"I'm sorry." Her plaintive voice, damp eyes, and nervous body language conspired against him to keep him there. Every cell in his body screamed at him to stop in his tracks, pull her back into bed and reassure her with his touch.
But his stubborn pride won out. Fuck this, he told himself as he pulled on his clothes. You don't need to hang around here being her cock on tap while she sorts her shit out. Look at her, she's fucking scared of you, like you're some kind of threat.
"Alejandro, please..." Her gray eyes filled with anguish. "Let me explain," she pleaded, reaching her hand out to him. "Please."
He shrugged away her touch and stepped into his boots. "Not tonight. I gotta go." He took the stairs down two at a time and was relieved when she didn't follow him. He didn't want to look in her eyes again, because he knew he'd be a pussy and fold. Instead, he started the bike and took off for the clubhouse where he could think in private.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Alejandro woke up face down on the clubhouse sofa with a graveyard of empties on the floor next to him. The TV droned in the background, poking at the edges of his pounding headache. Another night erased from my mind, he thought. Suddenly he remembered the look in Ali's eyes when she'd told him about the gala, and the throbbing above his eye turned savage.
He needed water. And hair of the dog. And a shower.
After reading his text messages and arguing with himself about whether or not to text Ali back, he hopped on his bike and rode to his parents' house, where his mother fussed over him and made him a breakfast fit for a king. But he sure as hell didn't feel like a king. He sank into the chair and eyed the spread gratefully. A mother's love, now that was unconditional, though it didn't change the fact that he felt like shit.
He ignored her disapproving look as he popped open a beer and continued shoveling food into his mouth. She made no secret of the fact that she didn't like drinking, especially in the morning. She was probably right--hell, she was right about everything else, even Ali. It was his mother who had told him ten years ago, Mijo, be careful. That girl will break your heart.
All this time he thought he'd outsmarted her by breaking up with Ali before she could break up with him. Now he realized it didn't matter who did the leaving. A shattered heart was just as broken when you broke it yourself. Ali broke his heart every day that she wasn't his, and that was the truth of the matter.
His mother leaned behind him and wrapped him in her soft embrace. "You're in trouble," she murmured.
"Mi guapa madré," he replied, kissing her hand. "You worry too much. Us brothers look out for each other. I'm perfectly safe."
"I meant the girl." Her eyes were sympathetic when he stared at her, surprised. "A mother knows. It's all over this handsome face." She took his chin in her hand. "This love torments you, mijo."
He couldn't even protest. It did torment him. Taking it one day at a time was no longer working for him. If he didn't figure out what he wanted, what he could promise Ali, he would lose her forever to Bobby.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Later that morning, Alejandro was tinkering with his bike at his father's garage when he heard a car pull up outside. The insistent pounding on the door conspired to shatter his skull, and he headed for the front, hell-bent on thrashing whoever it was beating down the door.
On the other side of the glass stood Bobby Dawson. Alejandro stared at the blond man. He'd have recognized Bobby's face anywhere: clean cut, blue eyes, bright teeth. He took in the linen suit and expensive loafers, the timepiece on his arm that probably cost as much as his bike. Rich boy, he thought, you're either stupid or insane. I could shoot you out back, bury you in the desert, and no one would be any the wiser. He entertained that thought for more than a moment as he stared the other man down, and then unlocked the door without a word.
Clearly Bobby knew he was at a disadvantage, but he walked defiantly into the garage and stood watching Alejandro carefully wipe the grease from each finger in turn.
"What can I do for you?" Alejandro finally asked.
"Robert Dawson." Bobby offered his hand, and for a second Alejandro thought he'd made a mistake and the man was just campaigning. But the fire in Bobby's eyes was unmistakable.
Alejandro took Bobby's hand, squeezing the fingers between his own, bearing down just a bit. He was surprised when Bobby didn't wince.
"I'm Alaine's fiancé."
She hates being called Alaine. Alejandro smiled and went for the jugular right away. "You know she doesn't actually wear that ring, right?" he asked conspiratorially.
Bobby's eyes narrowed a bit, but he flashed a PR grin Alejandro's way. "Well, we did agree to take some time apart to think about how we're moving forward," he said with a shrug.
Alejandro nodded and said nothing, still smirking. Let this jackass do all the talking he wants. At the end of the day, Ali's still mine.
"I know the two of you are quite close," Bobby mused, turning his back to Alejandro as he strolled around the garage, trailing his fingers now and then over a surface as if marking it, his eyes missing nothing.
"You could say that." Alejandro's smile broadened as he recalled just how close they'd been on many occasions, and he folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the workbench. "So?"
"I'm asking, as a gentleman, that you stop seeing her."
Alejandro threw back his head and laughed, a great booming sound that echoed in the enclosed space. "Oh, you're good," he said, wagging his finger at Bobby. "I'll hand it to you. You show up here at my father's business acting like you own this place and thinking there's no way in hell I'd jeopardize my old man's livelihood. You tell me that you and Ali are still engaged, yet I've been warming her sheets all month.
