One Week to Claim It All Read online

  “Him?” she asked tersely, and from the corner of her eye she saw her mother flinch.

  Rodrigo Almanzar, her father’s protégé and the person who for years had been the only tie she had to Patricio. The man she’d given her heart and her body to only to have him betray her when she needed him most. The man whose very name could still make her ache with longing and tremble with fury. How could it still hurt so much after all this time?

  She felt tired. Tired of this damn thing hanging over her head. Tired of all the complicated feelings she had about everything having to do with Sambrano Studios. Especially when it came to the tall, brawny, arrogant bastard who was probably hoping she’d do the very thing she’d been considering. Let her pride and her baggage make her decision for her.

  And she might have, if he wasn’t the one who’d end up as president and CEO. She wouldn’t do it out of greed, or even to appease her mother, but she would do it out of spite. Rodrigo had betrayed her just so he could continue as her father’s lapdog. Now she’d take the thing he’d sold his soul for...just when he thought he finally had it.

  “Actually,” she said, standing up, already feeling the fire in her gut that usually preceded her doing ill-advised things. “You’re right.” The four women in her living room were all looking at her with varying degrees of anticipation. “I’ve been saying for years that if given the chance to shoot my shot I wouldn’t hesitate to take it. This isn’t exactly how I’d hoped to get it, but now that I do, I’m not wasting it. Tomorrow, Sambrano will get its new president and CEO.”

  Her mother eyed Esme with suspicion, probably guessing what had been the deciding factor for her change of heart, while her aunt Yocasta crowed with delight, “Ay, Ivelisse, what I wouldn’t give to see the look on Carmelina’s face when Esme walks into that boardroom tomorrow.”

  Esme smiled wryly at her aunt, but her mind was already racing toward the other shocked face she was looking forward to seeing.

  Two

  This is bittersweet, Rodrigo Almanzar thought as he smoothed a hand over his Hermès tie and the jacket of the slate Brioni suit he’d ordered special for this day. Finally taking the helm of the company he’d been working for since he was sixteen years old warranted splurging fifty grand. Even if this wasn’t how he’d envisioned things happening.

  He wished him taking the job at the head of Sambrano Studios didn’t come as a result of losing Patricio. A flash of grief, and the usual tangle of emotions that his old mentor evoked in him, dulled the electric anticipation he’d been feeling all week. Patricio had been more than his mentor; he’d been his dad’s best friend and his family’s savior once upon a time. The man had taught Rodrigo everything he knew about the business he loved. Patricio had many shortcomings, and over the years the things Rodrigo had seen him do bordered on outright cruelty. But even when Patricio seemed to be hell-bent on alienating everyone in his life, his bond with Rodrigo had remained strong.

  Well, there had been that one night. The moment when Rodrigo had bartered with everything he had, and he’d gotten what he wanted. Then lost everything anyways.

  Yeah, no matter what the gossips liked to say about Rodrigo’s “special treatment” from Patricio, the man had never pulled his punches. When he was in one of his moods, anyone could get the brunt of it. But Rodrigo had learned how to maneuver the older man, and even when he knew he should’ve quit, his loyalty had kept him working for Sambrano. Even after it had cost Rodrigo the woman he loved. Loyal to a fault, his mother had always said, and maybe when it came to Patricio it was true.

  One night in those last days, when the once tall and powerful man had been emaciated by illness, he’d confessed that Rodrigo reminded him of himself. That he’d turned into the kind of man he’d wished he could’ve been. Rodrigo shook his head, dismissing that, but Patricio’s eyes had been full of affection and pride. The same affection and pride that had kept Rodrigo tethered to his desk even when he’d hated the things Patricio had done. When staying in this company really felt like it had cost Rodrigo his soul.

