Chapter 3
Mia
At exactly seven-thirty, there’s a knock on my door.
One last glance in the mirror, and Carly gives me two thumbs up from her spot on the couch. We came back from the spa so relaxed that I almost texted Diego to see if we could postpone dinner.
I’ve never had such a luxurious experience in my life. Who am I kidding? I’ve never been to a spa before. But now I’m thinking I wouldn’t be mad if one pops up in Azalea Creek.
I wave at Carly, slip on my sandals, and hop to the door.
The moment I open it, I catch a whiff of Diego’s cologne—and I swear it must contain pheromones because I instantly feel lightheaded.
He’s wearing tan linen pants and a matching shirt, the two top buttons undone, hinting at dark hair on his chest and a thick gold chain glinting against his skin.
Dios mío. What I wouldn’t give to trace that neck with my tongue right now.
His hair is damp but slicked back, and a shadow of stubble darkens his chiseled jaw.
Diego is a fine man. And I mean fiiiine.
“You look beautiful,” he says, exhaling softly. His gaze locks on mine, and the way his jaw tightens tells me he’s trying really hard not to look anywhere else.
What a gentleman.
Too bad for him—I can be a total tease when I want to. And right now, I want to.
I casually adjust my neckline, and sure enough, his eyes drop to my boobs. His jaw flexes again, like he’s berating himself for looking.
Instead of smirking like I want to, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and smile. “Thank you. So do you.”
That pulls his attention back to my face, and in the golden light, his blue eyes look dangerously tempting.
“Ready?” He offers his arm with a devilish smile.
Lord, he’s good—and he knows it.
I nod, looping my arm through his.
“I take it you’re feeling better?” he asks as we start walking toward the resort’s main building.
“Yes, definitely.” I smile, but I’m a bundle of nerves. It’s not the first time I’ve gone out with a hot guy, but something about Diego feels different. He moves like a man who owns the world yet still searches for something… more.
“I wanted to apologize for earlier. I shouldn’t have been walking so close behind you—”
“Mia,” he cuts me off gently, “there’s no need to apologize. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
He gives my hand a soft pat, and a bolt of electricity shoots through me.
Does this man have a direct line to my libido? I’m one touch away from panting.
This isn’t normal. It has to be because of how we met.
We pass the restaurant door, and I frown. “I thought we were having dinner.”
“We are.” His lips curve slightly as we head toward the ocean. “But I thought it’d be best if we could have some privacy.”
My eyes widen when I see where we’ll be dining.
“I thought the view was unbeatable,” he says carefully, watching my reaction. “But if you’re uncomfortable, we can go to the restaurant.”
I grab his forearm, feeling the muscles tense beneath my fingers. When I look down, I see the veins protruding, like the models on romance book covers. It’s like touching a live wire in temptation.
“No, no. This is perfect. I’m just… surprised.”
He studies me for a moment. I can see his thoughts running wild. For a businessman, the man has zero poker face.
He steps ahead and pulls out a chair for me. I smile and sit, and a waiter seems to materialize from thin air, presenting a bottle of wine. Diego nods for him to open it.
I squint at the label, but the only light comes from the moon and a few flickering tiki torches.
Once the glasses are poured and the waiter disappears, Diego turns to me. “I took the liberty of planning the menu, but now I feel like a jerk because I didn’t ask if you had any allergies.”
His thoughtfulness makes me smile. “No allergies.”
He lets out a breath like he’s been holding it forever. Is he actually nervous?
He lifts his glass, the tension easing from his shoulders. “To the fortune of crossing paths—even if the circumstances were… unconventional.”
I chuckle and clink my glass against his. Closing my eyes, I let the wine fill my taste buds. It’s dry with a hint of smoke and cinnamon.
“Are you a wine enthusiast?” he asks.
A smile tugs at my lips. “I wouldn’t go that far. But I do enjoy it.”
His eyes light up just as the waiter returns with a tray full of appetizers. My stomach makes an ungodly sound, and heat rushes to my cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
He grins. “Please. Don’t be. I’m starving too.”
