The words echo in my chest long after she turns toward a passing waiter to refresh her champagne.
I murmur an excuse and drift toward the windows, pretending to admire the view. I need space, to get away. Carmen doesn’t try to call me back, but I swear I hear her sultry laughter behind me.
Outside, the hotel’s gardens are lit up with string lights, soft glows dancing in the trees. It’s beautiful. Serene. Everything I don’t feel right now.
Where do I fit in his world?
I think about the way César looks at me, how he touches me like I’m something rare. But I also think about the stares from women in the room, the silent questions behind every polite smile. I think about Carmen’s words, still carving themselves into my ribs.
Do I belong here…or am I just convenient? Temporary? Replaceable?
Back home, I was just Lety Zavala. Assistant. Sex worker. Survivor. Now? I’m someone’s plus-one in a hotel that smells like money and ambition.
A voice whispers “Do you really think you’re enough for him?”
It stings. Because I don’t know. Not really. And I fucking hate that.
I take a longer sip of wine, willing it to silence the doubt. But it doesn’t. It just makes the ache more bearable.
When César returns a little while later, his smile is easy and bright. I paste on one of my own but doubt it’s very convincing.
“Everything okay?” he asks, noting the tension in my body. His eyes sweep over me like they can pull every secret out.
“Of course,” I lie, just wanting to get through the rest of the night. “Just enjoying the view.”
I don’t think he believes me. Hell, I’m pretty certain he doesn’t believe me, but he also knows this isn’t a place to get into it. Instead, he takes my hand and kisses the back of it in a tender gesture tender. Almost perfect.
But all I can think isDoes he love me? Can he learn to love me? Or does he love how I make him feel at this moment?
These thoughts plague my mind the rest of the night. I do my best to smile when spoken to, laugh when others laugh, eat my food even though I taste nothing.
Even though doubt eats at me from the inside out.
CHAPTER9
SAY IT FIRST
César
Lety’s been quiet most of the evening. Something changed in her when I left her alone to speak with Augustín. Knowing she was uncomfortable, I shouldn’t have done that. I get that now, but fuck, it had only been for a couple of minutes. What the fuck did Carmen say to her?
Getting her to talk at the party is damn near impossible now. She evades me around every corner, plastering on a smile as she mingles, though I notice her eyes dart to the exit several times. The only leverage I have is that I brought her here, so she’s reliant on me to get her home. But from the looks of it, my girl is ready to run. So, we’re back to that.
She still doesn’t fucking see it. But she will. Tonight.
Night settles in, and guests begin to disperse, heading home for the night. It’s my cue to get the fuck out of here. All I can think about is being alone with Lety. I reach for her hand—relieved when she doesn’t pull away from me—and guide her toward the door. Across the cluster of people, Augustín’s eyes find mine among the small crowd gathered to bid their goodbyes. He must see something urgent in my expression because he gives me a subtle nod of farewell. I return it without stopping. As we pass, I notice Lety deliberately avoids Carmen’s gaze, and I tighten my grip on her hand, leading her straight to my truck without looking back.
She doesn’t speak to me when I open the door for her, nor does she speak when I get in to drive toward her house. The silence is heavy, thick, suffocating. If she thinks this will scare me off, Lety doesn’t understand how our arrangement works. She doesn’t understand howIwork.
Lety unfurls her arms from around herself, letting out a shaky breath when we pull up to her house. Her hand slips to the doorhandle, curling around it. “Thank you for tonight. I just?—”
I kill the engine and swing my door open before she has a chance to finish whatever damn excuse she’s been crafting in her mind since we left the party. My steps are fast, sharp, fueled by frustration and the need to break through whatever wall she’s throwing up between us.Again.I reach her side and yank open the door. The truck rattles from the force, but I don’t care. I lean in, bracing one hand against the frame to keep myself steady. I bite my tongue to keep from saying something I might regret. Lety stares up at me, eyes wide, confusion etched across her face like she’s not sure if I’m about to kiss her or explode. I want to do both.
“What are you doing, César? I can open my own door and get into my own house. I don’t need your help.”
There it is—the fiery attitude I love from her. Most of the night, she’s been closed off from me, not meeting my gaze and shying away from my touch. But this anger? I can deal with that.
“I’m keeping my fuckinggirlfriendfrom running. Again. So, I’m going inside with you. And you’re going to tell me exactly what Carmen said to you.” I pull back, but only enough to get her out of the car. I offer Lety my hand, but the stubborn woman refuses it, muttering something about “impossible males,” before sliding out of the car.
