Eduardo looked over the wilted document, surprised it hadn't disintegrated into dust from the travel from the States to Segunta, where his headquarters and work apartment was.

The villa's deed was in fact in Isabella's name, but according to the Peniscola government Isabella might as well have been a squatter. Ancient cities like these were famous for forcing their way back into ownership of legacy properties- if you weren't careful or in constant contact with a local staff, you could find yourself property-less quite quickly.

"Isabella Maria Aguirre-Lopes." Reading the name aloud brought a small smile to his lips.

For some reason, the name just fit her.

He imagined, only for a second, that she'd drop her legacy last name and have his instead- then a nasty sneer came over his face.

She would never marry a pauper's son, regardless of how many millions he had amassed.

Her parents would never allow it.

But then a smile creeped onto his lips. Isabella was feisty, as he had seen on several occasions, and didn't go down without a fight.

If she truly wanted to do something, she would.

So if she refused his hand in marriage, it would be of her volition- wait, where had his mind wandered off to?

Marriage was for idiots, and he didn't have the time to waste pining after a woman anyway. One day when he was ready to settle down again, she would be a native Spanish woman with strong homemaking skills and the open schedule he needed. The whole "I need to work from my computer" shit that Isabella insisted on would wear thin on him in a long-term sense. Was she trading million-dollar stocks? Negotiating multi-year contracts for her business? Saving a job market of fifty-thousand plus employees?

No, she was most likely scrolling through her social media feed for likes or typing a blog on how to nap correctly.

Alas, marriage was the furthest thing from his mind and even if he did wake up with a wild hair one morning, Isabella would be the least suitable candidate. She didn't cook or clean, she was argumentative and slightly mentally unstable, and the girl didn't even speak proper Spanish!

Isabella was everything his mother had warned him against. She was out of touch with her culture, she was mouthy, and spoiled rotten- his mama would surely die twice if she knew how smitten her son had been, even for just a moment.

But he couldn't help the niggling sensation at the nape of his neck, either.

Isabella was sweet and soft when she wanted, especially around his son, and she was fiercely protective despite situations being out of her hands. He still hadn't figured out if she was incredibly brave or awfully stupid when it came to her hero complex. Isabella didn't care for his money, which had always been the largest point of contention with his female companions. Women couldn't wait to sink their claws into him and stake a claim to his fortune- he had his fair share of close calls and learned to appreciate the quieter, older women these days anyway.

She showered his son with gifts and toys and clothing, even though his own finances covered everything. Instead of asking him for funds and exorbitant gifts, she was asking for space from him and to stop sending gifts.

Women didn't decline gifts. It just wasn't natural.

She was supposed to swoon and pine after him, not cuss and flip him off in his own house!

It was an unnerving feeling to be in Isabella Maria's orbit.

He knew how to shut down money-grubbing gold diggers but getting a woman to open up to his gifts was proving impossible.

"Don Marquez?" His housekeeper's meek voice filtered through the wooden door, breaking through his troubling thoughts. "Senora Isabella will be entertaining guests by the pool today and Olga will be watching Sebastian. Do you need anything more?"

At the mention of Isabella entertaining, he stiffened.

She was a magnetic personality so he knew she would make friends here, despite a language barrier and his demands that she stay on the premises. But what harm could a few girlfriends sharing wine do? It was better than her nose poking around his office, asking her incessant questions or creating arguments out of thin air!

"That will be all." He grumbled back.

He didn't like people on his property; if he had to see friends or family for events, they could invite him to their homes or event spaces. But this had been one of those damned compromises Isabella was obsessed with.

She wouldn't go clubbing again, and he would let her do what she wanted in his villa.

Or the "lavish prison", as she had referred to it.

Such an American girl to be so dramatic! Enough of his lovers had graced the halls of this manor and gushed over every intricate detail to validate his ego- this was a mansion, covered in lush greenery and gated from the outside world with security and a chef on hand. Only his dramatic Isabella would ever refer to this place as anything other than luxury.

But she had laid out her terms to him, very clearly. She wanted her freedom and needed to feel more at home in a place that wasn't very homely- if he hadn't conceded, there was a chance she would have left.

Eduardo did not make it a habit to compromise or give into any demands whatsoever- but dios this woman had him by the balls at times.

Seeing those big brown eyes fill with tears, her bottom lip pulled in by her teeth in sweet agony- he would do whatever she asked when she looked at him like that. He wanted to protect her, but who was he protecting her from exactly? Perhaps her soul-sucking family, whom he witnessed firsthand treat her as though she were dispensable and at times, invisible? Or from the nasty public, whose claws would tear apart the fragile enigma that she was?

Or perhaps even… himself?

He had blackmailed her. He had entrapped her. Sure, he hadn't directly caused the situation that led her to Spain, but he did take joy from the spoils of war.

Still though, he had been conned in some way, hadn't he?

To stop himself from spying on his newfound nanny by the pool, he went downstairs and changed into athletic clothes for a workout session. He didn't get much use out of his state-of-the-art home gym, he mostly used the ones the hotel offered- but if he didn't release some steam then his head would surely pop.

She was so fucking annoying! What had possessed him to make any kind of arrangement with her?

They had sex- but he had sex with many other women, too. Some more famous, more glamorous, more refined than Isabella. She wasn't the most beautiful woman he'd met, and she wasn't the nicest either. But there was something about her that he couldn't shake- since the morning after they fucked, she was a nagging little voice in the back of his mind.

He nearly broke the metal piece of equipment that was in his hand when his mind wandered further off.

Seeing her pictures show up on Emateo's social media picture dump from a couple's retreat had pushed him over the edge. Isabella was all smiles in the pictures, Mick hanging on her arm as he seemed to like to.

Mick. What a stupid white boy name!

That's the kind of guy the Aguirre-Lopes' want her with. That's the type of well-to-do that all parents want their daughters to marry and have kids with.

Eduardo hit his punching bag over and over until he started to break a sweat.

Here she was, in his mansion.

She had gifts, an essentially free Spanish vacation, and any luxury amenity she could possibly fathom. Still, she had seemed as unimpressed as the day she looked at him cross in Emateo's penthouse reception. At her sister's wedding, when he had to borrow one of Emateo's suits last minute because "your color suit just doesn't match" as that annoying hag Rosalina had said, he remembered how Isabella roved over his look with her big brown eyes. She had made a snap judgment that his suit didn't fit him and so he didn't belong, but as much as he wanted to do everything in his power to prove her wrong there was some truth there.

Firstly, Emateo was the size of a fucking Grizzly Bear and even though the lad wore skin-tight suits, there was still a big size difference between Eduardo and his best friend. So the suit fit oddly in certain places and he had felt awkward and less confidant than usual.

Secondly, he didn't truly belong in rich people circles- he was an impoverished kid from Sanza Fueda and always would be. Eduardo could make a billion dollars in ten minutes and the old money bastards would still look at him with disdain.

Was that Isabella's appeal? Did he want to prove that badly that he belonged?

She was una bruja- a witch.

That was it!

This was all trickery, a nasty spell put on him by a true bruja.