Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I agreed, swiping a stray tear from my cheek. “Thanks.”
“Adrián.” She addressed the fearsome man with a much more deferential tone. “Could you and Mateo eat in the kitchen, please?”
“This isn’t what we talked about,” Mateo countered roughly.
Valentina fixed him with a frigid stare. “You asked for my help. I am helping Sofia.”
“I’m not a threat to her,” he argued.
“That’s enough, Mateo,” Adrián snapped. “You’re really fucking up my entire day. If you want to live to see the end of it, do as Valentina says. And serve me the fucking dinner you promised me. I’m starving.”
Mateo dug in his heels, his black eyes flashing.
“Kitchen. Now,” Adrián bit out, staring down the much larger man.
Mateo spat a curse and stormed out of the dining room, his bulging muscles flexing with frustration.
“Thank you, Adrián,” Valentina said, all softness and gratitude now that the threat had retreated.
He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead, pulling her into a firm embrace. His unnerving, pale green eyes fixed on me.
“I’ll make sure Mateo doesn’t step out of line,” he swore.
His intense gaze shifted back to Valentina, including her in the promise. “I won’t allow him to abuse Sofia. I know what this means to you. I’ll take care of it.”
My gut twisted into knots. Mateo hadn’t abused me, and I didn’t think he ever would. Not really.
But if he subjected me to his mercilessly tender attentions, I would fall for him. I would get hurt again and again, deluding myself into forgetting he was a bad man only to be reminded by cruel circumstances.
My heart wouldn’t survive it.
Valentina’s staunch solidarity and Adrián’s promise were all I had to prevent me from succumbing to Mateo’s allure and suffering under his achingly gentle hands.
Chapter 17
Sofia
Three Weeks Later
I missed Mateo so much.
Every day, I saw the criminal who wore his face, but I longed for the man I’d thought he was: the domineering, gentle giant who told me I was perfect.
Don’t be stupid, I ordered myself every time I was tempted to fall back into his strong arms.
I was done being a stupid little girl. I was done being willfully ignorant.
Mateo had told me I was a fool for trusting everyone, and he’d been right. Just because he’d been sweet to me didn’t make him trustworthy. It didn’t make him a good man.
A good man wouldn’t have bargained for the rights to my body in a power struggle between drug lords. He wouldn’t plot to kill a rival just so he could claim my virginity for himself.
No part of that equation was good.
I walled off my heart—a practice that I’d never attempted before.
It was hard to remember to keep those walls up all the time. Like when Mateo cooked for me. Or when he drove me to class in one of his insanely expensive cars. Or when he brushed my body with his hand, sending unbidden heat pulsing through my system.
He only touched me occasionally, and I mostly believed it was accidental. But a few times, I’d caught him watching me when he made contact, as though assessing if I might welcome more.
I never did, even though forcing my body to move away from his caused a deep ache in the center of my chest.
The only thing that had kept me sane over the last three weeks was Valentina’s daily visits. We spent hours together every evening after I finished my classes. I introduced her to my favorite bands, and she introduced me to telenovelas—her guilty pleasure. I’d thought they were silly at first, but I was now completely absorbed in the drama.
We talked about everything from our favorite clothing designers to our hopes and dreams. I’d never had a close female friendship like it. I didn’t have to pretend with her or put on my best face. She’d seen me at my lowest point, and she still offered her friendship.
“Valentina’s coming over tonight,” I reminded Mateo as we pulled away from campus in his cherry red Porsche.
The polite thing to do would have been to ask for permission to invite a guest into his home. But there was nothing polite about him holding me hostage, so I wasn’t going to tiptoe around him and try to please him. I was done with such accommodating behavior.
“No, she’s not,” he informed me. “Adrián texted me while you were in class. Valentina is too stressed out about the wedding, and he won’t let her come over tonight. The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow, and she needs to rest and relax.”
“Oh,” I replied, my heart sinking. I’d come to rely on her daily company.
I hadn’t known her long, but Valentina obviously valued our friendship, too. She’d even asked me to be maid of honor at her wedding. Adrián had thrown boatloads of money around to arrange an LA wedding in a month. Apparently, he was impatient to make her his wife, and he was only allowing her this much time to plan because he wanted her to have a beautiful day to celebrate their union.