Delusive

by Courtney Lane

  “Because of what you do, it’s how you knew what I took, isn’t it?”

  He quirked a brow. “I’m trying to understand how owning an architectural firm makes me an expert on heroin withdrawal symptoms.”

  My head began to pound, moving me swiftly toward the idea of letting it go. No matter what was said or how many times I asked, he would never admit to what I suspected. “Will it affect my ability to have some semblance of a normal life with you? Because I’m thinking last night was all about you. Milton said…”

  He immediately turned to me, urging me to continue.

  “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  His chin lowered, his piercing gaze set on my face, studying my every movement. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

  Setting my eyes to the granite countertop, I shook my head.

  Approaching me, he stood between my legs and reached behind me to retrieve his phone on the counter. “If I show you something, show you how certain things are dealt with in this town, we’re never to talk about this again.” After pulling up the search screen on his phone, his eyes darted to mine. “I mean it. The issue will be put to bed. I won’t show you until you agree, and you cannot ask questions about what you’re shown.”

  “Okay,” I relented quietly.

  He gave me his phone and returned to prepping a meal for us. I looked at the screen, showing a picture of a house burned to ashes. Only small remnants of the house’s charred foundation remained. The headline and subtitle read: “Fire on Fletcher Avenue kills 9. Police suspect the cause was an electrical issue.”

  Fletcher Avenue. The same house where I’d met Skylar and Milton at the party. I scanned the names, recognizing only Milton’s name as one of the deceased.

  In shock, my hand drew to my mouth. I blinked down at the phone and immediately set it down beside me on the counter. As it turned out, Elias’s threats weren’t idle at all. The man was capable of everything he threatened me with…and so much more.

  “Are you a fan of green peppers, Hanley?” he asked nonchalantly, going about cooking the meal as though the death of nine people had very little significance to him. “Many aren’t.” When I didn’t respond, he slowly smirked and winked at me. “I asked you a question, minha amada.”

  I finally choked out the answer. “Green peppers are fine.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  WHEN ELIAS TOLD ME we were visiting Portugal, it became the good news I needed to push away the events of the past and give me something to look forward to.

  I pictured all the ways it could've looked, but I wasn't prepared for the beauty I encountered while I gazed outside the car window as we made our way to Esposende. From the too-green-to-be-real lush lawns, the palm trees, and the glimpses of the beautiful turquoise water, I was in awe.

  THE SECOND HE arrived at the villa, I checked out the house, finding polished marble floors and walls painted with a faux marble effect in hues of beige and cream to greet me. The master bedroom had a private balcony overlooking the pool in the backyard. The other four bedrooms looked out over a large garden that led to a tennis court and a soccer pitch.

  I ended my tour at the back of the house where an in-ground swimming pool stood and a privacy fence surrounded either side of the backyard. The absence of a privacy gate directly in the back permitted a view straight down of the rocky terrain and the beautiful beach to the west. I stood a few feet away from the end of the pool, looking down at the landscape, allowing it take my breath away.

  "Do you like it?" Elias asked from behind me.

  "Love it," I whispered.

  "You haven't eaten much since…” From behind me, he wrapped his arms around me and sighed. "Do you feel up to grabbing something to eat?”

  My stomach still felt very queasy, but I had other reasons for avoiding food. I think it pointed to the emotional more than physical. “Can we skip lunch? A nap right here by the pool sounds perfect.” I specifically eyed the outdoor lounges with fluffy cushions covered in outdoor-friendly white canvas material.

  He swiveled me around, holding me tightly against his body. “I have a reason. This is a working trip, so I'd like to spend as much time with you tonight as possible."

  "I'll be here alone a lot?”

  “Do you really need to ask that question?” Thumbing my chin, he toyed with me, nearing me for a kiss but barely gave me a tease of his lips. “Someone I trust is here to keep you entertained and to take you around to see the sights while I'm busy. You won't be alone for long, Hanley.”

  ELIAS TOOK ME to a small restaurant in the village. He mentioned something about it being one of his Uncle Silvio’s many properties. When I sweetly requested to meet his uncle, he warned me to be patient.

  Poking at the grilled sardines that looked to have been fed steroids, I asked, “Were they injected with something to make them look like this?” I glanced up at Elias, who tried to stifle his laugh.

  “Unlike the ones you get in a can, those are real sardines. The chef here cooks them the only way you should—on a grill outdoors."

  "Are you planning on kissing me sometime today?"

  He grinned broadly and pointed to his plate. “It doesn’t matter when I’m eating the same thing, does it?”

  I flaked off a piece of fish and brought it to my mouth. Pleasantly surprised by the taste, I nodded with a smile.

  “I wouldn’t lead you astray. Trust me.”

  I looked around the restaurant of diners, suddenly cognizant of the days before. While the incident at the house of terrors should’ve knocked the senses back into me, it only made me feel stronger for him. What bothered me the most was the distance—I thought we’d closed—still remained between us.

