Page 68 of No Merciful Corruption

“Really?” He says. “I can’t remember.”

“Oh?” I respond coyly.

“I forgot the second you walked through the door.” He takes my hand and steps back. “Déjame ver. Date una vuelta, por favor.”

I close my eyes and do a perfect princess twirl near the window, allowing every ounce of light to catch the red in my hair. Six hours feels like nothing now. The look on his face is worth a hundred hours in that chair.

Deep red from root to tip and not a single strand of hair left behind. It glistens and shines in the light and I’ve never felt more beautiful than I do right now.

And when he smiles at me, it feels like falling in love for the first time.

“Ahora sí.” He runs his fingers through the waves framing my face. “There she is.”

I can’t seem to catch my breath. “I take it you like it?”

He wraps a strand around his fingertip before tucking it behind my ear.

A swarm of butterflies takes flight in the pit of my stomach. I conceal the tremor in my hands by rubbing them up and down my thighs, smoothing out invisible wrinkles on the sides of my dress. Heat blossoms across my chest and extends to the tips of my ears. I must be as red as my freshly dyed hair.

As if remembering something, he lifts a finger, signaling for me to stay where I am. He approaches the desk and reaches for a long, black, rectangular box on the chair behind it that I hadn’t noticed before. He leans against the desk’s edge and extends it to me. When I take it, he places his hands on my hips and pulls me against him.

The box is held together by a black velvet ribbon. I pull on the end until it comes undone and remove the top. Arranged on a bed of delicate tissue paper is a bouquet of red and purple dahlias broken up by lighter pink peonies, Queen Anne’s lace, strawflowers, and anemones. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips until both cheeks ache.

“Where did you get these? They’re not in season yet.”

He leans in and whispers, “I know you aren’t going to believe me when I tell you this. But I’m very, very rich.”

I can’t help myself; I laugh.

“It’s amazing what an unlimited amount of money will get you. Townhouses on the Upper East Side, out of season flowers…” he tilts his head. “And hopefully, a date with you.”

“A date?”

He nods. “A first date.”

“Alex, sweetheart,” I say quietly. “We already had one of those.”

He chuckles.

“You showed up to my hotel with my wallet and lipstick because I snuck out of your apartment after a one-night stand.”

“I remember.”

“And then we walked around the Gothic Quarter and took those pictures under Bishop’s Bridge.”

“Consider it a second first date then. A re-do. This time you can wear the right shoes.”

“Those sneakers were worse than heels. I’ve never had such horrible blisters in my life.”

“Dahlia,” his tone turns serious. “I meant what I said. I want us to try again. Give me the chance to show you things can be different.”

My heart deflates just a little. “It wasn’t so terrible the first time around.”

“No. But it wasn’t very good either.”

Something about this conversation feels like déjà vu. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

Alejandro takes the bouquet from me and gently sets it on the desk behind him. Then wraps his arms around me and holds me close. “I don’t want what’s going on between Diego and Karina to affect us. Let them figure it out. I want you and I to focus on each other. Their issues will eventually resolve themselves.”