Chapter 6 – Alana
Chapter
Six
ALANA
Alejandro’s hand rests on the small of my back as we step into the bar, his fingers spread just wide enough that the heat of his palm bleeds through the silk of my green dress.
Too close to my ass. Deliberately so. I tilt my head up at him, catching his eye, and he winks.
Cheeky, arrogant, and infuriatingly sexy.
My husband looks entirely too pleased with himself.
We’ve just finished dinner with the mayor and his wife, Lorna—two hours of polite conversation, some laughs, and politics.
They asked about the women’s shelter and the plans Kristen and I have to expand it, as well as about funding and outreach and all the things that make me feel like I’m doing something meaningful with my life.
And I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.
But now, all I want is some time alone with the devastatingly attractive man beside me… and maybe a nice glass of Scotch, too.
I’m also keen to thank him properly for allowing Lucia stay with us. His willingness to yield on that surprised me. Perhaps I do hold a lot more power here than I imagined.
Given how our marriage started, it’s difficult to believe sometimes that we are where we are. Difficult to believe that the King of LA looks at me like I’m the only woman in the room.
We reach the bar and the bartender immediately brightens. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Montoya. Your usual, sir?”
Alejandro nods easily, guiding me toward a stool. “Yes. Two.”
His hand lingers on my waist as I start to sit. Then a voice behind me says my name, startling me. “Alana Carmichael! Is that really you?”
It’s a sound from another life, when I was a different Alana. I spin around and for a moment the years peel away. Suddenly, I’m eighteen again.
“Bobby Conroy!” The grin that spreads across my face is automatic and genuine. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m here for the convention,” he says, stepping closer. “Keynote speaker.”
Of course he is. The hotel hosts dozens of conventions every year, and the current one is something to do with tech giants and app developments.
Before Bobby can pull me into the hug he’s clearly planning, Alejandro’s arm slides around my waist. Possessive and claiming.
The thrill that shoots through me is immediate and embarrassingly satisfying.
I’m used to running into Alejandro’s stunning exes wherever we go.
Models, actresses, socialites who look like they walked out of a magazine, so it’s about time he met one of mine. My only one, really.
“Bobby,” I say, leaning slightly into Alejandro, “this is my husband, Alejandro.”
Bobby blinks. “Wow. You’re married?”
His surprise makes me smile wider. If you’re going to bump into your ex, then looking like I do now, and on the arm of an incredibly hot husband, is definitely the way to do it.
Alejandro shakes Bobby’s extended hand, his grip firm, his expression unreadable. “And Bobby is…?” he asks, the low dangerous growl in his voice unmistakeable. To me at least.
I bite my lip and take a second to think. Who is Bobby? My first crush. My first kiss. The boy I once thought would be my first everything.
But I definitely don’t lead with that. “Bobby was my high school boyfriend,” I say nonchalantly, hoping that’s enough.
But Bobby’s eyes flick to mine like he remembers every detail I left out. I suppose we were so much more than that.
This is my first time seeing him in years.
Seven, if I’m counting right. And he’s all grown now.
The lanky high school jock has turned into something far more dangerous.
Sandy blond hair cut short at the sides.
Blue eyes that still sparkle with that easy charm.
Broad shoulders filling out an expensive suit.
He’s…handsome. Not even remotely in the same league as the sex god of the man beside me—but still.
I can’t deny the small, petty satisfaction curling in my stomach, even if I’m ashamed of it.
Let Alejandro wonder for once. At least he isn’t dealing with two exes at the same time, like I did that time with those bitches Michaela and Keira.
Before Bobby can say anything else, another man stumbles up beside him. “There you are, buddy,” the guy says, already sounding a little drunk.
“Justin,” Bobby says. “This is my old friend Alana and her husband Alejandro.”
Justin squints at me, then his eyes go wide. “Alana? You mean the one that got away? That Alana?”
Oh God. Alejandro’s arm tightens around my waist, his entire body vibrating with suppressed anger.
Bobby sucks in a breath before letting out a quiet laugh.
I laugh too, desperately trying to defuse the moment. “I think you’re confusing me with someone else, Justin.”
Alejandro’s voice cuts in. “Just how long did you two date?” His tone is calm. Too calm. It has that deadly quiet menace about it.
“Not that long,” I say quickly.
“Almost two years” Bobby says at the exact same time.