  And that line of thinking brought him right to the one person he’d been avoiding thinking about for days. For weeks, really. Since the estate executor had made the last attempt to contact Esmeralda Sambrano-Peña to ask if she would be honoring her father’s last wishes and taking over Sambrano Studios. Rodrigo didn’t believe in skirting the rules, even when there was good reason. But after twelve months of having the executor’s calls ignored he figured that was answer enough. No matter how much he wanted to officially be named president and CEO, he’d done his due diligence. And today no one could say he had manipulated the circumstances. Hell, he’d gone out of his way to make sure Esmeralda got the chance to claim the position.

  After wrangling with the likes of Carmelina Sambrano for the past year Rodrigo was more certain than ever that he needed to be in charge. Esmeralda didn’t have the temperament to deal with that viper and her pack of cronies. Patricio’s widow would be waiting in the wings for her to fail so she could take her late husband’s life’s work and sell it for pieces to the highest bidder. No, sweet and soft-spoken Esmeralda would not be up for the dogfight this was going to be.

  He cleared his throat as he looked around the room. Sambrano’s headquarters in Midtown Manhattan were housed in an Art Deco building from the 1920s. Patricio had all the original moldings and wood painstakingly restored, but this boardroom was the crown jewel of the executive floor. A massive space overlooking Central Park. The walls were all done in wood paneling that gave the room a warm feel, even if the meetings as of late had been anything but. The showpiece in the room was the table, a hundred-year-old behemoth that sat twenty-four people. It was a perfect solid oak oval, with an Italian rose marble top. Patricio had acquired it at an estate sale in the ’70s on a whim and kept it in storage until he grew his business enough to display it. It was ostentatious now, but when Patricio had purchased it, the studio only getting off the ground, it must have seemed recklessly arrogant. But his mentor had made good on the promise of that table. He’d built an empire befitting its grandeur, and Rodrigo would be damned if he let it all be laid to waste by his family’s greed.

  The sumptuous burgundy leather chairs were occupied by all ten members of the Sambrano Studios executive board, in addition to Carmelina and her two children, Perla and Onyx. As vicious as Carmelina was when it came to her husband’s money, her children didn’t seem to care in the slightest what happened to their family legacy. Perla seemed perennially preoccupied with her travel plans and not much else and as for Onyx...he only remembered the studio existed when he needed it to get invitations to celebrity parties.

  Useless. All of them.

  But that was just fine. Rodrigo would be in charge, and he knew what he needed to do, had been meticulously planning it for years—with Esmeralda as a no-show it seemed the one snag had been smoothed out. He got to his feet, suddenly feeling the urgency of getting the meeting going. In theory Patricio’s heiress had another hour to claim her place, but by the time they got to that part of the agenda they would be well past the window.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” He made sure to project his voice and it resounded across the room. Soon even Perla and Onyx were peeling their eyes off their phones and turning their attention to Rodrigo. “Thank you for coming today. I can’t say that this isn’t bittersweet.”

  Rodrigo stopped to take a breath, surprised by the wave of emotion tightening his chest. “Patricio was like a father to me...” He ignored what sounded like a scoff coming from the direction where Carmelina was sitting and focused on the people in the room that, like him, were concerned with not seeing a lifetime of work be flushed down the drain. “And he has left enormous shoes to fill. I couldn’t be prouder to officially take the helm of Sambrano and hope that together we can create a future for the studio that he would be proud of.”

  His pulse quickened as the words he’d just uttered sank in. This w
as really happening. Sixteen years of working tirelessly, of sacrificing his personal life for this company, was paying off with what had always been his goal: being president and CEO of Sambrano Studios. He might not have the last name, but he’d given everything to this company, and now he would be the one to take it into the future.

  Some of the people in this room—hell, people all over the industry—loved to whisper about “the forbidding” next-in-line at Sambrano. Joked that Patricio had Rodrigo’s emotions surgically removed before giving him the chief content officer position. But Rodrigo let that slide right off his Brioni-clad shoulders. They talked because he’d persevered, had triumphed when so many others failed. He’d been the youngest CCO in the industry eight years ago when he got the position, and when he took over as interim CEO—after Patricio’s illness had forced him to step down a year ago—he’d become one of the highest-paid Latinos in all of entertainment. He was a millionaire dozens of times over in his own right, and now was head of a billion-dollar company.

