Before Alejandro had left the mansion earlier that afternoon, he had cornered Jamila near a quiet archway. Leaning in so close that his shoulder brushed hers, his deep voice had dropped into a low, velvet whisper.
"Be in my room at midnight. Don't knock," he had commanded, his breath warm against her ear. "Your first lesson begins."
Now, as the grand grandfather clock in the foyer chimed twelve slow, deep beats, Jamila stood outside Alejandro's master suite. Her heart was hammering violently against her ribs, her hands trembling.
She wasn't wearing her stiff maid uniform anymore. Underneath a silk robe, she had dressed in a black, lace-trimmed satin slip dress that hit mid-thigh, clinging softly to every natural curve of her hips and waist. Her dark curls were freed from their usual tight bun, cascading around her shoulders and back in a wild, soft halo.
Taking a steadying breath, she turned the brass handle and stepped inside.
The master suite was steeped in dark, moody shadow, lit only by the low amber embers of the marble fireplace. The heavy drapes were drawn shut.
Alejandro was sitting in his massive leather armchair. He wasn't wearing a shirt—his broad, sculpted chest and razor-sharp abs bronze and exposed in the firelight. He wore only a pair of thin, low-slung dark sweatpants.
When the door clicked shut, Alejandro lifted his eyes.
The moment his piercing green gaze landed on her, he froze. His throat bobbed as his eyes dragged slowly down her body—taking in her bare shoulders, her perked breasts, her waist, her thick, smooth thighs, and the wild cascade of dark curls framing her face. A dark, primal hunger ignited deep within his eyes, raw and entirely unfiltered. She looked so fucking delicious it took every ounce of his legendary discipline not to stand up and pull her into his arms right then and there.
"Lock the door," Alejandro commanded, his voice raspy, gravelly, and stripped of all formality.
Jamila reached behind her, turning the lock with a quiet click.
"Walk to me," he murmured, his eyes locking onto hers. "Show me how you plan to seduce my brother."
Jamila swallowed hard after what she thought of doing. But there was nothing else she could think of besides that.
So she loosened the belt of her silk robe. She let it slip off her shoulders, watching it pool around her bare feet on the hardwood floor.
Standing before him in just the thin satin slip dress, she began to walk toward him. She kept her chin high, her dark eyes locked dead onto his green ones, refusing to look away even as her knees threatened to buckle under his intense, predatory gaze.
Alejandro's breathing turned heavy, his jaw clenching tightly. He spread his long legs wider as she approached, his hands gripping the leather arms of the chair so hard his knuckles turned white. Beneath the thin fabric of his sweatpants, he was already hard as a rock, his blood roaring in his ears. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to grab her by her hips, pull her onto his lap, and sink into her right there on the floor. But he forced himself to stay still, letting her come to him.
Jamila stopped directly in front of him, in between his spread-out legs, towering over him as he sat back in the chair. The heat radiating off his bare torso was suffocating, washing over her skin like a physical flame.
Alejandro slowly sat upright. Without a word, his large, calloused hands reached out and clamped firmly around her waist.
Jamila gasped softly as he pulled her forward. Before she could process the movement, he lifted her slightly and guided her down until she was sitting astride him—her thick thighs framing his hips, her knees resting against the leather armrests, her core pressed flush against his lap.
A sharp, electric tremor shot straight down Jamila's spine. Sitting on his lap, her hands instinctively rested on his broad, bare shoulders to steady herself. Up close, his heat was absolute. She remembered the harsh words he had spat at Catalina earlier that morning—She's not my type—yet right now, the desperate, possessive hunger in the way his large hands gripped her waist told a completely different story.
A dangerous thought flickered through her mind: Could I actually have a man like him wrapped around my finger?
They sat in the dim amber light, their chests heaving together, their faces inches apart. The air between their mouths evaporated, thick with a magnetic, agonizing pull. Jamila stared at his parted, full lips, her own heart hammering violently as she waited for him to bridge the remaining fraction of an inch and kiss her.
Alejandro stared up into her dark eyes, his thumbs slowly stroking the soft skin of her waist through the satin dress.
"You haven't done anything," Alejandro whispered, his voice a low, raspy purr that vibrated through her entire body. "You just walked up to me, dropped your robe, and sat in my lap."
Jamila's breath hitched, her dark eyes flashing. "And what do you suggest I do, Mr. Garcia?" she whispered back, her voice laced with soft defiance.
Alejandro gently lifted one hand from her waist, his long fingers softly brushing the dark curls away from her neck. He cupped her face, his palm surprisingly warm and tender against her skin, his thumb caressing the high curve of her cheekbone.
"You don't walk up to a Garcia like this and just give yourself away," Alejandro murmured, leaning in until his lips brushed against her jawline, making her eyes flutter shut. "If you do that with Ferdinand, he will take what he wants, satisfy his ego, and throw you away by morning. You have to hook him first."
"How?" Jamila whispered, her fingers involuntarily tightening on his bare shoulders, her chest rising sharply against his.
