The Saint's Devilish Deal Read Online Free Page A

save this place from Eduardo. Santiago picked up the phone and dialed another number from memory.
    “Charlie, I need an advertising crew,” he said without identifying himself.
    “Thank God you’ve come to your senses, Saint,” Charlie Bascombe, Santiago’s former agent, said. “It’s about time you came out from under that Puerto Vallartan rock. I can get you a meeting with the best guys in New York, just give me a few minutes. I’ll call you right back.”
    “No, I can’t come to them. They need to come to me. And I need them here yesterday. A creative type and a photographer, tell them I’ll supply the props.” He crossed to Constance’s office and booted up her computer.
    “This isn’t about going back on the circuit, is it?” Censure rang out in Charlie’s voice as his gum popped across the line. He still didn’t get it, not that it mattered to Santiago. His reasons for ending his surfing career didn’t have to be understood by anyone.
    “Charlie, you’re a great agent, and you’ve made me a lot of money. You can’t change what happened in the water. Just get the crew here, money is no object.”
    At twenty-nine, he had more money than he could spend in three lifetimes. Santiago could pay the villa debts and not even feel the loss in his bank account. Whom was he going to pass all of that on to? He had zero intention of starting a family of his own. With Eduardo Cruz as his main parental role model, Santiago had no business going into the business of parenthood.
    There were ways to bring more guests into the villa. To fill it to capacity for the next six months. Those ways cost money and needed promotion. He’d been used by advertisers for years and now he would use them.
    He had already transferred enough money to zero out the first and second mortgages and made an appointment with Constance’s banker to finalize the transactions. With a few computer keystrokes several thousand more dollars landed in the villa’s accounts—enough to pay for advertising and start upgrading the rooms. Esme might hate him for it later, but they were now one step back into the black. He was one step closer to winning. His iPhone bleeped.
    “Figured you were busy. Crew arrives Wednesday. Gave them villa address, call when you return to sanity.”
    Santiago smiled. He was fully sane and in control. He logged off the villa computer and pushed away from the desk. He’d promised to help Jack replace the pool filter. Time to get out of the suit and back into normal clothes.
    “You summoned, Mr. Cruz,” Esme said from the doorway, raising one eyebrow and pointing her finger to the antique clock in the corner. “Just a tip: A good manager doesn’t just arrange and rearrange paperwork until quitting time. He doesn’t summon guests via text—” she waved her cell at him “—and he certainly doesn’t dress as if there was a sale at the beach-side Good Will store.” And with that his promise not to annoy Esme further disintegrated.
    He pretended to inspect his Hugo Boss shirt and tie. “I wasn’t aware Hugo ever visited Good Will, but you reminded me—I’m on surfer hours today,” he replied, resting his left hip on one desk corner. “You just can’t beat the water when the temperature soars. You used to know that. Why don’t you grab a very small bikini and join me?”
    Esme clenched her jaw but not before he saw a flash of heat light her gaze. So what if that flash barely lasted a moment?
    “Because you have a business to run, for the next three months at least. Or are you giving up already?”
    “Just prioritizing.”
    “Like you prioritized yesterday’s staff meeting?” She straightened from the door, taking a small step into the office.
    “Actually, my plan for today was to find a new bakery for the morning sweets.” He barely held back his smile when Esme blanched, guilt written all over her face. So, she was behind the bakery’s increased prices. “By the way, convincing already-scheduled