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“Well, I feel like doing it now.” He leaned, with a smug grin, against the fridge and watched.
She knew he was trying to make her stop and give up, or laugh at how ridiculous she was being, but she felt filled with anger ever since she’d really thought about Dante and what he’d said.
The more she thought about him telling her to find someone else, the more she saw red. As though she was a piece of meat to be tossed around for others to sample.
Ugh!
No way would he make the decision for her.
“I also think if you’re going to be staying here that you need to refrain from calling me names, Em.”
She glared over her shoulder at her brother.
“Emelia, dear,” he said in a perfect imitation of their mother.
She turned away so that he wouldn’t see the amusement on her face.
“Okay,” Diego grabbed the cleaning cloth from her hand, grabbed her hips, and sat her in front of him on the countertop, “that’s enough.”
For once, her brother looked serious, and she knew that he wouldn’t let this go unless she came up with a good enough excuse for her actions.
Diego leaned in close to her face, and stared into her eyes—a move that he would always do when he wanted the utter truth from her. She couldn’t avoid his gaze that way.
“You’ve been in a mood since before we left home, and I want to know why?” She knew that he wouldn’t move until he’d gotten an answer from her, and it had to be an answer that he believed.
Emelia stared at her brother, and reached out to cup his face. “I love you . . .”
“Oh my God!”
At the sound, they turned toward the voice as it spit out, “You bastard.”
Emelia arched a brow and smirked at Diego, who looked like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Um...um . . .”
“Sandra,” she helped him out.
“Sandra, look. This isn’t what...you know what, it’s exactly what it looks like, and you’re interrupting because I fucking love this woman in my arms.” His smirk grew into a huge smile…he was definitely proud of himself.
The woman gasped and grappled at words until Diego spoke again, “I’m not sure how you got in here,” he arched a brow, “but I’d like you to leave and don’t come back.”
“I hate you,” she cried, as real tears flowed down her face. At least, Emelia thought they were real.
Diego cursed under his breath, “Fuck me.”
“I do believe she already did.” Emelia giggled, enjoying her brother being put on the spot.
“Look, Sandy . . .”
“Sandra,” Emelia corrected.
“Sandra,” the woman corrected at the same time.
“Ugh, Sandra. I never made any promises, and you basically knew that it was just one night. I’m sorry, but you really need to leave.”
“You really love her.”
Diego looked back at Emelia and she could see that he was surprised to have the question asked. She was as well. Why didn’t the woman continue to hurl insults at him?
