Love Turns With Twisted Fates (Truth About Love Book 2)

by Caleigh Hernandez

  “Way to be a fucking, man,” delivering the last of my verbal lashing which drew the attention of the dozen or so closest to us.

  It’s obvious the moment the humiliation is too much for this macho man and he’s about to step into it with me. Literally. He lunges toward me. “You fucking bitch!” he roars. I step to the side just as he grabs for me, deftly avoiding him and putting him face to face with Diego.

  “You stupid fucker,” Diego deadpans, catching the dead man walking with both his hands at the man’s collar. I turn to catch recognition flash in the other man’s eyes. “Bastos,” Diego knows this guy? “It’s time for you to go.” Diego hands Bastos off to the security flanking him.

  I can’t recall in our eight years together if he’s ever approached a situation of this type as what can only be described as, coolly. He closes the distance between us with a chuckle. I can feel that my face is all kinds of screwed up.

  Cool aaaand he’s laughing? What the fuck is going on?

  I stand their incredulously. He wraps his arms around me, the ease of this task made simpler when I instinctively drop my arms to let him hold me. He gives me a gentle squeeze, “That was all kinds of fucking hot, bella.”

  Ahhhh, that explains it.

  “I’ve never seen you have to use your ninja skills before,” he continues, referring to the fact that I studied Aikido. He nuzzles my ear with his nose, placing a kiss at my temple.

  His public display of affection has backed off the vapid and obtuse for now, his hard on reminded me of why I decided to not just stand and wait for him. Lifting my arms out from under his embrace, I place my hands on his chest slowly sliding them up and over his shoulders lacing my fingers together at the back of his neck and bringing me to my tiptoes.

  Pushing my tits further into his chest, I hear him groan, the audible clue to close in for my own public display of affection. Licking and the parting my lips, I hover for a moment—”Hey, Santo!” There’s a shout from across the room.

  Successfully, halting our kiss, Diego and I—and three quarters of the room, look to see the man responsible for the shout. It’s not hard to determine the source. Those paying attention are staring at the man being escorted from the party. It’s the asshat from a moment ago.

  Clearly, the man doesn’t know what’s good for him. Leaving well enough alone is not in his wheelhouse.

  Bastos has Diego’s attention, but he’s not getting a reaction from my uncharacteristically calm husband.

  “I’ll see you on the pitch, bro.”

  “Teammate?” I question in Diego’s ear.

  He answers me with a shake of his head. That can only mean that this Bastos plays for another team in the league. Something about the sneer the man is wearing worries me. I’ve seen douche-thletes like Bastos too many times over the years of watching Diego play. They’re dangerous. With a shrug, he shakes off the two men from the security team and turns to leave.

  A clap on Diego’s shoulder and we’re jolted from the disruption to the man on Diego’s right. Jay is looking disheveled and wearing a lovely shade of Mazzy. “Bastos is a tool and a hack,” he states. “He’s just trying to get a rise out of you. If you hit him, he wouldn’t hesitate to have your ass suspended—”

  “Is that why you didn’t, D?” I look up at him in admiration.

  “Thanks, Jay. Sorry about the disruption, but this little firecracker,” Diego says squeezing and looking down at me, “has a low threshold for assholes.” I flush at the idea that this could have been avoided if I hadn’t served Bastos his ass on a silver platter.

  “Don’t even worry about it. Bastos is a prick. I’m sure whatever he said to Izzy deserved at least what she said to him.”

  We stand there in silence for a moment, before Jay continues. “You know he’s going to be gunning for you, right?”

  So my concern is valid. I shake my head. “Because of what just happened?” I inquire nervously.

  Diego doesn’t have a chance to answer before Jay does. “Ah, hell no. Sure, this didn’t help,” he frames help with air quotes, “but Diego’s stolen his limelight. The…” he pauses as if thinking of what to call Bastos.

  “Douche-thlete?” I helpfully interject.

  “A what?” he questions me with a furrowed brow.

  “A douche-thlete. That’s what my bestie and I have deemed these superstar athletes, footballers or not, that have douche tendencies,” shrugging unapologetically.

