DARIO MORATA

Making plans is a walk in the park, but the same cannot be said about executing them. I’ve planned my moves for years, making sure every pawn glides into its spot at the exact right moment, down to the last second.

Needless to say, getting close to the Vargas princess was nowhere on my packed itinerary—yet here I am. I don’t know if it’s the clarity in her eyes or the annoyance in them when she looks at me, but something keeps me glued to her side like a moth to a flame.

When I sat on that couch in her office earlier, I didn’t want to move an inch. A fire could have broken out, and escaping would have had to wait until I had my fill of staring at Luciana, which, I soon realized, might have resulted in a charred meal of grilled Dario Morata marinated with Luciana’s glare.

It’s a good thing, then, that I am not afraid of death. I have cheated it more times than I can count, starting from my childhood. The last thing that could kill me is her.

Her parents, on the other hand, wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet through my skull if they found out about my existence, but that’s not keeping me away.

VRE is on the edge of bankruptcy (thanks to me), and the only way out is to sell a property costing a dime—which is exactly what I am here to do. Am I turning into Santa Claus? Hell no. Like I said, chessboard. It’s all part of a plan, and it seems all the stars are in my favor. I wouldn’t be surprised. The Vargas family deserves everything coming their way.

I was joking—mostly—about her going out with me in exchange for answers, but I can’t complain about her compliance. Who would reject the company of such a beauty?

It’s not what she wants; she would prefer to throw the damn coffee in my face, but I’m too selfish to let her out of the deal. Besides, why let her off when my quest is not over yet? I am here to stay.

Speaking of lucky stars and whatnot, I’m thrilled to learn that the club she frequents is my latest property. I learned of the ‘coincidence’ this morning as I signed the property ownership papers, successfully purchasing yet another way of bumping into her.

In my defense, getting close to her is not the only reason I bought the club. It may have been the catalyst, but I am technically a businessman. Why would I say no to another cash cow?

Needless to say, Luciana is not in the slightest bit happy about finding me here. Her nostrils are flaring when she confronts me to give me that speech about affording her own drinks, which my men watch in silence. I catch them snickering discreetly, but I know Fidel will rim into me about it all night.

That’s not any of my concern right now. My focus is on the furious princess shoving money into my pockets because I won’t accept it. She has no clue what she might find in a man’s pockets, does she? Her hand brushes against my cock before she can move any further, letting her know exactly what can be felt from her angle.

Her eyes widen, her cheeks instantly flushing red. It’s so beautiful that I want to bite her cheek—I don’t know when I turned into a cannibal, either. The woman’s getting me all sorts of disoriented.

“What do you think you're doing?” Her tone is sharp and stern as she retracts her hand.

I don’t know whether she’s still talking about the drinks, or my getting hard at her simple touch. I pull her closer and whisper, “You were curious. I could show you more, in private.”

She glares at me, snarling for me to let go of her hand, but her flush deepens, and I catch a brief glimpse of reluctance in her eyes when I do as she says. She wasn’t opposed to touching me, was she?

Before she can stomp away, I grab her wrist again, trying to rein in the dirty thoughts. I battle against all the naughty thoughts, but as soon as those dazzling eyes meet mine, I lose the battle, and I know she sees it in my face.

“I could file charges,” she threatens, but her tone tells me it’s the roar of a paper tiger. She doesn’t want me to let go. I’m gripping her wrist, and I can feel her pulse accelerate. The goosebumps on her skin make me wish I could read her mind.

I summon a waiter and tell him to send more drinks to her previous table, where her friend will want to enjoy more drinks. Luciana is staying with me.

“Don’t you dare.” She tells the waiter, then turns to me with a glare. “I can pay for my own drinks, and so can my friend.”

The waiter, however, knows who calls the shots here. No one wants to offend the man whose name will be on their next paycheck. He takes my order, making Luciana gasp in shock.

“Why do they listen to you?”

“Because they still want their jobs,” I muse.

“If they want their job that badly, they should know better than to ignore a patron’s orders. I could file a complaint to his boss.”

Fidel, who has been quiet for all of two minutes, lets out a laugh that sounds almost like a snort.

“What’s funny?” she asks Fidel. I shoot him a warning look, and he, in turn, makes a show of pulling an imaginary zipper over his lips.

Luciana switches targets and returns her gaze to me with the kind of look that tells me if I don’t answer her, she will go sniffing for answers like a bloodhound. “Explain.”

