One Week to Claim It All

by Adriana Herrera

  “Are you listening to me, Rodrigo?” The exasperation in her voice brought him out of his thoughts. He kept going into his head. Distraction was not his friend. Not this week.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, as he turned back to her. “Is there a problem with the dresses?”

  “No, they’re perfect, which only makes this that much more irritating.”

  “Okay, so what’s the problem then?” he asked gruffly, feeling unsettled with this woman in his space.

  She threw her arms up and came closer to the desk. Her mouth pursed in an adorably irritated expression and he once again had to remind himself his instinct to reach out to her was not just stupid, it was self-destructive. No matter what happened this week there would be a falling-out. If she got the job, he knew he’d be crushed. If he got it, that would only give her another reason to hate him.

  “Listen, I appreciate you trying to give me my very own Pretty Woman moment this week, but I already said I’m not going to this party.” He dearly wished that his traitorous cock didn’t pulse at that sexy huskiness of her voice. “It’s not worth losing an entire evening mingling and drinking champagne when I could be working.” She had both hands on her hips, her face flushed, and he wondered if this proximity was getting to her, too.

  But before he could even open his mouth, the last person he wanted to see walked into his office, as if he’d conjured her up with his thoughts.

  “Isn’t this cozy? Rodrigo, are you spending the company’s money on dresses now? I thought that big salary we paid you was to actually do work.” Carmelina Sambrano knew less about television and moviemaking than a kindergartener, and yet she fancied herself an expert on what his job entailed. He was surprised it had taken this long for her to come and harass Esme.

  He looked over at the younger woman and saw that she was looking at her father’s widow through narrowed eyes. There was no love lost there, and that was with Esmeralda unaware of just how low Carmelina had gone to try to push her out. And as far as he was concerned she would never know. He’d promised Ivelisse he’d never tell and he didn’t plan to go back on his word.

  But now Esme was poised to take possession of the prize Patricio’s widow had spent decades scheming to control. Carmelina wasn’t stupid, but she was getting more desperate by the day. And a desperate Carmelina was very dangerous.

  “What do you want?” He didn’t even attempt to mask his derision for her.

  Carmelina was dressed in her usual matching jacket and skirt combo, evoking old-school Jackie O. It was probably custom Chanel. But it didn’t matter how much money the woman spent on designer clothes, she made everything look cheap.

  “Just came to personally let you know I’ve forbidden any private footage of my husband from being used for this farce.” She turned to Esme then. “If you don’t know anything about your father, it’s because he wanted it that way. You’re going to have to continue your little attempt at moneygrubbing without watching his interviews.”

  “Carmelina,” Rodrigo snapped, menace clear in his voice. “Watch your tone.”

  But Esmeralda didn’t flinch or give any indication she was fazed by the woman’s vitriol. “I never requested any footage,” she said, indifferent. “I have plenty to work with.”

  “I asked that the footage be made available to you,” Rodrigo retorted. “It’s from a documentary we were planning as part of the studio’s thirty-fifth anniversary next year. But we weren’t able to finish it.” That pang of dull pain he still felt whenever he thought about Patricio flared in his chest as he spoke to Esme. He could see the conflicted sadness in her eyes at the mention of her father’s passing, such a contrast to Carmelina’s dismissive scoff.

  “Is he being very helpful, giving you guidance and advice?” The bitterness that fueled Carmelina resonated in every word she said. “The honorable Rodrigo Almanzar, who turned his back on his own family so he could steal my son’s rightful place. Don’t trust him, querida. This one would betray his own mother to keep this office.” Her voice dripped with contempt, but he’d learned long ago to not let Carmelina’s words get to him. The only thing he cared about was that she didn’t get her talons into Esmeralda. That he would not tolerate.

  Carmelina wasn’t finished. “He’s the one you need to be careful with, you know. I don’t need Sambrano.” She smiled sharply, a hyena with her prey in her sights. “I have never needed Sambrano Studios—Patricio married me for my money.” She laughed shrilly. “I’m doing this to preserve my husband’s legacy and what rightfully belongs to his legitimate children.”

