So, I nod. “Okay.”
And as he pulls away, that hope blooms, fragile and real.
I just pray that glimmer of hope doesn’t steer me wrong.
CHAPTER8
FIESTA WITH A SIDE OF DOUBT
Lety
What did one wear on a first date with their new boyfriend, who also happens to be your boss? What straddled the line between sexy and professionalism? It would have helped if César had given me more information about the party, but the most I got out of him was “look nice.”
The fuck does that mean?
Luckily, I didn’t end up having to figure out his words because a large, white box showed up to my door with a red bow on it and a card sticking out. I quickly grabbed the card and read the note.
Wear this tomorrow —César
The man bought me a dress. In my size. How the fuck he knew my size is beyond me, and I don’t know if I’m flattered or concerned he knows these intimate details about me, but I’m too in love with the dress to care.
The day of the party, I slip on my new red dress, embracing the perfect balance between elegance and danger. Red is also my color, which César clearly picked up on. The fabric clings to my bodice, sculpting my figure with a deep neckline that toes the line between tasteful and sinful. The waist cinches just right before the skirt flares out in soft folds, brushing just below my knees. A subtle slit teases a glimpse of leg with every step, drawing the eye down to the strappy black heels I’ve been dying to wear—sexy, sharp, and long overdue for their moment.
The way César’s eyes darken, the predatory look on his face when he picks me up, is a look I’ll never forget.
“You picked out a good one,” I say when he doesn’t speak, too preoccupied with looking me over. “How did you know my size?”
“Guessed,” he grunts, like a caveman only capable of single words. Then he says, “You look fucking breathtaking.” His body—and truthfully, mine too—scream bedroom, and as much as I want to give into that temptation, I also don’t want to ruin hours of hard work I spent to get ready to meet his friends.
Which is why I lead us to his, making sure we are both buckled in and ready for whatever the hell he has planned for us.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going, or do you just like keeping me in the dark?” I ask when I can no longer stand the silence between us.
César’s lips quirk up in a half smile. “You don’t trust me?”
“It has nothing to do with trust, and everything to do with being a nosey bitch and wanting to know where my boy—” I cut myself off. Calling him my boyfriend still feels so strange on my tongue. Not bad, exactly, just different. Different can be good, right? There’s no doubt I like him—crave him even—but there’s still a part of me that doesn’t believe I deserve him.
César’s grip on the steering wheel turns his knuckles white. His big truck suddenly feels like a clown call.
“I’m not your boyfriend, Lety.”
His words slice through me, sharper than any blade. The air leaves my lungs in a staggered gasp as if he’s just struck me in the chest. My vision blurs with tears that threaten to spill before I can blink them away. A tremble runs through my hands.
How could he say that after everything? After the way he looked at me, touched me, whispered things no one else ever had? I thought I meant something more. Ifeltit. God, had I imagined all of it?
My heart twists painfully in my chest, each beat hammering the same cruel question: Did I get it all wrong?
Maybe he does want me—but not in the way I’d hoped. Not in the way I need.
Before I can go further down this dark path, César takes my face in his hands. I try to flinch away, but he holds me in place. I didn’t even notice he stopped driving and had pulled up to a fancy-looking hotel, too consumed with my own spiraling thoughts after his shitty words.
“I’m not your boyfriend, Lety.”
Is this man fucking serious? Now I’m pissed. “I heard you the first fucking time, you dick. I’m just another mark in your bed, is that it? You know, you really had me believing I was worth something to you.” I let out a bitter laugh, holding back a sob. “I can’t believe?—”
“I’m not your boyfriend, Lety, because what I feel for you can’t be captured with such a pathetic title.”
My breath hitches in my throat for a completely different reason.
