Page 12 of LA King

Alana played a big part in that happiness.

Alana and her infectious laugh and incredible smile.

Alana Montoya is taking up far too much space in my head, and it needs to stop.

Chapter

Eight

Alana

Alejandro left after his mom’s visit and stayed the night at his hotel, which isn’t unusual for him, but I was foolishly disappointed that he left. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was with one of those many women he bragged about wanting him, and it hurt more than usual after we shared such a passionate kiss.

In the time since we got married, he’s barely shown any interest in me. Prior to our sham of a wedding, I would have considered that the perfect outcome. So, what’s changed? It can’t only be that he’s the kind of handsome that makes intelligent women drool and has a body that could have been carved by a Renaissance sculptor, because I already knew those things about him. And it’s not like I’ve discovered he has a sparkling personality.

But he hasn’t been outwardly cruel to me. Hasn’t appeared repulsed by me. Hasn’t hurt me. Hasn’t been the devil my father convinced me he was.

Wow. Is my bar really so low?

I should be ashamed of myself, honestly.

But he was true to his word about sending me some new bodyguard candidates, and I’ve already interviewed four of his security personnel this morning.

Although “interviewed” would be a stretch. It was more like me asking the four men the same set of carefully curated questions and them giving me monosyllabic answers while looking uncomfortable. Unfortunately, they were all Hank-alikes. I wonder if Alejandro employs anyone, apart from Magda and Jacob, with any actual personality.

I check my watch as I wait for the final candidate. It’s after eleven, and I’m due to meet Amanda Grant and the other charity ladies for lunch at one. I still need time to choose my outfit. I really want to impress them, but I also don’t want to appear like I’m trying too hard.

It’s my hope that some of these women might become my friends and make my time here in LA more bearable—not to mention I’ll be doing something useful for charity too, which would at least give me purpose even if I don’t make friends.

I gasp when the fifth candidate walks into the room. He’s so different from the previous four. Younger by a good twenty years, he has the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen and the cutest dimples beneath his stubble, which are obvious because he’s smiling—and that smile is the biggest difference. He actually looks like he wants to be here.

“H-hi,” I stutter. What if I blow this and he doesn’t want to be my babysitter?

“Buenos días, Mrs. Montoya.” He extends his hand in greeting.

I stand and shake it, noting how huge his hands and forearms are. He’s wearing a suit, like all of Alejandro’s security people, but his muscles are so huge they look like they are about to burst out of it. Still, he has an easiness about him that instantly relaxes me.

“Please call me Alana.” I fix my skirt as I sit down. “And you must be Hugo?”

He takes a seat opposite me. “Yep, that’s me, ma’am.”

The formality reminds me of my grandpa and makes me laugh.

“Sorry.” He laughs too. “Hard to shake the ma’am. It’s been drilled into me.”

“You were in the military?”

“Yes, ma’am. I mean, Alana,” he quickly corrects himself. “Navy SEAL for ten years.” “My grandpa served too.”

“He did?”

The fondest memories of my childhood involve my grandparents, and even thinking about them today makes me feel so much less alone already. “Yep. For almost thirty years. I used to love to listen to his stories. He was my hero.”

Hugo nods. “Fourth generation of service for me.”

“Why’d you leave?”

He clears his throat, and I worry I’ve overstepped. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” I assure him.