Page 89 of Chris

That’s what he deserved.

Jorge sighed, pleased with her submissiveness. That’s all this bastard ever wanted. To believe Valeria was willing and capable of going along with whatever he needed and demanded. He was easier to handle but shit … it killed her to do it.

No point in lying.

“All right,” he mumbled, folding his arms behind his head, “but don’t be too long. I need a good sleep. Big things happening tomorrow.”

“Oh, like what?”

She asked the question over her shoulder as she headed for the bathroom. Moving around inside the space, turning on the taps and lifting the toilet seat to make it seem like she was doing something, he wouldn’t know the difference if he stayed resting on the bed. Knowing Jorge like she did, when he was drunk, if he stayed on his back for long enough, he would fall asleep.

A win-win for her.

Stupid, yes.

Risky, absolutely.

Valeria didn’t care. Not right now. Not knowing soon, Chris would leave, and tonight was the last chance she would have to be with him. She would do what she needed to do.

“Business, Val,” he muttered, “with the Canadian.”

“Chris?”

“Mmm, I don’t like him.”

“Why?”

“He looks at you too much.”

Valeria stiffened near the sink.

How often did Jorge watch when she didn’t pay attention?

“Does he? I never noticed.”

“They all look at you, woman … but they’re smart about it. He doesn’t care, and I don’t … like that.”

His words came slower, now, so Valeria kept talking as she pretended to wash her hands.

“I don’t notice,” she admitted. “What are you celebrating?”

“The deal is …”

“Hmm?”

“Completed,” Jorge mumbled. A beat of silence passed before he asked almost unintelligibly, “Are you finished?”

“Just about.”

She took a minute to dry her hands, and brushed her teeth, a familiar sound echoed into the bathroom.

Snoring.

Valeria smiled at her reflection.

It worked.

She came out of the bathroom, and sure enough, Jorge had passed out on the bed with his arms still acting as a pillow beneath his head. Using the blanket that acted as a decoration on the chair in the corner, she covered him. Not because she cared should he become cold, but because he slept better when he was warm, and she needed him to stay asleep for as long as possible.