  “Santo, your wife is a riot. The douche-thlete, as you put it Izzy, was also passed over for our team in favor of your husband. There were talks of him being traded, but those stopped when word got around that El Santo Feo was considering a British team.”

  Jay slaps Diego on the back, “Thank fuck, we got you and not him,” he tells Diego.

  I can’t help the chuckle that slips. It’s obvious these two have already bonded in the handful or so weeks, Diego has been here.

  “There you are,” Mazzy practically sings to me from behind us. “Did y’all see what that drama was about?” She’s acting like we can’t tell that her and Jay’s appearances are conjoining puzzle pieces.

  The three of us burst out in laughter. Diego’s the first to get himself together, “Yeah, Izzy, did you see what that drama was all about?”

  That gets another chortle from Jay.

  “Iz, what’s Diego talking about?”

  “The asshat called me a dick tease when I very politely ignored his undesired attempt to garner my attention.” I explain the rest as the boys start talking about the next game. Mazzy is practically in hysterics when I reiterate the verbal lashing I served.

  “Leave it to you, Izzy, to get the first asshole of the night booted,” jabbing me in the side with her elbow.

  Again, I find myself shrugging unapologetically. “If assholes are gonna asshole, bitches gonna bitch. Plus, these hormones have loosened my reign on my tongue.”

  The song switches, Mazzy and I give each other knowing looks. We start swaying in place increasing our movements as we both get into it.

  Together we sing, “Girl, put your record on…” We’ve now gained the attention of my husband and Jay…and maybe a few others. We’re too wrapped up to care about our audience. When this song was released earlier this year, it instantly became one of our anthems.

  We finish the song dancing and singing and get a round of applause drawing our attention to the majority of the room listening to us. Mazzy eats it up, I attempt to shrink away.

  I see Diego staring at me. He’s got that smirk again, eyes filled with desire. That’s when I register the song now playing. He’s dragging me to the makeshift dance floor in the center of the room. I don’t object. I never pass up the opportunity to dance with him. Plus, that look in his eyes tells me he’s really in the mood for this dance.

  He twirls me the last of the way to the dance floor in a single twirl. My back’s to his chest, his breath is on the nape of my neck. Diego places a feather soft kiss in the sweet spot where shoulder meets neck. He trails equally soft pecks up my neck to behind my ear, nipping my lobe when he stops.

  “Mi bella preciosa, I have not forgotten what got us in this mess to begin with,” pressing the evidence of his arousal against my ass, the culprit. Ha ha.

  “Why Diego, mi amor feo, whatever do you mean?” I coo, looking up at him over my shoulder, feigning innocence with the bat of my lashes. He’s circling his hips to the music, effectively distracting me from my act. His motion stirs a longing inside me.

  “Izzy, you know damn well what I mean. That dress alone could cause a riot. Add in your sweet ass and your increasing rack size, there’s not a man in here that wouldn’t kill to be me. I’m really surprised that it wasn’t worse than what happened,” he chuckles at the end.

  Moving us further onto the dance floor, Diego spins me around to face him. “Have I told you how much I love you?” he whispers in my ear.

  Answering with a shake of my head, I ask, “How much?”

  “So
much, so much.”

  He moves us with the beat. Making me light on my feet and in my head. His rhythmic seduction is heady. The bass is bumping to the beat of my heart, or maybe it’s the other way around. He traces a finger at the scoop on the dress that rests low on my back. The light touch sends a ripple through my body, bringing my head from his shoulders and my eyes staring into the chocolate eyes darkened with lust and need. My pulse rises and pounds with the song, plummeting when the bass drops and sending a flood to my pussy.

  Diego’s pulled out all the stops as he pushes me away and pulls me back in with a turn, placing us chest to back again. The warmth of his body against my nearly bare back has me clenching my thighs together to try to ease the ache in my core.

  “Izzy, are you wearing any panties?” he pants in my ear.

  The question mixed with the headiness of his suggestion renders me speechless. He gets a wordless answer with the shake of my head.

