Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
It was dumb of me to think, but I wondered if he’d said the same thing or something similar to his wife. Surely, he’d felt the same way about her.
Nope. Remember what Davina said. Don’t compare yourself.
Shoving the thought aside as best I could, I cradled his face in my hands and placed a soft kiss on his lips.
“We’ll have plenty of time later.”
He wasn’t done, though. Before I could wriggle away from him, he caught my mouth again, kissing me so deeply that I wanted to say Fuck it, rip my clothes off, and let him have every inch of me.
Who cared if his family was waiting? Who cared if his mom got mad? They could wait ten minutes longer.
Javier Valdez was the kind of man that could make any woman melt if he truly wanted her. His dominance, his accent, his body . . . it was all an addictive cocktail. One that I was becoming more and more thirsty for by the day.
By some miracle, we decided to behave.
He helped me off the counter. “Go,” he said, lowering a caress to my butt before spanking it. “Before you end up needing another shower.”
I bit back a smile as he gave my butt another squeeze.
Seriously. Don’t ask me how I managed to leave that penthouse intact.
Thirty
Octavia
Bubbles and Swaddles had nailed it.
It was clear the owner, Kyla, was doing great things with her company, because we were now all staring up at one of the New York billboards with her brand’s name on it.
Thousands of people would walk past this. Thousands would see the photo of the famous Javier Valdez holding Aleesa, who wore a hooded towel and was cheesing from ear to ear.
In the image, Javier smiled at his daughter, holding her close, as illustrated bubbles floated around them. His signature was stamped in the bottom right corner.
Far below the billboard and at just the right angle, I took a few pictures of Javier with Aleesa on his shoulders. Both of them wore big, eager smiles. They were so cute together, really. And he made such a great father.
I captured more photos of him with his mom and sister included, then a few candid shots of Aleesa, who did several princess poses with duck lips. I swear I loved that little girl.
When we all had had enough, we found an Argentinean bakery within walking distance, to catch a coffee and a quick sit-down.
“Ever had a cañoncito?” Javier asked, offering me a flaky cream-filled pastry.
“No, but it looks good,” I said, taking it graciously. “What’s in it?”
“It is filled with dulce de leche. It is very good, especially when it is warm.”
Excited, I bit into it, and the flavors instantly burst on my tongue. “Oh wow.”
“Right?” Javier grinned.
“Oh yeah. This is amazing.” It was perfectly flaky, with a hint of butter that melted on my tongue. And the filling was creamy and sweet but not overly so.
He handed Aleesa a palmerita and was about to sit when his phone rang. Withdrawing the phone from his pocket, he checked the screen, then blew a slightly agitated breath. “I have to take this. Keep an eye on her?”
“Of course.”
He cut his eyes to our left, looking at Paola and Catalina, who were leaving the counter with their orders.
“Be right back,” he said, then walked out of the bakery.
I watched as he marched back and forth in front of the window with the phone glued to his ear.
“So, how long?” Catalina’s voice caught me off guard as she twisted one of the chairs at my table around and sat on it backward. She rested one arm on top of the chair while biting into a frosted chocolate doughnut.
“How long what?” I asked.
“How long have you and my brother been sleeping together?”
My heart dropped. I swear it felt like it was sitting in the pit of my stomach now. “Um . . . I—I don’t know what you mean, Catalina.”
She smiled behind another bite. “You know exactly what I mean.”
I pressed my lips, looking from her to Paola, who was coming our way. She zeroed in on me, and my heart shot back up into my rib cage and pounded dangerously hard.
“I had a feeling.” Catalina shrugged. “And for the record, I’m not angry about it.”
“You’re not?” A whisper of relief filled my veins.
“Hell, no. If anything, this is good for my brother. Maybe not the fact that you’re Aleesa’s nanny, because that’s stereotypical as hell, but still . . . I think this is good. Even better because I actually like you.”
Paola took the seat across from Aleesa, diagonal from me. “What are we talking about?” she asked, dumping a packet of sugar into her coffee.
“How happy Javier has been lately,” Catalina answered.
“Hmm.” Paola made a face as she began stirring her coffee with a wooden stick. “I am not sure if it is true happiness he shares with her.”