Page 7 of Modern Romance June 2025 5-8

‘No, I… I don’t think I have ever been to Barcelona.’

Her voice came out on a perilous quiver, which would have been embarrassing if she weren’t so confused right now, about everything—her bizarre reaction to this man most of all.

He raked his hand through the thick waves of dark hair. ‘You most certainly have been to Barcelona,’ he corrected her.

Before she could respond, he stood and paced to the window to stare out at the vines, his shoulders rigid with tension. Or was that irritation?

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, the confusion clearing a little. However she had ended up here, it was obvious she was a nuisance. ‘You’ve been very kind.’ She lifted the sheet and placed her bare feet on an antique silk carpet. ‘But I can leave now…’

He swung round from his contemplation of the landscape.

‘Madre de Dios,’ he hissed, impatience flashing in his eyes. ‘And how do you plan to do this?’ he demanded. ‘When you have no money, no travel documents, and very few clothes?’

She stared at him. ‘I… I don’t have any clothes? Seriously?’ She folded her arms around her waist, feeling naked under that searing judgement. At which point she realised she didn’t even have a bra.

‘You do not remember this either?’ he said, frustration making his stern expression even more forbidding. That said, she knew how he felt—because she was getting quite exasperated herself.

How could she have got herself into this much of a fix? Or was this some weird anxiety dream?

Gee thanks, subconscious.

Hopefully, she would wake up any minute, because Señor Hot was fast turning into Señor Super Pissed-Off.

‘The thief who stole your bag? The chase across Plaça Reial?’ He fired questions at her as he strode back across the room. ‘Your immature decision to tackle a man twice your size? The fight we had? The drive here from the city? You said my father’s name, Álvaro, before you passed out. You remember none of this?Nada?’

‘No…’ she said, feeling less accommodating by the second. Why was he so furious? She was the one with no clothes and no money. ‘And shouting at me isn’t going to make me remember. In fact, it’s making my head feel like it’s about to explode. So maybe stop doing that.’

He swore again—but at least he did it under his breath—then he sat back down in the chair beside the bed and dropped his head into his hands.

But as he rubbed his face he flinched, and she realised he had touched the raw spot above his eye. She knew how that felt. Then one of the questions he had fired at her rushed back.

The fight we had?

‘I didn’t… I didn’t hit you, did I?’ she asked, horrified. While she couldn’t remember much of anything, she hoped she hadn’t intentionally hurt another human being, however annoying they were.

He peered at her through his fingers, the frustration replaced by confusion.

Yup, so know how that feels, too.

‘The bruise above your eye?’ she asked again, scared to hear the answer. ‘I didn’t give you that, did I? When we had our fight?’

He dropped his hands and straightened in his chair, his broad shoulders making the ornate piece of antique furniture creak—and seem nowhere near as imposing as he was. But his expression was still giving her serious what-on-earth-is-she-talking-about-now? vibes.

‘You asked if I remembered our fight,’ she tried to explain again. Could this conversation get any more awkward? ‘I really don’t remember fighting with you…’ Although she already had the sense that he would not be a difficult man to start an argument with. He seemed quite inflexible and a lot impatient. ‘But if I hurt you, I’m very sorry.’

The fierce frown suddenly disappeared. He dropped his head back against the seat and the minutes ticked by as he stared at the ceiling. Cursing. Softly. In Spanish.

Okay, what had she saidnow? He was making this conversation unnecessarily difficult. Maybe it was the language barrier. Although his English seemed perfect. Perhaps something had been lost in translation.

But when his gaze met hers again, what she saw in his expression astonished her. And made the jumping beans in her belly go into overdrive.

‘What’s so funny?’ she asked.

A sensual smile curved his lips, adding to the wry amusement in his eyes, and making him look even more… Well, hot. Frankly.

How was that fair? she thought, annoyed with herself now as well as him. How could she possibly think he was attractive when he was being such a jerk?

‘Wedid not have a fight,chica…’ He let out a gruff chuckle.

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