CHAPTER 11

The dry Arizona heat was something I was slowly getting used to, but the weight of my decision to leave everything behind still clung to me. Every morning, I woke up expecting something—an old memory clawing its way into my mind, a call from someone I no longer wanted to hear from—but nothing came. And that silence, that absolute quiet from my past, was both terrifying and liberating.

Brent had made it clear from the moment we arrived that this wasn’t going to be a vacation. If I wanted a fresh start, I needed to build something for myself, not just run away from what I left behind. I thought I had done enough rebuilding after escaping the Ortegas, but Brent had other ideas.

“This is your chance, Demi,” Brent said one evening over dinner at the mansion. “To build a life where you don’t have to look over your shoulder. Where you call the shots. No Jeff. No Adam. Just you.”

I poked at my food, knowing exactly where this was going. “And you think throwing me into a corporate empire is the answer?”

Brent smirked. “I think you were meant for more than hiding.”

The next day, Brent drove me into the heart of Phoenix, where one of the many luxury hotels under the Hermosa Group stood tall against the skyline. The company was one of the largest hotel chains in the country, with deep ties to the Perez family—my family. Yet, I had spent years avoiding that part of my life, afraid of what it meant to step into the role everyone had once expected me to embrace.

But Brent wasn’t giving me a choice.

“This is the future,” he said as we stepped through the grand entrance of the hotel. “The Perez legacy. And it’s about damn time you claimed your place in it.”

I wanted to argue, but as I looked around—at the polished floors, the towering glass windows, the employees who moved with purpose—I realized something. This was control. This was something the Ortegas could never take from me.

The general manager, a sharp-eyed woman named Angela Castillo, greeted us with a firm handshake. “Mr. Perez told me you’d be coming,” she said, her gaze assessing me. “We’re honored to have you here, Ms. Perez.”

The title felt foreign, but I nodded, forcing confidence into my voice. “Thank you. I’m ready to get to work.”

Brent grinned. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Over the next few weeks, I was thrown into an intense crash course on the operations of the Hermosa Group. From financial reports to guest relations, I was expected to learn everything. It was overwhelming, exhausting, and exactly what I needed. Because every second I spent in those meetings, every problem I solved, was one more moment I wasn’t thinking about the Ortegas.

Still, the fear lingered in the back of my mind. Would Jeff come looking for me? Would Adam send someone to convince me to come back? I had cut all ties, but history had taught me that the Ortegas never let go so easily.

Brent seemed to anticipate my concerns. One evening, after an especially grueling day at the hotel, he leaned against my office doorway with that knowing look of his. “You’re waiting for the past to catch up with you, aren’t you?”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “I’d be stupid not to.”

He walked in, dropping into the chair across from my desk. “Let me make something clear. The Ortegas? They don’t matter anymore. You’re in Perez territory now. They wouldn’t dare step foot in this world.”

I wanted to believe that. I needed to believe that. But something told me that severing those ties wouldn’t be that easy.

*****

The weeks turned into months, and slowly, I started to feel like I belonged. The hotel had become my second home, and with Brent and Sabrina by my side, I wasn’t alone in this new life. I thrived in my role, proving to myself—and to everyone else—that I wasn’t just some woman running from her past. I was the future of the Hermosa Group.

And then, just as I was beginning to believe that I had control over my life again, reality came crashing back in.

It happened on a Thursday night. I was reviewing a quarterly report in my office when Angela walked in, looking unusually tense. “Ms. Perez, we have a situation.”

I set the papers down. “What kind of situation?”

Angela hesitated before speaking. “A guest is causing a disturbance at the hotel bar. He’s a bit… intoxicated.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Security can handle it, can’t they?”

“Normally, yes,” Angela admitted. “But he’s… well, he’s a Sanchez.”

That made me pause. “As in Nolan Sanchez?”

Angela nodded grimly. “The one and only.”

The name was familiar enough. Nolan Sanchez was a wildcard in the corporate world—a businessman with a reputation for recklessness. He was known for his charm, his wealth, and his ability to make or break deals depending on his mood. And now, he was drunk in my hotel, causing a scene.

I stood. “Where is he?”

Angela led me downstairs, where a small crowd had gathered around the bar. And there, leaning against the counter with a half-empty glass in hand, was Nolan Sanchez.

He was tall, dark-haired, and had that undeniable air of someone who didn’t give a damn about anything. His tie was loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and he looked completely at ease despite the tension surrounding him.

“Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to leave,” one of the security guards said.

Nolan smirked. “That’s cute. But no.”

I stepped forward, crossing my arms. “Mr. Sanchez, I suggest you cooperate before this gets ugly.”

His gaze lifted to meet mine, and for a moment, there was silence. Then, he chuckled. “Well, well. The elusive Demi Perez. Finally showing her face.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize I was a mystery.”

Nolan pushed off the bar, looking me over with mild amusement. “You’re the talk of the business world, sweetheart. The lost heiress reclaiming her throne. Gotta say, I was curious when I heard the news.”

I wasn’t in the mood for games. “You’re drunk, Mr. Sanchez. It’s time to go.”

His smirk widened. “And if I say no?”

I took a step closer, meeting his gaze head-on. “Then I’ll make sure you never set foot in another Perez-owned hotel again.”

For a second, something flickered in his eyes—a mixture of intrigue and challenge. Then, with a sigh, he set his glass down and raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to get hostile. I’ll behave.”

He turned to leave but paused beside me. “I think I like you, Demi Perez.”

I didn’t respond.

As he walked away, I knew one thing for certain—Nolan Sanchez wasn’t done with me yet.