A simple walk down a wooden path would take me to the beach that I knew Isa would love when she finally came to the island and got over her fear of the water.
"Mi hijo, you cannot threaten a man's lineage because you are impatient. Off with you!" Regina said, shooing me toward the front door. My bag already waited for me in the car, loaded by the house staff.
"Verify the arrangements with everyone one last time, please?" I asked her. She rolled her eyes but nodded her head in agreement. She would do as I asked, because she knew better than most what the consequences might be should I be disappointed. I may not murder my mother's best friend, but I had no such loyalty toward random business owners who didn't do as El Diablo commanded.
"I'm going!" I protested, making my way down to the path that would take me to the marina.
When I’d hurried down the steps, there was no doubt in my mind, as I watched my men load my neon orange McLaren onto my yacht, that Isa would need time to adjust to her new life.
She’d have ten days.
Tossing my keys to the valet driver, I climbed out of the McLaren and made my way toward him. "Not a scratch," I warned. He nodded his understanding, eyeing my car like the masterpiece it was. I had several vehicles in my garage, but the McLaren was my favorite for the moment.
Moon was a massive white structure and looked commercial in the front, but the interior was pure luxury, and no hotel in Ibiza Town could compete with the views from the pool area. It would be the perfect place to seduce Isa and start our lives together, second only to my home.
Sadly, that wasn't an option. Convincing Isa to go up to a hotel room with a strange man would be tricky enough. Taking her home with me would prove impossible.
As I made my way into the hotel lobby, the reception desk shone with the brilliance of blue stone mosaics artfully placed along the front. "What can I do for you, Sir?" the woman behind the desk asked, her lips moving before she even glanced up from her computer. The moment she did, her eyes widened, and she dropped her mouth open. "Señor Ibarra," she said, reaching out a hand to probe the manager standing next to her.
He grinned, bringing up the reservations on his computer. "Señor Ibarra, I have you for ten nights in the Penthouse Suite. Is that correct?" he asked.
I nodded in response. "I trust the couple didn't give you any trouble with switching to the private villa?"
"Not at all. They were shocked, understandably, but thrilled to have a space to themselves in such a way. Thank you for your generosity. We would have accommodated your request either way, of course," he said.
"Of course," I agreed. The man wasn't stupid enough to think that anyone in Ibiza could deny me what I wanted without risking his head.
He handed me the key card for my suite. "Your bags will be delivered shortly."
"The arrangements for the party are in order, I presume?"
"Invites have been sent to the hotel, along with very specific instructions, as requested," he confirmed. I nodded without another word, turning and making my way to the elevator that would take me to the Penthouse Suite on the top floor of the hotel.
A woman followed me in, sliding her body in front of me to press the button for her floor with a smile. I pulled my phone from my pocket, ignoring her presence entirely as I scrolled through my text messages to pass the time. The woman stepped off with a huff, clearly unaccustomed to being dismissed so readily. I'd gotten that reaction often over the past sixteen months.
But none of them could elicit even a modicum of interest from me. It was a reaction I never could have expected, something I would have mocked my men for before laying eyes on my princesa.
Stepping out of the elevator on the top floor, I strode across the hall to the only door. The Penthouse I would spend my week in occupied the entire level, and a quick swipe of the key card turned the light green so I could step into the room.
I pushed the door open, making my way past the entry table and into the kitchen of the suite. Through the living room, I passed the chess set resting on the coffee table as requested and moved to the sliders and opened them.
Stepping out onto a terrace, one of two on the level with our suite, in addition to the private rooftop terrace we had to ourselves, I looked out over the water as my phone dinged with the alert of a new message.
I swallowed as I read the memo from Joaquin. It was just one simple word. Nothing that should have changed my life, but it did.
Landed.
Isa was in Ibiza.
3 Isa
The sun hit my face in a crash of warmth the moment we stepped out of the airport, lugging our bags behind us. If Chicago hadn't been warm before we'd left, I might have collapsed into a puddle with the joy I felt in that moment.
The air didn't sting my face, and I didn't have to suffer through the cold weather without a jacket.
There was only sunshine and blue sky as I tipped my head up to search for clouds. Not a single one lingered on the horizon, nothing to taunt me with the promise of dreary weather lurking around the corner. The breeze was practically nonexistent, but it smelled like saltwater.
I'd never understood what people meant by that scent. Having never been near the ocean before, I wouldn't have thought I'd understand it so instinctively. But there
