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I choked on my spit. That was not what I’d expected him to say.

He kept on talking, unfazed that I was nearly dying on the other end of the call. “You think I’ll have a problem with you in my bed? You’re sleeping there, and I want a fucking picture as proof. Clothing is optional. You understand, Ariella?”

I loved how my name rolled off his tongue when he said it. He made the effort to pronounce it the way it was intended.

“And what if I don’t?” I teased, finally recovered, and absently biting my lip at the idea of walking into his space. I took a step and froze at Gracie’s incoherent yelling from across the apartment.

Shit.

“I’ve got to go find out what Gracie needs before she causes me to have a panic attack,” I said, turning on my heel to track her down.

Dalton let out a low chuckle.

“Fine. But don’t test me, Sunshine. I want that photo.”

THIRTY-SIX

ARIELLA

PINCHE PENDEJO

The poor palms of my hands were red and stinging from all the picking I’d done at my callouses, but it barely registered as I leaned against the island. Ricky eyed me suspiciously, his gaze darting around the apartment before landing back on me.

There was no questioning whether we were related. From our skin tone to the deep color of our eyes and hair. Hair my brother currently had buzzed short in a look that usually had women drooling over him and me rolling my eyes. We clearly shared genes, but what sealed the deal was our smiles—nearly identical.

Not that he was smiling right now.

“So, they just put you up in a multi-million dollar apartment?” he asked, arching a skeptical eyebrow. “That’s awfully generous of them, Ariella.”

“Yup,” I squeaked, taking another drink of my water, desperate to keep some moisture in my mouth so that I didn’t flounder around when he asked me questions. I could tell by the side-eye he gave me that he was suspicious. I thought Gracie was a shit liar, but I was discovering I wasn’t much better.

“How about we cut the shit, and you tell me what the fuck you’re doing dating Dalton Langley. Don’t try denying it either, Ariella, I watched the interview,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly ready for a fight.

I froze for a second before anger started crawling up my neck.

“That was what you latched onto from the interview?” I shot back. “You don’t want to congratulate me, or talk about how every reporter there applauded my accomplishments? God, Ricardo, how shitty is it that my brother only cares about who I’m dating?”

I hoped the walls were soundproof because my volume rose with every word.

“Because you never told me,” he yelled back, throwing his arms out to the side, hurt in his tone. “This is his apartment, isn’t it? You should have stayed at Graciella’s.”

“Why would I stay at her place when I’ve got a perfectly good apartment here?”

It was always like this with Ricky. Every conversation was laced with judgment, as if I’d never made a sensible decision.

“Because, Ariella, you are a woman in an unfamiliar city. It’s not smart for you to live with a guy you just met. How well do you even know him?” His face was the picture of brotherly disapproval.

I knew he wasn’t totally off with his logic, but there was years of build-up bubbling over at the moment, and there was no stopping me.

I scoffed.

“Oh yes, because my womanly brain is incapable of figuring out how to navigate life on my own.” He tried to interrupt me, but I was on a roll. “Why don’t I take my ass back home and live with mi mamá y mi papá until someone you all deem worthy to comes to collect me? In fact,” I rounded on him, his posture matching mine—tense and ready to fight, “you should make sure the man you choose offers up something in exchange. Money maybe? Some goats? God, but I don’t know how much I’m worth because I haven’t been cooking and cleaning lately, which is really all I’m good for, right?”

“Oh, and what you’re doing here is better, huh? You start dating some wealthy hockey player who probably only wants to get in your pants before he leaves you for someone else. Did you know that was what the articles say about him, Ariella? That he left his ex for a new woman—you.”

Red. All I saw was red.

“Don’t you dare say anything bad about him,” I said, my voice suddenly deadly calm. “He is nothing like that. I’ve never had anyone treat me as well as he does. To care for me and my dreams the way he does. Dalton is the most selfless man I’ve ever met, and his ex is a fucking reporter who dragged his name through the mud.”