possible. How would she look in the papers dressed like a beach bum beside Alejandro?
Alejandro slipped his phone into his pocket and frowned at her. “There is nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a party.”
She tilted her chin up, reached down deep for her inner socialite. Her mother would expect nothing less than total poise, regardless of the situation. “I’m not afraid. I’m just not prepared. You gave me no warning.”
“Sometimes the best things in life are spontaneous, yes?”
She wasn’t sure if he was joking or needling her. The car ahead of them disgorged its passengers. A woman stopped and posed, tossing long dark hair over her shoulders and tilting her hips from side to side. Flashes burst into life, lighting the entry as if it’d been pitch black before.
Alejandro swore. He stabbed the intercom button and snapped out an order in Spanish. The limo didn’t stop when their turn came but continued through the drive and out to the street.
“I forgot about the paparazzi. We’ll use the back entrance.”
“Won’t a few of them be stationed back there for just that purpose?”
He shrugged. “Sí, but my security is very thorough.”
Rebecca let out her breath. “Thank you.”
“It is not for you,” he said curtly. “I have no wish to answer questions tonight.”
She crossed her arms and willed away the stab of hurt. Of course he didn’t order the car to go around to the back in order to spare her any embarrassment. Was she an idiot? No, the more pain he could cause her, the better. Worse, she actually understood it. If her father hadn’t pressured Roger into backing out of the deal, what else might Alejandro have accomplished?
Rebecca studied the hotel as they snaked around behind it. The Villa de Música was one of the grander buildings in Madrid. It had once belonged to a famous opera singer. It’d been sold over the years, falling into a state of shabby decline before being rescued by Alejandro and restored to its glory days. She hadn’t been inside since she’d left his suite five years ago.
How would she feel walking inside and remembering? She would soon find out.
The limo slipped behind a security barrier. Moments later, someone popped open the door and they rushed into a small service entrance at the rear of the hotel.
The hall was small, narrow, and she had no choice but to follow Alejandro as he worked his way through the labyrinth. He ushered her into an elevator. A minute later, the doors slid open and they were hurrying down another hall. Alejandro stopped and keyed in a code on a pad beside a door.
Rebecca stumbled to a halt behind him as the door swung open. It was the suite he’d lived in five years ago because he’d sunk everything he had into the hotel. It wasn’t the first place they made love, but it was the location where she’d felt like she shared a home with him. She’d been staying in the luxurious private suite on the top floor that had its own pool and rooftop terrace, but this suite was smaller, more private, and they’d retreated here often. Eventually, she checked out of her room and moved into his. Only because he talked her into staying longer than she’d planned.
“I’ll have one of the saleswomen bring up some things,” Alejandro said, pulling out his phone. “You can get dressed and come downstairs when you’re ready.”
She dragged her gaze from the door to the bedroom, forced herself to focus on what he was saying. To breathe normally.
“Fine,” she said, determined not to let him see how affected she was by being back in this room with him. She managed to stroll over to the couch, sink down on it and cross her legs casually.
He finished calling the boutique, then turned to her. His mouth snapped shut, whatever he was about to say forgotten. He usually moved with the easy grace of a panther, but now he took a halting step forward. Stopped. Shook his head and scrubbed a hand through his dark hair.
She started to ask him what was wrong, but a memory hurtled into her brain and her mouth went slack. This couch. Him. The two of them. Nothing between them but sweat, passionate words, and breathy moans.
The heat in his gaze told her he was remembering it too. It shocked her, the raw primal urge she saw on his face, and it compelled her. She wanted him. Oh God, how she wanted him. The