  He would never lay a hand on a woman, and that was the only thing that kept him from physically removing Patricio’s widow from his office.

  “Carmelina, get out,” he snarled, fury boiling over in an instant. The things he could throw in her face about the messes he’d had to get her son out of through the years...

  “I have a right to Sambrano, too,” Esmeralda said calmly, as if Carmelina’s hateful words had barely registered.

  “Leave.” Even he could hear the menace in his voice.

  The older woman shrugged, an unfriendly smile on her lips. “So testy. Don’t worry. I’m going.” She made for the door, but stopped again in front of the rack of dresses. “There’s not couture expensive enough to hide the fact that you’re Patricio’s bastard.”

  Esmeralda took her hand off the rack and moved until she was just a few feet away from Carmelina, the smile on her lips dangerous and cold in a way he’d never seen from her.

  “Well then,” she said, feigning a placidness she was clearly not feeling. “If people are wagging their tongues anyway I might as well make an appearance at the reception.” Esme crossed her arms and looked straight at her father’s widow. “And if you think coming over here to call me names is going to distract me from wanting to take all this from you, you have another thing coming. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have dresses to try on.”

  “Esmeralda, stay right where you are,” he demanded, making the younger woman stop in her tracks. “Carmelina, if you’re done. Miss Sambrano-Peña and I have things to discuss.”

  “You’re not winning this,” Carmelina warned Esmeralda before storming out. Rodrigo’s heart pounded like a drum in his chest. But it had nothing to do with Carmelina and everything to do with the hellion in front of him. Esmeralda. Time and distance had done nothing to diminish his desire for her. And now, seeing her like this, standing up proudly, unashamed. Ready to claim her place. It cracked something in him. Despite the mess he’d made of things, he was proud of her, admired her strength.

  “She’s really still that terrible, isn’t she?” Esme asked shakily, after he closed the door to the office. She’d held her own but he could see Carmelina had gotten to her.

  “She’s worse,” he assured her, exhausted from the exchange. “Forget her. Despite what Carmelina may think, she has no power to override the board’s decisions. You and I are still in the running for CEO and she only gets one vote in that decision.”

  “More like three if you count my siblings,” she said with distaste, and he couldn’t deny that was probably true. Perla and Onyx could care less if the studio went up in flames as long as someone still covered their Amex bills.

  “My hope is that it won’t come down to their three votes. Carmelina has a lot of enemies on that board, and people won’t just go along with her. Put her out of your mind for now. I have something to show you.” He lifted his hand to take hers, but then just let it fall to his side, curbing once more the almost overwhelming need to touch her. He went to the hidden door on the wall parallel to his desk and pushed on the panel. It slid to the side to reveal the hidden bedroom suite that Patricio had built for himself. Rodrigo had no idea why he was doing this. There was no reason for him to show her this now.

  “You’re joking,” Esme said, as she looked at the narrow hallway that led to a spacious bedroom with an en
suite bathroom. “Please tell me this isn’t some kind of assignation room, because I really don’t think I can handle that image of my father.”

  A laugh burst out of him at the feigned horror in her voice, and the warmth that spread in his chest at being able to hear her make jokes again was a revelation. “I can’t confirm or deny what went on in this room, but I do know that Patricio had it built a long time ago. The man always had a flair for imitating some of the telenovelas he produced, for better or worse.” He frowned at the memory of the night his mentor had first shown him what was behind the secret panel. Patricio had confessed that not even six months into their marriage, he’d needed to find a way to get some distance from Carmelina. He lived for his work, so he’d built himself a suite where he could stay when he needed to focus on Sambrano.

  “His marriage to Carmelina was never a happy one. It was a business arrangement that those two had, and initially I imagine it seemed mutually beneficial, but in the last ten years I saw Patricio become harder...bitter. They brought out the worst in each other. He always said that the only person who could remind him of who he was before he built all this was your mother.”

