Page 5 of Virgin's Stolen Nights with the Boss

Alejandro and Emily would soon be taking their baby daughter, little Josefa, on a trip to England. What if they decided to remain there?

Sebastián and Anna were already planning an extended trip on the yacht to celebrate their new family as soon as Willow’s adoption came through.

And now her father was gone...

At any moment Maria might return to her beloved flamenco, leaving them again, just as she had all those years ago.

People hurt her or they left. Carmen knew that only too well.

That was what they did.

She didn’t want to fight any more. Not for a house and land...not to be loved. She was just too tired. Too heartsick. Alejandro was right. Shewasgoing soft.

But from this day forward, Carmen vowed, she wouldalwaysbe the first to leave...

CHAPTER ONE

ELIASHENLEYHADattended more awards nights than most movie stars.

Tonight he stood, seemingly relaxed and poised, with Wanda, his regular date for such events, by his side.

His thick brown hair was superbly trimmed, his chiselled jaw freshly shaven, his tuxedo immaculate. He looked every inch the Hollywood heartthrob—for surely someone that good-looking must be famous!

But the glances and whispers as onlookers tried to place him came only from those not in the know.

Those in the know treated him with a certain reverence.

After all, the barrel of his burnished Namiki pen might as well be filled with liquid twenty-four-carat gold, such was the value of Elias Henley’s signature.

Yet, whether or not you were in the know, one constant remained: Elias Henley was something of an enigma.

His exquisite face had not been touched by needles, and his hair—including the flash of silver—was all his. The combination afforded him a distinguished edge. Even the slight receding at his temples only made him sexier, unique as it was in this setting. There were real lines at the corners of his eyes, and his brow actually furrowed to indicate emotion...

It did so now.

‘Hey, Elias.’

A movie producer came up and shook his hand and suitable small talk was made. Or rather, Elias made small talk. The producer, desperate for news of any progress on the finance he wanted for a script, couldn’t hide his impatience.

‘I was just talking with your father about—’

‘I’m surprised you could find him...’ Elias quickly deflected the talk away from the project the producer wanted to discuss and looked over his shoulder. ‘Ah, there he is.’

He looked towards his father, William Henley, who was in his utter element, relishing the buzz of the event, while his mother, Eleanor, stood quietly by his side, nodding and smiling.

Tonight was an exclusive event, at which his late grandfather’s movie financing company would be recognised and undoubtedly rewarded. For now, though, it was a drinks reception—an opportunity for networking and everything Elias hated.

He intended to leave most of the speeches to his father, who excelled on nights such as these. But there was, though, one speech that Elias was expected to make.

It was the one night a year he detested more than anything else: the occasion when the Henleys would be announcing the recipient of an award named after their late son—a full-ride scholarship to study film at the Californian college many of his successful family had attended.

Elias would thank everyone for their donations and reiterate just how much this scholarship would change the life of its lucky recipient. Then he would acknowledge Seraphina, his late brother’s widow, and how hard she worked alongside his mother to make this award a success.

And, despite his seemingly unruffled demeanour, Elias was dreading it.

He stood, utterly unmoved, as the producer reiterated the wonders of the script upon which Elias was about to undertake a full risk assessment.

‘It’s a guaranteed winner,’ he emphasised, assuming they were the words Elias wanted to hear.

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