I let go of her wrist as I say, “I happen to own this place. Sounds silly, right?”

She opens her mouth to say something, but changes her mind, replacing what I know was a round of scolding with “Asshole.”

In the next moment, she struts away, her hips swaying with every move. I may be barreling headfirst towards insanity, but I will certainly not complain about that phenomenal view.

When she’s out of sight, I glance back at my men to catch Rex with his jaw dropped open. My glare pulls him out of his stupor.

“Isn’t that Luciana Vargas?” He asks as a way of saving himself from my wrath.

I still want to kill him, but who would blame him? With a face and figure like that, it would be more surprising if men didn’t want to stare at her all day—that doesn’t mean I’m letting him off.

“That one is going to drive you nuts,” Fidel quips. “I just know it.”

“I didn’t ask for your advice, old man.” I tease. Fidel may only be two decades older than me, but you’d think he’s in his eighties with all his experience with women.

“Are you planning on telling her the truth?” asks Rex.

“And why on earth would I do that?” I glare at the brain-dead idiot. I still haven’t punished him for staring at Luciana like that.

Fidel rubs his chin, deep in thought, as he mumbles, “This is going to be fun.”

I picture the sight of Luciana walking out of the booth a moment ago, and I have to agree with the old fart. I down a shot of tequila at the thought. My quest for revenge just got interesting.

LUCIANA

In my next life, I want nothing to do with real estate, if it means never meeting Dario Morata.

That’s one part of my brain speaking.

The other part of my brain—the one that can’t get over his looks—wishes to see that breathtaking face again. Better yet, it wishes we had met under very different circumstances. Maybe then, it would have been fun to get to know him. Maybe I wouldn’t have found him annoying.

This man has managed to make me question my sanity in less than a day.

If I didn’t need him for business, I would have long shown him the door.

‘But he’s insanely hot, you have to admit,’ a tiny part of my brain whispers. It must be the part responsible for all the bad decisions I have ever made—the devil on my shoulder, if you will.

Why else would I be entertaining the thought of a man like him? He’s shameless, to say the least, especially with that little stunt under the table…

Fine, there was nothing ‘little’ about what I felt through his pants, and shame was the last thing I felt.

My momentary lapse in sanity doesn’t keep me from wondering how he became the owner of the club out of the blue. There is no way this is a coincidence, but what is he up to?

I have to leave before I succumb to the insane temptation of marching back up to that booth and interrogating him.

I may have to haul Claudia out of here—just my luck. She's not too drunk to walk, but she doesn't want to leave yet, claiming that she hasn't had enough looks at Dario.

“Aren't you going to talk about what just happened?” she asks with a mischievous smile.

“What?” I feign ignorance.

Her grunt is all I need to know about what she thinks of my act. As I try not to crack under her detective eyes, I realize she’s not cheering me on for putting a guy in his place. That’s a first.

“So what has changed about you?” I ask. “Have you decided to finally tuck your claws away?”

“Fat chance.” Her laughs come off more like a snort. “You still need an elder sister to fight your battles—and if you dare ask which sister I’m talking about, I’ll disown you.”

“Okay.” I laugh, holding my palms up in surrender before instantly resuming my task of dragging her out.

“It’s just…” she drawls. “Why would I fight against your chances of getting laid?”

“Okay, that’s enough madness for one day.” I yank her arm over my shoulder to support her.

_________

I wake up the next morning to a text.

Unknown Number: Good Morning, Babe.

The heart emoji at the end is enough to ruin my day within seconds of opening my eyes. I don’t even need to ask who the unknown sender is. There’s only one man who seems to have taken up the entertaining hobby of infuriating me.

I didn't give him my contact details, but he looks like he has all the power in the world to get the social security number of anyone’s great-grandparents, let alone a mere cell phone number.

I text back so fast that my fingers could break the screen.

Me: Don't make it sound like we're in some sort of relationship.

Unknown Number: We can rectify that… By being in a relationship

No thanks. He may be arguably one of the most handsome men in existence, but I’m not an idiot.

Me: I don't date clients.

Unknown Number: Get me a perfect house, and I will no longer be a client. We can move in.

Gritting my teeth, I groan in frustration, just as the door to my room opens and my mother walks in, pursing her lips.

“Isn't it a little too early for drama?” she asks as she walks towards my bed.

