Sleep was a cruel, elusive ghost. All through the dark hours of the night, Jamila tossed and turned on her bed, her mind a churning storm of anxiety, fear, and lingering heat. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the phantom touch of Alejandro's calloused fingers tracing her bottom lip, his low, gravelly voice echoing in her ears—It's either my deal, or you end up with nothing.
By the time six in the morning rolled around, Jamila gave up on resting entirely.
She got out of bed, washed her face with cold water, and pulled on her dark, tightly tailored maid uniform. Gathering her thick curls, she tied them up into her usual severe, neat bun before heading down to the silent kitchens to fetch Alejandro's morning silver tray—a steaming pot of dark roast coffee, warm cream, and sliced tropical fruits.
Carrying the tray, she navigated the quiet corridors to Alejandro's master suite. Pushing the heavy oak doors open with her elbow, she found the room steeped in shadow.
Alejandro was still in bed, lying sprawled across the massive king-sized mattress, his broad, bare back rising and falling in slow, deep breaths. The dark sheet was pulled low around his waist, exposing the powerful, muscular cut of his shoulders and spine in the dim light.
Quietly, Jamila walked over to the bedside table and set the silver tray down without making a sound. Turning toward the floor-to-ceiling glass doors overlooking the misty, moonlit gardens, she grabbed the heavy blackout drapes and pulled them wide open.
Bright morning sunlight flooded the master suite in an instant.
Alejandro groaned softly, the harsh golden light jolting him out of his sleep. He shifted, turning onto his back, his arm coming up to cover his eyes against the glare. The sheet slipped lower, exposing his bronze, chiseled chest and razor-sharp abs.
Jamila froze, her breath catching in her throat. Try as she might, she couldn't help but bask in his sheer, breathtaking handsomeness. Up close, stripped of his expensive suits and cold authority, he looked raw, primal, and dangerously beautiful. A strange, heavy heat flared low in her stomach as she watched him run a hand down his face, his emerald eyes slowly cracking open.
Alejandro sat up, his piercing gaze cutting through the room until it locked onto Jamila standing near the glass doors. He didn't say a word. He simply swung his long legs over the side of the bed, stood up in his linen sleep pants, and walked past her into the master bathroom, leaving the frosted glass door slightly ajar.
Jamila let out a shaky breath, pressing her palms against her heated cheeks. Her body was exhausted, her eyelids feeling like lead. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she leaned back against the mattress, just resting her head against the crisp sheets for a fraction of a second.
Before she knew it, her exhausted body betrayed her, and she drifted off right there at the tip of his bed.
A few minutes later, the sound of a deep voice clearing its throat shattered her light slumber.
Jamila jolted awake with a sharp gasp, scrambling to her feet so fast she nearly tripped over her own shoes.
Alejandro had stepped out of the bathroom, freshly brushed and wiping a drop of water from his strong jawline. He took slow, deliberate strides toward her. The sheer, towering size of him instantly swallowed her space until he stopped directly in front of her.
He stepped so close that the swell of her chest brushed against his bare, broad torso with every frantic breath she took. The intoxicating scent of fresh peppermint, rich amber, and warm skin wrapped around her senses, making her knees feel terrifyingly weak.
Jamila swallowed hard, her pulse hammering against her ribs as she looked up into his unyielding green eyes.
"Did enough thinking last night?" Alejandro asked quietly, his voice a low, morning rumble that vibrated through her chest.
Jamila stammered, struggling to find her voice under his suffocating proximity. "I... I thought about your deal, Mr. Alejandro."
"And?" he pressed, leaning down just an inch, his eyes burning into hers.
"I don't know the first thing about seduction," Jamila admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, her dark eyes flashing with genuine distress. "And your brother, Mr. Alejandro... he isn't stupid. He knows I don't like him after what he tried to do to me. If I suddenly start trying to seduce him, he's going to suspect a trap immediately."
Alejandro stared down at her, a subtle, dark glint surfacing in his emerald eyes. He raised his hand, his thumb resting lightly against the pulse point on her neck, feeling the rapid, panicked beat of her heart beneath her soft skin.
"I know my brother more than you do, Jamila," Alejandro said softly, his tone smooth and masterfully confident. "And I know how Garcia men operate. We don't bow. We don't beg. And we certainly do not apologize to the help."
He leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against her ear, making a violent shiver run down her spine. "Ferdinand came into your room and apologized to you. That means his pride is already crippled by your rejection. You already hold the upper hand over him—you just don't know how to use it."
Jamila's breath hitched as his hand slid slightly toward her jawline, his touch maddeningly gentle against her burning skin.
"As for the seduction tactics..." Alejandro murmured, his gaze dropping down to her parted lips before rising back to her eyes. "I will teach you."
Jamila blinked, her heart taking a steep dive. "Wh.. what?"
"Yes," Alejandro said smoothly. He looked at her—taking in her wide, expressive dark eyes, the flush on her cheeks, and the way her full lips trembled slightly. In his head, he knew she was undeniably, dangerously beautiful; she didn't need to try hard at all to drive a man insane. "You won't have a problem learning. You already have everything required."
The charged silence between them stretched, so thick with unspoken attraction that the air felt heavy to breathe.
Alejandro abruptly broke the spell, stepping back and clearing his throat. "Lay the bed. I'm taking a shower."
Before she could respond, he turned and disappeared back into the bathroom, the shower water running a moment later.
Jamila let out a long, shuddering breath, her fingers trembling as she turned to smooth out the cotton sheets. But the combination of her sleepless night, the soft warmth of the mattress, and the lingering scent of sandalwood on his pillows was too much for her exhausted body to fight.
Her eyes grew impossibly heavy. Crawling onto the middle of the grand king-sized bed, Jamila curled up, pulling one of his heavy pillows tightly against her chest, and fell fast asleep.
When Alejandro walked out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later, a white towel draped around his neck, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Jamila was sound asleep in the center of his bed.
In her sleep, her tailored uniform dress had hitched up slightly, giving away a generous view of her smooth, thick thigh against his charcoal sheets. She was snoring softly, her dark curls loosening from her bun as she hugged his pillow tightly against her chest, burying her face into his scent.
Alejandro stood frozen, his eyes darkening as his gaze lingered on the bare skin of her thigh, then on the way she was clinging to his pillow like a lifeline. She really didn't sleep a wink last night, he thought, a strange, uncharacteristic softness tugging at the back of his mind.
Walking silently across the room, Alejandro went to the door and turned the lock quietly, ensuring no one could barge in. He stepped into his walk-in closet, pulling on a fitted black t-shirt and dark trousers.
Just as he walked back out, a sharp, demanding knock echoed against the heavy wooden doors.
The sudden noise jolted Jamila awake.
She sat up frantically, her eyes wide with terror as she realized where she was. She scrambled off the bed, smoothing down her uniform dress in a panic, her cheeks burning crimson when she caught Alejandro standing near the armchair, watching her intently.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Alejandro," she choked out, her hands working fast to fix her dress. "I didn't mean to—"
"Get the door," Alejandro commanded quietly, his voice cool and unbothered.
Jamila hurried over to the entryway, unlocked the door after finding that it was locked, and pulled it open.
Catalina stood on the threshold, her arms folded tightly across her chest. The moment the door opened, Catalina's sharp eyes darted from Jamila's disheveled uniform, to her rumpled dark hair, and finally to the grand bed behind her.
Catalina's expression instantly twisted into a cold, venomous glare of pure scorn.
"What are you doing in my brother's room this early?" Catalina demanded, stepping into the suite, her sharp green eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at Jamila. "Did you spend the night here?"
"No, ma'am, I didn't —" Jamila stuttered, taking a step back, her head bowed.
"Leave her alone, Catalina."
Alejandro's cold, authoritative voice cut through the room as he stepped up behind Jamila, his tall frame casting a long shadow over both women. His expression was an impenetrable mask of stone.
"Nothing is going on between us," Alejandro said smoothly, looking at his sister with complete indifference. "I wouldn't even dare touch her. She's not my type."
The words hit Jamila like a physical blow to the chest.
Even though she knew this was all a game, even though she didn't want anything to do with him, of course. But a sudden, sharp pang of hurt sliced straight through her heart.
Her jaw tightened, a cold knot forming in her stomach as she kept her gaze fixed firmly on the floor.
"Excuse me," Jamila whispered, her voice tight and stripped of emotion.
Without waiting for another word from either of them, she bowed her head, brushed past Catalina, and hurried out.