Miguel didn’t expect to see you here, but maybe he should have. A black tie New Year’s Eve party, upscale, full of drunk rich men; exactly the sort of place you’d show up to cause trouble.

And trouble you certainly are.

The plunging neckline of your gown has his gaze plunging too, trailing the valley of your breasts, wandering down til he sees your thigh slipping out of the slit that nearly comes to your hip.

Mierda. For a second Miguel forgets the villain and just sees the woman. His eyes track you as you slip through the crowd like a cat, stepping out onto the balcony just before midnight. It’s not long before he follows you, leaning against the railing and passing you a glass of champagne. A silent truce.

“What’s wrong, hermosa? No one to kiss at midnight?”