  The day I woke up out of the nightmare of withdrawal was only a blip in time, and I could feel Elias slipping away from me as the night had worn on. While I always felt it, it was never as palpable as it was at current. The divide began after I took him back—actually, when he forced me to—and had been increasing at an alarming rate. No matter what I did to return us to what we were before the night at the gallery, the miles of space had widened.

  I sipped my water, glancing back at Elias whose attention was undivided. “Do you remember back in Miami, when you talked about trying to connect with your half-sister? Before Lula did that horrible thing to you, did you always try to find Natanael’s kids?”

  His jovial expression wore away for something more serious. “I did. While I knew he had many, I was only able to find Lurdes and Keith before I stopped looking.”

  “Why do you support Keith, if he’s not blood?”

  His mouth twisted down into a frown. “I’m not sure who told you that, but it was a lie. Keith is my brother. I don’t believe in the terms half or step. I only use the terms when I need to clarify my relationship with people who are confused. But to me, a brother is a brother and a sister is a sister.”

  “But if you have a good relationship with Keith and tried to develop a relationship with Lurdes,” I surmised, “why did you say that family didn’t mean much to you?”

  “The answer is so complicated, I don’t know where to begin.”

  “The beginning, maybe?”

  “Why are you so curious about this?” He carried a devious twinkle in his eye, the one that made my body react viscerally and clouded my mind with its dirtier impulses.

  “Because I’m interested in becoming a part of your family.”

  Surprise flickered in his gaze and his posture completely changed. You could’ve sworn someone had just been murdered in the room with the stillness that fell over the table. The sudden strain between us made it feel as though the floor had just disappeared.

  I looked down at my plate of sardines and tomato rice, realizing the timing wasn’t the best; it was made evident in his reaction. I thought I had everything planned out perfectly and that the moment would’ve been the ideal time to implement the next phase before he put more distance between us than there already was.


  He continued to stare at me, brooding and displeased as he manically rubbed the swell of his bottom lip back and forth with the side of his thumb.

  How could I have been so wrong? Shit! “Should I ask what you just took from my verbal diarrhea? Do I want to know?” My questions were posed to steer him clear of my intentions, and to hopefully make it seem as though my statement was innocent.

  Having trouble keeping my eye contact for the first time…ever, he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table with his hands clasped together. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to finish it,” he stated as he glanced at my dish. “The fact you tried it at all is good enough.” He looked across the restaurant and nodded to our waiter who nearly tripped over his feet to stop what he was doing and tend to us.

  “Há mais alguma coisa que possa fazer por si, Sr. Cari?”

  “Certifique-se de que o meu tio Silvio recebe isto,” Elias replied.

  “Ele está à espera?”

  “Está… é um pequeno presente para lhe agradecer antecipadamente.”

  The rapid exchange in Portuguese was quickly ended when the waiter seemed all too happy to take the letter-sized, thick manila envelope that Elias handed to him.

  I stared at the manila envelope with curiosity, wondering who it was for and what it was as it disappeared along with the waiter.

  “If you don’t mind,” he began, watching the waiter walk away together with me, “I’d like to skip the walk to the Our Lady of Mareantes Chapel and just go home.”

  My hopeful mood dropped as quickly as my fork. “I shouldn’t have assumed with what happened—I’m sorry if you think I’m going too fast.”

  “I’m glad you realize you are going too fast.”

  “Excuse me,” I rasped, lifting up from the table. “My stomach is still a little sour. I’ll meet you at the car.”

  He stood like a gentleman, his eyes burning into me while I left the table. I flitted around the tables, making my way to the restroom in the back of the restaurant.

  I stared into the mirror, looking at a woman who looked much better than she had the past few days. I forewent the flat iron, allowing my natural curls to show, and styled my hair up in a neat bun.

  But what was behind my kohl-rimmed eyes told the truth—I was exhausted.

  I picked through my clutch, thumbing the two phones I had and picked up my burner phone. I tucked my black eyelet halter sundress underneath my legs and hopped up to sit on the sink vanity. I pressed the two key and held it.

  “Yes?” my father’s tired voice rang out after the third ring.

  “Dad, it’s me.”

  “Hanley?” He released a sigh of relaxation. “I’ve been so worried about you. Where did you disappear to? We made plans to leave and you just abandoned me.” There was something in his voice. A sadness so heavy it was palpable enough to touch.

  “I’m still going through with it, or trying to. I hit a roadblock just now, but I’m sure it’s his denial.”

  “I read about something in the papers. A fire on Fletcher. Did it have something to do with you?”

  I looked at my reflection in the mirror, thinking of Milton. I lured him into orchestrating the ordeal for more than one reason. While it seemed the primary reason was a failure, the second would be found out in the—hopefully—near future. The problem was I couldn’t have one with the other.

  It was a complete miss in bringing Elias and me closer. I thought it would make Elias realize a few things and easily push our relationship to the next level. I also hoped it would change the dynamic of the relationship with his parents and their “businesses.”

  Milton went off the plan I gave him, thinking he was going against me. I expected him to. He did almost everything exactly as I knew he would. What I didn’t expect was for Skylar to be involved, the replacement of diluted heroin for the black tar version, nor for it to end in the mass murder of people.