  “He didn’t deserve her,” she said quietly, still not taking a step toward the bedroom.

  “No, he didn’t. And I think how things ended with them was one of his biggest regrets.” He extended a hand toward the bedroom. “You can change in there. Figure out which dress you want to wear.” He pointed at the garment bag hanging from a hook on the wall next to his office door. “I’m changing here, too.”

  She didn’t look too sure about it, but when he pushed the rack into the room she followed. “My assistant can get you that makeup artist.”

  This time her expression was hard to decipher. Not shuttered, but also not exactly open, either. “I think I can handle my hair and makeup.” She paused as she looked at him again, like she was hoping to find whatever underlying motives he had to do this for her. “But thank you for the dress. I think you’re right. I need to show the board and Carmelina that I’m not planning on scurrying away. I’m here to work, but I’m also here to claim my place. And if that means champagne and canapés at The Cloisters, then so be it.”

  With that she pushed the rack the rest of the way into the suite and closed the door behind it. Rodrigo assumed she’d go back to her office until it was time to get ready. But instead she leaned against the door and turned her face up to look at him. There was something in her eyes he couldn’t quite read. “Why are you being nice to me?”

  And that was the two-hundred-million-dollar question, wasn’t it? He could say all kinds of things, that he owed it to Patricio, that he was a professional and he would give anyone else the same courtesy, but those would all be lies. The truth felt like a dagger on his tongue, sharp and deadly.

  “I’m nice to everyone,” he lied.

  “You’re so full of it.” The sly smile on her face smoothed the edges in her words. God he wanted her. The need to press her to him was a tangible force in the air. But if there was a time to live up to his supposed stoicism, it was now. He stepped away and went back to his desk.

  “Let me know when you need the room to change, and I’ll make sure to give you space,” he said gruffly, avoiding her gaze.

  “Right,” she said, heading for the door. She sounded as flustered as he felt. “I need to get a few things done, before I start getting ready. Could you check the mock-up I sent you? I’d like to start working on my concept tonight. Just because I’m taking a few hours to participate in this rich people show-and-tell doesn’t mean I’m not coming back here to work after.”

  He nodded as the door slid closed behind her. Nobody needed to know that his eyes were riveted to the glorious view of her perfect ass as she walked away. He was in over his head. A lifetime of doggedly working after a singular goal was threatening to slip away. All because the one person he could see himself giving everything up for was the one standing between him and his dream.

  Seven

  “Dammit.” Esmeralda let out another frustrated sigh as she tried and failed to zip up her dress. It was so bizarre to be in this room. A place her father escaped to when things were not going well in his home life. This was a level of intimacy she’d never had with him when he was alive. On the tall dresser—which she supposed had stored changes of clothes and personal things—were some framed photographs. Some of her. That had surprised her. One was from her second birthday—her parents on either side of her, strained smiles on their faces. She didn’t remember it, but she knew in those first few years Patricio had made appearances for special occasions. There was another photo from her high school graduation. And the most recent one of her receiving an award for a short film she’d presented at the Tribeca Film Festival.

  It had pierced something in her to see she’d had a place among his other children. That the picture of her and her mother was there with the rest of them. That he hadn’t forgotten her, even though it had always felt that to her father she’d never existed. She’d always looked in from outside when it came to his life. And now here she was in his inner sanctum, only to realize he’d kept reminders of her around. She had no idea what to do with any of it, and worse, the only person she wanted to talk about it with was the last man she needed to be around when she was feeling this messy. Damn Rodrigo for standing up for her today. For getting her gorgeous dresses that fit her perfectly. For his sinful mouth and swoon-worthy shoulders, and most of all for making her feel this raw again.

