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I nod, but the look on his face is serious, and it has me even more worried. “What is it?”
“The Avery family will likely be here tonight.”
The room seems to tilt. “Why?”
“I found out from Thiago that they have bought some property in Avarice.”
“Here?”
“It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. I just wanted you to be prepared.”
“Can I ask you something? About Camilla?”
He nods.
“Were you together once?”
His eyebrows furrow. “Why?”
“Caius mentioned—”
“Caius?”
“He said you two were supposed to get married.”
Santos’s face shuts down, eyes losing that sheen of moments ago and the line of his mouth tightening. “Did he?”
“Is it true?”
“You have no reason to be jealous.”
“I’m not. I just want to know the truth.”
He studies me. “There was a moment in time that Camilla may have thought she wanted that, but I can assure you I did not, and she was far too young to make that sort of decision.”
“So were you engaged?” I push because I want a straight answer.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Have you slept with her?”
“Fuck no.” He pauses, seeming to consider something. “I’ve only slept with one other woman in my life, and it wasn’t Camilla Avery,” he says, a sadness lingering along the edges of his words that makes me want to ask him about this woman. “Listen, Madelena, my brother has been known to stir the pot. The cuts,” he says, pausing.
I look away. I can’t hold his gaze.
“I didn’t tell him about those. As far as I’m concerned, it’s no one’s business but ours. Ana told him, and he was fucking with you. With us. That’s all.”
At that last part, I look up at him. I’d guessed it was Ana when Santos told me he hadn’t mentioned it. But the word us? That catches me off guard.
Santos smiles, lines forming around his eyes that have me smiling a small smile too. He wraps one big hand around the back of my head and pulls me toward him.
“You have to learn to trust me, okay? I won’t lie to you. I may leave things out when there is nothing but hurt that can come from my words, but I won’t lie to you. Understand?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, feeling my eyes warm. I nod. I do understand, and there’s a part of me that wants it to be real, that wants him to be honest.
That wants him to want me.
Because he’s right. I am utterly unaccustomed to being wanted. And when you know something like that, when you know it in your bones, it’s hard to un-know.
“Good.” He tilts my head up. “No tears. Not tonight.”
I nod again, still biting my lip, not sure I’ll be able to give him that. He takes my hands in his, does that thing where he weaves his fingers with mine, and God, it feels good. It feels safe and warm and good. Can I trust him? Can I trust this man who entered my life with the words forgive me on his lips just before slitting my palm open?
“Come. Sooner we make an appearance, the sooner we’ll be able to leave.”