He grabs a fried plantain and takes a bite. Somehow, it feels natural between us. It’s almost surreal to be so at ease with someone I just met.
I reach for the fried calamari, and the second I taste it, a moan escapes me.
Diego murmurs something under his breath, too low for me to catch.
“Were you able to relax this afternoon?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation in a safer direction.
He watches me carefully, like he’s deciding how much to share. And then it hits me—oh my fucking God, was he with another girl? Does he have a girlfriend?
Shit.
Maybe this isn’t even a date. Maybe it’s just a polite apology dinner, and I’m reading too much into it.
He stretches his neck side to side, loosening up. “My family owns this resort,” he says finally. “Actually it’s part of a chain—resorts all over the world.”
My eyes widen. I mean, I figured his family owned the resort. But a resort chain? That’s a whole other level.
“My entire family’s here for my niece’s wedding,” he continues. “I thought it’d be a great time to relax and decompress, but my siblings can’t seem to stop pestering me with meetings and goals and projections for the next year.”
I didn’t expect him to open up like that, but I’m relieved that it wasn’t about some other woman.
Jealous, Mia? Careful. It’s dinner, not destiny.
“I’m no heir to a luxury resort chain.” I tease lightly. “But business talk on vacation should be illegal.”
He lifts his glass again, eyes locked on mine.
“What?” I ask, frowning. “Did I say something wrong?”
He shakes his head slowly, inhaling through his teeth.
“I’m just debating how blunt I can be with you, Mia Martínez.”
The rasp of his voice as he pronounces my name, the Spanish rolling off his tongue in a way that makes my legs squirm under the table.
“I thought we were having a great time,” I say, not really understanding why he suddenly feels the need to get so direct.
“And we are,” he replies smoothly. “There’s something about you I haven’t been able to figure out quite yet. But that usually wouldn’t stop me from taking you to bed, showing you a good time, and parting ways in the morning on friendly terms.”
He says it with such certainty, like he thinks I’m a sure thing.
And that pisses me off.
Indignation blooms hot in my chest. Who the fuck does he think he is?
“You might be a handsome millionaire,” I say, and the smirk tugging at his lips only riles me up more. God, why does he have to look so damn good with that smug expression? “And you’re a smooth talker, I’ll give you that.”
I shove my chair back and stand.
The smirk vanishes the instant he realizes I’m serious. Good.
“But don’t you dare think for a second that I’d be flattered—or that I’d keep sitting here—while you talk to me like I’m a piece of meat. I might not be rich, but I have dignity.”
I knew it. This man was too good to be true. Joke's on me for believing I could be the main character in a fairytale.
He opens his mouth, fingers absently playing with that damn gold chain. The motion draws my eyes to his throat.
Focus, Mia.
I cover the slip by forcing a yawn. I refuse to let him see how much he affects me.
“Good evening, Mr. Grosso,” I say, formal and cool. “I appreciate everything you did for me and my sister today—even if you didn’t have to.”
I turn to leave, but his hand wraps around my wrist.
Electricity sparks through me, but I shove it down.
“Mia, wait.” His voice is raspy now, stripped of that earlier bravado and confidence.
I don’t turn. If I look at him, I’ll get sucked right back in by that face.
“Mia,” he says again, softer this time. “I know that’s no way to speak to a woman. But I needed to see this fire—this passion in you.”
I freeze. Did I hear that right?
“So you’re saying you tested me? To see if I’d fight back?”
I spin around, ready to let him have it—but the second my brown eyes connect with his deep blues, I see it. His honesty. His regret. His need for me to understand.
“Yes.” He exhales, the tension easing from his shoulders. “You can’t begin to imagine how many money chasers I deal with on a regular basis.”
My brows lift. I try to pull my wrist free, but his fingers tighten—not painfully, just firmly. It’s grounding. And that should make me run. Put some distance between myself and this man I’ve known for less than a day.
But I don’t move.
“Before you say I’m accusing you of being a money chaser,” he adds quickly, a small smile curving his lips. “I’m not. On the contrary, you’re strong, poised, fiery. I get the feeling one night wouldn’t be nearly enough with you.”
