I grabbed my drink and drained the remaining contents.
"Forget I said anything," Bruno said before finishing his drink.
"You're the damn one who keeps opening your mouth."
"Well, I won't make that mistake going forward. You can finally get your wish. I'm leaving you alone. I've been sorry. I'm done. You won't forgive me. It seems you can't let it go."
Without much effort, a witty comeback was at the tip of my tongue, but I didn't use it. Instead, the finality of how he spoke hit me.
Around us, people talked and laughed, their joy spilling into every corner. We sat across from each other, avoiding one another's gaze, two strangers sharing a table.
"You can have your wish, Alex. I'm done."
His voice struck like a bad chorus. My throat tightened.
Probably allergies. Not feelings. Never feelings.
Still, the thought of showing up at the office without Bruno landed heavier than it should have.
I'd told him to get lost more times than I could remember. I yelled it, I typed it, and I would have carved it on my forehead if that were considered normal.
So why did the idea of him being gone feel impossible to bear?
Girl, get a grip on yourself.
I had survived twelve Bruno-free months, yet the idea of days without him now felt wrong in my bones.
Maybe I'd gone too far. I always swung hard when anger took control, and any mention of Padre sent me straight to overdrive. But the prospect of Bruno missing from the office hit like a train I never saw coming.
Ask him to stay. The idea wavered, fragile and bright. I doubted I could say it aloud, but the ache in my chest begged me to try.
Laughter rose and fell around us. The smell of wine and garlic hung in the air. Decision time edged closer, as unavoidable as my next breath.
Once my investors arrived, it did not take long before I was pushing food across my plate and taking slow sips of Negronis. The bitter drink seemed fitting. People called me a bitter woman who hated men, especially the one leaving as I'd asked. But a strange uncertainty stirred inside me.
Dinner needed no smile. Only numbers. I ran the deck. That sort of discussion I could do in my sleep, and I had to admit that what the alcohol left me too foggy to discuss, Bruno handled. By the time the Greenslate investors left us, he and I sat silently, ordering more rounds. This would likely be the last night we ever shared a drink. As the night went on, everything blurred. The bartender with the perfect white smile got overly friendly. His fingers brushed mine when he poured my drink.
I let them.
I remember Bruno leaving, and I invited someone to join me for fun. I did recall stumbling through the hotel lobby, laughing too loudly, my footsteps uneven, the buzz from the alcohol cushioning me. I leaned against the door to steady myself and catch my breath but never got to finish. His mouth crushed mine, tasting like whiskey and every bad idea I'd ever had. My fingers tangled in his hair as his hands tightened on my waist, the hall tipping slightly, blurring into something that felt unreal.
"Get a room," some annoyed man called after us.
I did have a room, and until the stranger interrupted us, I thought my new California friend and I were already inside. I searched my bag for the key card as his hand kneaded my breast. The door might have been opened quicker if I didn't take a break to lean my head back for a few seconds so I could enjoy his magic fingers.
Finally, I got the door open and stumbled into the room. Behind us, the door slammed shut. He pulled my shirt off and groaned as his mouth closed around my nipple, tongue hot and wet, sucking until I cried out.
"God," I gasped, fisting the back of his shirt. "Don't stop."
He didn't. His hands were everywhere, mouth devouring me like he'd been starved.
We fell onto the bed, and I was ready to enjoy every inch of him. He'd lit a fire under my skin, one more powerful than I'd felt in a long while.
SEVEN
The Day Before We Met
The pain in my head was intense. So much that I vowed never to drink alcohol again. With my eyes closed tight, I drew in a few deep breaths and then went still when I caught a familiar scent. Sandalwood and vetiver, faint but unmistakable.
