Page 72 of No Darker Temptation

Exhaustion weighs me down and I’m able to make it as far as the living room before collapsing on the nearest sofa. It took hours for the adrenaline to fade and now that it finally has, the aches and pains of this afternoon’s fight are finally starting to settle in.

Diego disappears and I think it’s to head down to the kitchen for an ice pack and wet towels to clean up the blood on my busted knuckles. A few minutes later, Dahlia rushes into the room, hair unbraided and robe haphazardly tied shut as if she was in a rush to get downstairs. She gasps when she sees me.

A sigh passes my lips. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” She rushes over and kneels beside me, lifting one hand to gently cup the side of my face. When she blinks, her eyes glisten silver. “Oh, Alex…”

“You should see the other guy.”

“This isn’t funny. He could’ve killed you.”

“He should be more worried about me killing him.” I shift in my seat in search of a more comfortable position but unfortunately, there is none. As the minutes pass, the pain all over intensifies and when breathing becomes difficult, I recognize the deep ache as a sign of broken ribs. “I think…Diego⁠—”

My breath catches and my entire body seizes. Dahlia reaches for me but doesn’t know where to touch or hold, afraid of causing more harm. Diego returns and shoves a pillow behind my back, helping to situate my body in an upright position.

“I think you should call a doctor,” I tell him through gritted teeth.

He gives a curt nod and leaves the room. Meanwhile, Dahlia slips an arm around my waist and helps me back to our room where I collapse onto the bed with a groan and she starts peeling me out of my clothes. Her fingers are delicate and I hardly feel it as my jacket and shoes come off, followed by my shirt and belt. For all her careful, loving touches, the silence leaves me feeling unsettled.

She should be angry. Screaming, yelling, reproachful. Something along the lines of how could you be so stupid and I hate you for making me worry. When it becomes evident Dahlia won’t be the first to speak, I decide to do so instead.

“How did you explain it to Karina?”

“I lied and said I saw Regina. Told her we got into a fight over you and I was upset.” She gets up and disappears into the bathroom. A minute later she returns with towels and a porcelain bowl full of hot water. She starts with cleaning my bloodied knuckles. “Not like it mattered much. An hour after you left, Brent called and they got into an argument over the phone. She’s going home in the morning.”

I want to ask her more—if Karina believed her, what exactly she told her, why Karina and Brent fought—but the water stings and instinctively, I yank my hand back. She lifts her head to meet my gaze and guilt settles like a weight in the pit of my stomach. I extend my arm again but she doesn’t take it, instead folding her hands neatly on her lap, clutching the wet towel in her grasp.

“Is this it then?” she whispers. “Is this going to be our life together?”

I swallow, unsure of what to say. “Dee⁠—”

“I don’t like this, Alex. I don’t like the way this makes me feel.” Her voice remains clear and steady despite the sheen of tears in her amber eyes. “I thought I could take it. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into.”

“Dahlia, please.”

She folds up the towel in her hand and leaves it to rest on the vanity beside me. “I was afraid when I thought Sandro might hurt me. But none of that compares to the fear and resentment I felt watching you walk out on me today.” She blinks and the tears roll down her lashes, carving silver paths down her tan cheeks. “I realize now that in order for this relationship to work, we need boundaries so let me set mine. Don’t lie to me, don’t deceive me, and don’t ever walk out on me again. Because the next time you do, I promise it’ll be the last.”

LOVE IS CRUEL

Dahlia

Aweek later, Alejandro receives a summons.

I leave it on the nightstand while he sleeps, certain it’ll be the first thing he sees when he wakes up in a few hours.

The doctor gave him a mild sedative not too long ago as the pain in his ribs hasn’t gotten any better. Two of them are broken and another is cracked, making breathing difficult at best. As I shuffle through the room collecting my things—a new outfit for tomorrow, my comb, a scrunchie for my hair—he shifts in his sleep, still struggling to find a comfortable position. I leave what I’ve gathered folded in a neat pile on the dresser before approaching the bed.

One of the pillows is protruding at an awkward angle so I slide my arm behind his shoulders and gently lift while pushing the pillow back into place. Alejandro’s breath catches as I lay him back down and I’m afraid I might’ve put him in a more uncomfortable position than before. I look around in search of something I can use to prop up his head properly and I’m about to get up when his hand catches my wrist.

“Don’t.” His eyes are closed, voice quiet.

“I’m sorry. Is that worse than before?” I adjust his head and make sure the smaller pillow behind him is supporting his neck.

He shakes his head. “It was fine.”

I press my lips together. “Okay.”

His grip tightens on my wrist when I try to get up. “Stay. Please.”