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"At the bar," he finally blurts. I jump in the passenger seat. "When Marco said he'd go with you to the embassy, why didn't you let him? He was losing his mind from stress over you."
I glance at him. His eyes are fixed on the road ahead. There's a small muscle in his neck that keeps twitching. It's the only part of him that moves. "He had more important things to take care of. The last thing I wanted to do was get in the way after all the trouble he went through winning the vote."
"Winning," he grumbles. He shoots me a furtive look, then eyes the road again. "You really aren't like I thought you'd be."
"Yeah, yeah. You think I'm some money chasing scum or whatever."
"Yes," he admits softly. "I did think that."
My mouth pops open. "Sorry, youdon'tthink that now?"
"Much to my horror," he chuckles dryly. With a long, exhausted sigh, Derek parks his car on the street outside of the bar. There are people hanging around outside; the place is more busy than before. "Filia, I want to... apologize. For how I treated you."
I cover my mouth with my hands. "Are you a doppleganger?"
"Am I––no," he huffs. Glaring at me, he runs his fingers through his hair. "This is hard enough as is, could you take it seriously?"
"I'm just confused. What would make you change your opinion on me so suddenly?"
Derek shuts his eyes like he's gathering his thoughts. He speaks without opening them; like he can't handle looking at me as he talks. "I'm a proud man. I think I'm a good judge of character. I've only been wrong about people twice. You...and my own father."
Shifting in my seat, I work down the hard lump in my throat. "You're talking about how he cheated on your mom."
There––his eyes snap open. The anger is back. "Marco told you."
"Yes."
"Fuck. Is nothing sacred anymore?"
"Derek, I'm sorry your dad hurt your mom. I'd never hurt Marco like that, though."
He watches me curiously. I can't read his expression. Putting his elbow on the steering wheel, he props his cheek on his fist. "Marco is loose with his tongue. Do you know, then, about how our mother is dying?"
My insides turn to ice. "What? No! That's...but he told me..." I struggle to recall our conversation. When I'd tried asking if his mother was dead, he'd quickly assured me she was alive. I'd took that to mean she was healthy. Why hadn't he told me the truth in that moment?
"Marco didn't tell you that. Interesting. Then you really had no clue how tense this situation was. And still, you worked your ass off to help him win. Why?"
"Because I love him."
He makes a face. "Just that reason?"
"Why do I need more than that?"
"Love is fragile. It comes and goes." Turning, he opens his door, speaking as he exits. "I'm glad I was wrong about you, Filia. Don't break my brother's heart, even if he ends up breaking yours."
Stunned, I sit there in the car alone.What does he mean?I’m in a daze asI leave the car, walking like a zombie. Inside the bar, I mix with the crowd, not paying attention to where I'm going. Not that it matters; there's so many people I can't see a thing.
A hand clasps on my wrist; it tugs me sideways, into an alcove away from the bodies. "There you are," Marco says, pulling me against his hard chest. He kisses the top of my head. "I was about to go to the embassy. The call took forever, I'm sorry, how did you get back? The police?"
I toss a furtive look around. I don't see Derek anywhere. "I got a ride." Not sure if I'm ready to elaborate, butverysure I want to feel more of Marco's light stubble, I stand on tip-toe and kiss his jaw. He inclines his head to meet me, our lips clinging together like frost to a winter flower.
His palms cover my full ass, squeezing into the soft muscle. "God, Filia," he whispers, "I want you so bad right now."
"Okay."
He reels back, eyeing me in surprise. I know what he'll see in my face; desire. Wanton, unholy, desperate desire for him.
He returns my look ten-fold. "Let's get out of here."
