Jamila's heart slammed violently against her ribs, her mouth dry as bone. Panic seized her as she stared at the locked brass handle. If Alejandro barged in and found his brother with her in the dead of night, the fallout would be catastrophic.
She opened her mouth to speak, to somehow defuse the situation, but before she could make a move, Ferdinand made it for her.
With a dark, reckless sneer curling his lip, Ferdinand strode across the room, unlocked the door, and yanked it wide open.
Alejandro stood in the doorway, framed by the dim light of the corridor. He was dressed in a dark silk robe over trousers, his tall frame filling the entryway like a wall of solid shadow. His green eyes instantly locked onto Ferdinand, snapping from surprise to an icy, lethal fury in less than a heartbeat.
The two brothers exchanged a furious, silent glance that turned the air in the hallway sub-zero.
Alejandro slowly shifted his gaze past Ferdinand's shoulder, his eyes landing on Jamila standing near the bed, her uniform partially unbuttoned, her dark curls tumbling over her shoulders.
Ferdinand let out a low, bitter chuckle, breaking the suffocating quiet. "Don't worry, big brother. I was just having a chat with your new little pet."
With a snarky, deliberate bump against Alejandro's chest, Ferdinand brushed past him and vanished down the quiet corridor, his footsteps echoing into the darkness.
Alejandro didn't chase him. Instead, he stepped fully into Jamila's room, closing the door behind him with a quiet, ominous click.
"What was he doing in here?" Alejandro demanded, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.
Jamila swallowed hard, maintaining her posture despite the trembling in her hands.
"He came to apologize."
Alejandro's eyebrows twitched, a flicker of genuine shock crossing his features before his expression hardened again. "Apologize?"
"Yes," Jamila said, looking him dead in the eye. "For his behavior. For what he called me. And..." She paused, taking a deep breath, feeling compelled to lay all her cards on the table. "...he told me he knows you're using me. He offered me double whatever you're giving me if I came to his bed willingly."
Alejandro stared at her. A slow, razor-thin smile curved the edge of his lips—a chilling sight that signaled he saw the trap snapping shut on his brother. Ferdinand was falling apart faster than expected, consumed entirely by his bruised ego.
"And what did you tell him?" Alejandro asked softly, stepping closer.
"I didn't give him an answer before you knocked," Jamila replied truthfully.
Alejandro chuckled—a dark, low sound in his throat. He liked how things were falling into place. "Good." He stepped back toward the door, his eyes lingering on her face with intense, unreadable heat. "Tomorrow is the day, Jamila. My father's private jet touches down at noon. I need you awake by five. Prepare my breakfast—dark coffee, fresh fruit—and pick out the best charcoal suit in my wardrobe. You are going to help me present the perfect image."
He held her gaze for one last, suffocating second before turning the handle. "Get some sleep."
The next morning at five-thirty sharp, Jamila was in Alejandro's grand master suite. The morning sun was just beginning to streak the sky in shades of amber and gold. She had already set his silver breakfast tray on the mahogany table and stepped into his vast walk-in closet, carefully selecting a crisp white dress shirt, a silk tie, and an impeccably tailored charcoal-grey suit.
As she stepped back into the main bedroom carrying the suit on a wooden hanger, the frosted glass door of the master bathroom slid open.
Alejandro stepped out, steam billowing around him. He had a white towel wrapped securely around his waist, water droplets glistening on his broad chest and razor-sharp abs although he had dried himself.
Jamila instinctively turned her head, setting the suit on the valet stand. "I've picked out your outfit, Mr. Garcia. I'll leave you to get dressed."
"Don't leave," Alejandro commanded smoothly, his voice gravelly from the morning.
Jamila froze, her pulse taking a sudden, steep dive. "Sir?"
"Help me get ready," he said, stepping toward her with unhurried grace. He dropped the towel and pulled on his dark trousers right in front of her, unbothered by her presence, before slipping his arms through the sleeves of the crisp white shirt she had chosen.
He stopped directly in front of her, leaning down slightly. "The tie."
