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“Get some sleep, Angel,” he growls.
Did he just call me Angel? Or did I imagine it?
CHAPTER 1
TWELVE MONTHS LATER
LUCIA
I step out of the elevator and into the hallway. There is only one room on this floor of the hotel—the presidential suite. The two armed guards who always stand sentry at the door smile at me as I approach.
“Buenos días, Ms. Montoya,” they say in unison.
“Buenos días, guys. Is he in?”
They nod.
“Is he alone?”
“Yes,” they reply.
I heave a sigh of relief. I’m not sure how he’s going to take the news of my decision, but one thing I do know is that he will deal with it a whole lot better than my mom.
I open the door and step into the expansive and luxurious hotel suite. His office is in the corner and the door is open. I cross the room, my sneakers not making a sound on the plush carpet, until I’m standing in the doorway. As I expected he’s sitting at his desk, his brow furrowed as he stares at his computer. Dressed in one of his impeccably tailored suits, his biceps bulge out of the fabric as he rests his hands under his chin and frowns at something on the screen.
Alejandro Montoya.
The King of LA.
My father.
He is an imposing sight and I wonder how many people have stood in this doorway full of fear and terror as they wait for the attention of the man who fills the entire room with his presence. I shift from one foot to the other and the movement must catch his eye because he looks up, his frown transforming into a smile.
“Buenos días, mija,” he says, pushing back his chair and standing up.
“Buenos días, Papi.” I smile back as he walks toward me and pulls me into a hug.
“This is a nice surprise, but I thought you were checking out that new place today?”
“I just came from there now. I don’t think it’s for me,” I say with a shrug.
He scowls at me. “What? It’s perfect for you.”
“No, Papi. It’s perfect for you. It’s too big for me and Matthias. I’d feel lonely in a place so big.”
“But…” he starts but then he presses his lips together and draws in a deep breath through his nose. The two of us have been arguing over where I am going to live for months now.
I love my apartment by the beach. It’s the perfect size and location for me and my four-year-old son, Matthias, but if my father had his way I would be living in a huge gated mansion, much like the one he arranged for me to see today. I have agreed to look at some places to keep him happy, but deep down he knows this is a fight he won’t win. I love that he accepts my independence, because I know how hard it is for him to let me go.
“Fine,” he eventually says with a shake of his head.
“Thank you, Papi,” I reply as I give him a soft kiss on his cheek.
“So, why I am being blessed with a visit from you this morning? You’re still coming for dinner tonight, aren’t you? Your mama is making her famous bacon cheeseburgers and if you deprive her of yours and her grandson’s company, neither of us will hear the end of it.”
I can’t help but laugh at the look on his face when he talks about my mom. He might be the King of LA and have the toughest and most ruthless of men quaking in terror at the mere mention of his name, but it is my mom who makes us both tremble with fear. She can bring my father to his knees with a simple look. She is the kindest, but fiercest woman I have ever known.
Alana Montoya isn’t my biological mother, of course. That would be a physical impossibility given that she’s not quite thirty yet. Alejandro Montoya isn’t my biological father either. They adopted me when I was seventeen and every day since then they have loved me as much as if I was their own flesh and blood. I couldn’t ask for better, or more loving, parents.