  I needed a push to make Elias realize the full extent of his feelings for me. I wanted the threat of death to make him think he couldn’t live without me and to take the next step in our relationship. It appeared I was wrong to think it would’ve done anything. The feelings he held toward me leaned more toward obsession than love. While I hoped I could continue to confuse him into thinking the latter, it just proved to be another dead end.

  Te-amo was just an expression to manipulate me when I wanted to give up. I couldn’t help but think Elias didn’t love me yet. I wasn’t sure if it had purely been my insecurity, if it really was the truth and his inexperience with knowing how to show love correctly (at all times) reared its ugly head, or if he lied to me about feeling that way.

  “I want to talk about you,” I said. “You sound”—depressed— “distant.”

  His exhale was audible. “Why did you run off to him when I warned you that he knows the truth?”

  “Because I don’t believe he does.” The knock on the locked bathroom door startled me. A woman speaking in the native language said a few things I couldn’t understand. “Please don’t do anything rash,” I pleaded with him. “Are things working out with the new nurse?”

  “She’s fine. She does her job better than the last one.”

  I relaxed, perceiving what he said as true, because he thought the nurse was for Frankie and not him like he usually did. The moment the nurses made it clear who they were really there for, my father began to fall apart. “As soon as I get back to the States, I’ll come see you, Dad. We need to talk.”

  “To the States?” he drew out the question carefully, as though he scarcely believed it. “Where are you?”

  “In Portugal with Elias.” The knocking became more persistent, pushing me to finish my call. “Please promise me you’ll wait for me.”

  “Of course, baby girl. We’ll talk when you return.”

  On the cusp of hanging up, he called me by my birth name.

  “Dad?” I asked, startled.

  “I love you. Your mother and I always have. We’re sorry we couldn’t get our acts together to be the best examples for you and your sister.”

  “You both loved me unconditionally,” I said, the words feeling far from true for some reason. And I continued to feel uneasy when I said what I once believed to be true. “You were the best parents. I understood why you did the things you did, Dad. The both of you.”

  PREPARING TO TURN in for the night, I washed my face and showered, dressing in only a pair of panties and a lace tank top. When I went into the bedroom, Elias was no longer there. I walked through the house, eventually descending to the first level. The door to the backyard was left open, the night air rushed in, fluttering the retracted white chiffon curtains.

  Barefoot, I padded around the patio. The warm concrete met my soft steps. I wandered around the garden, finding Elias in the grassy area by the soccer net, kicking balls into the goal. The only thing covering his body was a pair of dark boxer-briefs that hugged him in all his perfect places.

  Watching him made my heart stutter. The slightly humid air added to his perspiration, further defining the muscles in his arms, chest, stomach, and legs. His hair was slick with perspiration, and the high-gloss effect, brightened by moon, intensified the dark tones in his hair.

  “You can’t sneak up on me. How many times do I have to tell you?” He combed his hands through his damp strands, directing it away from falling against his forehead and flashed me a grin.

  “Come to bed,” I said, stepping forward.

  He sauntered over to me. His scent, a mix of cologne and his natural smell, wafted around my nose and made my body ignite with a yearning. “Why would you bring up the topic of marriage so soon?”

  My blinking became so rapid it clouded my vision and put a stop to my heightening desire to have him in the way I needed him tonight—in bed, on top of me.

  But, there it was, the issue that bothered him so much, he’d barely spoken to me, much less touched me, after we left the restaurant.

  My father told me he fell in lo
ve with my mother after dating her for only a week. My sister married Whitney after four months of dating. I had been dating Elias for months—it didn’t seem as big of deal as he made it out to be. Six months, a year, or seven years, things can fall apart no matter when you decided to marry. In the end, time mattered very little. While in this case, my reasons held a not altogether innocent purpose, there still shouldn’t have been any time constraints; Elias’s fear spoke loudly to me.

  I had to save face, because obviously, my mention of marriage made him shut down, erasing all the hard work I had done to make him get ready. I began to laugh. “Is that what you thought I—” The look he gave me, halted my laughter immediately.

  “You rarely mention how you feel about me, Hanley. Even when you do, you dance around your words. I’m not sure if it’s to confuse me, or if I’m right in thinking our feelings for each other aren’t the same.”

  Folding my arms, I raised both brows, unable to hide my stunned reaction. “Is that the real issue?”

  “I have more than one issue.”

  Walking past him and his crushing attention, I picked up the soccer ball and bounced it back and forth on my knees before kicking it into the goal with an instep kick. I smiled with the knowledge I hadn’t lost my skill.

  He looked at the goal with a proud smile. “Impressive.”

  “I played soccer—”

  “Football,” he corrected me, his brows furrowing.

  “Tomato. Tomato. Anyway, I played when I was a kid. My father was always on the sidelines, cheering me on. He never missed a single game, and we never lost a single game. I won’t count the one—completely unfair game—where my team had to forfeit. A midfielder decided to kick me, so I pushed her. Of course, the referee didn’t see her kick me, just the push.” I giggled as I recalled the memory. “It started a brawl not only on the field, but in the crowd of spectators. Let’s just say my father has a mean right hook.”