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“Elena.”
Warm air brushed my skin as the front door shut, and I longed to be on the other side. But instead, I smiled politely. “Oscar.”
Mid-thirties, with dirty blond hair and expensive suits always worn with a colored tie, Oscar Perez was handsome in a classic and charismatic way. He never lacked female attention, yet h
e always lavished his on me. He worked for my papà and was often around for parties, but since we’d had nothing going on I hadn’t seen him in months, since before the incident. It was one of the biggest reliefs, but unfortunately, all good things have to come to an end.
“Don’t you look as beautiful as always,” he told me, giving me a kiss on each cheek and lingering too long. “Demasiado hermosa para las palabras.”
I didn’t know what he’d said, but I assumed it had something to do with my symmetrical face.
I stared at his light blue tie, the color of his eyes.
I hated it.
He was the fairest Colombian I’d ever met, and for some reason I resented his blond, comely appearance. What a lie it was.
“Thank you,” I said, trying to take a step back, but his hand went to my lower back and drifted to the top of my ass. My stomach tightened with unease. He was lean but tall, and his presence consumed me like a bad aftertaste.
He’d always been subtly inappropriate—his fingers just grazing things they shouldn’t. Close enough to make me uncomfortable, but not too close to get shot by my papà. If he went further, would my father even believe me now?
Oscar pulled back to look me in the eye, but his hand didn’t leave me. Something crawled under my skin. I realized at this moment why I couldn’t escape the expectations people had for the Sweet Abelli with anyone but my sister’s fiancé. Nicolas Russo was safe. He was marrying my sister. There was no chance I’d have to marry him, no chance my actions would alter how he would treat me as a wife. Most men walking through these doors could be a potential husband to me. Why make it worse on myself?
Oscar’s fingers tightened on my lower back, and he spoke in my ear, “I hear you’ve gotten into trouble since the last time I saw you.”
My heartbeat drummed. He’d always been inappropriate, but politely inappropriate, if that made any sense at all. He’d never brought up something so personal and invasive.
His saccharine voice took a cruel edge. “I was very disappointed when I found out, Elena. You can understand why, can’t you?”
There was one thing that could mean—my worst nightmare—but I wouldn’t accept it, didn’t believe it. I wasn’t going to call him a liar, though.
“Of course,” I breathed.
I didn’t realize how tightly he’d been holding me until he let me go and I fell back a step, my line of vision focused on his ugly tie. It took a second to realize we were no longer alone, and the heavy presence against my back could only be one person.
Oscar glanced warily behind me, before looking back at me with a fake smile and bitterness dancing in his eyes. “I’ll see you at dinner, Elena.” He kissed the top of my hand, eyeing my cheap ring with a grimace, and then disappeared into my home like a snake on the loose.
I stared at the door, while his insinuation resounded in my mind. Resentment crawled into my chest, creeping to wherever it resided. However, maybe Oscar Perez was what I deserved . . .
Slowly, I turned around, my gaze traveling up a black vest, black tie, to a gaze just as dark.
“If that was the Sweet Abelli, can’t say I’m impressed.”
Where Oscar’s presence was a dark, looming shadow, it felt nothing compared to Nicolas’s larger, warmer one. His pulled you in, didn’t send you away. It was infinitely more dangerous.
The reminder of my spineless behavior still permeated the air, and I couldn’t flip the switch so fast. “Excuse me,” I breathed, taking a step around him, but he reached out and grabbed my hand.
I didn’t get a chance to even weigh his expression before he was pulling me to the front door. His rough palm practically burned mine, spreading a warm sensation in my lower stomach.
It took a moment to find the voice to speak, and once I did, it sounded more breathless and uncertain than it ever had. “What are you doing?”
He was mad. He had to be to touch me in the middle of the foyer with guests around every corner.
He ignored my question. “Where’s my list?”
My brows knitted, and then I remembered I was supposed to write that. “I, uh, forgot about it.”
Under the warm glow of the porch light, I heard Benito and Sal laughing near one of the cars in the drive, but it was too dark to see. Nicolas’s grip was soft but strong, and so there was no other choice but to follow him down the stone path toward the side of the house.
