A low sigh leaves me, and the corner of my lip pulls into a tight smile. “You’re wrong.”
“But you don’t want me to be.” His arm stretches out behind me, allowing him to lean closer, my shoulder nearly touching his chest now, his lips almost meeting mine. His breath is warm and minty, rich with a scent I can’t place but screams him. “Tell me I’m wrong about that...”
If I tell you you’re right, that means you see what you shouldn’t and understand what no one else does, but that can’t possibly be true. I’ve never failed at hiding and I can’t afford to start now.
“I didn’t drink and drive,” unexpectedly flies from my mouth.
His brows crash in the center, and he slowly pushes himself upright.
Shit. Okay, I guess we’re doing this now.
“That night, Scott poured me a drink when I walked in, and yeah, I tasted it, but by letting it wet my lips. I didn’t take a single drink. He told me to bring it home, and for whatever reason, I entertained him, and did as he asked.” I did go there to clear my head, but it didn’t work. “I was speeding, and it was dark and foggy.” I shrug. “When I crashed—”
“The drink spilled all over you,” he whispers, his muscles settling, easing, but why?
He nods to himself, and slowly, he lowers his body into the pool, disappears under the water and joins Arsen at the opposite end.
I stare after him.
I knew he was angry over the alcohol after the crash, and had I not put it together then, he made it clear yesterday, but the relief that lightened his blue eyes just now was intense, it was as if that little fact somehow mattered.
“You only have the one sister?”
At his sudden question, I look to Beretta, but he too watches Ransom from where he lies on the lounger behind me.
“Yeah, why?”
He nods and kicks off his slides. “Yeah, he only had the one, too.”
My brows snap together, and he finally looks to me, raising one of his, and it clicks.
Ransom had a sister.
He has a brother, but he had a sister...
A drunk driver.
I open my mouth to ask what happened, but he shakes his head and cannonballs into the water.
I sit back, watching as three young men act like little boys, knowing when they step out, they’ll go back to their worlds, and I’ll be here in mine.
Since they were children, they have fought for each other.
What it must be like to have someone in your corner.
I’m simply a charm dangling from a solid gold necklace, one appraised by my very own mother and traded by her just the same.
But it’s for the best.
It fits my plan and helps my family, writes my future.
I won’t have to think, plan, or prep.
I don’t have to open myself up to false hope and broken promises.
To heartache and pain.
I simply have to be.
A low sigh leaves me, and I nod to myself.
It’s for the best.
After a night of no sleep, it took a miracle to get myself presentable by Anthony’s standards, so I had no energy left to put time into my outfit, so I kept it fault-free with a black pantsuit and shoes to match.
It’s perfectly basic. Anthony should approve.
I slip by the reception desk as I begin to curve around the corner; I pass a coffee station and slow at the sight of the lovely latte button.
Scanning the area, I spot the cups and pull one from the top, placing it over the big red circle, but when I push the button, nothing happens.
“Can I help?”
I spin to find a young woman with brown hair and eyes to match.
“You mind?”
She smiles and steps up; within a minute, I’m thanking her and headed for Anthony’s office.
He’s on the phone when I enter, his back to me, so I round the room, coming up in front of him and his smile alone makes for a nice night.
Placing the call on hold, he lowers his cell to the desk and steps around it. He grabs my hand, kissing my knuckles and his smile grows wider.
“Nice to see you, too.”
“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine. Today has been a shitstorm.” He chuckles. “Mind if I finish this call, it will only be another ten minutes or so?”
I lower myself into his chair, a tall back, mohair with molded wood, and place my hands along the fine shine of his desktop. “Do as you need, Mr. Blanca,” I tease—playful banter