Ruby St. Clair's POV

The last thing I expected when I arrived in Spain was to get married—hell the last thing I expected was to get tangled with the likes of Roman Vasquez.

Now I stood at his fabulous bathroom preparing for our wedding ceremony. A light tap on the door drew my attention back to the present time. Roman's dark head popped at the door and met my gaze through the mirror's reflection. His brooding looks did something inside my chest which at the moment I don't want to examine fully.

"Are you ready?" He asked casually. He wore a tailored dark suit with a white shirt and silk tie, he looked devastatingly handsome. Since when did I become aware that this man was handsome?

"Yeah," I replied, putting the finishing touches on my face. I saw the reflection of the woman in the mirror. She looks like a woman who's scared of her coming fate later. Who am I kidding? Ruby St. Clair was never scared of anything.

He waited for me in the bedroom where I slept last night and offered his arm when I emerged from the bathroom. "Shall we?" He asked me.

I took a deep breath. I could do this, I reassured myself silently. I never back down from anything life has thrown in my direction before. This was just a marriage of convenience I could do this. "Of course."

We walked in the hallways of his magnificent mansion in Seville when I remembered the issue I wanted to discuss with him when I signed the prenup yesterday. "Roman," I started as we walked in the hallways silently. "I want to clarify something about the prenup agreement."

"What is it, cariño?"

Oh my God. If he continued to call me with these Spanish endearments I would melt for him. "When I read our prenup I didn't see the sleeping arrangement we're having."

He stopped walking and stared at me in disbelief. "Of course. You're sleeping where my wife is supposed to sleep. By my side."

I felt my cheeks flamed just like my hair. "Are you suggesting that we share a bed?"

"Naturally."

"I don't want to share a bed with you!" I snapped at him angrily. I never agreed to have any relationship with him other than a platonic one.

Roman dark eyebrows were drawn together. "Are you saying that I will not be able to bed my wife?"

"Yes," I told him exasperatingly. "I want you to contact your lawyer and tell him to add the no-sex clause on our prenup. If you pursue seducing me in those three months it will be a breach of contract I can freely seek for divorce."

A rueful smile broke into his gorgeous face. "I underestimated you, my dear."

"Do we have a deal?" I persisted, trying to ignore the weird heartbeat of my heart. I felt that I was making a bargain with the devil himself. "Otherwise, you can send off the marriage celebrator in your living room right now."

He finally nodded, but his eyes held unholy amusement that left me shivering. It made me think that I was making a huge mistake that I was sure that I would regret later. "Sí. You can have your pretty clause on our prenup. May it keep you warm in cold your bed for three months, Red."

I gasped at his brass announcement. He was the devil and I still don't know what had come to my mind to accept his proposal. Was I that desperate to find work?

You can still back out. A voice on the back of my head had whispered hopefully.

"Are you ready for this?" He asked me, as we were near the grand staircase where the wedding celebrator and two witnesses waiting for us.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I told him softly with the cheerfulness of a woman who had just been condoled. I certainly hope that this madness had possessed me and wouldn't bite me in the rear later. Oh, I certainly hope so.

The wedding went like a blur I repeated my vows absently and before I knew it Roman had been slipping the white-gold diamond-encrusted wedding ring on my finger. And the wedding celebrator had announced us as husband and wife.

Just like that. I was married to one of the most powerful men in Spain. I must be crazy to accept such work. When I vowed in the last six years to stay away from the likes of him. He reminded me so much of what I desperately left behind back home.

The perfunctory kiss looked simple and sweet—but it was not. Roman had managed to slip his tongue inside my mouth in the mere meeting of our lips.

From the satisfaction gleam in his gray eyes, I shivered at the thought that he was hell bend on having me in his bed before the three months were up. The question was can I do something to stop him? Why does my traitorous body seem to crave his touch?

"So, esposa..." He asked me pleasantly, his eyes held an unholy glint in their depth. "How do you plan on celebrating our wedding night? Care to share your plans?"

"An early dinner and an equally early night in bed alone," I emphasized the word alone which made him laugh. "How about you? What is your plan tonight?"

"You don't have to remind me about the no-sex clause every time, mi querida esposa." He whispered in my ear seductively which made me shiver. "Unless you want to."

I glared at him fervently. I want to have with fate why did I meet this Spanish devil. I only want a simple life not to get tangled with him!

"How about we eat at the fabulous restaurant I know in town?" He suggested casually, dragging me out of my reverie. He doesn't have any idea that I was not silently plotting his death in my mind. The thought looked so appealing at the moment.

"I hope you don't plan to bring me to the restaurant where I previously worked, Mr. Vasquez. Because I can assure you after my bad parting with my ex-employer I'm pretty sure I am banned to his place forever." He surprised me when he suddenly laughed heartily. "How about I cook for our dinner?" I countered lightly, still amazed that the man could laugh. I thought he didn't know how to do such a thing. "I'm a pretty good cook, you know."

He shook his dark head, while the smile still playing in his mouth. "Maybe next time. Hell, you can cook for me every day. But today is our special day we should eat something special."

He didn't believe that I was a competent cook, didn't he? Well, I would not pursue him anymore about my cooking skills. It was not my style to brag about my talent.

"Ten minutes, I'll be ready," I muttered to him, as I took the staircase to change into a more comfortable outfit other than the dress I wore for the wedding ceremony.

Roman Vasquez's POV

I gazed at my new wife as we dined at one of the trendiest restaurants in Seville. She's really beautiful when she's groomed up. Her red hair burned like flames under the lights while her pretty dark green eyes sparkled like emeralds.

"What's wrong?" She asked with a frown in her all-American accent. "You seem quiet tonight. You don't like the place?"

I smiled at her. "I'm just staring at you, Red. You look pretty tonight."

I could swear I saw a hint of blush on her face before she looked away and consciously touched her braided hair. "Your compliment will not get you anywhere near my bed, Mr. Vasquez. So save those words for those women who will appreciate them, okay?"

I stared at her intently. I must admit that I like seeing her discomfort. I decided to pry more information about her. She gave me the impression that she's a mysterious woman and that there's more to her than meets the eye. I could see secrets from the depth of her beautiful eyes. I want to uncover them. "Why so formal, Red? I am your husband now. Why don't you call me to my given name?"

The glare she threw in my direction was enough to message men that she was a man-hater. But that glare doesn't have any effect on me. I knew she wasn't so immune to a man's charm—my charm to be precise. "Temporary husband, Roman. I'm just working for you, for three months as your wife then after that, we will divorce. Nothing is permanent in our arrangement."

I sat back from my chair, trying to look sanguine in my position. "Is that how you shoo away men that come to your way, my darling...?" I asked conversationally, smiling at the waiter who brought our order. "...with that sassy mouth of yours?"

"I have no idea what are you talking about. I'm not doing such a thing." My wife said, attacking her steak with such fervor like she was imagining that poor meat to be me.

I hid my smile, sipping my red wine. "Forgive to my misconception then, Señorita. Instead of fighting why don't we start our short marriage life together as friends?"

She frowned at me, halfway from eating. "Can we do that?"

"Of course. That's way better, don't you think?" I told her solemnly, I raised my glass for a toast. She reluctantly clinked her glass of wine with me.

"I certainly hope so." She said before sipping the contents of her glass.