Page 60 of No Darker Temptation

We both collapse onto the bed, Alejandro with his arms around me, and me with my head on his chest. I think a half hour passes before either of us is able to speak again.

“Did he deserve it?” I whisper. “That man?”

I realize I need to hear him say it. I won’t be at peace until I know.

He speaks so quietly, I almost miss it when he says, “Si, mi amor. He did.”

A BEDFUL OF DAHLIAS

Dahlia

July

Ifeel…discontented.

Restless.

I’m too young to be a bored housewife and yet, my entire life revolves around the maintenance of this house. In the beginning, it was exciting. Building something of my own from the ground up was a riveting prospect, not to mention it allowed me to put my skills to use, both as an engineer and an architect. Something good had to come of me busting my ass the last four years as a double major. There’s so much space in the house that I’ve drawn up blueprints for Diego and Lettie to have their own private quarters on the west end of the building and that was enough to occupy my time.

For a while.

Now, I just wander around the house all day and wait for Alejandro to come home. I practice my Spanish with Doña Ana. I clean. Shop. Shuffle between hair salons and nail salons, so on and so forth, the repetitive monotony of my life starting to drill holes into my skull. I know I should be grateful for the life Alejandro’s given me. Most people only ever dream of this kind of luxury and financial security and I am grateful. I’m simply unhappy and I wish those two emotions could co-exist without making me feel so guilty.

On the morning of my twenty-third birthday, I wake up in bed alone, a sensation I am very quickly growing tired of. I can tell because the pillow next to mine is cold.

And…rough?

Blinking against the sunlight, I rub the sleep from my eyes and sit up in bed. There’s a rustle and something soft brushes against my skin before rolling down the blanket. Once my vision clears I look around and take in the sight of hundreds of dahlias in every color scattered across the bedroom. Some stick out from tall, ornate crystal vases positioned in different corners of the room, others rest along the windowsill, the rest scattered across the floor, so many that I can’t see the wood underneath. The dahlias on the bed have had their stems cut so they rest easily in the palm of my hand when I pick one up.

“Oh…my…god…” I whisper. “He is so ridiculous.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or be horrified. I’m terrible with grand displays of affection—last time he did something crazy like this was when he bought me this house and after looking over the deed a million times to make sure it was real, I proceeded to cry and tell him I didn’t deserve it. Probably has to do with some deep-rooted trauma from my childhood I’ll never address because I avoid therapy the way Lettie does carbs.

Looking over, I realize the rough thing I touched was a card. I open it and skim the inside.

Amor de mi vida, luz de mi alma.

Hay un regalo que está esperandote.

-A

Another gift and it isn’t even seven in the morning…

My phone rings and I practically spring across the bed to answer it. Unwillingly, a smile creeps across my face as I sink deep into the pillows and blankets with the phone pressed against my cheek.

“Don’t you think this is a little excessive?”

“Consider it an apology,” Alejandro replies.

“For what?”

“For kidnapping you on your last birthday,” he quips and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Happy birthday, mi vida.”

I drag the blanket up to my face, smiling under the covers. “Thank you.”

After a beat, he says, “Have you left the room yet?”

“No, why?”