He's going to drive me crazy. Actually, he's driving me crazy, and not the good kind of crazy—is there a good kind?

Perhaps those long, smooth fingers might know a way or two… I scold myself for even noticing such a detail. What on earth is wrong with me?

“Do I even want to know?” Mother teases. When I shake my head, desperately pleading for her not to poke into the matter, she asks, “What’s gotten you so furious?”

“Nothing I want to talk about right now,” I effectively shut the door for discussion.

She sits on my bed, tousling my hair. “Very well. You know where to find me if you want to talk about it.”

Huh? Who are you, and what have you done with Lara Vargas?

My relationship with my parents is not bad, but it's also not the kind where we have heart-to-hearts over ice cream and juice boxes.

To be fair, it’s not easy to juggle a grand empire and family time. They try their best.

“What are you doing here? Did Dad dump you?'' I tease.

“Not in this lifetime.” She laughs. “We haven’t spent time in a while. You have been missing dinner lately.”

“Since when do we talk about that?” I ask.

Last I checked, those should be Paula's words.

“Since today.”

“Everyone has been worried about the company. Your father has been juggling between VRE and the new construction company he wants to launch.”

That's right.

She continues, “I want us to at least have a normal family dinner.”

She wants me to assure her that I'll be there tonight, like something big is going to happen, which is more strange than her showing up in my room out of the blue.

“I can't tonight, Mum,” I say.

“Why not?” Her brows furrow.

“I have some business to take care of. I'll tell you when it's done.”

She reluctantly accepts it after a short while. “Not letting you off the hook tomorrow,” she warns.

“Okay, mum. I'll be there tomorrow.”

She stands to leave, but turns after a few steps to curiously ask, “Date?”

The instant frown must have shown on my face before I could stop it, but I ease it with a wink. “Not talking about it.”

____________

The list of people going to drive me nuts is rapidly expanding, and Sofia has found herself at the top.

She hasn't stopped ranting about how hot the guy I had a meeting with was. “I'd give an arm and a leg just so he could have a drink with me,” she says.

What is wrong with everyone around me?

It's barely nine in the morning and… “Are you going to give my schedule for the day anytime soon?” I ask, trying to avoid the topic.

She's one of the best secretaries I've had, but today I’m in a rare mood and I don’t want to accidentally take it out on her. I'm her boss, though sometimes I treat her like a close friend. Actually, most of the time. Well, except when there is serious business to discuss and when she's messed something up, and I don't want to let her off the hook so easily.

After making her go back to her desk, I resume my work after looking at my schedule.

She comes back a few minutes later.

“Not interested in a chit-chat about Dario,” I tell her immediately as she walks in.

But her expression is different from the one she had in the morning when I walked in.

“Who died?” I ask.

“Nobody, but maybe someone is about to, when she hears this,” she responds.

I look up at her, my finger trembling over my mouse. “Start talking.”

“I have news for you. The Comfort Real Estate contacted Dario, and they've offered him a better deal.”

Oh Crap!

DARIO

The Delta Night Club is now a Morata property.

I bought it at a very high price, and the owner almost backed off, claiming that the deal was too good to be true.

Well, thanks to the skills taught to me since I was a teenager about business, I managed to secure that one. Except, business skills are not the only skills I used. I negotiated and, like everyone else, he didn’t have the nerve to say no to me.

Now we have more cash flow in the legal system. Fidel taught me how to play every legal system faster than I gained the courage to ask my first crush out. I probably owe him a few Maseratis for his lessons.

I'm at my office in the mansion when Rex storms in.

“Someone ran a background check on you,” he says, sitting opposite me with his legs crossed.

Why do I have an idea of who this someone might be? “Who?” I still ask.

Rex is my best man in running investigations, looking into people, and unveiling every skeleton in their closets. Besides that, he also makes sure nothing gets traced back to us, so it's not a surprise that he found out about this.

“Your little princess,” he says with a grin.

“She's not my…”

Okay, easier said. Then why the hell was she in my dream last night? Then, after that, her image has been residing in my brain. That’s the part that’s not aligning with my mission.

Regardless, “Last night was part of my plan. I don't intend to—you know what, why am I even talking about this?”

“Maybe she has charmed you.”

I give him a serious look to let him know that he should get to business as soon as possible, and by that, I mean now.

