Page 140 of Damián

“You’re evil.”

“I think you just pronounced ‘adorable’ wrong,” I say, and he laughs.

He laughs so happily and carefree that it’s mesmerizing. I am so captivated by him. So much so that even now, just watching him talk, laugh, and casually touch me, my mind is still blown that I actually slept with him.

“So, how about you?” I ask, pulling myself up so I’m sitting directly in front of him, my legs tangled over his.

“About what?”

“Well, I just told you my lovely family horror story.” I lean forward, pressing my palms to his chest. “Tell me a horror story about yours.”

Damián leans his head back against the couch. “Well… my mother used to sing Chayanne songs to me when I was a kid.”

I snort, smacking his shoulder playfully. “That’s not a horror story.”

“You should hear her singing,” he says in the most serious tone. “It is terrifying.”

I laugh, and as my gaze drops, I zero in on three scars near his ribs. I reach out and trace them with my fingertips. “What happened to you here?”

“I got shot in Bogotá,” he says so casually that it sounds like he’s recommending a movie, not talking about getting shot at.

“Here?” I ask, trailing a line on his shoulder.

“That is a stab wound. Hunting knife.” He stretches his leg and points at a group of scars on his calf. “Those are shards from a bomb. I was too close when it went off.”

Ouch…

“That sounds super painful,” I say.

“It was.”

I move my hand to a pale, straight line near his tanned abs. “And here?”

“Slash wound. Machete.”

“Oh, my God! Is there any type of weapon you haven’t been attacked with?”

“Mmmmm… alien laser beam.”

“That doesn’t exist.”

“Maybe that’s why I haven’t been attacked with one of those.”

I laugh, and my fingers reach the scar in his arm. “And this? Is this also a stab wound with a mythical katana?”

“That was my sister, Fernanda.” Damián laughs. “When we were kids, I stole her doll. While she was chasing me, I crashed into a mirror and cut myself.”

I pause, my hand still resting on his chest as I look up at him. “So it was you, not Fernanda.”

“Semantics,” he says, and for some reason, I absolutely burst out laughing. “Oh, you want to laugh?”

Damián curls his arms around me. With one of his super-MMA-spy moves, he hauls me off his lap and tosses me backward onto the couch. Before I can catch my breath, he climbs on top of me and pins me down into the cushions, which only makes me laugh harder.

And it’s here, wrapped in his arms, in this exact moment, that I realize things in my life are going to have to change. Because no matter what happens to me, I will do absolutely everything in my power to protect what I gained today.

— ¤ —

After three days of planning my next steps, I ask Silvio to meet me in my room. And now I am pacing the floor, building the nerve for what I am about to do.