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“Stanford?” My eyes went wide. “That’s a bit far. Didn’t classes already start for you?”
Marcos nodded, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I live in Stanford. That’s where the architecture firm is. Your father—sorry, stepfather”—he amended before I could correct him—“requested that I fly down for a day to sit in on a regionwide conference.”
“And, let me guess, he just had to treat you to dinner in his home?” I angled my question at Romero, ignoring whatever Marcos said after.
“It’s proper etiquette, cariña,” Romero ground out, his glass of whiskey now empty. “I know your manners are somewhat lacking—”
Anger flashed through me so fast, I felt my skin heat. “Maybe I need to be spanked more. That’ll cure my lack of manners.” I shot up from the table and Romero followed, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “I’m not hungry. Excuse me.” I fled the kitchen and rushed up to my room, slamming the door as a flurry of emotions rioted through me.
He disappears for almost a week, and when he finally deigns to return, he brings a fucking boy home with him as though I’m some spinster needing to be married off?
He was proving a point, an annoying little voice echoed through my mind. Marcos is your age. He isn’t.
“I don’t care,” I said to no one. Now that I’d successfully made a fool of myself, I’d have to go without dinner even if I’d already skipped lunch. My stomach grumbled as if to emphasize my pitiful state.
A moment later I heard the front door shut and then a car rumbled to life in the driveway. I peered out behind the curtain, curious. The little silver rental car reversed out of the drive. I felt a little bad that I’d ruined the boy’s dinner plans, but he looked like the type that ate ramen noodles for nearly every meal, so I doubted finding a drive-through would be a great hardship for him.
Steps sounded heavily on the stairs and my body jerked, my spine going ramrod straight. Romero stopped right outside my door.
But he didn’t speak.
After a moment he strode away, and his door shut as well. I waited for several minutes, and when he didn’t reemerge to tell me off, I slowly peeled the door open. My gaze went to the floor where a plate sat, heaped with glazed chicken, fried potatoes, and steamed vegetables.
* * *
Romero was gone both Saturday and Sunday, which was fine with me. I got Sunday off since everything at the shoe shop was marked down and Jean decided it wasn’t worth the effort to open the store on the slowest day of the week.
It allowed me to go over my schedule yet again, get my books in order, pick what to wear from the four nicest outfits I owned. Of course, it left me with plenty of time to stare at Kieran’s note.
On Sunday night I finally worked up the courage to call.
The hand pressing the phone to my ear trembled. I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth, feeling like every nerve ending in my body was heightened.
The phone rang once, then a smooth, husky voice filled the speaker. “Julietta.” I could hear his smile and pictured his handsome face so vividly, the rest of my body gave in to the tremors.
“Hey.” It took every ounce of power I possessed to keep my voice from shaking as bad as the rest of me.
Muffled voices faded from the background, suddenly going silent—as though he’d moved into a different room.
“Bad time?” I asked.
“For you? Never,” Kieran replied, and I couldn’t help the way my lips curved into a smile. “Have you made up your mind?”
I took a deep breath. “Can I ask why you’re willing to pay so much money for…”
“Sex?” Kieran offered.
My face warmed. “Yes.”
He sighed. “I’m a very wealthy man, Julietta. When I see something I want, I’ll pay through the nose to get it. And when I have competition in securing whatever it is that I want, I’m willing to pay a great deal for it. With twelve million dollars you’d be able to do anything. Go anywhere. Be whatever you wanted to be. You’d be able to start your own empire. Who knows, maybe one day we’ll be competitors.”
His words made a lump rise in my throat. I swallowed hard. “I just need to make sure Romero won’t have access to the money. He took the five hundred thousand and put it into a trust fund. I don’t want to be under his thumb. Childhood ended for me the day my grandmother passed away, because my mother certainly didn’t raise me. He just doesn’t see it that way.”
There was a long pause.
“Romero doesn’t see you as a child, Julietta. He hasn’t for a long time. For two years you were on your own and he watched you fight for survival. I’m sure he wouldn’t want me to divulge this information, but he did what he could to keep you alive without his interference seeming obvious.”
My breath hitched. “Wait, what?”
