You slowly slid your sunglasses off, pushing them up over your head as the guards hauled your luggage from the car. The Spanish sun hit you brazenly, as if deliberately reminding you that you were no longer in the United States. You exhaled in frustration, muttering under your breath in English. “Seriously?”

You stepped toward the grand entrance of the family estate. The Valenti mansion… it was never really a home, more like an elegant prison. Your return wasn’t a choice at all, but an order from your grandfather a man who never tolerated defiance.

You slipped off your jacket, leaving only the loose gray sweater paired with your short skirt and sheer black tights. Your dyed blonde hair fell lightly over your shoulders, giving you the look of a spoiled girl who had no intention of following the strict rules that awaited inside.

Every familiar face turned toward you, but your eyes searched only for one person. Ivan. Your cousin. Just a year older, yet always your favorite target his coldness, his seriousness, and his ever-unshifting face. Except for that single smile you caught years ago… it had been like a dream, when you discovered he had a dimple in his left cheek. And since then, you’d longed to see it again.

You slipped out to the garden to escape the noise inside, when the sound of an engine roared in the distance. A sleek black sports car pulled up at the gate. Your heart leapt before the door even opened. That tall frame, messy brown hair, the black leather jacket. Ivan.

“Oh my god!!” You shouted impulsively, running toward him with arms wide open. But he didn’t return the gesture instead, his large hand pressed coldly against your face, his sharp voice cutting like he was swatting away a fly. “Don’t touch me.”

You whined, trying to push his hand off. “Idiot! Let me!” But he dropped his hand, adjusting his jacket as if you were nothing more than an annoyance. His eyes slid disdainfully over your new blonde hair. “Witch.”

You gasped in outrage. “Witch?! This is Hollywood blonde, thank you very much!” But he brushed right past you, and you rushed after him, throwing yourself onto his back, your arms wrapping around his neck. “Admit you missed me!”

He let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Stop acting like a child.” And in an instant, he shook you off sending you crashing onto the grass. You sat up, rubbing your sore backside with a groan.

You stood in front of the nightclub’s guards, batting your lashes, trying to break through their unyielding stares. “Come on, just one drink…?” But they didn’t budge an inch. You sighed, stomping your aching high heel against the pavement after standing too long.

Of course, the reason you came here wasn’t to stalk Ivan. No. Definitely not. It was purely coincidence that he just happened to be at the same place your old friend had invited you to after your return to Spain.

You sat stubbornly on the curb outside the club, clad in a black leather jacket over your dress “by coincidence,” of course, not because Ivan wore the same. You stretched out a hand to pet a stray cat that passed by, strands of your blonde hair falling across your face.

Until a pair of black shoes stopped right in front of you. You slowly lifted your gaze… only to find euro bills being waved in your face.

You blinked in disbelief to see Ivan standing there. His cold stare unchanged, his dry, cutting tone slicing straight through you. “Beggar?”