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“Morning!” he chirps happily. “Can we go to the park again today? I really want to show you how fast I can run. Can we?”
“Whatever you wish,” Jaguar says. He approaches a bowl of fruit on the center island and takes a bite from an apple. As he chews, his eyes cut to me. “I would like to speak to your mama, though. Why don’t you go set the table?”
“Okay!” Franco dutifully stands aside as Jaguar grabs a set of plates and cups from a nearby cupboard. Carefully, he carries his bounty into the dining room.
I stiffen in his absence, unsure of how to act. In the meantime, I continue cooking what I have on the stove. Then I hunt for a suitable serving dish, seemingly ignorant of the man behind me.
Until he moves, and I feel his breath fan the back of my neck.
“You didn’t wish me a good morning,” he scolds. What must be his finger grazes my jawline, flicking a stray piece of hair from my face. “Should I take offense?”
I squirm at the question and use the pretense of rummaging through a nearby drawer to wiggle out of his reach. “Mama?” I shoot back in a low tone. “You want to continue this charade around Franco? Why? You know the truth. Why lie?”
“Oh?” His upper lip quirks into a devious grin. “I don’t consider it lying, chica. You are a woman of many talents. Mother. Cook?” He pushes past me for the stove. Without asking, he steals a piece of fried tortilla right from the pan and samples it.
“Chilaquiles,” he declares with a rare genuine laugh. “I haven’t tasted them since I was a boy.”
“I don’t think mine will be to your tastes,” I counter. “I like them spicy.”
“Ah.” He laughs again. “You don’t say. For all your modesty, Lupe, these are fairly good. I wouldn’t have assumed that in between doting on your many lovers you found the time to cook.”
I go still, racking my brain to decipher his words. Were they a harmless joke? Or has he done more digging into my past? “If you’re hungry, you can join us, though I’m sure you’re too busy,” I finally say as I transfer the food to the plate and head for the dining room.
To my horror, he follows, right on my heels.
“I wanted you to know that I’ve made the arrangements for Franco. It took pulling some strings, but he can start school in two days, meaning he should arrive there tomorrow. I’ve arranged for my private plane to take you both there in the morning.”
I nearly drop the steaming platter in my hands. “So soon?”
When I crane my neck to look back, there is no way to read his expression—his eyes are guarded. “It’s the best way to keep him sheltered from whatever might happen back in the city,” he explains. “Sooner or later, I will need to put out the fires Braulio started. Franco will be far from any resulting violence. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Yes,” I say tightly.
“Good. Then cheer up—” He thumbs my lower lip, and my heart lurches in my chest. I hate how easily he flips some primal switch in my brain. Instantly, my mind turns to noticing everything from his freshly-shaven chin to the faint musk wafting from him. This shirt is too damn thin. Too revealing. Does he even recognize it as his?
Oh yes. Blazing with possession, his gaze dips to my breasts as if he can clearly see how the nipples are already tightening. “I see you’ve helped yourself to the items inourcloset,” he adds offhandedly, but the hoarseness of his voice has me biting back a groan. Did I catch the narco off guard for once? Maybe that isn’t a good thing. His fingers flex as if he’s fighting the urge to grab me here and now. By some miracle, he stops himself, reaching up to stroke his chin instead. “I approve of this outfit choice. As for Braulio? His safety, I can’t promise. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say hoarsely. As his calculating mask settles into place, all traces of lust are erased. “Now, I should serve Franco before the food gets cold.”
As we round the corner and enter the dining room, Franco has finished setting down the last plate.
“You ready to eat, baby?” I ask with a grin, sensing Jaguar pull back.
Thank God. I hope he leaves. Instead, he takes a seat beside Franco and helps me place the serving dish on the table. As our eyes meet, the bastard winks.
The prospect of breakfast with him feels akin to sunbathing in hell. I’m so nervous I can barely choke down a mouthful of food. I’m too aware of Jaguar watching me, while Franco chatters on gleefully about his new video game or sports.
“…teach me how to play soccer, Mr. Domingas,” he suggests, with a pointed glance my way.
Behind him, I see Jaguar’s brows furl—he didn’t like that. “No need to be so formal,” he says, reaching over to ruffle Franco’s hair. “You may call me Julian.”
“You should eat up, honey!” I lunge for Franco’s plate and add another serving of food on top of his half-eaten portion. “The sooner you finish, the sooner we can go pack. Are you excited about starting school? I love the one you picked—”
“Do I have to?” Franco is in full pouting mode, his eyes pleading—but I’m terrified to realize that I’m not the one he’s directing his acting toward. “I want to stay here.”
“It won’t be forever, honey,” I blurt before Jaguar can open his mouth. “And I will go with you to help you settle in. Would you like that?”
“I guess,” he mumbles. With a sullen, half-hearted sigh, he prods his food. “Will you tell my papa where I am? So, he won’t be worried?”