  I feel him suck in a breath. The song finishes and he’s leading us through the thinned crowd off the dance floor and towards a hallway. It’s long and dimly lit. About half way down or so, Diego is opening a door, leading us into a dark room. When we step in, a soft, diffused glow comes from the cove lighting around a very large bathroom.

  I hear the lock on the door click, as I take in the swank bathroom with a modern-looking microfiber chaise and complementary vanity set. The actual toilet appears to be in a separate room within this—”Izzy.” I hear the strain in his voice.

  I turn and meet his eyes. As expected, Diego’s face is taut with self-control, but the need in his eyes matches the ache in my core. Unable to resist the urge to make the man lose control, I back up to the chaise, running my fingers up the spaghetti straps of my dress, hooking them at the tops and dragging them down, slowly letting the dress slip from my body. Baring all of me to my hungry looking husband, I turn to give him a look at my backside and easy access to my sex.

  He bends me over the back of the chaise, the peaks of my sensitive and swollen breasts brushing the silky velvety microfiber fabric. He has me so turned on and ready to go, I can feel the evidence dripping from my pussy.

  Without warning, his breath is on my opening, and in my next breath he’s licking up my juices and plunging his tongue into my pool of arousal. “Oh, Diego.” The moan and his name escape my mouth before I can register the need to keep it quiet.

  He’s trailing kisses up the back of my right leg while dragging his hand up and around to the front of the other, resting at my clit. He continues the trail with his lips up my spine. Another moan escapes and I’m completely lost as he plunges the length of his cock into my wanting pussy.

  “Ahhhhhh,” he rips the scream from me over and over. Forgotten are our surroundings, it’s only the two of us and our punishing needs. I don’t know how long I can hold on before the rein on my control snaps and I’m a puddle at his feet.

  A knock at the door is a reminder that there could be an audience at any given moment. “Ocupado,” Diego grunts out. There’s another knock this one a little louder. Diego repeats himself in kind, never slowing his demanding pace.

  Whoever was on the other side of the door seems to have gotten the message or they want to be an audience to our symphony of lust. Another moan is hammered out of me. The hitch in Diego’s otherwise steady pace tells me he’s close. It’s my cue.

  I balance myself on one hand, reaching the other between my spread thighs and back to grab his balls, lightly scraping my nails against the hardened globes. “Touch yourself, bella,” he rasps out through labored breaths.

  I do as instructed and instantly, the walls of my pussy are milking at Diego’s penetrating cock with a euphoric orgasm. In response, Diego is pumping his release into me, groaning out my name.

  Diego slides out of me, striding to the vanity for some tissues. Before situating himself, he wipes me down, taking care to be gentle with my swollen lips. I’m still panting when Diego, signals for me to lift my foot with the tap of his hand to my calf. I lift. He repeats the signal with my other calf and slides my dress up and into place as I straighten myself. He places chaste kisses where the straps rest on each shoulder; I moan my approval.

  I take a step and slightly stumble, “Wow. I’m feeling a bit Drizzy,” referring of the drunk version of myself. “There you go again…robbing me of my breath and my shame.”

  “Izzy, you took my breath away a long time ago and never gave it back,” he says, leading me to the vanity.

  “You sweet talker,” I bat at him playfully. I use the mirror to fix my mussed up hair and clean the added smokiness the bathroom sexcapade gave me.

  When we’ve made ourselves presentable, we leave the luxurious bathroom and return to the party. No one is clued in to our bathroom romp. Mazzy spends the night flirting with Jay. Diego and I dance a few more times, but ultimately call it an early night. The night’s festivities and the changes my body is going through make it impossible to stay up all night.

  Chapter Eleven:

  Bad Moon Rising

  September 2006

  “Diego,” the pitch in my voice is filled with concern. His expression is sullen and worn. He looks up from his phone. He’s just finished a call with his agent. “What’s wrong?”

  “Can you turn on the news?” He doesn’t answer my question. If we had a dog, I’d say he looked like our dog died. His usual animated face is stoic, even forlorn.

  “Diego, what is it?”