Jamila's fingers trembled as she reached up, looping the dark silk tie around his collar. Up close, the heat radiating off his freshly washed skin was suffocating. He smelled intoxicatingly of sandalwood, fresh rain, and expensive cologne. She kept her eyes focused strictly on his collar, her hands working carefully to fold and tighten the Windsor knot.
"You have steady hands," Alejandro murmured softly, his breath brushing against her forehead.
"I'm trying to do my job, Mr. Garcia," she whispered, her chest rising and falling rapidly under the intensity of his gaze.
As she smoothed down the lapels of his charcoal suit coat, Alejandro reached out. His calloused index finger lightly brushed against her bottom lip—a slow, electric touch that sent a sharp tremor straight down her spine. Before she could gasp, his hand slid up to the back of her head, effortlessly pulling the hair tie from her neat bun.
Her wild halo of dark curls cascaded down instantly, framing her face.
Jamila stepped back, her dark eyes flashing with confusion and irritation. "Why do you keep doing that?"
Alejandro didn't answer. His green eyes simply tracked the way her hair fell over her shoulders, satisfied with the image. He walked over to his nightstand, picked up a sleek, black secondary smartphone, and turned around, extending it toward her.
"What is this?" Jamila asked, looking at the device.
"I've already saved my personal number in it," Alejandro explained, his voice smooth and authoritative. "You will carry this with you at all times. If I need you, I will call or text. You answer on the first ring."
Jamila hesitated before taking the phone, her fingers briefly brushing his. "Understood."
"Now," Alejandro said, stepping toward the grand king-sized bed. "Lay the bed properly before we leave."
Jamila nodded, walking over to the bed to smooth out the crisp Egyptian cotton sheets and arrange the heavy charcoal duvet. Alejandro didn't move toward the door. Instead, he sat down in the leather armchair near the window, crossing one leg over the other, resting his chin on his hand as he watched her every move.
The silence in the room was thick, charged with a magnetic, heavy tension. Jamila could feel his green eyes burning into her back as she bent over to tuck in the corners, her uniform straining against her hips. Every breath she took felt heavy, her body hyper-aware of his quiet, dominant presence monitoring her from across the room.
Finally, she straightened up, smoothing down the front of her uniform. "The bed is laid, Mr. Garcia."
Alejandro stood up smoothly, buttoning his suit jacket. "Then let's go."
When they descended the grand staircase into the main foyer, the entire Garcia family was gathered, preparing for the patriarch's arrival.
The foyer was breathtaking. Standing near the grand archway were five other family members Jamila had never seen before—cousins and high-ranking relatives, all strikingly beautiful, dressed in haute couture, smelling of rich perfumes and rare oils.
Ferdinand stood near the double doors in a sharp navy suit, as equally handsome as his brother. The moment Alejandro and Jamila stepped into the foyer together, Ferdinand's jaw clenched tightly, his toxic glare locking onto Jamila with burning intensity.
Catalina stood beside him, draped in an elegant emerald dress. She caught sight of Jamila walking half a step behind Alejandro with her hair free and wild, and immediately shot her a sharp, piercing glare of disdain.
"Everything needs to be flawless by the time we return with Father," Catalina commanded sharply, her voice echoing off the marble walls as she gestured toward the line of bowing maids standing near the entryway. "If there is a single speck of dust in the grand hall, heads will roll."
The maids bowed frantically, stammering out panicked agreements.
Alejandro didn't say a word to his siblings. He adjusted his cufflinks, stepped past Ferdinand with cold indifference, and gestured for the security team to open the heavy mahogany front doors.
Outside, a fleet of sleek, black luxury SUVs and armored sedans sat idling along the manicured driveway. The sun caught the polished chrome as the family swept out of the mansion, their presence commanding, wealthy, and dangerous.
Jamila stood near the grand entrance beside the other servants, watching the convoy prepare to leave. Just before Alejandro stepped into the back of his private sedan, he turned his head, his piercing green eyes locking onto Jamila through the morning light one last time before slipping inside and shutting the door.