Lourdes blinked back a sheen of tears.“I don’t know what you expect me to say.”
Sighing, he ran his hand through his messy hair before he clasped her warm, smooth cheek.A shiver raced through him.“Nothing.I expect nothing.”As much as it killed him, he had to shelve his dreams to give her the time she needed to heal.For her, he would do anything.Bear any obstacle.Wait only God knew how many years for her to give him her heart, if she ever did.“I understand, princess.I want you to be happy.Whatever that looks like for you.”
She held his gaze, something unspoken passing between them.
Something real.Hopeful.Passionate.
He dipped his head and kissed her.The sweetness of her lips cascaded through him like an aphrodisiac.Instinct demanded he toss her onto his shoulder and run away to the ends of the earth, but that kind of recklessness would end with disaster.His death or hers, probably both.Someday, he would have the strength, the power, and the means to make her his.Someday, he would call Lourdes Villegas his wife.
When that day came, heaven help anyone foolish enough who tried to take her from him.
She belonged to him, even if he now had to let her go.
Chapter One
Three Years Later
The apartment doorslammed open with a bone-rattling crash.
Lourdes spun around in her living room, sloshing the steaming peppermint tea in her cup across her wrist.The sting barely registered.A tall, masked man dressed from head to toe in black like a monster from her nightmares barged inside, dragging her unconscious bodyguard across the threshold.He dropped Yago onto her floral rug like a sack of grain and kicked the door shut behind him.
No, no, no.This couldn’t be happening.
She backed away.The apartment was five floors up.No fire escape, no back exit, no help.Just her, and the intruder.Every move she’d practiced from various online self-defense videos vanished under the weight of fear.
“T-take whatever you want, and go,” she stuttered and bumped into the armrest of the sofa.Cardboard boxes and her luggage set cluttered the open-plan living and dining area like boulders in her path.The walls closed in, threatening to cut off the air that sliced like fine-toothed blades down her throat.Her heart pounded against her ribs and resounded like war drums.She raised the half-full cup as a weapon and sidestepped toward the kitchen.He met her every step, and she froze.She’d never reach the cutlery block before he grabbed her.She nodded toward the toiletry case on the hardwood floor.“My jewelry’s in there.Pawn it.Wear it.I don’t care.Just don’t hurt me.”
Thank God she hadn’t been able to sleep and got up for some tea.The last thing she needed was to be snoozing while a trespasser prowled about her apartment.
“Easy.”He raised his gloved hands, palms out.
His low voice, somehow familiar, clenched her belly with primal need.The black-handled knife holstered on his belt taunted her from the open lapels of his leather jacket.As did the shiny silver handgun in his shoulder holster.
“I’m not here for your jewelry, Lourdes.”He ripped off his ski mask and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans.
Her heart skipped, then twisted.Time stilled.The room tilted sideways, or was that her mind tumbling off the deep end?The masked intruder and Enrique Briceño—one and the same.HerEnrique.Strong jawline and cleft chin.Stormy dark eyes.Short, jet-black hair that curled a little around his ears.Butterflies took flight in her middle.
