“Good-looking jerk,” I mutter under my breath, filling both cups before adding creamer, sugar, and the pastries to the tray. “Should’ve just…Jesus!” I scream, almost dropping their refreshments. “How long have you been standing there?”
My tone is accusatory, my posture defensive, but Javier only grins at me while pulling the tray from my hands and placing it on a small dinette table to his left. “Long enough.”
“For what?” I’m shaking, but not from fear. His scent envelops me in a web of want.
“To hear the need in your voice.”
“You mean repulsion?”
“You and I both know that’s a lie.” Closer, he takes the three steps separating us and grips my hips with both hands. “And the feeling is very mutual, sweetheart.”
“Let go,” I hiss out and then bite back my disappointment when he does. His warmth is gone. He’s now by the door, holding it open with the back of his foot with the full tray in his hands. “What game are you playing at?”
“Hurry up with that file, Muñeca. Asher wants to go over it with me and I don’t have all day to wait.”
“You motherfu—”
“Watch the words that leave that pretty little mouth.”
“Or what?”
“Or you’ll find yourself praying to a different God.” Then he winks before walking away, leaving me an angry, frustrated, and intrigued ball of nerves that follows a few minutes later while plotting his demise.
I’m not going to let him get one over on me.
He should be afraid. Very afraid.
4
SHE’S GLORIOUS IN her indignation.
Beautiful and majestic while placing the file down atop Malcolm’s desk with more force than necessary while glaring at me. So sexy in her anger. There’s something about her that’s gotten under my skin, and the more I see of her sweet lips and dangerous eyes, the more I want.
To taste. To bite. To bend her over and show her how good it could be.
Every instinct within me fights to bring her closer, to not question the why, but I hold my stance with a stoic expression on my face. Her every action draws me in, and the dare in her eyes fuels a fire I’ve never experienced before.
I’m not one to date and have never given a single fuck about settling down.
Not in this life. Not when your next day is never guaranteed and leaving a family behind is irresponsible. So I’ve kept to myself and when the need arose, I found a willing woman who understood the no-questions-asked and no-repeats rule.
Moreover, I’ve seen it before in my family when Alejandro’s father was incarcerated for being an honest man. Women and kids suffer. Most end up repeating the cycle because that’s all they’ll ever know. Because they’ll always be the product of what society deems to be scum.
I’ll make an exception for her, though. That thought has been running through my mind since our little exchange earlier in the day.
“Will that be all, boss?” It leaves her on a sneer directed at me, and I bite back a smirk.
“Yes.” Asher’s eyes are on me, watching my reactions, while I continue to ignore anything but her. “Just make sure we’re not disturbed. You can head out whenever you want.”
“Wish I could, but I’m meeting someone for dinner nearby. It would be a waste of time to drive—”
“Who?”
“None of your concern, Mr. Lucas. Remember that.” The glare is gone, and the sass is back. It’s there in the swing of her hips as she passes by my chair on her way out and then the quick look of triumph when I reach out and stop her, my grip of her wrist firm. “Is there something you need?”
“There is.” I rub my thumb along the veins of her wrist, enjoying the tiny little flutters at the pulse point. The softness that overtakes her features and an almost inaudible sigh that makes me swallow back the demand to submit and clear her calendar. Not yet. Not here. “Do you have regular milk for the coffee? Could you get some for me?”
“I’m not your—”
“Play nice, Mariah.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell our boss to fuck off, but I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He’s new and valuable.”
“My pleasantries will cost extra.”
“I’ll remember that.” She doesn’t pull her hand away from me during their exchange. Instead, I notice the small step in my direction. The leaning of her hip. “We do have milk, Javier. Is two percent okay?”
“That would be fine.”
“Then I’ll be right back.”
Neither of us moves until a throat clears and our heads turn toward an amused CEO. “Was that for today’s coffee or tomorrow’s?”
“My apologies.” Reluctantly, I release my hold and she nods, giving me a quick smile before exiting. There was no mention of the milk I requested or if she’d be back, but I watch that door, hoping to catch another glimpse of the little demon.
“You know…” Malcolm begins, and I tilt my head so he knows I’m listening “…I thought this would be a mistake and I’d kill you before the week was over.”
“That’s a funny assumption.”
“The dead part?”
“The part where you think I’d go down easily.”
“I don’t underestimate you, Javier. That’s where it becomes dangerous for you.” At those words, I shift my attention to him and arch a brow. “Your heart is black, and I hired you for that quality, but watching my cousin run you around will be the highlight of my days. Just don’t let it interfere with work. You do, and the consequences won’t be agreeable.”
“Understood.”
“Good.” He waves a hand in the air. “Now, go get your milk because she’s not coming back.”
“Not necessary.” Picking up my lukewarm cup of coffee, I bring it to my lips and take a large sip. “I take it black and without sugar. That was just to annoy her.”
“She’s not a wilting flower. Her bark is darker than her bite.”
“I’m counting on that.”
The first thing I notice as I exit Malcolm’s office a few hours later is the lack of movement. No one’s here. No noise. Nothing but the sweet lingering scent of her perfume and the temptation it causes.
