Page 76 of My Spanish Love Affair

That’s it.

We’re here.

The building is impossibly tall, its glass facade practically gleaming. It’s the kind of place that makes you immediately straighten - intimidating before you even step inside.

The driver opens my door, offering a polite nod as I step out.

“Have a good evening, Miss Bennett,” he says.

I murmur a quickthank you,my nerves getting the better of me as I move towards the building. It’s impossible not to take immediate notice of the two uniformed security guards standing by the entrance, their muscular arms folded over their chests as their sharp eyes scan all directions of the street before them.

One of them spots me and steps forward, his expression softening when he sees me fumbling with my phone.

“Miss Bennett?” he asks, taking pity on me.

“Yes,” I reply, my voice smaller than I intend it to be.

“Mr. Ortiz is expecting you. This way,” he says, gesturing toward the door, and I smile in thanks as I move inside.

The main lobby of the building is absolutely breathtaking. High ceilings stretch far above me, and the walls are lined with sleek marble and gold accents that scream outexpensive. There’s a large, matte black desk located immediately ahead, and the two women sitting behind it are dressed immaculately with their dark hair perfectly slicked back.

Meanwhile, I stick out like a sore thumb.

Thankfully, the security guard stays close and leads me towards what I come to assume is a private elevator. He presses a button before stepping aside, signalling with his hand for me to step forwards towards the gold-plated doors.

“It’s the penthouse,” he says when the elevator arrives and I step inside. “You’ll go straight up.”

“Thank you,” I manage to say, smiling weakly at him whilst clutching my duffel bag tightly.

He doesn’t say a word in response, silent and stoic as the doors slide shut.

The ride up feels impossibly long, the gentle hum of the elevator doing nothing to quiet the nerves bubbling in my chest. I stare at my reflection in the mirrored walls, smoothing my hair and adjusting my t-shirt for the hundredth time.

I knew I should have changed out of my navy loungewear set. I feel fartoo casual for this gorgeous building - like I’m offending it just by being here.

It wasn’t as if I expected Santi to live in a hut or something, butthis? This is beyond insane, and far, far away from any expectations I could have had.

When the elevator dings and the doors slide open, I’m met with an expansive, open space that takes my breath away.

Santi’s penthouse apartment is stunning, to say the very least.It’s all open-plan, with a sleek and modern interior. Decorated with plush furniture in neutral tones, warm lighting and carefully placed artwork that screams understated luxury, it’s clear that not just anybody lives here: the entire apartment screams wealth.

I try and drink in all of the details, my eyes greedily jumping around every corner; however, I can’t help but focus in on the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the kitchen and living area. They offer unobstructed views of Valencia’s city lights - one that even certain rooftop bars would be envious of.

There’s a faint, familiar scent lingering in the air; something clean yet masculine that instantly makes me think of Santi.

“Olivia,” his deep voice calls from across the room.

I turn on my heel from where I had been admiring the view of the city to see him walking toward me. It’s admittedly a little strange to see him barefoot and dressed in a simple black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, although somehow he still manages to look effortlessly put together despite the casual attire.

His dark hair is damp as though he’s not long stepped out of the shower, and the sight of him looking so comfortable and casual in this space - a space that feels so distinctlyhis- has my heart racing.

“Hey,” I say softly, suddenly feeling shy as he approaches.

“You’re here,” he says, his tone filled with relief.

He doesn’t hesitate to pull me into his big arms, wrapping me in a tight embrace that instantly has my nerves beginning to settle.

“I am,” I reply, my voice muffled against his chest.

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