He grinned even wider when Bobby blanched. "And now you say some bullshit about a gentleman's agreement when both you and I know that you've got a backup plan waiting for me when I tell you to fuck off.
"So tell you what, Robert Dawson," he growled. "Since this isn't a fucking meet and greet, what do you say we drop the act and you just cut to the chase. Man to man. Use small words, I'm not as bright as you."
"Fine." Bobby straightened, his cheeks colored and his jaw clenched. "How's this, then? You stay the fuck away from her, from today forward. You so much as look at her, it's going to get a lot hotter around here, not just for you but for your whole family and anyone else associated with your club. Your kind are not welcome here in Arroyo Flats."
Alejandro smirked. "Turning up the heat on me, college boy?"
He stalked closer to Bobby, who was nearly as tall as he was but nowhere near as broad. He imagined the other man kissing Ali, touching her with his privileged hands, whispering in her ear. A calm rage filled his veins as he pushed into Bobby's personal space, nose to nose, just inches away.
"How about this, then," Alejandro said quietly. "You go ahead and bring whatever it is you got. Do what you gotta do, because in the end, Ali's going to be mine."
"Never in a million years will she choose a lowlife like you!"
Alejandro shrugged and grinned. "Then why are you here?" he asked, throwing his arms wide.
Bobby spun on his heel and stormed out of the garage without another word. Alejandro wished he could feel some relief, some triumph at their exchange, but all he could think about was Bobby's threat.
The truth was, even though Alejandro could easily take him in a fight, that wasn't the game they were playing. Bobby Dawson had the means to make all their lives pretty miserable if he wanted to, and judging from how pissed off he was, that's exactly what he intended to do. Alejandro couldn't just beat Bobby's ass and be done with it, as much as the very thought of it made his entire body sing.
Furthermore, he didn't know just how much of his life Ali could handle, no matter what she said. Even if she could somehow excuse away some of the illegal things they did because they balanced it out by taking care of their own, could she justify all of it? She was okay with them selling stolen ammo and helping illegals get
into the country, but that was only a fraction of what they did. What about the drugs? The underage prostitutes they sometimes got for Hennessy? The fact that every once in a while they had to make someone disappear?
Maybe she'd go back to Bobby when she found out about those things. Maybe the rich prick would even be the one to tell her. He had to find a way to make sure he didn't.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Thank God this doesn't have a back zip, Ali thought as she tugged the zipper up her side and smoothed the fabric. She wouldn't have wanted an awkward moment in which she'd have to enlist Bobby's help getting dressed. That would definitely have sent the wrong message.
To his credit, he'd behaved himself so far. He hadn't had anything yet to drink, and he'd been a perfect gentleman, leaving her to change in complete privacy while he returned some phone calls. Not a word of Alejandro, the wedding, or a reconciliation, either.
Maybe the night wouldn't be so terrible. After all, if Travis Lathrop was there and she could have even five minutes with him, she might solve all her startup problems in one fell swoop.
In addition to her operating costs, there were still some permit issues that needed to be taken care of, and she knew how easily a word from an influential man in the community could pave the way for those problems to be resolved.
She hadn't wanted to enlist Bobby or Carmac's help--particularly since neither of them had ever been enthusiastic about her starting the program in the first place--but Mr. Lathrop might just be the man to help check that pesky permit issue off the to-do list.
If Travis Lathrop wanted a new pet project to support, then by God, she could give him one. She dusted powder over the bridge of her nose and thought about what Mr. Lathrop's support might mean, in practical terms, for the Cloverleaf program. Not just dollars, but word-of-mouth to other potential funders. Validation in local philanthropy circles. Maybe even recognition outside Arroyo Flats.
A quiet tap on the bathroom door snapped her out of her reverie. "I don't mean to pressure you, Sugar, but this thing starts in an hour, and we've got a bit of a drive still," Bobby called through the door. "You almost ready?"
She cracked the door. "Almost," she said, reaching for her makeup bag to retrieve her lipstick. "Two seconds."
Bobby pushed the door open and leaned in the door frame, impeccably dressed in his tuxedo. His eyes never left her mouth as she carefully applied her lipstick. She caught him looking and he blushed under her questioning gaze.
“You look stunning," he murmured. "Red suits you."
Ali thanked him politely, not wanting to see what was in his eyes. Love? Jealousy? Lust? It didn't matter. She had one purpose tonight and that was to make the acquaintance of this funder. It was not to engage with Bobby in a conversation about their broken engagement.
Ali straightened and took one last turn in the mirror. I wish I could just hear his voice, she thought. She'd already sent Alejandro several text messages that day, all of which had gone unanswered. He wasn't the type to ignore her on purpose, no matter how angry he was, so she knew he was busy and would get back to her. Still, it stung to know she had hurt him. She had single-handedly chipped away at the frail bond of trust they were trying so desperately to build.
