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Ignoring the creepy sensation of being watched, she followed the path that bent in a wide arch in front of an impressive Spanish-style home.

Unsure where to stop, Charlotte pulled her car to the far side of the circle and hoped her sedan was out of the way. No other cars were parked in the driveway, but she couldn’t discount the possible fleet hidden behind one of the many garage doors.

Alex couldn’t possibly live here alone. The house was the kind of manor she’d seen in the Mexican soap operas one of her foster grandmothers loved. A hacienda like this required full time sta , had constant guests, and had siblings plotting to steal a going concern or two.

After taking enough deep breaths to ward o hyperventilation for a decade, Charlotte dried her sweaty palms on her jeans and turned o her car.

As soon as she stepped out into the heat of the day, she was struck by the silence. The soundtrack of her street was honking cars, blaring sirens, the thump of music undulating through the air. None of that had followed her. Instead, she was welcomed by birdsong and the water spewing from the

massive blue and white fountain at the center of the circular drive.

Cloaked in a loose tank top and unexpected tranquility, Charlotte started for the house. Instead of a normal front door, she came upon an open iron gate leading into a courtyard.

As Charlotte walked on the path through the manicured lawn and reflecting pool, she resisted the urge to gawk at the second story balcony that wrapped around the courtyard. If Alex was making some grand gesture of leaning over the banister and staring down at her, she didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of looking up. She didn’t want to feel small when she was already so far out of her comfort zone.

When Charlotte reached the tall, wooden double doors without the faintest sight of Alex, a cold disappointment crawled down her throat and into her chest. Why hadn’t she bothered to greet her at the door?

Charlotte pushed the thought aside along with her real feelings, picked up the heavy brass ring knocker, and made herself known. Each second she waited at the unanswered door added to her

uncertainty.

Am I even at the right house? Nothing about the estate matched her expectations, other than being expensive.

Maybe she’d driven up to the wrong place.

An uneasy heat warmed her cheeks as she turned on the heels of her new sandals and charged across the long courtyard. As she rushed, she imagined some irate millionaire accusing her of trespassing.

She was halfway to her car when the deep, loud roar of an engine forced her attention over her shoulder. With a grin,

she shielded her eyes from the unrelenting sun with her hands. Hurling toward her on a four-wheeler was Alex. Her long, dark hair was loose and flowing in the wind like the flag to her own kingdom as she raced.

Uncertain about what to do while waiting, Charlotte slipped her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and tried not to stare. Not gawking would’ve been easier if Alex’s loose, buttoned-down white shirt wasn’t rippling apart and exposing a generous swath of tanned cleavage. Charlotte looked down at the nail polish she’d just picked o .

“You made it,” Alex announced when she stopped a few feet short of where Charlotte was standing and cut the engine. “Sorry, I got caught up with. . .”

The words coming out of Alex’s mouth were lost to her.

All Charlotte could perceive was the sleeve of black and gray tattoos covering the skin from Alex’s wrist to where her shirt was rolled up to her elbow. She willed herself not to react, betting that people usually commented on the art when they first saw it.

Fuck. She’s hot.

Alex smirked. Her glossy, full lips the only thing to pull Charlotte’s attention away from the unexpected ink.

Remembering she hadn’t greeted her, Charlotte lunged forward, kissing Alex’s cheekbone too hard.

“You’re not wearing jeans,” Charlotte blurted as she scanned the legs made bare by Alex’s short khaki shorts.

“Well,” she crossed her arms over her chest, forcing Charlotte to look at the tattoos again, “it’s not my first time.”

After grabbing the bottle of chilled Prosecco she’d forgotten in the car, Charlotte followed Alex along a stone path skirting the perimeter of the house.

“This isn’t what I expected,” Charlotte announced as they approached a wooden gate Alex unlocked with her thumbprint.

“What were you expecting?” she asked, stepping into the outdoor kitchen leading to a lounging area before opening to an inviting crystalline pool. The way it was framed by palm trees and cascading waterfalls over jagged boulders reminded Charlotte of some hidden lagoon.

Like the courtyard, the backyard was protected by tall, stucco walls. This side didn’t have any rooms, but that only made the structure more imposing. They served no purpose other than concealment, an unnecessary aim considering the distance from the neighbors and massive privacy walls separating the properties.

“I wasn’t envisioning a country fortress situation,”