AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“A splash of bourbon would be great,” she replies, most of the color gone from her cheeks.
Lexie: I need your help. Please. I’m at Sirena. I think the sex traffickers are here. With me. I’m worried about a girl that’s with us. We’re at a table near the back bar. Please, Rafa.
My chest tightens as I read the words and imagine how frightened she must have been when she sent the text begging for my help.
I didn’t get your message, Lexie. I was so focused on taking down those fuckers that I never saw it.
I don’t tell her that I never saw the text. I don’t tell her that I knew they were flesh traders, and that instead of aborting the operation, we went full steam ahead, risking her life. I don’t tell her any of it, because I’m a goddamn coward.
I hand her the tumbler of bourbon, and our fingers graze. A spark flies like it always does when we touch. But instead of making my cock jerk, it jolts my conscience—and my heart.
I want to fling my glass at the window and watch it splinter into a million pieces. She risked her life because she couldn’t trust me enough to place a call this afternoon. She waited until it was almost too late.
The rage and self-loathing take over every inch of me. I’m angry at her, at those fucking traffickers, at everything and everyone, but mostly I’m furious with myself. If I hadn’t ignored her after the wedding, she would have called me from the hotel as soon as she realized Misha was bad news.
If I had an ounce of sense, I would have pulled her away from those fuckers immediately and turned them over to the authorities. But I wanted to catch them in the act so they couldn’t squirm free. I was willing to allow her to become collateral damage. It doesn’t matter how many safeguards we put in place. The bottom line is I was willing to take a chance with her safety.
Yes, she takes too many fucking risks, but this was my fault, and if anything had happened to her—I can’t bear to think about it.
I gulp down the bourbon and drop the tumbler on the cart so hard it cracks the glass top. Is she afraid to tell me why she’s in Porto? Is that another risk that she’s willing to take because I’m an untrustworthy fucker?
I glance at her, remorse eating at me. And shame.
“I need to go, and you need to sleep. When you wake up in the morning, I want you to think long and hard about the pieces that were missing from your story. Like why you’re in Porto. I’m not some chump in a bar that you can feed a line.”
“I told you the truth,” she says indignantly, but her heart’s not in it.
I won’t allow her to keep this secret.
“You slipped your bodyguards to come here to write a story and surprise Valentina? Save the bullshit for some slob who wants in your panties so bad they’ll buy anything.”
She leaps off the sofa and stalks toward me, and some part of me hopes she’ll scratch my eyes out or knee me in the balls for being a prick. “You have some goddamn nerve.”
“Tomorrow you’re going to tell me the truth.” My voice is low and controlled, but it doesn’t invite negotiation.
She doesn’t fight me. She changes the subject. “You said we were going to discuss what happened the night of the wedding. Or was that just another manipulation to get what you wanted from me?”
The words are biting, but the hurt in her eyes betrays her.
“I’m sorry I never got in touch with you after that night.” Sorrier than you’ll ever know.
“Got in touch? You could barely stand to look at me.”
Because every time I looked at you, I wanted to tear every stitch of clothing from your succulent body and fuck you until we were both sore and panting.
“We will have that discussion. But not tonight.” You deserve the truth, but I need some leverage until you tell me why you were really in Porto.
“Get out,” she hisses, gathering all the anger and hurt she can fit into two small words.
It’s okay, Angel. Your rage…your pain—give it all to me. I can take it.
I hold her by the arms. “I’m leaving. But I won’t allow you to rewrite history. I didn’t manipulate you. You followed me into the vineyard.” She tries to pull away, but I don’t let her. “And that night was about more than just a few kisses, Angel. A hell of a lot more.”
Every cell in my body wants to ravage her mouth, but that would be another mistake. Nothing’s changed since the wedding. Instead, I drag her toward me and press a long kiss to her forehead, where it meets her hair. She whimpers as though it’s torture.
I want to pull her closer, comfort her, tell her just how much that night meant to me, but I don’t. I leave without another word.
13
