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He sat there shirtless, in just his black boxers, his hair messy from my anxious fingers. The curtain was still drawn closed, so we couldn’t enjoy the view of the city at night. He watched me serve him, his eyes on me instead of the food.
I sat across from him with my plate, wearing his t-shirt, like we were in my apartment in Paris. It was a mediocre dinner of grilled chicken with vegetables and rice, but I’d been trying to stick to a healthy diet instead of pasta and bread all the time.
He ate with his elbows on the table, disregarding all manners, being a typical man.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
He’d been there since that afternoon, but it still felt like a dream.
A wet dream.
We shared a bottle of wine, and despite our time apart, we had nothing to say.
I was just happy to be with him. Deliriously happy.
He didn’t compliment my cooking. He probably couldn’t even taste it because I was still all over his tongue.
When the meal was over, we stared at each other.
I drank from my glass, admiring the view of the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. Hard. Chiseled. Intense.
Mine.
I wondered if he was thinking the same thing.
“I’ll tell Victor in the morning.” I felt bad using him when I wouldn’t be able to uphold my end of the deal. He would probably cancel the whole thing, but I’d find another way to accomplish my goals.
“Tell me everything that’s happened with him.” Now he was serious, the drug kingpin.
“As in, our plan?”
“Yes. From the beginning.”
“Well, I spoke to my father first, told him how hurt I was. My father said he noticed the way Victor looked at me, and that gave me an idea. I asked if Victor wanted to help me destroy Leonardo, and he agreed. Not just because I asked, but because he was angry with the way my father treated me.”
“But he made a condition.”
“Yes. That I’d be willing to give him another chance…whenever I was ready to.”
Bartholomew’s stare was hard, back to his usual poker face. “And you meant that?”
“I guess.” I was so desperate to achieve my goals, I would have sold my soul to the devil.
“You still have feelings for him.” He spoke in a calm tone, like that assumption didn’t infuriate him.
“Not the way I do for you.”
His expression didn’t change, like that wasn’t enough for him.
“You’ve never been married, so it’s hard to explain. I’ll always care for him—and he’ll always care for me. I guess there’sthis subtle attachment there, because of everything we shared. Maybe if there had been infidelity, we would have wound up hating each other, but that’s not what happened.”
Instead of releasing a tirade of insults, he stayed quiet. “And you trust him?”
“Trust him how?”
“Not to tell Leonardo all of this.”
