Page 4 of Ignacio

No wonder people thought they were back together. Based on the angle, the image was suggestive and had been shared countless times across the Internet, with their names trending on the major social media platforms for hours.

She rubbed her right arm, feeling the phantom burn of his touch. Eleven years later, and he somehow still managed to affect her profoundly.

“People love a reunion story,” her father said, seated beside her.

Edward James was known throughout the music industry as Eddie J, the cutthroat manager who had negotiated the best deals for his singer daughter. Since starting in this business, his mahogany skin had begun to show wrinkles around his eyes, and he’d developed a belly that hinted at his love for alcohol and rich foods, though his mind was as sharp as ever.

“Seems that way,” Delta said, gazing out the window.

Except she and Ignacio weren’t reuniting. They had barely spoken at all, aside from when he apologized for bumping into her, and she had absolved him of guilt with an “It’s okay” and hurried away.

She saw him one other time during the night, across the crowded room, but that was the extent of their interaction. Nonetheless, the two of them together had created shockwaves because of their history. Meeting when they were both thirteen, they became friends first and then much more. They lost their virginity to each other at sixteen, followed by five tumultuous years of breakups and makeups until…

She chewed the inside of her cheek, stopping herself from going down the road of gnawing regret that consumed her to this day.

Delta turned to her father. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Of course I’m sure,” he said. “Do you really think I’d take you to meet him if I wasn’t confident he’d agree to this? Ignacio has no choice. He needs the publicity as much as you do, and that’s the beauty of this whole plan. You’ll be helping each other. It’s not one-sided. When your ‘relationship’ is over, you won’t owe him, and he won’t owe you because you’ll both have gotten what you wanted out of the deal.”

The deal.

She hated those two words together. More often than not, they caused her problems. “Why couldn’t Mom come?”

Her father could be a bit abrupt in his drive for success, while her mother, Jocelyn, often tempered his behavior with her more reasonable approach.

“She’s on one of her shopping sprees,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Retail therapy, her mother called her jaunts to spend money. Sometimes she flew out of town to New York or overseas. Delta never complained when a trip ended up going over budget. Shopping was a lot less destructive than the gouging her mother used to do when she was Delta’s merchandising manager and let alcohol control her behavior. Removing her mother from that role and giving her the BS title of “advisor” had been a difficult but necessary decision.

“I think we should have given Ignacio more time to consider the idea,” Delta said.

“Have I taught you nothing in all these years? Strike while the iron is hot. We couldn’t buy this type of publicity if we tried, and delaying would risk having you and Ignacio removed from the spotlight. Even worse, he could find some other way to promote his film and not need you at all. This way, we maintain the urgency of the situation.” Her father returned his attention to the open file on his lap.

Delta didn’t bother inquiring about what he was looking at. He managed all her affairs and had done so ever since she was a child. The fickle nature of the music industry meant that though she’d had two multi-platinum albums and subsequent successful tours, her third album had not seen the same type of numbers as the first two. Sales had declined, streams dropped off, and she’d had to cancel the latter part of her third tour due to lack of sales.

Bottom line, her father was right. She needed the agreement with Ignacio. Her only concern was getting out of their so-called relationship unscathed.

The chauffeur pulled up to the building where Ignacio lived, and Delta and her father went inside, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. No one bothered them. In fact, they barely glanced in their direction. There was a time she couldn’t go out without bodyguards or had to wear disguises. A failing career meant such extremes were no longer an issue.

A man at the front desk called up to Ignacio’s apartment, and Delta held her breath as she waited. To her surprise, he granted permission for them to go up.

Inside the elevator, she quickly assessed her appearance. She wore a powder blue jacket and powder blue slacks with clear heels, exposing her toes painted a soft pink color to match her manicure. Under the jacket, she wore a pink bustier and had pulled her hair into a clip-on ponytail. Dark sunglasses covered her eyes, allowing her to hide a little as she steeled her nerves for the meeting with Ignacio.

On the tenth floor, she released a slow breath and walked behind her father to the condo, keeping her eyes on his close-cropped hair, which displayed a sprinkling of gray.

When they stopped at the door, her pulse kicked into higher gear, and her pink nails dug into her palms as she clenched her fists. Despite all that, she was ill-prepared for the stunning man who opened the door before they could knock.

Look up the phrase “movie-star good looks,” and there was bound to be a picture of Ignacio Santana in the search results. He stood shirtless in the doorway, wearing only a pair of red boxer briefs. Why was he dressed like that?

She quickly lifted her eyes from the way the material clung to his thick thighs and showcased his impressive bulge. A lit cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, dark stubble on his chin, and his hair tumbled over to one side in an array of brown and honey-blond curls.

His gray eyes met hers behind the sunglasses for a fraction of a second, and the world came to a standstill as she forgot to breathe. He’d always had that effect on her, from the first moment she’d seen him at thirteen. She thought he’d say something to her, but he spoke to her father instead.

“What do you want?” he asked.

Edward straightened his back. At six feet, he was tall but two inches shorter than Ignacio. “We want to talk to you.”

Ignacio removed the cigarette from between his lips. “About what?”

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