Perfect. Now it sounds like I was lying.
The bartender sets our drinks down just as one of Alejandro’s security guards approaches him and murmurs something in his ear. My husband curses under his breath and then turns to give me his full attention. “I have to deal with something. I won’t be long.”
His eyes flick to Bobby and back to me. That vein in his neck is pulsing, and I imagine he’s thinking about dragging me away with him. But to my relief, he doesn’t. Instead, he leans down and brushes a soft kiss over my lips. “Behave,” he murmurs.
And then he walks away.
Twenty minutes later, Alejandro still hasn’t returned and I’m halfway through my second Scotch. My husband’s love of expensive whisky has clearly rubbed off on me, and I enjoy the smoky warmth as it slides down my throat, settling pleasantly in my chest.
Bobby and Justin sit on either side of me, telling me about the company they built—some kind of security tech that apparently made them both very, very rich.
Overnight millionaires, they say. Justin eventually staggers off toward the restroom after ordering another round, leaving Bobby and me alone.
He turns to me, his expression softer now. “I’m really glad I ran into you, Alana.”
Something in his voice makes my chest tighten.
“I’ve always regretted how things ended,” he adds.
The memory flickers through my mind instantly.
It was Christmas break, and he came home from college and told me he’d slept with someone.
I suppose I can’t blame him when I made him wait for almost two years.
He went off to college in another state, halfway across the country, so I didn’t entirely blame him for giving into temptation.
How ironic that the night he told me was the night I was planning to have sex with him, to give him my virginity.
It hurt at the time, finding out that he’d cheated on me, but not like I expect it was supposed to.
More like I’d lost a best friend than my boyfriend.
I know now that there was no passion or romantic love between us. Alejandro has shown me what that is.
“It was a long time ago,” I assure him. “We were just kids.” And honestly…I never even think about it anymore, but I don’t tell him that. There’s no need to be deliberately hurtful. “Besides,” I add with a smile, “everything turned out exactly how it was supposed to.”
His eyes search mine. “Are you happy?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes. Deliriously so.”
Bobby studies my face for another moment before smiling. “Then I’m happy for you.” His hand settles briefly on my shoulder, and he gives me a squeeze. A friendly squeeze.
Until suddenly his hand is gone and there’s a familiar solid chest at my back. “Touch my wife again and I will break every bone in your arm.” Alejandro’s deep growl slices through the moment like a blade.
Bobby jumps to his feet. Fueled by alcohol and pride, he squares up immediately to my irate husband, trying to wrench his hand from Alejandro’s iron grip. “What the hell, man? Get your hands off me!”
My stomach plummets. This is about to go very badly for Bobby if he doesn’t back down, which it doesn’t seem like he’s going to. So I grab Alejandro’s arm and try to persuade him to drop this instead. “We were just catching up,” I say quickly. “But we’re done now. Let’s go upstairs.”
Alejandro turns his blazing eyes on me, studying my face for a long moment.
Then he releases Bobby and I’m filled with relief. “Stay the fuck away from her,” he snarls.
His hand closes around my elbow. “Let’s go, princesa.”
“Bye, Bobby,” I say with an apologetic smile as Alejandro marches me out of the bar.
I wait until we’re in the privacy of the elevator before I confront him. “What the hell is your problem?”
He doesn’t even look at me, staring at the doors with his hands stuffed into his pockets. “We’ll talk upstairs.”
The elevator ride is torture. He stands on one side.
I stand on the other. The air between us crackles with anger so thick it’s suffocating.
I steal glances at him, his jaw tight and his gaze fixed on the doors.
And suddenly a nervous thought creeps in.
I haven’t done anything wrong but he seems pissed at me.
I know we were playing around earlier about a spanking, but that was the fun kind.
Dear God. Am I even going to be able to sit tomorrow?
When the elevator doors finally open, we cross the hall in silence and enter the suite.
Alejandro pours himself a Scotch without a word and stares out of the window while he sips.
I slip off my heels near the sofa. “Alejandro,” I say carefully. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
His glass slams onto the table, and he stalks toward me. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he explodes. “I walk into my bar and find you flirting with your ex-boyfriend while he has his hands all over you—and you want to know what’s gotten into me?”
“I was not flirting,” I snap, defensive and angry. “We were talking. And he touched my shoulder for like two seconds.”