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CHAPTER EIGHT
“CAN I ASK YOU SOMETHING?” I prop my chin on Mateo’s chest and look at him.
He looks so beautiful, tangled in my sheets, his hair sticking up wildly every which way. After what happened on the boat, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Having him promptly return me to my room wasn’t what I was hoping for. That is, until I realized he had every intention of staying.
We’ve been up all night. His sexual appetite is insatiable. I didn’t know men could have sex like that. Over and over again. In my past experience it’s never been more than once in a day. After our fourth go round, it was me that admitted defeat. After all, everything with us is some kind of battle. Even sex.
I’m fairly certain that I’m going to be walking funny for the next day or two. Not that I mind. It will be a constant reminder of the best night of my life. A night I know will be over once the sun comes up.
It has to be.
There’s no future for us beyond tonight.
I think we both knew that going in.
How could there be?
I am his prisoner.
No, I am his prize.
The leverage he needs to finally take down my father.
How I wish things could be different.
How I wish we were two normal people.
But we’re not. Not even close.
“Sure,” Mateo prompts when I don’t continue.
“My grandparents? My mom’s parents... Are they...”
“Died in a car accident before your mom met Esteban.”
“Oh.” This isn’t the answer I was expecting.
“And myothergrandparents?”
“Both dead.”
“How?”
“Well,” he blows out a breath, “your grandfather died a few years before you were born. Car explosion. Your dad was his heir, and thus, the cartel fell to his rule. Your grandmother passed a couple of years later. Stroke, I believe.”
“So what you’re telling me is I basically have no family left.”
“You still have your aunt.”
“You mean the woman who lied to me my entire life? That makes me feel so much better.” Even as I say it, I wish I could take it back.
Helen, or Elena as it were, gave up everything for me. She walked away from her life, changed her identity, and did everything she could to protect me. I owe her more than I could ever repay her for. Yet even though I know that, I can’t help but feel betrayed.
I understand her keeping it from me when I was little. But now? I’m twenty-one years old. I deserved to know the truth. But for some reason she didn’t trust me enough to share it with me. A part of me wonders if I ever would have known the truth had this never happened.
“You have me,” he offers.
“The man who kidnapped me. Great. We’re really on a streak here. Anyone else you wanna throw into the mix. How about my murderous, evil father?”
