

“Which cost you guys the championship, if I remember correctly. Pretty sure my sister is the only one of your teammates back then who still talks to you. And I get it; I’d be mad too if I were them. They were probably hoping to become professionals one day, until you crushed their dreams when you swung your arm in the wrong direction.”

Lola stared at the man before her for a moment, trying to decide if she should turn back to the elevator or charge at him with her purse as a potential murder weapon. Instead, she took a deep breath.

“Whatever, man. I just need to charge my phone so I can call Gabriele. Is that something you could help with, at least?”

“Sure thing, butter-fingers.” Santiago took a sip from his glass as he stretched out his hand with a mischievous smile. “I can help with that.”