Page 11 of One Week To Claim It All
With that she pushed the rack the rest of the way into the suite and closed the door behind it. Rodrigo assumed she’d go back to her office until it was time to get ready. But instead she leaned against the door and turned her face up to look at him. There was something in her eyes he couldn’t quite read. “Why are you being nice to me?”
And that was the two-hundred-million-dollar question, wasn’t it? He could say all kinds of things, that he owed it to Patricio, that he was a professional and he would give anyone else the same courtesy, but those would all be lies. The truth felt like a dagger on his tongue, sharp and deadly.
“I’m nice to everyone,” he lied.
“You’re so full of it.” The sly smile on her face smoothed the edges in her words. God he wanted her. The need to press her to him was a tangible force in the air. But if there was a time to live up to his supposed stoicism, it was now. He stepped away and went back to his desk.
“Let me know when you need the room to change, and I’ll make sure to give you space,” he said gruffly, avoiding her gaze.
“Right,” she said, heading for the door. She sounded as flustered as he felt. “I need to get a few things done, before I start getting ready. Could you check the mock-up I sent you? I’d like to start working on my concept tonight. Just because I’m taking a few hours to participate in this rich people show-and-tell doesn’t mean I’m not coming back here to work after.”
He nodded as the door slid closed behind her. Nobody needed to know that his eyes were riveted to the glorious view of her perfect ass as she walked away. He was in over his head. A lifetime of doggedly working after a singular goal was threatening to slip away. All because the one person he could see himself giving everything up for was the one standing between him and his dream.
Seven
“Dammit.” Esmeralda let out another frustrated sigh as she tried and failed to zip up her dress. It was so bizarre to be in this room. A place her father escaped to when things were not going well in his home life. This was a level of intimacy she’d never had with him when he was alive. On the tall dresser—which she supposed had stored changes of clothes and personal things—were some framed photographs. Some of her. That had surprised her. One was from her second birthday—her parents on either side of her, strained smiles on their faces. She didn’t remember it, but she knew in those first few years Patricio had made appearances for special occasions. There was another photo from her high school graduation. And the most recent one of her receiving an award for a short film she’d presented at the Tribeca Film Festival.
It had pierced something in her to see she’d had a place among his other children. That the picture of her and her mother was there with the rest of them. That he hadn’t forgotten her, even though it had always felt that to her father she’d never existed. She’d always looked in from outside when it came to his life. And now here she was in his inner sanctum, only to realize he’d kept reminders of her around. She had no idea what to do with any of it, and worse, the only person she wanted to talk about it with was the last man she needed to be around when she was feeling this messy. Damn Rodrigo for standing up for her today. For getting her gorgeous dresses that fit her perfectly. For his sinful mouth and swoon-worthy shoulders, and most of all for making her feel this raw again.
“Ugh, crying is not the move right now,” she said, frustrated as she blinked, trying to keep the tears that were threatening to escape from ruining her perfect smoky eye. And still she could not zip up her dress. She looked at the alarm clock next to the bed and saw that it was almost six. Okay, screw it, she was going to need his help with this dress. She made her way to the sliding door that led into the CEO office and opened it slowly.
Rodrigo was standing with his back to her, on the other side of the room, looking out of the enormous windows that provided a heart-stopping view of a June Manhattan sunset. He did cut a dashing figure in his suit. Everything had to be just so with Rodrigo Almanzar, everything in its place. But with her he’d been messy and free. Funny and passionate. For so many years he had meant so much to her—if she was honest with herself, he still did. But she could not walk away from this fight.
It would ruin things for them forever, she knew that. Rodrigo would feel betrayed. He’d resent her. And wasn’t that what she’d said she wanted? A chance to get back at him? Well, her taking the CEO position from him would certainly accomplish that.
“Rodrigo,” she said into the quiet room, and he turned. God, but the man was a sight standing in the warm glow of the golden hour. He could always trip her up with just a look. He kept his hair very short, and his face clean-shaven. Always so formal. Tonight’s dark blue tuxedo made him look like a Tom Ford model. Her eyes glommed on to him as he walked over to her and she did not miss that his eyes were burning, too.
