Page 4 of Sapphire

From the stories of our mother’s youth, she was wild herself until she met our father, but that didn’t stop them. They traveled the world and had the best adventures together. One day I’ll be lucky enough to meet a man that can give me what they have. It’s a hard act to follow.

“Fine, I promise Gracie and I will go wild this weekend and meet loads of hot men.”

“That’s my girl, make Mama proud. Stay safe. Use protection,” she says with a chuckle.

“I promise.”

“Good. I better go, sweetie; I have a class to teach. Love you, have fun. Stay in touch and tell Gracie to call her mother.”

“Will do. Love you too, Mum.”

Then she’s gone.

* * *

“I can’t believe you’re here!” I scream at my sister, hugging her at the airport terminal.

“I know, I know. It’s been too long. I’ve missed you so much.” She hugs me back. You’d think four sisters wouldn’t get along, but we do. There were times when my parents thought World War III was happening under their roof, but now that we are older and wiser, we cherish our sisterly bonds.

“I can’t wait to show you Barcelona, we are going to have so much fun, plus Mum has decreed that we go wild and meet hot men.”

Gracie bursts out laughing.

“Oh, and she said you’ve been slack.”

She groans. “I hear the guilt trip loud and clear, Mum. I’ll call her when I get back home. This weekend it’s you and me getting crazy and hitting on hot Spanish men.”

I like her plan.

* * *

“This is cute,” Grace says as we walk into the packed speakeasy-style bar.

“They have the best cocktails in Barcelona.”

I grab her hand and push my way through the Friday night crowd. We make it to the bar where we order a round of dirty martinis and a couple of tapas plates.

“How’s work?” I ask, sipping my drink.

“You know, ridding the world of one dictator at a time.”

“Excuse me, ladies, may we buy you a drink?” a sexy male voice asks us in Spanish. There’s a slight accent to his words—is it Russian?

Turning, I investigate the person who belongs to the deep voice. Holy hotness, the man is stunning. Beautiful green eyes sparkle at us. His brown hair is slicked back in a fifties style. He’s wearing a black T-shirt, and jeans, effortlessly casual, and—yes—he’s covered in tattoos, every inch of his skin decorated in intricate art.

Gracie kicks me under the table.

I hadn’t realized I was staring at him and hadn’t answered his question. My eyes glance at the equally gorgeous man beside him, who seems to be eye fucking my sister.

“Yes, of course,” I reply in Spanish.

The gorgeous man gives me an appreciative smile as I answer him and then takes a seat beside me. “You’re not Spanish?” he asks in English.

“Neither are you.”

He chuckles, dimples appearing in his skin.

Could he get any hotter?

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