Page 1 of Surrendered Hearts

1

EMILIA

Isip my wine and settle back into the plush sofa of the Alchemy hotel lobby, the newest and most sought-after luxurious hotel in New York, as I watch my fiancé enter.

Everything about him is flawless.

His ten-thousand-dollar suit.

His muscles he works hard for.

His chiseled jaw with just the right amount of stubble.

Those dark glasses of his that cost him thousands and hide eyes that see everything.

He doesn’t see me watching him now, though, which is exactly how I planned it. I need this moment to observe him before the whirlwind of the coming weekend engulfs me.

We are to be married in two days and we haven’t had a chance to discuss it yet. We haven’t seen each other in two years, and I changed my number in that time, so we’ve had no way of discussing anything.

Except, everyone knows that if Javier Torres wants to talk to someone, it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t have a phone number or an address for them, he’d make that conversation happen. Which means my fiancé hasn’t wanted to see me or talk to mesince our engagement was decided by our families eight weeks ago.

He checks into the hotel, his entourage of four sticking close to guard him. Being the next-in-line to run the Serrano Cartel means Javier goes nowhere without security.

My phone buzzes with a text and I check it to discover a message from my assistant.

Carly: Bob’s playing difficult.

Me: How difficult?

Carly: The kind of difficult that makes my skull want to explode.

Me: Can you please just give me the facts?

Carly: He wants to increase his profit share on the deal.

Me: Send me the new proposal and I’ll look at it. I want this deal finalized before the wedding.

Carly: Sending now.

Carly: Have you spoken with Javier yet?

I don’t respond to her last message. Instead, I check my emails and read through Bob’s new proposal. We’re working together on a deal to open ten exclusive health and beauty resorts for women across America. The back and forth on this has been a headache. If I wasn’t so intent on working with his company, I’d back out now. But he’s got the knowledge and the positioning in the market that I want a part of, so I’ve worked my way through each headache as it presented. This new one is a pain in my ass.

I shoot another text back to Carly.

Me: I’ll get in touch with Bob and handle this.

Carly: I see you’re avoiding my last question.

Me: Yes, because you’re my assistant, not my best friend.

Carly: You don’t have a best friend. I’m all you’ve got.

Me: I have friends.

Carly: No, you have women around you who would die to appear in an Insta snap with you or be a bridesmaid for you or feature in a Forbes article with you. What you don’t have are real friends.

She’s right, and yet, I don’t care. Having friends isn’t my goal in life. I learned at a young age to keep to myself and not trust others. My father’s lessons on this have stuck. I trust my two brothers and Carly, and that’s it.

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