By the time he got to her the beating of her heart was so intense she could feel it in her throat. She felt naked. Bare to him in too many ways that felt utterly dangerous. So she hid from him. She turned around and walked back into her father’s secret bedroom, feeling too exposed to be in the office where anyone could see. He followed her in without a word, and she did not dare turn around. Finally, when she got to the front of the bed, she asked the question without looking up. “Can you zip me up?”
“You picked the green one,” he said huskily. She’d settled on an emerald green A-line sleeveless dress by Christian Siriano. One of her goals in life had been to wear one of his creations, and even though this whole situation would probably end up blowing up in her face, she could at least have this memory.
Although now that she was the owner of a quarter of Sambrano, she supposed there could be more Siriano in her future...
She heard the quick intake of breath and felt the heat of him as he came even closer. “This color is perfect on you, Joya.” There was that name again. The one she’d always told herself—and him—she hated but melted for whenever he uttered it.
He gripped her waist as his other hand traced the bare skin of her back with a finger that could’ve been flames licking at her skin. She didn’t protest, she didn’t move away, entranced by the feel of him. She’d told herself so many times this man meant nothing her. And yet just a brush of his fingers had her ready to toss out the window every self-protective instinct she had. She wanted to lean in, take those strong hands and wrap them around her waist. Let her head fall on his shoulder; but he only zipped her dress, and stepped back.
“Turn around, I want to see you.”
She should be annoyed at his demanding tone. She should tell him to get out of the room, that she didn’t need him anymore. She should guard her heart from someone who could so easily trample it. But instead, she turned her bare feet on the plush carpet to face him. And what she found in his eyes could easily raze them both down to ashes.
“Hermosa, mi Joya.” His voice was rough with desire, and she knew in that moment, whatever he asked for she’d give him. He pressed closer, so she had to tip her head to look at his face. “Having you this close and not being able to touch you is hell.” His voice was gravel and smoke as he brushed his knuckles against her cheek. She closed her eyes at the contact, her breath hitching from the effect his closeness had on her. Always overwhelming. Like he was the only person in the world.
“I want to kiss you, Esmeralda.” She shook her head at the statement, even as a frustrated little whine escaped her lips.
Her arms were already circling around his neck. “If we’re going to do this, just do it, Rodrigo.” Without hesitation he crushed her mouth with his and the world fell away. His tongue stole in, and it was like not a single day had passed since they’d last done this. She pressed herself to him as he peppered her neck with fluttering kisses. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew this was the height of stupidity, that they were both playing with fire. That if anyone found about this, she would probably sink her chances to get approved by the board. But it was so hard to think when he was whispering intoxicatingly delicious things in Spanish. Preciosa, amada...mia.
It was madness for him to call her his, and what was worse, she reveled in it. She wanted it so desperately that her skin prickled, her body tightening and loosening under his skilled touch.
“I can’t get enough of you. I never could.” He sounded bewildered. Like he couldn’t quite figure out how it was that he’d gotten there.
That made two of them.
Esmeralda knew they should stop. They were supposed to head to the party soon and she’d for sure have to refresh her makeup now that she’d decided to throw all her boundaries out the window. But instead of stopping she threw her head back and let him make his way down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he tightened one hand on her backside and the other pulled down the strap of her dress. “Can I kiss you here?” he asked as his breath feathered over her breasts.
“Yes.” She was on an express bus to Bad Decision Central and she could not be bothered to stop. He grazed his lips over her skin until he brushed the edge of the gown and flicked his tongue over her sensitive skin. She was breathless from the pleasure of it. She pressed a hand to the apex of her thighs, aching for him.
“You drive me crazy,” he growled as he crushed her to him, his arousal like a fire iron against her belly. Her mouth watered at the thought of taking him in her mouth. She was about to tell him so. But she must have had some sensible angels watching over her, because right when she’d been about to burn through the last of her senses, a female voice calling for Rodrigo kept her from ruining everything.