  “Ugh, crying is not the move right now,” she said, frustrated as she blinked, trying to keep the tears that were threatening to escape from ruining her perfect smoky eye. And still she could not zip up her dress. She looked at the alarm clock next to the bed and saw that it was almost six. Okay, screw it, she was going to need his help with this dress. She made her way to the sliding door that led into the CEO office and opened it slowly.

  Rodrigo was standing with his back to her, on the other side of the room, looking out of the enormous windows that provided a heart-stopping view of a June Manhattan sunset. He did cut a dashing figure in his suit. Everything had to be just so with Rodrigo Almanzar, everything in its place. But with her he’d been messy and free. Funny and passionate. For so many years he had meant so much to her—if she was honest with herself, he still did. But she could not walk away from this fight.

  It would ruin things for them forever, she knew that. Rodrigo would feel betrayed. He’d resent her. And wasn’t that what she’d said she wanted? A chance to get back at him? Well, her taking the CEO position from him would certainly accomplish that.

  “Rodrigo,” she said into the quiet room, and he turned. God, but the man was a sight standing in the warm glow of the golden hour. He could always trip her up with just a look. He kept his hair very short, and his face clean-shaven. Always so formal. Tonight’s dark blue tuxedo made him look like a Tom Ford model. Her eyes glommed on to him as he walked over to her and she did not miss that his eyes were burning, too.

  By the time he got to her the beating of her heart was so intense she could feel it in her throat. She felt naked. Bare to him in too many ways that felt utterly dangerous. So she hid from him. She turned around and walked back into her father’s secret bedroom, feeling too exposed to be in the office where anyone could see. He followed her in without a word, and she did not dare turn around. Finally, when she got to the front of the bed, she asked the question without looking up. “Can you zip me up?”

  “You picked the green one,” he said huskily. She’d settled on an emerald green A-line sleeveless dress by Christian Siriano. One of her goals in life had been to wear one of his creations, and even though this whole situation would probably end up blowing up in her face, she could at least have this memory.

  Although now that she was the owner of a quarter of Sambrano, she supposed there could be more Siriano in her future...

  She heard the quick intake o
f breath and felt the heat of him as he came even closer. “This color is perfect on you, Joya.” There was that name again. The one she’d always told herself—and him—she hated but melted for whenever he uttered it.

  He gripped her waist as his other hand traced the bare skin of her back with a finger that could’ve been flames licking at her skin. She didn’t protest, she didn’t move away, entranced by the feel of him. She’d told herself so many times this man meant nothing her. And yet just a brush of his fingers had her ready to toss out the window every self-protective instinct she had. She wanted to lean in, take those strong hands and wrap them around her waist. Let her head fall on his shoulder; but he only zipped her dress, and stepped back.

  “Turn around, I want to see you.”

  She should be annoyed at his demanding tone. She should tell him to get out of the room, that she didn’t need him anymore. She should guard her heart from someone who could so easily trample it. But instead, she turned her bare feet on the plush carpet to face him. And what she found in his eyes could easily raze them both down to ashes.

  “Hermosa, mi Joya.” His voice was rough with desire, and she knew in that moment, whatever he asked for she’d give him. He pressed closer, so she had to tip her head to look at his face. “Having you this close and not being able to touch you is hell.” His voice was gravel and smoke as he brushed his knuckles against her cheek. She closed her eyes at the contact, her breath hitching from the effect his closeness had on her. Always overwhelming. Like he was the only person in the world.

  “I want to kiss you, Esmeralda.” She shook her head at the statement, even as a frustrated little whine escaped her lips.

  Her arms were already circling around his neck. “If we’re going to do this, just do it, Rodrigo.” Without hesitation he crushed her mouth with his and the world fell away. His tongue stole in, and it was like not a single day had passed since they’d last done this. She pressed herself to him as he peppered her neck with fluttering kisses. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew this was the height of stupidity, that they were both playing with fire. That if anyone found about this, she would probably sink her chances to get approved by the board. But it was so hard to think when he was whispering intoxicatingly delicious things in Spanish. Preciosa, amada...mia.