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I playfully gasp. “And deprive a woman of the chance to go shopping for a beautiful dress in the beautiful town of Barcelona? You wouldn’t dare!”

“You’ve got me there, Miss Bianca. I do look forward to seeing you tonight,” he tells me, before shocking the shit out of me when he hands me his black card. “Shopping is on me. Spoil yourself, sweetheart. Enjoy your afternoon, and text me which hotel you’re staying at. I’ll send a car to fetch you.”

Fetch me. Like I’m a dog.

“I, uhhh . . . Thank you,” I say, bashfully playing the part. In reality, I probably have more money in my account than he could dream of right now. But hell, if he wants to put his hands in his pockets to get me a dress for tonight, then who am I to argue with that? Besides, I’m almost positive that he’s only offering to coverthe cost because he has every intention of tearing the dress off me later, but he’s about to be sorely disappointed. If I didn’t jump at the opportunity to ride Raiden’s redwood tree trunk, then this guy doesn’t stand a chance.

Saying a quick goodbye with the promise to see him later, I head out of the beachfront restaurant with Louis’s black card burning a hole in my purse, then I order an Uber to take me to the best boutique in Barcelona.

A few hours later, I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my hotel suite, my brand-new deep red dress hugging my body just right. It’s a strappy lace full-length gown with a plunging neckline that dives deep between my breasts, showing off just the right amount of cleavage to gain attention while the slit at the front trails right up my thigh and to my hip.

This dress could be torn off me with nothing more than a good gust of wind, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’ve never worn anything so daring and sexy, and as I stare at myself in the mirror, I’m in awe of the girl staring back at me.

I wear my hair in a low bun, leaving the dress to be the statement of the night, before adding a few embellishments to finish the look: a dainty gold chain, small gold stud earrings, and a pair of strappy nude heels. After spritzing my favorite perfume, I take one final look in the mirror and smile.

This is going to be wild.

With everything in place, I head down to the lobby, and just aspromised, there’s a car waiting for me with Louis’s driver already holding the door open.

“You must be Miss St. Hayes.”

“I am,” I say with a smile.

A pitying look crosses his face, but it’s gone sooner than it arrived as he ushers me into the back of the blacked-out SUV, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of man Louis Mendez truly is.

After a twenty-minute drive along the coast of Barcelona, the driver finally pulls into the biggest home I’ve ever seen, and considering the types of properties I frequent, that’s saying something.

The driver stops at the very top of the circular driveway, gets out, and opens the door for me. “Miss St. Hayes,” he says, gesturing for me to step out of the vehicle. “Enjoy your night.”

I offer him a small smile, and with that, I walk right up to the door and peer in before immediately realizing that this isn’t the night Javier Rodríguez will die. There must be hundreds of people already inside, and more cars still piling in through the massive front gates.

There are too many witnesses clamoring for Javier’s attention. But that doesn’t mean that tonight won’t be the perfect opportunity to get close. Will I be able to get a moment alone with Javier? Probably not. But will I get a moment alone in his private office with his daily planner? I guarantee it.

And with that, I step up to the doorman and offer him a smile.

“Name?” he asks.

“Bianca St. Hayes.”

He searches over the list, and not a moment later, he steps out of the way and waves me in. “Welcome to the night of your life, Miss St. Hayes.”

CHAPTER 8

RAIDEN

Music pulses through the speakers as I make my way around the party of the year, my drink untouched in my hand. It’s been one hell of a business trip, and honestly, I still can’t believe I’m here.

After working my connections in the industry, I nailed down a last-minute meeting with Javier Rodríguez and his associates, something my firm has been working on for who the fuck knows how long, and after showing up and waiting for almost forty minutes, I received a call to say he’d canceled.

I’ve never been so fucking pissed in my life. I didn’t come all the way to Barcelona to be stood up by a bunch of rich fuckers in three-piece suits, and I was just about to let them know exactly how I felt about that, when Javier offered a personal invitation to tonight’s black-tie party at his home to apologize, promising we could talk business once he had a beer in his hand and bikini-clad girls in his pool.

I couldn’t fault him. I like the way the man thinks. If only he weren’t a complete piece of shit.

This contract for IV Global could mean big things for the company, and I can’t afford to lose it. I’m the best rep in the firm, have been since the day it was founded, and nobody has ever gotten close to challenging that. I’ve more than earned my position. It’ll be a cold day in hell when I set foot on a flight back to LA without getting this job done. No matter if it takes me days or weeks, I won’t be leaving until I get exactly what I want.

Making my way around Javier’s mansion, I take it all in.