Shopping with Grandpa

Nothing could have possibly shut Bella more than the slam of Miguel’s mouth against hers.

She had drawn in a breath the same second his lips touched hers, and her lungs held the air in stunned suspension.

Her heart smashed against her ribs, once, twice, and still he didn’t stop, only deepened the pressure with his strong, hard lips while he scooped her up in his arms.

She should bite him—pride and instinct both told her to—but she didn’t. She couldn’t. All she could do was…nothing. She had the most frustrating and infuriating urge to draw him closer still, but with her hands tied that was hardly possible.

"Damn you Bella Trump for kissing a man you came to spy on!"

There was no passion in his kiss, just like the night they spent together no sense of need or desire, but there was heat. A consuming, toe-curling, hot fire that spread through her blood even as her mind screamed that she was an idiot.

Nothing like this had ever happened to her before, and she had no defenses prepared for it, no protection just like that night.

He carried her somewhere, but she didn’t even care where. His chest was solid and warm against her, his arms strong and muscular. They were both soaking wet, and it felt as if steam were rising from their skin and clothes. Clothes that suddenly felt tight and uncomfortable.

His mouth stayed steady on hers, never letting up, and she felt as if she were drowning in the taste of him, something dark and heady and overwhelmingly masculine.

He made a sound deep in his throat, and she couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or pleasure. He swung her sideways through a doorway, and for the fastest moment, so fleeting she wasn’t certain if she imagined it, she felt his tongue sweep over her lips.

Her senses were still spinning when he dumped her unceremoniously into the bathtub.

She heard a man’s voice call Miguel’s name, and the sound snapped her out of her trance.

She blinked twice and swung an elbow at his face, catching him in his bottom lip. His head snapped back and he swore, then grabbed a sock from a sports bag sitting beside the tub and shoved it into her mouth. A hand towel came next, and he secured it over her mouth with a knot at the base of her head.

Furious, she shook her head and screamed into the gag, praying the sock was clean while she plotted his fall.

It was going to be slow and painful. Her only satisfaction at the moment was the blood oozing from his lip where she’d whacked him with her elbow.

He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, scowled when he saw the blood, then rose and pointed a warning finger at her.

“I’m going to get rid of whoever that is. if you make one sound, I promise you that you’ll be sorry.”

She was already sorry, but she recognized that tone in his voice.

"Dad... Why you send me to this cruel man?" She wondered.

She’d heard it often enough in movies’, when they’d been pushed to the edge of their tolerance. And since—for the moment—he obviously had the upper hand, she could be patient.

She still had a trick or two up her sleeve for Miguel Rodriguez.

“Are you deaf or something?” Victor Santos, wearing a crazy, sleeveless white T-shirt and faded blue jeans, strolled past Miguel when he threw open the door. “I’ve been knocking out here for five minutes. How come your door’s locked, anyway?”

“To keep Intruders like you out.” Miguel held his breath while he kept one eye on the bathroom door, half expecting a female fireball to explode through at any moment.

Victor shook his wet, dark hair and headed for the refrigerator. “Damn, it’s hot. Got a cold drink?”

Terrific, Miguel thought on a curse. He could have easily gotten rid of anybody but Victor or Lucas. His day had swiftly moved from bad to worse, and the prospects of it improving were looking less than slim. Of course, he could always explain that he couldn’t entertain company at the moment because he had a woman tied up in his bathtub. That ought to go over well. None of the hotel employees could tell Victor what he did. He was slightly grateful for that.

Miguel’s hand tightened on the still-open door. The rain had nearly stopped, but the heat hadn’t let up.

He switched on the AC but the thought of Bella Trump still there in his bathtub made humidity choked him in the throat like a tight fist. “Look, Victor, this is kind of a bad time. Can you go back now?"

Victor gave a snort of laughter while he rummaged through the refrigerator, clanking bottles against cans. “ You’re a riot. What did you expect my Fans to say if they know that a big Celebrity like me drove in the rain to see someone and later get chased out?"

“I’m serious.” Miguel raked a hand through his still-wet hair. The woman had been quiet for all of sixty seconds. A record. Strangely enough, the silence worried him, it's very displeasing for him too “I’m a little busy right now.”

His quest successful, Victor pulled a cold bottle out of the refrigerator, then kicked the door shut while he twisted off the cap. “What, is it time to kill your bussiness rivals on a video call?"


Amused with himself, Victor took a long swig from his bottle, then gave a loud sigh of appreciation. “Damn, that tastes good. Don’t mind me, buddy. I’ll just sit fight here and drink my beer and you can go right ahead and do whatever it is you need to do. Oh, yeah, and I’m supposed to remind you about the bachelor's shopping on Thursday morning and dinner Friday night at Lucas’s house after the wedding rehearsal.”

Muttering an oath under his breath, Miguel shoved the door closed as Victor plopped down on the sofa. “Speaking of your wedding, don’t you have to help Maggie pick out flowers or tablecloths or something?”

“Why should Maggie or I do that? I'm star bro, everything about me goes online" Victor tossed back another swallow of beer while he put his feet up on the weathered pine coffee table. “I’ve got three hours to kill before I pick my son up from his Nanny's house.”

Miguel couldn’t help but notice the pride in Victor’s eyes at the mention of his son. A son he hadn’t even known existed until a few weeks ago. Miguel still couldn’t believe it. Victor Santos is a very popular celebrity still no one knew he had a child out of wedlock.

And Drake. Married to a blond beauty like Alyvia Esther, with twins. A boy and a girl. Damn if life didn’t work in strange, mysterious ways.

Thank God at least he had kept his sanity, Miguel thought with relief.

“Hey—” Victor gestured with the bottle in his hand “—did you know you’re all wet?"

"Get your wet self out of here I need to do some videos for my fans" Victor said again.