It pulls me in the direction of her desk where it’s stronger, where I can almost feel Mariah’s fire surround me, and I sit in her chair.
A little creepy? Maybe.
Do I care? Not one bit.
The first thing I take notice of is how organized—uncluttered—her items are. Not so much as a pen is out of place and I remedy that by repaying the little beauty for making me hard all afternoon.
For each time she walked into his office with a file.
For each time she brushed past my arm, extending herself while placing an item down in front of him.
My muñeca could’ve walked around but chose not to. So I’m choosing to do this.
I pull out a pen with my name monogrammed and leave it in her holder. Then, I take hers. All ten of them. A simple switch that will annoy her, and so will the flipping of file placements.
What’s on the left will move to the right and vice versa.
“She’s going to kill you.”
“More than likely.” I’m scribbling a note for her to find before standing from her seat and facing an amused Malcolm. “I’m not afraid.”
“Don’t say I never gave you fair warning. I think I’ve more than done that today.”
“Understood.” Patting my pocket with her pens, I smirk. “Now, have a good evening.”
The elevator’s already waiting when I press the arrow down, and as I step through, my phone rings. It stops at the third ping and then starts again once I press the button for the lobby.
Not many people have this number, so I pull it out and answer without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”
“Mijo!” Mom’s excited voice comes through the line, wind rustling on her side. “How are you? Are you eating okay?”
“I’m good. Can’t complain too much.” The
large metal doors close and the metal box begins to descend as I lean back. “I’m pretty settled in now and I’ve made the necessary moves. Have you thought about my proposal?”
“Not interested.”
“Think of it as a mini-vacation.” I want her out of the country for a few months. “Just enough time for you to relax, maybe cook me a meal or two—”
“I know what you’re doing, and it’s unnecessary.” There’s a hint of annoyance in her tone, that motherly don’t-argue-with-me-on-this that almost makes me laugh, but I rein it in. If I go that route, I’ll lose. Ida Lucas is the most stubborn woman I know. “Besides, I’m staying with your aunt Sara for now. Alejandro picked me up yesterday against my will.”
“Did he, now?” The doors open and I step out, nodding at the guard beside the entrance. He has an envelope in his hand and casually slips it into mine before I cross the exit. I know what’s inside: my ID for clearance, a key to a company SUV, and a monetary donation for agreeing to his terms. “When was this?”
“Did you give the order?” she counters, and I can imagine her arched brow and the drumming of nails atop the wheelchair’s arm. “Am I being shipped off next, too?”
“Mamita, I had nothing to do with that. I swear.” Lies. All lies, and she knows this. Her huff over the line tells me as much, but at the moment I’m left with few options. With Quintero Jr. coming into power as the next Colombian president, we’re on the defensive. Their family hates ours, and the feeling is mutual. “Listen, come and visit me here and see for yourself how well I’m living. Even cook me a meal or two?”
“That’s the second time you mention food.”
“Just miss yours.”
“No.” There’s a pause between us, the silence heavy right before she sighs. “I love you, Javiercito. Love you more than my own life, but I need you to accept something. I was born in Colombia and I’ll die here...that family nor their hijueputa obsession with mine will send me running.”
“One week?” It’s a compromise. The parking garage is up ahead and I walk toward it, ignoring the passersby and the one lady in her fifties that sends me a wink.
“Three days.”
Pausing at the Asher garage entrance, I look up toward the sky. “Five, and—” I’m cut off by the sudden bump to my side and the sharp pain at my hip. The hit isn’t hard, but I do lose my balance and end up staring at the car’s owner with my front bent over and hands splayed over the hood, phone still caught between ear and shoulder.
Her eyes dance with mirth.
Her lips quirk up into a devilish grin.
Mariah’s the epitome of trouble and simply asks me to move out of her way with the flick of her wrist. The action is meant to be condescending, but I catch the sly lick of her lips when I bite my own.
I’m not mad. Not at all.
She hit me with her car, and I’m hard. Throbbing.
Get out of my way, she mouths, and I shake my head. She’s revving the engine, and I grin.
“Javier! Mijo!” Mom’s voice gets louder with each unanswered call of my name, and it’s the worry in her tone that pulls me back from lustful thoughts. It’s enough to make me stand and move to the side—to give the beautiful little criminal a bow as she stops and lowers her window beside me.
“You might want to take care of that. It looks painful?” She’s not the least bit worried about her actions or the fact I’m going to be bruised where her sports car met my flesh. No, her eyes devour me where I stand and the heat behind her hooded stare is thrilling. More satisfying than every throat I’ve slit.
“I will.” My voice is rough and my cock flexes behind my zipper. “You have a good night.”
“You, too.” Her brows furrow and lips pout at my dismissal, driving past me when I don’t say anything else.
But now isn’t the time. Not yet.
I’m going to confuse and overwhelm and then conquer Mariah. I’m going to own and enjoy her.
“Que fue eso?” Mom asks in my ear, and I laugh at the simple yet arduous question: what was that?
“That was your future daughter-in-law hitting me with her car.”