  They hated him because they wanted to be where he was. And he would not apologize for how he’d gotten here.

  “Sambrano has always been unique in the business and my plan is to continue that tradition,” he continued, and was pleased to hear sounds of approval from some in the room. Others remained silent. Then again this was a contentious line of conversation. The topic of what direction Sambrano would take in the next decade had been hotly contested. Some wanted to keep things as they were and others wanted to think more innovatively, to be more competitive in this new era of streaming and global programming. One more challenge he’d had to tackle immediately.

  The voices around the room were interrupted when the door to the boardroom suddenly burst open. The entrance was off to the right, beyond Rodrigo’s range of vision, but the varying looks of shock from those facing the door gave him an inkling of who it was before he turned around.

  “Sorry I’m late. The trains uptown were a mess today.” The various surprised gasps, and in Carmelina’s case, something very close to a roar, went a long way to confirm the newcomer’s identity. Ten years was not such a long time that he wouldn’t remember the voice of the person who had meant the most to him at one time in his life. The only person that elicited regret in him. The self-confidence was new, but he’d recognize Esmeralda’s raspy tone anywhere. He’d always thought she sounded like she was hoarse from laughing too hard or singing too loud. She didn’t sound like she was laughing now.

  By the time he turned, she was already in front of him. This was not the twenty-one-year-old girl he’d last seen the summer Patricio broke his daughter’s heart—and him, too; Rodrigo had broken her heart, too. She’d been beautiful back then. Always too beautiful for him to resist. With her lavish curls that fell around her shoulders in a palette of brown and gold, and that flawless skin, like Dominican mahogany. But her eyes had always been his perdition, those big hazel orbs that always saw a little too much. He’d made mistakes with this woman that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Too many to rehash right now, especially when her arrival was about to wreak havoc on his carefully laid plans.

  This was not the unsure, sensitive girl he fell for all those years ago. The one who had looked at him like he was the man of her dreams. The one whose soft body he’d lost himself in again and again. The woman standing here exuded confidence and at the moment was staring at him with open hostility. This Esmeralda was self-possessed, and she knew exactly the effect she was having on him.

  “Rodrigo.”

  He’d never known one word could carry with it so much disdain, and that was a good reminder he had to snap out of it and get his head in the game. He had a history with Esmeralda Sambrano-Peña, but he could not let that cloud his judgment. He’d once let his feelings for her almost ruin his career, and he would not make the same mistake again. No matter how much her presence rattled him. He should have expected this. Seeing her had been a possibility hanging over his head since nearly a year ago, when the executor of Patricio’s will gathered them all in this same room and dropped the bomb of the century on them.

  And yet, his reaction to her still caught him by surprise. Every instinct he had incited him to get closer. But as he took her in, the defiant eyes, the determined set of her mouth, he at least saw things clearly. He could not underestimate this woman, not if he wanted to keep those three letters attached to his name.

  “Started without me, I see,” she said, trying to provoke him. Sarcasm dripped from her every word. Her full mouth set in a hard line. Her eyes, which in the past had looked at him with such adoration, now cool and distant. As if she could see right through him. She’d come dressed to kill today. Her black suit fit her like a glove, and even now, when he suspected her arrival was about to upend everything, he could not help but notice the luscious curves of her body.