"You start with his pride," Alejandro explained softly, his warm breath fanning across her lips as he looked back into her eyes. "When you speak to a Garcia, you look him dead in the eye—never break eye contact. Let your hair loose around him." His calloused fingers slowly toyed with the soft curls cascading over her neck, his touch sending a sharp shiver down her spine. "He apologized," Alejandro chuckled, his chest vibrating against Jamila's own. "I have never seen my brother apologize to a woman before, but the rejection from you—a lowly maid..."
Jamila's eyes flashed with a sudden, burning fury at his words. Before she could snap back, Alejandro's large, warm hand slid under the hem of her satin dress, his palm gliding up the smooth skin of her bare butt cheeks and thigh. Jamila gasped softly, her chest heaving as her nipples hardened rock-solid directly against his bare chest.
Alejandro almost lost it right then and there—a dark, wild urge surging through his blood to tear the thin silk away and take her—but damn, his discipline held firm. He forced himself to stay completely still, keeping his hands under control even as his breathing turned ragged.
"...he is enraged that a maid rejected him," Alejandro continued, his raspy voice completely unbothered by her anger as his big hand pressed firm against her skin. "It has never happened to him in his entire life. So keep making it hard for him. Wear lavender—it's his favorite scent on a woman. Walk past him, exist in his space, and let him chase you. He's infatuated with what he can't control."
Jamila looked at him, her lips tingling where his thumb rested. "What makes you so sure he's infatuated with me?"
Alejandro's grip on her waist tightened, pulling her body even firmer against his lap.
Down below, Jamila felt the hard, rigid length of him pressing directly against her core through the thin, soft fabric of his sweatpants.
A sharp blush scorched her cheeks, her pulse taking a steep, dizzying dive as the undeniable proof of his arousal pressed into her.
Alejandro didn't say the thought out loud, but in his mind, the truth roared with terrifying clarity: Because if you can turn me into a desperate animal just by sitting in my lap, my brother doesn't stand a fucking chance.
"I know my brother," Alejandro rasped aloud, his green eyes burning into hers with lethal intensity. "He won't be able to resist."
For a long, breathless moment, the world shrank to just the two of them—the dark room, the flickering fire, and the suffocating, unholy tension pulling their lips toward each other. Alejandro leaned down another fraction of an inch, his mouth hovering a millimeter from hers, his chest heaving as he prepared to abandon every rule he had ever made.
Then, the cold reality of what he was doing slammed into him like a bucket of ice water.
Alejandro snapped out of the spell. His jaw tightened instantly, a look of sharp self-reprimand flashing across his features. He was a Garcia. He didn't lose control over a maid.
abruptly releasing her waist, Alejandro pushed her gently off his lap.
Jamila stumbled slightly as her feet hit the floor, her chest heaving, her lips still burning as if he had actually kissed her.
Alejandro stood up, turning his back to her completely, his voice returning—cold, distant, and stripped of all warmth.
"Leave," he commanded, vision blurred with desire. "Lesson is over. Get out of my room."
Jamila stood frozen for a beat, her cheeks burning with humiliation and residual heat. Quickly reaching down, she grabbed her silk robe from the floor, wrapped it tightly around her satin slip, and tied the belt around her waist.
She turned on her heel and hurried to the double doors. She unlocked the handle and pulled the heavy door open a fraction—only to freeze in complete horror.
Walking briskly down the dim corridor, heading straight toward Alejandro's suite, was Catalina.
Jamila's blood turned to ice. Panic seized her throat as she slammed the door shut and bolted back toward Alejandro.
"Mr. Alejandro,you have to hide me," Jamila hissed in a frantic whisper, her eyes wide with terror. "Your sister is right outside!"
Alejandro turned, his brows furrowing in deep annoyance. "What the hell does Catalina want at this hour?"
"It doesn't matter," Jamila choked out, gesturing wildly at her disheveled hair, her silk robe, and his bare, half-naked torso. "Look at us.. If she catches me walking out of your room dressed like this, I'm dead."
Alejandro swore under his breath. Grabbing Jamila firmly by her arm, he pulled her across the room toward the massive walk-in closet. Pushing the frosted glass door open, he shoved her inside amongst his rows of tailored suits.
"Stay quiet," he ordered in a dark whisper before pulling the closet door shut, leaving her in complete darkness.
Not even two seconds later, the main bedroom doors swung open with a loud thud.
Catalina barged into the room, her arms folded tightly over her silk nightgown, her sharp eyes scanning the dark space.
Alejandro stood there, looking cool, unbothered, and completely indifferent as he turned to face her.
"What do you want, Catalina?" Alejandro asked, his voice dripping with cold annoyance.
"I went to have a little 'chat' with that maid from earlier this morning? But she isn't in her room," Catalina spat, taking a sharp step further into the suite, her green eyes narrowing suspecting. "Is she in here?"
Alejandro tilted his head, a dark, mocking tilt to his mouth. "And why on earth would you think she's in my room?"
"Because one of the maids swore they saw her enter this wing twenty minutes ago." Catalina snapped, her voice rising in suspicion. "Don't play dumb with me, Alejandro. Where is she hiding? If I find her in here, she is fired on the spot."
Inside the dark walk-in closet, Jamila pressed her back against the wall, holding her breath, her heart hammering so hard against her ribs she was certain Catalina could hear it.
Catalina began walking towards the walk-in closet.