Heat flickers through me. He thinks that? About me?
“I’m making this sound more complicated than it needs to be,” he mutters, dragging a hand over his scruff.
“See? This—exactly this, Mia. I don’t fluster.
I don’t ramble. In the boardroom, I deliver.
I dominate. With women? I’m a flirt for fun.
But with you…” His gaze drops to my mouth.
“With you, I already know this week won't be enough to get to learn everything I want.”
“And what do you want to learn?” The question slips out before I can think better of it.
Diego closes the distance between us, his breath caressing my forehead.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and try to slow my heartbeat. But when I have the full attention of such a powerful man, it’s impossible.
“I want to know every inch of you,” he whispers. “Every curve, every scar, every secret. I want to explore every corner of your mouth, your lips, your soul. I want to know what makes you tick—your dreams, your hopes. The things you don’t tell anyone.”
His voice vibrates against my skin, low and rough. My breath catches. Is he going to kiss me?
“I’m not saying this to play games, Mia,” he murmurs, tone turning solemn. “I’m serious.”
“But we just met,” I say, my voice thinner than I want it to be. “We don’t know anything about each other.”
And yet… my pulse doesn’t agree.
No. It must be everything that happened, I tell myself. The pool, the day, the shock.
He pins me with those dark blue eyes, and I squirm under the weight of his stare—not out of fear, but because I can feel him.
“I might be many things,” he says, “but a liar isn’t one of them. I’m thirty-two, successful, rich, and—” he raises a brow, “—handsome. You said it yourself.”
A smirk plays on his lips. “I don’t need to lie to get what I want.”
Smooth bastard.
He releases my wrist, and to my own mortification, I almost whimper at the loss of his touch.
“I would be lying if I said I’m not attracted to you,” I admit, suddenly exhausted from the push and pull. “But I also know this can’t be more than a fling.”
If I were a millionaire, I’d be cautious too. At least he was honest—even if his delivery was terrible.
When I look up, his brows are drawn together, his expression unreadable.
With a long breath, I sink back into my chair. “Diego, we come from different sides of the road. I’m what you’d call a plain Jane. I work to pay my bills. I didn’t grow up in a golden crib like yours.”
His eyebrows shoot up.
I chuckle. “Yeah, you pretty much exude luxury.”
“And you exude…” He lets the word hang between us, eyes glinting.
“What?”
“Everything,” he says with a faint smile. “And I’m still greedy for more.”
I bite my lip, smiling despite myself. “Why don’t we start with this week?”
He inhales through his teeth, gaze heating. “How do you feel about being my plus-one at a wedding?”
I blink. “A wedding?”
A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Yes, my niece is getting married on Christmas Eve.”
My mouth forms a perfect O. I must look ridiculous.
Wait—didn’t he say he was thirty-two? How does he have a niece old enough to get married?
“My oldest brother is fifteen years older than me,” he says, clearly reading my mind.
I nod, smiling as I take another sip of wine. “If you really mean it, I’d love to spend as much time as possible with you before the wedding,” I admit.
His answering smile is pure satisfaction—like he just won the lottery.
“But my sister’s here with me,” I add quickly. “And I don’t want to ditch her for some good dick.”
The words are out before I can stop them. My hands fly up to cover my mouth as Diego bursts out laughing—deep, unrestrained, gorgeous laughter that fills the night air.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that,” I mumble, my face burning. “At least… not out loud.”
He’s wiping tears from his eyes by the time he catches his breath. “Let’s make a pact,” he says finally.
I glance up from my wine glass, curious.
“We’ll have fun this week,” he continues. “We’ll do as much—or as little—as you want. You set the pace.”
I nod slowly, my pulse kicking up.
“But I have one condition,” he adds. “You’ll come with me to the wedding.”
I hesitate, mulling over his offer.
“I need to check with my sister,” I say after a beat. “But… yes. As long as we don't fall for each other.”
Our glasses clink, a soft chime cutting through the sound of the waves.
I can’t help the little flutters that spark in my chest.
Oh God, please let me enjoy this week without getting hurt.