She gasps, the sound a mixture of excitement and awe. “What did you say?”
“I met someone crazier than me.” And I’m infatuated after one encounter. Crazy but true, and yet, I’m following my gut on this one. Something is driving me toward her, and I’ll let it.
“Give me a month or two and I’ll come.”
“Now you want to come. Wait…why so long?”
“One, yes. And two, none of your business.”
“What are you up to, woman? Do I need to call Alejandro?”
A loud giggle comes through her end of the line and I smile. “Quit it and send me a picture of this beautiful, crazy girl.”
“I’m still calling.”
“Don’t ruin my small getaway with your aunt, kid. I need some relaxation near the coast.”
“Two months.”
“Deal, Javi. Now be the gentleman your father never was.”
My face scrunches up in disgust at her insinuation. “I’m going to ignore that last statement.”
“Put a ring on it first, Javier. Mother knows best.”
5
“YOU’RE KIDDING ME?” My friend Allison asks between fits of giggles later that night, her margarita sloshing—spilling over the rim and dirtying her white silk blouse. She’s more than amused by my encounter with Javier; the certifiable she-hoe is jealous and excited. “He sounds delicious.”
“He is.” No point in denying it. I’m sure it’s written across my face and highlighted by the lights above our table inside of our favorite taco bar. There aren’t many people here tonight and I’m glad. The decibel of her gossiping battle-cry is embarrassing.
Especially since my shame surrounds me like a halo, and now that the lust-induced fog he created has receded, I’m left exposed. Open to judgment by one of the few people that know my past and the promise I made that night.
Someone who’s been trying to get me to agree to a blind date for a month now. I’ll never hear the end of this.
“Height, eye color, and to the right or left?”
The mere question makes my body flash hot from jealousy—an aggravating feeling that I fight to push back. It takes me a minute, breathing in and out slowly while forcing my expression to remain friendly. She’s not buying it; her smirk only intensifies my annoyance.
“At least six foot three, warm brown, and don’t ever ask me that again.”
“Possessive much?” The gleam in her eyes makes me want to hit her, but I settle instead for a subtle middle finger and shrug. “Girl, I’m liking him more and more. This level of feisty looks good on you.” Bringing the glass to her mouth, she takes a large sip, smiling before it turns into a petulant pout. “Now, if only Malcolm would marry me, we could double date.”
“Not happening.” Two voices answer, and she goes from red to white to near blue as my cousin slips into a seat beside mine, shocking her.
“You suck!”
Malcolm rolls his eyes, not sparing her outburst much thought. They’ve always been that way, though. Allison says something, he blows her off, and then she whines.
One day she’ll get it. He’s just not into her, and the man isn’t subtle about it. Malcolm isn’t cruel, but his disinterest shows clear as day.
He doesn’t trust women after Karina.
The woman who catches his eye has to be near sainthood to put up with his grouchiness.
“You’re crashing our dinner and you’re going to ignore me?”
“Option one or two,” he says, impassive eyes on mine. I know what he’s asking. Life or death.
He can’t— “Don’t touch him.” It leaves me through gritted teeth and clenching hands, the stem of my glass breaking. It pierces my hand, the sting surprising me while he just nods, stands, and leans down to kiss my forehead.
“Take the day off and sleep in.”
“That’s it?” Not tell
ing me it’s a bad idea. Not warning me about fraternizing.
“It’s all I needed.” For a brief second his eyes soften before he exits, Carmelo walking out behind him.
In the background, I hear Allison chirping about Malcolm and his suit and something about handsome cocky men, but I can’t focus past the emotion of something happening to Javier. It’s left this raw mark on me. Hurt me, and I hate it.
I feel vulnerable, something I vowed to myself to never feel for a man again.
Walk away, Mariah. Men like him are all the same.
“Are you even listening to me?” Alli’s staring at me with a raised brow, and all I can do is down what’s left of my margarita in one go, clean my hand with the nearest napkin, and ask a passing waiter for the check.
“Let’s go.”
“Go? Go where?” Any other time I’d find her expression comical—as if I’ve grown a second head and she isn’t sure whether to call for help or display me like a circus attraction. “Mari, we need to—”
“Figure out my next move and take me to get stitches.”
“Oh shit!”
“Indeed.”
A sudden knock on my door wakes me from a nap. I’ve been crashed out on my large sofa with a soft afghan, ignoring the world and all my duties while trying to push the memories of the last twenty-four hours out of my mind.
His presence.
His effect on me.
The person on the other side of the door pounds louder, the rhythmic tap tap tap grinding my gears and I throw the blanket off, stretching my arms high and causing my back to arch and release a soothing pop. I’m a bit stiff, but it feels good to do so, and I move my neck from side to side to do the same.
A few quick cracks and I throw my legs over the edge, stumbling a bit to the door. “I’m coming!”
All noises cease and I quickly grab my Glock, the one I keep by the entrance table, and stand on the tips of my toes to look through the peephole. It’s a young man with an old trucker hat and a shirt that matches the company logo. He’s holding a delivery bag and I stand back, tucking the gun in the waistband of my spandex shorts.
Yours (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 4) Page 4