One night, that's all this has to be, she thought. I just have to make sure Bobby doesn't think this is anything more than it is and I'm golden. Alejandro will understand when I explain it to him, I know he will.
***
It had been strange to take Bobby's arm and allow him to escort her in, stopping to pose for the obligatory publicity photo. It had been even odder to sit at the table with Carmac and Cecile, acting as if nothing was wrong. Bobby's hand had been on her lower back all night, guiding her as he always had, in tune with her every move. A few times he allowed his hand to rest around her hip in a way that was a bit more familiar than she would have liked, but he didn't seem to notice he was even doing it. No big deal, she thought. It's just a habit. He's not pressuring me, and it's just for tonight.
It had all been worth it to meet Travis Lathrop, who took an immediate shine to Ali and listened to her talk about the program for only fifteen minutes before he pulled his checkbook from inside his jacket pocket and wrote a sum that made Ali choke on her wine. Then he asked so many questions that she spent half the night answering him, her mind reeling the entire time that she had almost missed such an amazing supporter. Mr. Lathrop was nearly ninety, sharp as a tack, and just as eager as Bobby had said he was to support a new youth project.
Bobby circled back now and then, and when Mr. Lathrop said his goodbyes to them both, she turned to him breathlessly and showed him the check.
His smile was genuine as he said, "That's amazing, Sugar, it really is. I knew he'd be able to help you out."
She flung her arms around his neck without even thinking what she was doing and felt him hesitate before wrapping his arms around her. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much, Bobby." Her eyes filled with tears and she tried to pull away from him before he could see, but he held her fast.
"Why the tears?"
She shook her head, but Bobby took her hand in his and led her out of the ballroom to the garden. He sat on one of the benches and she sat next to him, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.
"Hey." His blue eyes met hers then, and he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped her face.
"I'm really sorry, Bobby," she wept. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I’m just so confused. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted, and now I don't. I don’t know how to live this life when it makes me so miserable. And I can’t help how I feel about--" She stopped herself then, not daring to start a conversation she didn’t have the energy to finish.
Bobby sat in complete silence, holding her hand until she sagged against him. Then he spoke quietly. "This is where you belong, Sugar, right here with me. Maybe I've been less than understanding. Hell, I know I've been less than attentive. But I want you by my side. I'll stand by and wait if that's what it takes, but I'm not going to just let you go and give up everything that should be yours."
"You promised we wouldn't talk about this," she sniffled.
"No ma'am," he disagreed with a crooked grin. "I promised I wouldn't pry into your personal affairs. I didn't make any promises about telling you how I feel or what I want."
Her shoulders sagged. "Bobby..."
"Shhh..." His fingers covered her lips and he pulled her close against his chest. "Don't say anything. I don't want to hear you say you don't love me or that you'll never be mine again. I've loved you too long for that. Just let me hold you a bit. Just for a minute."
Ali sighed and relaxed against him. She wanted the comfort, but she didn't want the responsibility of how seriously he might take the embrace. Bobby's arms felt like a stranger's. She was so used to Alejandro's powerful embrace that Bobby's arms felt insubstantial wrapped around her.
Not so long ago, his embrace was the only one to comfort her. So easily they drifted apart. The months of campaigning taking a toll on their relationship. She thought about how fragile their love must have been to die such a quick death. Especially when things with Alejandro had rekindled again so easily after so long apart.
When she pulled out of his embrace he smiled ruefully but didn't try to stop her. Instead, he sat with her in comfortable silence a few moments before she asked him to drive her back to get her car. She was relieved when he readily agreed. After a hasty good-bye to his parents, they escaped and headed back for his place.
Ali was impressed that Bobby still hadn't had anything to drink all night, and she couldn't help bringing it up on the drive home.
"You didn't drink anything tonight, did you?"
He shook his head. He was silent for a moment before clearing his throat. "You know, that night..."
She nodded to let him know she knew exactly what night he was referring to. The night at Bistro Mia, when he'd drunk to oblivion and practically forced himself on her, was still fresh in her mind. She hadn'
t forgotten how out of line he'd been or her panic when she thought she might not be able to stop him from forcing himself on her.
"When I realized what I'd done to you I knew how out of control I was getting. That was a big wake-up call for me, Sugar. I don't want to be some guy who drinks to cope with what he did the night before when he was drunk. I don't want to lose pieces of my life bit by bit while I drink myself into an early grave. So I just stopped."
"You stopped drinking? Altogether?" Ali was shocked. She thought Bobby was just making a special effort since she'd begged him not to drink too much that night while they were together. She never imagined he was actually embarking on a lifetime of sobriety.
Don’t You Dare: A Bad Boy MMA Fighter Romance Page 57