I speak slowly. Emphasizing each word. Stressing the sincerity of my tone. Even though she sits two feet away, I need to make sure she hears me since she won’t look at me any longer. I’ve hurt her. So fucking fragile, and I fuck up her hesitant attempt at a deeper connection. “Really.”
Her head bobs. Slow and uncertain. She doesn’t believe me. Thinks I’m just being nice. When I’m never nice. Except to her. Damn I’m a fucking bastard for fucking this up. For fucking her up when all she asks is for a genuine friendship while living among a houseful of enemies.
Nothing I can think of to convince her. Or lessen the strain pulsating between us. The silence hangs thick and uncomfortable. A balmy tension stealing my breath and my patience. I need to fix this. The only way I can. Drifting to the curb, I nod toward the side window. Tapping the button to lower the shaded, bullet proof glass. “What do you think?”
She strains toward the fresh air and rising building as far as her seat belt allows. Taking in the first golden rays of the day glinting against the broad stone façade protected by thick white pillars. The hurt darkening her face from our earlier misunderstanding slowly smooths away to a quickening smile that fills my chest as much as her sweet face. Glowing from her plump lips to her almost black eyes. So fucking beautiful. All the tension melts from my muscles. She’s happy. If only for a moment.
With our short leash and tight time, I can only circle the block twice before we have to return to the house. But she doesn’t protest when I drive away for the last time. As well aware of our limitations as I am. “Is there any place else you need to go?”
Just a formality. We both know she’s not allowed to go anywhere else. But for some fucked up reason I like to make her feel like she has choices. That her entire fucking life, down to the minute, isn’t monitored and decided and controlled.
“No, but thank you. Home is fine.”
Never once have I heard her complain or act like her situation isn’t pure bliss. But I swear I hear a crack in the confidence when she says home. Fuck how much she must hate going back to that prison. The jail her father mistakenly sentenced her to unaware his sudden demise a few months after his agreement with Arturo would ruin her life. Trapping her in a loveless marriage with the only purpose to ensure an heir. As well as a huge deposit into the bastard’s bank account.
The quiet between us isn’t as stifling as before. Her smile still lingers, with her body soft and relaxed. Even after we return to the compound. Instead, I’m the one full of tension once we circle the drive. God fucking damn. Dante waits outside. With a broad stance, arms folded across his massive chest, and a shit ass smirk on his face, he blocks the entrance to the open bay. Fucking smug eyes bore into mine. Gloating with happiness that I’ve fucked up, and he’s the one to catch me.
Even worse when a broken sigh billows behind me. Fucking destroying me that she knows now too. And, neither of us can do a god damn thing to fix my mistake.
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The Surviving Absolution series:
Wine & Whiskey
Wine & Whiskey: Everything for You
Truth About Tequila
Truth About Tequila: Believe in Me
Stand Alone Books:
Straight, No Chaser
On the Rocks
Under the Influence
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Nikki writes contemporary romantic thrillers and admits to a weakness for alpha males and bad boys, especially ones who can’t live without the strong women they love. She spends more time in her characters’ lives than her own. But, when she’s in the real world, her passions include reading, wine appreciating, running, and spending time with her husband and daughter.
Connect with Nikki:
Reader’s Group: Nikki’s Naughty Tequilas
Website: www.nikkibelaire.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/NikkiBelaire
Facebook Author Page: www.facebook.com/NikkiBelaireAuthor
Dirty, Bruised Martini: A Dark Mafia Romance Page 12