  Before he can answer, I see that Mazzy has changed the channel to the one with the local news. The newscaster is announcing breaking news.

  “Owner of the London United Football Club William “Bean” Stafford was rushed to the hospital this afternoon. Early reports are saying Stafford suffered a heart attack.”

  “Oh no.” The words fall past my lips as I suck in a sob. Not Bean.

  “As always presumed,” continues the anchor, “Sasha Stafford, the daughter of William Stafford and his late wife, actress Esme Stafford, will assume the role of acting owner while Stafford is incapacitated. We’ll report back when we have more information.”

  Diego switches off the television. His stunned silence is interrupted when his phone rings. “I have to take this,” his voice comes off as harsh. “Sasha?” he answers. “How is he?” he’s walked to our office.

  The sigh I release is very audible and wreaking of frustration.

  “I know, Izzy,” Mazzy soothes, reaching over to rub my forearm. I can’t even voice my issues with our current situation with Bean in the hospital. If I thought Sasha was trouble before, as the acting owner I just know the woman is going to be my own personal hell. “Hey,” she perks up, “you want me to stay for another week?” She’s leaving the day after tomorrow. Her two weeks have gone by so fast.

  “I’ll be fine, Mazz. You have work and we,” referring to my record label, “can’t have our top producer gone because her best friend can’t handle a measly blonde.”

  She laughs at my unenthusiastic jab, “That’s my Bizzy.” She’s the tonic to my sour mood, always knowing the right words to say and when to say them. And knowing when saying nothing is also what I need.

  When Diego returns, his mood and state of being looks worse, if that’s possible. “Hey, Izzy, I need to go to the hospital.” He’s so sullen it makes my heart break.

  “Okay,” pushing up from the couch. “I’ll go with you.”

  “No!” he barks back. “I really don’t want you in the emergency room with all those sick people.” He looks down to my belly and back up at me. “No risks right now, okay?” His eyes plead with me to understand. And I don’t have the heart to argue.

  “Okay, then. Will you give Bean my love? And keep me updated?” my voice imperceptibly cracking. The raise of Mazzy’s eyebrow says she caught it. Diego is too distracted to notice.

  “Of course, Izzy.” He leans down to kiss the space between my temple and the corner of my eye. And with that, he’s out the door.

  “You okay,
babe?” asks Mazzy. I know she’s just trying to keep me focused on what we know and not start taking the trip down the rabbit hole of darkness.

  With a sigh, I voice my concerns. I talk about how I’m afraid that this is the opportunity Sasha will jump on to take what’s mine, completely and utterly, unafraid and void of shame to use the situation with her father to further her own agenda.

  Mazzy does what Mazzy does and reminds me that Diego is mine. She shines a light on the areas my mind tries to blanket in doom and gloom. When night sets in, we’ve hashed it out and I’m in a better place. Diego calls with an update on Bean. They’re letting in visitors per Bean’s directive and I instruct Diego to kiss him for me. Diego can barely muster a chuckle and again my heart breaks.

  I wish I understood what has him so sullen. I get the concern, but I don’t understand why he has almost a defeated look about him.

  The minutes that pass turn to hours, but Diego checks in as often as possible. Alfred makes Mazz and me a light dinner, but I still struggle to eat more than a handful of bites.

  Diego isn’t home by the time I decide to call it a night. I send him a message from bed.

  Hey lover. Can’t keep my eyes open any longer.

  Mi bella preciosa did u eat

  What I could. How’s Bean?

  Theyre waiting for the results

  It might b worse than they thought

  Are you okay?

  Im fine just worried

  He took a chance on me Iz

  I know, lover. I’m glad you’re there for him. Come home soon.

  I will

  Hey Izzy

  Yeah?

  U know I love u right

  I do. How much do you love me?

  So much so much

  Chapter Twelve:

  Friends Forever

  September 2006

  “Hey, peanut,” Mazzy’s talking to my still flat belly. “Your Auntie Mazzy has to go now, but you keep moving in there. I expect to hear about your activity as soon as your mom feels it. Cock block your dad for me—”