Page 84 of His Rules

Or if they were, they’d been carefully restored, all reminding me of a Spanish villa. “What is this place?”

“Well, this is a piece of property I was gifted by my grandfather when I turned twenty-one. He thought I should have a portion of our family’s legacy for my own.”

“Part of the Winfield collection?”

“It wasn’t, but soon will be. My brother had another one closer to the office.” He stole a glance as he headed into a parking space that fronted one of the units. The door leading into the location was rounded at the top, the small window in the upper middle like something out of a Spanish castle. With flowers hanging from pots and decorative lights in the trees, the setting was incredible.

“This is just gorgeous. How many rooms?”

“There are only eight in each building. It’s meant as a getaway for either company functions or family gatherings. Inside the main building is a ballroom, a smaller room that can be used as a conference area and of course a massive commercial kitchen. There’s also a bistro that is open to the public, but designed to serve the guests. And wait until you see the gardens.”

“These are the kinds of properties you want to build or have commissioned.”

He stopped the engine. “Yes, but if the plans work out, we’ll have larger hotels within the major resort areas. These were a brainchild of my grandfather, a desire to bring opulence to any city.”

“They would work well in the islands.”

He laughed and opened his door. “You’re already ahead of me.”

I waited as he walked around, opening the door for me. “You brought me here for business?”

“Oh, hell, no. However, I thought it was an excellent opportunity to show you what my grandfather envisioned. If he’d had his way, he would have created small cities based on the various designs he created.”

“All different?”

“Spanish. French chalet. Swiss villas. Some very modern. Some old world. He was very thorough in his designs.”

“I bet I would have loved your grandfather.”

“And he would have adored you.” He moved toward the door, pulling a keycard from his wallet.

“A master key.”

“It is.” He opened the door and waited as I walked inside.

There were no adequate words to describe the beautiful setting. The floors were polished marble, the small foyer something out of an art museum with the most incredible paintings on the walls. A spiral staircase led to a second floor, the ornate iron railing adding a subtle yet beautiful adornment to the polished wooden stairs.

I walked through an arched doorway into another incredible space, the living room complete with a gorgeous Mediterranean-style fireplace surrounded by colorful tiles. The furniture was period perfect, the lighting the same. There was an island on one side, a smaller but stunning kitchen just past that. As I movedthrough the space, I was struck by how relaxing yet luxurious everything was.

Someone had created the perfect atmosphere for a romantic getaway. As I passed the kitchen heading to an arched set of French doors, I noticed a bottle of champagne waiting in a bucket, two gleaming flutes prepared to be filled.

“You called ahead,” I said as I unlocked the doors.

“Of course I did. You’re not a cheap date.” I heard the rustling of ice and knew he was grabbing the bubbly.

His words made me laugh. When I swung open both doors, I thought for certain I’d just stepped out into paradise. The small pool was glistening much like the fountain out front, a hot tub off to the side steaming in wait. But it was the tropical atmosphere that added so much to the glorious setting.

There were huge tropical plants overhanging both water sources, the thick stone walls surrounding the oversized patio covered with rich-looking vines and fuchsia flowers. The patio setting was also gorgeous, so much so I had to touch the lush material. With a patio heater as well as a rounded firepit, everything was intimate and it was easily the most romantic location I’d ever seen.

He placed the glasses on the coffee table and I watched in fascination as he expertly twisted the bottle, the cork popping silently. Everything he did, he had a way of making it look easy. He was born to live an opulent life. He was born to lead a team of go-getters into the stratosphere.

His eyes were on me as he poured two glasses, leaving them both there. He sauntered closer, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Nice and easy. As if we had weeks to be aloneinstead of a stolen few hours. They were precious to me, our relationship never to be shoved into the spotlight. That made what we were doing more exciting, yet more dangerous.

I quivered from the look he was giving me.

“What happens when it rains?”

He laughed softly. “I didn’t think of you as a pessimist.” As if to prove me wrong, he pressed a button and an awning appeared. “A specially designed waterproof fabric.”

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