“You’re already on vacation.”

“Not me. You.” He pushed off the wall, his steps languid yet deliberate as he crossed the room and stopped mere inches from me. “I’ll attend the gala if you promise to join me on vacation after. Three weeks in Spain. No work, just play.”

The request soared from so far out of left field I gave myself whiplash trying to follow it. “You want me to take three weeks off work?”

“Yes.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

I’d taken a total of two vacation days since I started Kensington PR, my boutique public relations firm, six years ago. The first was for my grandmother’s funeral. The second was when I was hospitalized with pneumonia (chasing paparazzi in the dead of winter would do that to you). Even then, I’d kept up with emails on my phone.

I was work. Work was me. The thought of abandoning it for even a minute made my stomach cramp.

“That’s the deal.” Xavier shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

“Forget it. It’s not happening.”

“Fine.” He turned toward the bed again. “In that case, I’m going back to sleep. Feel free to stay or fly home. It doesn’t matter to me.”

My teeth clenched.

That bastard. He knew I wouldn’t fly home and leave him here to sow chaos in my absence. With my luck, he’d throw a public orgy on the beach tonight just to set tongues wagging and drive home the fact he wasn’t at the gala when he should be.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. We needed to leave in the next fifteen minutes if we were to make it to the gala in time.

If it weren’t for my eight o’clock date in London, I might have called Xavier’s bluff, but…

Dammit.

“I can do two days,” I said, relenting. One weekend wouldn’t kill me, right?

“Two weeks.”

“One week.”

“Deal.” His dimples blinded me again, and I realized I’d been tricked. He’d deliberately started with a higher offer to barter me down to his original plan.

Unfortunately, it was too late for regrets, and when he held out his hand, I had no choice but to shake on the time frame I’d proposed.

That was the worst part about Xavier. He was smart, but he applied it to all the wrong things.

“Don’t look at me like I killed your pet fish,” he drawled. “I’m taking you on vacation. It’ll be fun. Trust me.”

His smile widened at my icy stare.

One week in Spain with one of my least favorite people on the planet. What could possibly go wrong?

CHAPTER 2

Xavier

Nothing brightened my day more than riling Sloane up. She was so predictable in her responses and so spectacular in her anger, and I loved seeing her ice-queen façade melt long enough to reveal a glimpse of the real person underneath.

It didn’t happen often, but when it did, I added it to the mental drawer where I collected all things Sloane.

“Ah, you’re one of those.” I flicked a gaze over my new publicist’s tight bun and tailored dress. “Uptight rule follower. Got it. You should’ve introduced yourself that way instead of with your name.”

The glare she bestowed on me could’ve leveled an entire city block.

Objectively, Sloane was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever met. Blue eyes, long legs, symmetrical face…Michelangelo himself couldn’t have sculpted a better female form.

Too bad none of that came with a sense of humor.

She said something sharp in response, but I’d already tuned her out.

Fuck my father for forcing me into this stupid arrangement. If it weren’t for my inheritance, I’d tell him to piss off.

Publicists were glorified babysitters, and I didn’t want or need a babysitter. Besides, as pleasing to the eye as she was, I could already tell Sloane was going to be a major buzzkill.

That’d been our first meeting. My initial animosity toward her had run out of oxygen since then, leaving…hell, I didn’t know. Curiosity. Attraction. Frustration.

Much more complicated emotions than hostility, unfortunately.

I didn’t know when the switch flipped, but I wished I could go back and unflip it. I’d much rather hate her than be intrigued by her.

“Stand up straight,” Sloane said without taking her eyes off the man beelining toward us. “You’re at a black-tie event, not the beach. Try to pretend you want to be here.”

“There’s alcohol, food, and a gorgeous woman by my side. Of course I want to be here,” I drawled, telling the truth in the first part and lying my ass off in the second.

My gaze skimmed over her quickly enough to escape her notice, yet long enough to imprint the image in my mind. On anyone else, her simple black gown would’ve been boring, but Sloane could wear a grocery bag and still blow everyone else out of the water.

The silk skimmed her lean frame, highlighting her flawless skin and smooth, bare shoulders. She’d swept her hair into a fancier version of its usual bun, and other than a pair of small diamond-drop earrings, she wore no accessories and barely any makeup. She’d obviously dressed with the intention of blending in, but she could no more blend into a crowd than a jewel could blend into mud.

I’ll be honest—I hadn’t expected her to accept my deal. I’d hoped she would, but she was married to her job and the gala wasn’t that important. It was a run-of-the-mill event honoring my father, not the Legacy Ball or a royal wedding.

The fact she would give up a week of precious work time in exchange for my attendance here? It reeked of fishiness, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I’d been dying to get Sloane away from the office for a while. She was wound so tight she was bound to explode, and I didn’t want to be there when it happened. She needed a release. Plus, the trip was the perfect opportunity to corrupt her—get her to let her hair down (literally and figuratively), loosen up, have some fun. I would pay to see her lounging on the beach like a normal person instead of making people cry on the phone.

Sloane Kensington needed a vacation more than anyone else I knew, and I needed—

“Xavier!” Eduardo finally reached us. My father’s best friend and interim CEO of the Castillo Group clapped a hand on my shoulder, interrupting my thoughts before they strayed down a dangerous path. “I didn’t expect to see you here, mijo.”

“Me neither,” I said dryly. “Good to see you, tío.”

He wasn’t my biological uncle, but he might as well have been. He and my father had been friends since childhood, and he’d been one of his most trusted advisors before my father fell ill. Eduardo was currently running the ship until the board made a final decision on whether to wait for my father to get better or find a new permanent CEO.