Page 96 of No Darker Temptation

I jab my finger into his side where I know his ribs are still healing and he releases an agonized groan. With my other hand I grab him by the chin and force him to meet my gaze.

“Listen to me very closely, Narvaez. Keep doing stupid shit like this and you’re going to wish you were dead. Do you understand me?”

“I wasn’t⁠—”

I ram the heel of my palm into the bruise.

He practically howls. “¡Ya basta, mujer! All right! Okay!”

I get up and stomp into the bathroom. A little riffling through the cabinets is all it takes to find his pain medication, hidden at the very bottom behind a bottle of shaving cream. I fill a glass with water and enter the bedroom, handing both over to him.

Shifting uncomfortably, he swallows two pills and then extends the bottle and empty glass to me which I return to the bathroom.

“I’m going to bed,” I tell him. “And you can forget about getting me into any kind of position tonight.”

“Wait, before you do.” He grips the edge of the nightstand and gets up. “There’s something I want to show you first.”

THE REST OF YOUR LIFE

Dahlia

Of all the things I could’ve guessed, being dragged to his study in the middle of the night was the last thing I expected.

It’s similar to the one in the villa only it’s furnished a bit more contemporary to suit Alejandro’s style. He has a deep appreciation for older, more traditional styling but a grand secretary with big leather chairs and cherry wood desks with banker’s lamps simply aren’t functional for his everyday uses. So the desk is dark wood, traditional, and it’s stained espresso color matches the wainscot paneling and shelves throughout the rest of the room. Except his desk is equipped with a modern desktop and conference phone with a small printer that doubles as a scanner neatly tucked into a bottom cabinet.

His seat is leather but the two across from his desk are upholstered with a soft, chocolate covered fabric I picked out myself. Over the granite mantle of the fireplace is a large flat screen and in lieu of a sitting area, I’ve added a long conference table that seats eight. There used to be a chandelier in this room but it was in shambles so I’ve replaced them with pot lights and a simple coffered ceiling.

Tasteful and functional.

He moves behind his desk and approaches the tall picture. Taking hold of the corner of the gilded frame, he pulls it away from the wall to reveal the massive safe behind it. “The passcode is your birthday backward.”

Alejandro is terrible at choosing passwords. I have no idea how he hasn’t been hacked before. Imagine my surprise when I realized that the passcode to enter the apartment above the lounge was also his birthday backward.

The safe contains important documents like our birth certificates, social security cards, and passports, of which Alejandro has several. Stacks of cash in a lock box and a at least five handguns with enough magazines to take down a small army. A few other random items occupy the safe. A small keepsake box full of flash drives, a small journal full of numbers, and dozens of folders and files are all tucked in the small safe. He’s let me look through it before and ask whatever questions I wanted, some of which he answered with half-truths and others he was forced to plead the fifth. For the most part, despite the nature of his job, he doesn’t keep secrets from me. If I ask about something he’ll either answer or explain to me why he can’t. That’s enough.

He holds up a slim, brown leather portfolio. “Will you remember what this one looks like?”

I nod as he hands it to me. “What is it?”

All it takes is a glance at the first page to understand. Document duplicates are tucked into each pocket, one in English and one in Spanish.

My hands start shaking. I shove the portfolio at him. “Take it back. I don’t want it.”

“Relax.” He refuses to take it and instead turns a page in the English document. “Read it. You need to know what it says because in a court of law if you can’t testify to the contents of this document and something happens to the original⁠—”

“Are you insane? I’m not reading your will!”

“The first one is a last will and testament. The one on the bottom is a living will, something you should have by the way.”

I shake my head so hard my neck cracks. “Why are you showing this to me?”

“Because it’s important. I realized that today.”

“Does it have to do with your grandfather being in the hospital or whatever caused that nasty bruise on your chest?”

“Both,” he says, and his candor shocks me. “I know it’s something we’ve never talked about and that’s my fault. It was irresponsible of me to wait this long to make amendments but I have and now you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I am worried. The fact that you’re thinking about dying is concerning to me.”