The hysterical laugh bubbles up again. I swallow it down and reach for the doorknob.
It turns before I can touch it.
The door swings inward, and Sergio fills the frame.
He's fresh from the shower, hair damp and pushed back from his forehead, a few droplets of water still clinging to his jaw. Grey t-shirt stretched across his chest. Worn jeans slung low on his hips. Bare feet on the hardwood.
His eyes drop to the suitcase in my hand.
His whole body goes still. Not frozen. Coiled. Like a predator spotting movement in the underbrush.
"No."
One word. Flat. Final.
"Sergio, I have to..."
"No." He steps into the room and kicks the door shut behind him. The slam echoes through my bones. "You don't."
"I'm making everything worse." The words tumble out, tripping over each other. "Nacho's supervisor called. Pedro lost patients. Carlos lost that commission. Every day I stay, your lives get harder, and I can't..."
"Stop."
He crosses the room in four strides and takes the suitcase handle from my grip. His fingers brush mine, rough and warm, and electricity shoots up my arm.
"Give that back."
"No."
"Sergio."
"Jessica." He sets the suitcase against the wall and turns to face me, blocking my path to the door. "You're not leaving."
My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. "You can't keep me prisoner."
"I'm not keeping you prisoner." He takes a step closer. I take a step back. My shoulders hit the dresser. "I'm keeping you safe."
"Safe from what? The internet trolls? The Morrison family lawyers?" Another hysterical laugh escapes. "Newsflash, Sergio. You can't protect me from public opinion. You can't sue Twitter into submission. You can't fix this."
"I can try."
"You'll fail." My voice cracks. "And you'll lose everything in the process. Your reputation. Your business. Your hockey team." The tears I've been fighting all day finally break free, streaming down my cheeks. "I'm not worth it. I'm not worth any of it."
Something shifts in his expression. The rigid control cracks, just for a moment, and underneath I see fury. Not at me. For me.
He closes the distance between us until his chest nearly touches mine. Until I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Until his scent wraps around me like a physical embrace.
"Say that again." His voice is low. Dangerous.
"What?"
"Say you're not worth it." His hands land on the dresser behind me, caging me in. "Look me in the eye and say it."
I open my mouth. The words stick in my throat.
"You can't." He leans closer, his nose almost brushing mine. "Because you know it's a lie. You know what you are."
"A disaster." The word comes out small. Broken. "A scandal. A liability."
