Page 77 of LA King

Be gentle with who? Me?

Alejandro claps his driver on the back. “Have I ever not been?”

If you’re talking about me, then um, yes. But I sense they’re not, and now I feel lost, like they’re in on something I’m not.

Jacob laughs. “I believe her body work will tell a different tale, sir. Have a wonderful evening, Mrs. Montoya.” Jacob gives me a polite nod and jogs back to the car he drove us here in.

Alejandro takes my hand. “Our ride is this way.” He guides me in the opposite direction, and we come to a stop beside an old green Mustang.

So the she Jacob was referring to was a car. Alejandro has a whole garage full of cars—all high-end and top spec. I have no idea who this beat-up Mustang belongs to or why we’re driving home in it. That nervous fizzing in my stomach is back.

“Why aren’t we taking your car?”

He unlocks the passenger door and opens it for me. “This is my car, Alana. My first car, in fact, which is why she’s a little worse for wear. Jax and I used to drag race her before we were old enough to have a license.”

I trail my fingertips across a scratch on the roof, happy to have a little bit of him that he’s never shown me before.

“I’m taking you somewhere, and it’s not the kind of place I want to go in a limo.”

Satisfied that he’s not going to push the car over a cliff with me inside, I climb in and lean over the driver’s seat to unlock his door. He climbs in and caresses the steering wheel.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he replies as the car roars to life, and he smiles at the sound.

Half an hour later, we’ve driven across downtown to 3rd Street, and Alejandro stops the car outside an old-fashioned diner called Mama Sue’s.

“Why are we here?” I say, taking a look around. The shelter does some outreach around here. It’s one of the poorest areas of the city, and not the type of place I’d expect Alejandro to even know about.

“My mother grew up in this neighborhood. Was born and raised here until she met my father at sixteen. When I was a kid, she came back every Saturday morning to check on her old friends and neighbors. She always brought me with her, and I learned to play basketball right over there.” He nods to the sun-faded but well-maintained court across the street. “That’s where I first met Jax. My father used to try and stop her from visiting. He’d tell her it was too dangerous. But she used to sneak here anyway. It may sound absurd, but we were probably safer here than we ever were in our gated mansion.”

“I had no idea. Your mom’s a badass.”

He nods, a smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, she is. All of her friends and neighbors have moved on now, most with a little help from her. But she still does a lot for the place. She donated the money for the library down the street. And this old diner was going to go under, but she convinced my father to buy it and give the place a makeover. It’s operated at a loss every year since my family has owned it because the food is so cheap and the staff is paid so well.”

I knew I loved his mom. What a kind and wonderful woman. “That’s amazing. Although it doesn’t sound like the best business model.”

He turns in his seat. “Some things are more important than business, Alana.”

Did the man who’s all about business, all the time, really just say that? “I can see why you brought me here. And I’m sorry I thought you wouldn’t be interested in helping people.”

He reaches across the center console and takes my hand in his. “I suppose I’ve never given you any reason to think otherwise. As for the outside world, we like to keep our more philanthropic endeavors under wraps. Legitimate is one thing—charitable is quite another. It’s not good for my image.” He smirks, his brown eyes twinkling, and I’m sure my ovaries are exploding.

“I’m glad you shared this with me though. It means a lot to me.”

“I should have told you about it sooner.” He cups my face in his hand and rubs the pad of his thumb over my cheek. “And I should have donated to your shelter without you having to ask or assume anything. And for that, princesa, I am sorry.”

Wow! An apology too. This is becoming quite the day. I’m seeing him in a whole new light, one that reinforces all the things I’ve been feeling for him that I’ve fought so hard not to feel. I’m scared he’s about to break through the last few bricks of my wall, and I don’t know what I’ll do if he does. If I let him in completely … he’ll have all the power. And then how will I walk away when this thing is done?

I need to take back a little control, put us on more even footing, or at least move this to a place where we’re both more comfortable. I slide my hand to his thigh and squeeze. “Would you like to donate some money to the shelter, Mr. Montoya?”

His grin turns wolfish and he arches an eyebrow. “If I promise to be your biggest donor, will I get any additional benefits?”

I run my hand up toward his groin. “What additional benefits did you have in mind, sir?”

He groans and shifts in his seat. “None that I’d like to indulge in sitting in this car in the middle of this neighborhood,” he growls. “Let’s get you home and get you naked, and then we can discuss my benefits.”

Without any further discussion, he pulls away from the curb.