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Listening to the slow, steady thump of Alex’s heart pounding out the sounds of life, I finally fall asleep.
twenty six
ALEJANDRO
“Slow down,” Isabella orders, “You’re going to tear your stitches.”
She probably isn’t wrong, as I groan in pain trying to sit up on the makeshift bed.
El Doctor checks my wounds to ensure I am healing without issues. After providing me with some painkillers, that I won’t take, he gives me the okay to get up and move around. Barring, of course, that I take it easy. Making it very clear that I am to have no physical exertion for at least a week.
The moment he leaves us, Isabella sits down on the mattress, stares at me with those huge green eyes of hers and says, “Spill it.”
When I don’t begin talking immediately, the look on her face quickly grows impatient.
I know it’s wrong, but she’s fucking adorable when she’s mad at me.
“I gave you four days,” she crosses her arms, “Now tell me everything.”
“I was unconscious for three and a half of them,” I quip.
“That sounds like a you problem,” she snarks, “now start fucking talking.”
I don’t know what I would’ve done if I was wrong about her finding out.
Or what I’ll do if she loses it when she hears the whole truth, because I refuse to live my life without her.
Or my child she’s carrying inside her.
She listens in near silence as I tell her everything. That my real name is Alejandro Diaz. The brutal murder of my family. The years I spent at the boys’ home, where I met Andres. How the two of us conspired to get vengeance on the men that killed my family. That in killing all of those men, I resumed my birthright, and I am the unknown head of the Diaz Cartel. I am relieved that she is still sitting beside me when I finish.
Even if she does look angry.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her tone sounds more hurt than angry.
“I don’t exactly walk around introducing myself as head of the cartel,” I poorly try to make light of the situation, “You are one of five people who know who I really am.”
“Who are the others?” She looks slighted.
“Andres, Eduardo, El Doctor, and my attorney.”
I watch as she mulls over my answer for a minute.
“I understand why you didn’t tell me when we first met,” she hesitates, “But why not before we got married? Giving me the opportunity to choose if this is a life I wanted.”
Would you have changed your mind?
As much as I want to, I don’t answer. I know she needs to get out her feelings.
“Or after we’d been married for a year,” she suddenly looks even more hurt, “When you knew you could trust me. Or did you not trust that I would keep your secret?”
Reaching out to her, I grunt through the pain as I grab her waist and pull her onto my lap. With her straddling my legs, I cup her face and stare into her eyes.
“Cerecita,do not think for even a minute that I would not trust you with my life.”
“Then why?” Her lip trembles and I watch as the tears pool in the corners of her eyes.
“You are the most perfect, kind-hearted and unblemished person in my life,” I catch the tear falling down her face with my thumb, “The only thing in my life not tarnished with violence and death. I didn’t want to be the person to take that from you.”
