Page 1 of Virgin's Stolen Nights with the Boss

PROLOGUE

‘CARMEN,ESTONOha terminado...’

Carmen, this isn’t over.

The suppressed anger in Sebastián Romero’s voice would send a chill down many a spine. But for Carmen her older brother’s words provoked only a deep sense of weariness.

The three Romero siblings stood in the newly deserted stables.

Her brothers, on hearing that their sister was moving the horses, had dropped everything, driving in urgent convoy from the luxurious sherry bodega that stood in the heart of Jerez out to the sprawling property that was about to become the centre of a bitter legal dispute.

The brothers wore smart suits and shades, and both were a foot taller than Carmen, who stood in jodhpurs and, even in the mid-spring Spanish sun, a jumper.

‘Papá always said that he wanted the hacienda to be left to you,’ Sebastián insisted. He wanted her to stay and fight. ‘Maria only came back when she knew Papá was dying.’

None of the Romero siblings referred to Maria as Mother or Mamá. The title had been dropped individually rather than collectively—one by one, each had chosen to distance themselves in an effort to protect their minds and hearts.

Alejandro chimed in then. ‘If you leave now you are handing it to her on a plate!’

‘Please, stop.’

Carmen put up her hand to halt them. Her father’s death six months ago was still a raw wound that smarted when touched. It was an agonising cocktail of confusion and regret, and he’d left her with so many unanswered questions...

‘It’s just for three months! Even before Papá died I said I needed a break.’

‘She did say that.’ Alejandro nodded, addressing their elder brother.

But as he went to put a protective arm around Carmen she pulled away. She felt his sudden tension as he perhaps registered the fragility of her frame beneath the heavy jumper.

‘Carmen...’ He closed his eyes as he chose his words carefully. ‘By rehoming the horses you’ve made things easier on her.’

‘So I should have left them for her to neglect?’ Carmen challenged. ‘We all know how little she cared forus.’

By most standards the Romero siblings were blessed—all were joint heirs to the famed sherry bodega, and properties and investments far beyond Jerez. And while they shared many features, from their raven-black hair to their passionate natures, they were all very different people—be it by nature or nurture, the fires of their childhood had forged three unique personalities.

Sebastián, ten years older than Carmen, was ruthless. His recent marriage to Anna, and pending adoption of Anna’s young daughter Willow, might have softened his soul, but not his stance on business. And, to him, their mother Maria de Luca was nasty business. With José Romero dead, he wanted Maria de Luca annihilated—right down to the image of her being removed from the label of the famed sherry they produced.

Alejandro, five years apart from both Sebastián and Carmen, was more reasonable. He wanted most of their father’s last wishes met, and for Maria to remain the face of the brand, but when it came to the family home he was more than prepared to stand up for what he felt was right. The place belonged to his sister.

The legal might of the Romeros was primed and ready for a fight, because the last will and testament of José Romero was being bitterly contested.

As for Carmen...

At twenty-six, she was the baby of the family. She had always been fiery, and sided with Sebastián’s strong stance against Maria, but since her father’s passing she’d felt increasingly depleted.

‘Carmen,’ he warned, ‘you need to stay and fight this—not run away.’

‘I’m not running away.’ Carmen’s voice was always a little throaty but this morning it sounded strained and hoarse. ‘I just need a break.’

‘But why America?’ Alejandro asked.

‘It’s the land of the free,’ Carmen responded. She had always liked hearing that at school, and had loved the occasions when she had competed there. ‘And I want to be free.’

‘But why LA?’

‘Maybe I want to be a film star or a model...’ She fought a rare blush. ‘Maybe I want to dance...’

‘Carmen, you hate getting dressed up even for the Romero Ball.’

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