“So, what are you going to do about it? Since you've made it your business to annoy the crap out of her. I thought you were going to spare her since she's ….”

“Don’t you dare say it. Besides, you don't have to keep on reminding me of who she is. Right now, the main point is destroying the Vargas Empire. That's the mission. By the time I'm done, they won't even recognize themselves.” The words roll off my tongue with so much spite that I didn't even notice how hard I clenched my fists.

“Okay,” he lifts his hands. “Whatever you say, boss.”

“Just find out who this PI is and kill him,” I order.

If he's working for the Vargas, then is there any reason to spare him?

“Actually,” I change my mind,” find him and lock him up. I'll deal with him myself.”

As soon as Rex leaves, I pick up my phone to call the princess, who seems to have developed some interest in me.

She's not happy to hear from me.

“Sweetheart, if you wanted to know more about me, you could have just asked,” I say as soon as the call connects.

She gives me an angry “Hello.”

“What in the name of earth are you talking about? she feigns ignorance.

“Okay, if we're going to play this game, then I'm in,” I tell her. I can hear her annoyed breaths on the other end.

“I have no games to play with you, Mr. Morata.”

“I guess we'll find out about it tonight.” I remind her of our deal.

“Goodbye,” she hangs up before I can say anything more.

________

In the evening, as I dress up to meet Luciana, another female walks into my room.

“Hey, stranger,” she flops onto my bed as I tie my shoes.

“What are you doing here? I don't remember calling you,” I squint at her.

“That's right, you don't remember because you've forgotten all about me.” She sits beside me and circles her arms around my neck.

“We have an agreement, Brandy. This is not a relationship…and I thought we were on the same page.”

“Of course, we are. I’m not stupid enough to fall for you. But you’ve been too busy lately.”

“Brandy.”

“I know it’s not a relationship, and I’ve had my share of fun with you. Like I said, I can’t fall for you unless I hate myself so much to throw my heart into your hands just for you to crush it.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Let me finish,” she cuts me short. “I know how much you hate commitments.”

I turn to look at her and gauge how serious she is. “You want us to commit? You know it’s hard to understand you when you keep contradicting yourself, Brandy.”

“I’m saying, if you find someone else, will you tell me?”

I skeptically narrow my eyes at her. “Why are we having this conversation again?”

“I just don’t want to make a fool out of myself. If I find someone, I’ll also tell you.”

“Or you already found someone,” I smile. “In which case, we can go back to being good friends, and I’ll be here to give you relationship advice.”

She bursts out laughing.

I close my cufflink and stand to leave. “I’ll see you around, Brandy.”

Fidel is waiting for me in the living room.

“Are you sure about this, Dario?” he asks for the umpteenth time. My date with Luciana has his knickers in a bunch.

“I know why you're worried, Fidel,” I hold his shoulder.

“Oh, you have no damn idea.”

“I don’t want you to lose control. You know how you get about anything that has to do with the Vargas.” He goes on with his speech like he's preparing me for something big.

I let out a soft laugh. “This should be making you happy. At least I get to follow your advice tonight. Enjoy while it lasts.”

Besides, “I was in the same room as her yesterday. In the same club. Did you see me lose control?”

“Uh-huh? What about that stunt with her hand?” he asks.

“That was just me having fun. She's a woman. But I'm not talking about that type of control, you idiot.”

He's a wise man, but sometimes his statements make him a lesser, even though he's lived in this world longer than I have. A fifty-year-old man has seen more.

“Use your head to think—the one over your shoulders,” he warns as always.

I drive to the Vargas manor after dropping by a florist’s to pick a pretty bouquet for Luciana, like the gentleman I’m not.

Or maybe this is just a way to dismiss negative thoughts, to avoid thinking of thinking about who Luciana really is—apart from beautiful.

She’s the daughter of my mortal nemesis, who’s probably going to drive me insane.

My mortal nemesis.

The sudden thought arises the anger that I’ve been trying to keep in a cage.

I know that I should try to push the rage away and stick to the plan, but that's all I feel as I drive.

Shit, I need to rearrange myself.

This is the enemy’s residence. I'm probably going to meet them eye to eye. Hugo Vargas and his wife, the culprits who made my life take a nosedive towards hell. I don't know how much control I have in me.

Fidel worries way too much, but I underestimated my anger. I thought I had all my spite under control. But now that I’m here, all I want is to burn this manor down to ashes.