Page 3 of Stealing His Christmas Present

He was the hottest guy I’d ever seen.

Tall and lean, with muscular arms that were covered in tattoos.

Messy short jet-black hair that was as black as his T-shirt. Dark eyes that promised a mystery that wanted to be uncovered.

His dark gray jeans hung low on his hips. His boots were black too.

If I had any brain cells, I would walk away. He looked different from everyone else in the club, even though I wasn’t sure what it was about him that didn’t fit for some reason.

Or, well, I didn’t want to admit to myself that he was danger itself.

But then he approached me.

“Hola, guapa,” he said, and I was lost.

When he shifted closer, moving in rhythm with the music, it felt so damn right.

I stared into his eyes until we were only inches apart. His arm snaked around my waist and he pulled me against his chest, making me gasp.

It was all like in a dream.

“¿Cómo te llamas?” he asked.

“Sorry. I don’t speak Spanish.”

“What’s your name?” His accent sounded very American, which should totally worry me.

But instead, it impressed me.

Silly me. I was like an animal that had been caged its whole life, and once it was released, it would die out there in the wild.

But since Stella was the one the bad guys were looking for because she was married to Dante, I thought I didn’t matter.

“Lea.” I barely managed to remember my fake name.

“I’m Pablo. It’s nice to meet you.”

My lips pulled up into a smile, and I couldn’t stop grinning as I wound my arms around his neck. Our bodies moved as if we’d danced together a thousand times before.

Or, more likely, it felt that way because we were more touching than dancing.

I blinked, pushing Pablo out of my mind. At least for a while.

I’d been so damn stupid and thought there was no way that, with all the precautions we’d taken, someone would find our college and try to spy on us. I’d just wanted to live and feel alive, and my mistake had almost cost Stella and me our lives.

“Claudia?” Stella asked.

“What?” I lifted my head and met her gaze.

“There’s a cute guy working at my school. He’s a teacher, and he’s really nice. Kids adore him. I could invite him to my party.”

I tilted my head at her. “And how’s that supposed to work out?”

Usually, she tried to set me up with guards and other members of the mafia. Never anyone who wasn’t part of our world.

Sure, Stella had built a couple of schools for less fortunate children so that everyone would get the best education and have a shot at a great future, and no one had figured out she was the daughter of a mafia boss.

But her husband was a mafia boss too, not some clueless guy she’d met in a school hallway.

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