  In the past ten years Rodrigo had told himself a million times he could handle her disdain. That he’d made the right decision in letting her go. That if she hated him for it, it had been worth it, for both their sakes. But now, after just a mere moment of having her back in his space, he knew he’d been lying to himself all along. The truth was that he had a weakness for Esmeralda. And men like him could not afford to be ruled by their vulnerabilities. His father had been like that, unable to keep himself in check, undisciplined, and it had cost their family everything. Rodrigo had promised himself years ago he would never follow in those footsteps. Rodrigo did not allow his passions to rule his head, even if it meant appearing ruthless to the one person in the world he never wanted to hurt. He’d done it once before. It had almost killed him, but he’d survived, and now he’d do it again if that was what it took.

  “I never took you for one for theatrics, Esmeralda.” He sounded like an absolute bastard, but it had to be done. This was not a game, and if Esme wanted this position, he would treat her like he would any competitor.

  Her head snapped in his direction at the sound of his voice, and when her gaze landed on him again her expression went from cold to mutinous. Esmeralda had not let bygones be bygones, it seemed. All the better to keep himself in check. And if his stomach lurched and his blood rushed between his temples with a roar, well, that was just frustration at having his plans disrupted. Nothing more.

  Rodrigo had learned the hard way not to let emotions creep into his professional life. And that was what this was for him, his job, not some family drama. Carmelina and her children, even Esmeralda, could throw tantrums now, but Rodrigo could not afford outbursts. And he certainly could not spend another second fixating on Esmeralda’s mobile, generous mouth and all the ways he knew she could use it to undo him.

  She waved a hand at him and turned to the seat he’d just emptied. “So testy, Rodrigo.” She clicked her tongue, as derision dripped from every word out of her mouth. “You’re all in your feelings because I came to ruin your coronation? I guess it didn’t occur to anyone that I might actually be up for taking this job.” Her tone could melt the paint off the walls, but he would not take that bait.

  “That’s okay,” she goaded, turning to Carmelina Sambrano, who was practically vibrating in her seat at the far end of the table. “I’m happy to fill everyone in, as soon as I officially assume my position as president and CEO.” With that she went to the head of the table, the very seat Rodrigo had been about to occupy, and sat down.

  “Are you people going to let this travesty happen?” The widow’s cry of unbridled outrage reminded Rodrigo there were other people in the room. And he’d had just about enough of the Sambranos and their need to turn everything into a telenovela. He stepped up to Esme, determined to get this farce under control. He’d had to put up with this for sixteen years. The Sambranos and their chaos. Their backbiting and their drama. As if this was all about them, like there weren’t thousands of workers depending on the people in this room for their livelihoods. He had no idea what game Esmeralda was playing at, but he was not putting u
p with any of this.

  “Esmeralda, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  For a second her mask slipped. For a moment shorter than the blink of an eye he saw that the way he spoke to her surprised her. And he almost hesitated, ensnared by the urge to soothe her. To fix this for Esmeralda. But he reminded himself that was not his job. “You have to know this isn’t appropriate,” he ground out, forcing himself to keep an even tone. “That there are timelines. There are procedures. You don’t understand—”

  “No,” she said, curtly lifting herself from the seat she’d just commandeered. “You don’t understand.” She was standing so close he could see a tiny bead of perspiration gather between her breasts, and he hated himself for the throb of lust that coursed through him. “I’m taking my position as president and CEO of Sambrano and if that affects your or anyone else’s plans...” That she directed at her half-siblings, who were still sitting, mouths gaping. “That’s your problem, not mine. Now, where in the agenda were we?” With that she placidly sat down, leaving him there like a six-foot-two-inch-tall office ornament.

  That arrogance, it should’ve incensed him. But, dammit, instead a wave of raw need almost made him stumble. His hands itched to touch her, to take that mouth and find out if it still tasted as sweet as he remembered. But he smothered that urge down to ashes. This was what he excelled at, after all. Locking down and repressing every emotion. In the last days of her illness, his mother told him he’d lost himself to this job, that she didn’t recognize the man he’d become. And it would’ve hurt if it wasn’t the truth, but Rodrigo long ago had understood that denying reality was harder work than just learning to live with it.