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I can hardly believe what I just heard.

Does she want my company while touring the church?

Zoe Turner definitely doesn’t belong in my world. Not even close. I don’t usually trouble myself approaching the women I’m interested in. It only takes a look to get everything done, and now, as I walk with her inside La Sagrada Familia , I wonder what the fuck I’m doing here.

In the daylight, the woman looks even younger than I first thought, and for a moment, I consider backing off because it’s obvious she’s inexperienced. The thing is, Zoe has been on my mind since the moment she ran out yesterday.

No, she had my full attention the second I saw her perfect, long legs balancing on an ugly pair of shoes.

“Is this your first time in Spain?”

“My first time out of Boston,” she replies, turning to look at me.

And in that second, I understand why there’s no way I’m going to back down. She’s so beautiful.

“Is the name Xander Megalos Greek? Don’t laugh if I’m talking nonsense, but it sounds Greek.”

“Yes, it is,” I reply without elaborating further.

When I introduced myself, I purposely gave her my middle name and mother’s last name because I’m well-known around the world. As I wasn’t sure if this could turn into something more, I chose to remain anonymous.

But after five minutes, I think it was a silly move. Zoe probably knows nothing about high society, which only makes her more attractive to me.

“Was I out of line for asking that?”

“What?”

“I’m not very sociable, so I’m not really sure how to start a conversation.”

“Is that what we’re doing? Being sociable?”

She shrugs. “You were willing to visit the church with me, so I thought . . .”

“I’ve already visited this church. I’m here because I want you. It’s the same reason I sent someone to find out if you were getting off the ship today.”

I see her throat move as she swallows hard. “That’s a little scary.”

“Probably.”

“But flattering, too. Thanks.”

Is she thanking me for wanting her? Zoe doesn’t have a mirror at home?

“Let’s have brunch. Today is Sunday, the day you Americans do it.”

Again, she evades my question. “How did you get a ticket to get in here? I bought mine a while ago; it’s not that easy to get one.”

“Everything has a price. Money, contacts—it’s all about knowing what the other wants and you can get anything.”

“That sounds a bit cold.”

“Straightforward, I would say. I always prefer honesty. Cards on the table.” We’re almost at the exit now, and I have a feeling we haven’t made any progress. “What time do you have to go back to work?”

“The ship is not leaving until five, so I must be there at three. But I need to go; I have to buy some souvenirs for my mother.”

“Come with me to my yacht.”

“Thanks for the invitation, but I don’t know you. Then again, I would be delighted if you joined me for a cup of espresso. ”

I look at her to see if she’s playing with me, but her innocent expression tells me she’s serious. “I have a counterproposal.”

“Is this a negotiation?” she asks with flushed cheeks, and finally, I see that she’s just as interested in this as I am, but maybe she doesn’t know how to show it.

“Everything in my life is a negotiation, Zoe.”

“What would be your proposal?”

“Coffee to start. Lunch in a little while. I want to get to know you better.”

“But I’m leaving today.”

Maybe you don’t want to go.

But instead of scaring her off with my usual arrogance, I skirt around her doubts. “One thing at a time, Zoe. Coffee, then we decide the rest.”

We leave the church, and after weaving through the crowd with my bodyguards, I spot my car just a few steps behind us.

But Zoe stops. “I thought we were going to walk.”

“Not to where I’m taking you.”

“I. . .”

“Are you an adult, Zoe?”

“Yes.”

“Then you will have to make a decision. I want to get to know you better, but I won’t force you. I’m inviting you for coffee, but not in a place where we’ll have to yell at each other to talk. It’s up to you to come with me or not.”

“I don’t know anything about you.”

“You know my name.” I motion to her hand, asking for the phone she holds as if it were a treasure. “Unlock it.”

She hesitates but eventually obeys.

I open her contacts and save my name and phone number. Then I call myself.

“And now you also have my phone number. Share it with whomever you want if it means you’re coming with me.”

“I’m not a child,” she says with a frown, and even that doesn’t interfere with her beauty. “I might as well go get some coffee ”—she emphasizes the word as if to make it clear to me that it will be nothing more than that—“without needing permission from anyone.”

“Rebel much?”

“Not even close, but I don’t like to be challenged, Mr. Megalos.”

I’m sure she’s only calling me that to tease me, but it only turns me on more.

I don’t like pointless arguments, so I place my hand on the small of her back and direct her to the car.

I can’t remember the last time I felt so aroused by a woman. When you’ve been in the seduction game as long as I have, there comes a time when everything gets boring and predictable. With Zoe, however, I don’t know what will happen. Despite her shy nature, she makes it clear that she has a strong personality, and it’s making my blood boil.

The driver waits for us with the car door open.

Zoe turns around and tells me, “I need to get back here before I go to the ship. I didn’t buy my mother’s souvenir.”

“I can work that out.” As she settles into the backseat, I turn to one of the bodyguards. “Go to one of those souvenir places and buy one of each from everything you can find labeled Barcelona and La Sagrada Familia .”

“Yes, sir.”

I get in the car, seeing she is fastening her seat belt.

“I’m going for a coffee,” she says. “Nothing else.”

“I don’t remember asking for anything different, Zoe,” I say, hiding a smile.