“What happened…is that why your smile is crooked too?” I take a step closer. Then another and another, until we’re almost back to our original positions.
“Yup.” After a breath, he adds, “Not a story you want to hear.”
I cock my head. “And how do you know that?”
Leo stares down at me, a look of vague disbelief on his face. “Because you’re a good person, Domina. And good people don’t enjoy hearing stories like mine.”
“What does that mean? We met yesterday. You have no idea what kind of person I am.” Glaring up at him, I notice it’s not only his mouth. The whole right side of his face from his cheekbone down is affected.
“I’mtrainedto know. You’re…” he reaches up and skims a knuckle along my jaw, “sad, lonely, and you’ve seen too much in your life. But youaregood. And you don’t need to carry my burdens next to your own.”
Letting out a huff, I take a step back. Whatever shred of hope he carried in his eyes fades, and I reach for his hand. He’s still touching me, his fingers cupping my face in a way that makes me feel…cherished. “Come sit. Please,” I say, my words scraping and spilling over the lump in my throat.
Despite the frown curving one side of his mouth, he lets me lead him back to the couch, only this time, when he tries to flee to the far end, I take a seat right next to him.
We face one another, positions mirrored, bent legs touching at the knees. “You were not wrong about me.” I fiddle with a button on my blouse, needing something to distract me. “Five years ago, the first man I had dated in a very long time left my bed in the middle of the night with only a text message saying ‘this was fun.’ He refused to answer any of my calls after that.”
“He was an ass,” Leo says. “But that’s not why you’re sad, is it?”
I shake my head. “My life has not been…easy. I fought for everything I have. I put myself through college in the United States because my papa spent all our money on beer and rum.” Rubbing my hands up and down my arms, I try to banish the memories somewhere they will not hurt me. “We lived in a two-bedroom shack with a leaky roof and walls so thin, winds like these would have knocked them down. Mama had three different jobs for as long as I can remember. She left at sunrise and did not get home until after ten every night. I took care of the cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping…everything a young girl should not need to do. And when I sat down to do my homework—usually after midnight—I had to listen to Papa beat Mama because she refused to buy him more beer.”
“Domina, I’m—”
“If you say you are sorry, this conversation is over. I do not need sympathy. Or pity. It was hard. I wish Papa had gotten help. I wish Mama had been home at night. Or had been able to take me to school every day. I wish I could have had anormalchildhood. Or any at all. But I did not. So yes. I am all those things you said. Sad. Lonely. And more. Now that you know why, maybe you will realize I can handle whatever it is you tell me.”
The storm raging outside is nothing compared to the tempest swirling in his gaze. A muscle in his jaw tenses, and he swallows hard. “It’s…classified. The details. But I was taken by a terrorist group and held for eight days.” His voice cracks, roughens. “They wanted information about other people I worked with, and I wouldn’t give it to them.”
“They tortured you.”
He nods. “One of my buddies got me out. If he’d waited another day…they would have killed me.” Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he whispers, “I wish they had.”
My heart breaks for the man across from me. The pain etched on his face, in his voice, in every muscle…I have only seen its equal once before. In my Papa’s eyes when I told him I was leaving the country for college. He begged and pleaded, promised to stop drinking, but evenheknew it was a vow he could not keep.
Scooting closer, I drape my fingers over Leo’s wrist. He tenses at the contact, then blows out a breath. “Sorry,” he says. “Not used to anyone…wanting to touch me.” I start to pull away, but he covers my hand with his own. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
It’s not pain in his eyes now. It’s need.
“Don’t go.”
CHAPTER SIX
Domina
The storm rages outside,though thunder no longer shakes the walls. Leo’s admission hangs in the air, his hand still tight on mine. Without power, it’s warm in his apartment—or maybe the heat is coming from whatever is growing between us—and I remove my blazer and fold it over the arm of the couch.
“How long does it usually take Premier Power to get the lights back on?” Leo asks, reaching for my hand once more.
I tighten my fingers on his and lean against the cushions, angling my head closer to him. “You have not lived here long, have you? In Panama?”
“I left Venezuela eight months ago. Went to Colombia for a few weeks. Then Brazil. But they didn’t feel right. I’ve been here since mid-September.”
“We have very reliable electricity. But today has been strange. We lost power at my office a few minutes after four, and they sent everyone home. The winds were still weak, and the rain had just started. But the bakery two blocks away was unaffected.” I elbow him gently. “Lucky for you since they sell the Huevos de Leche.”
He releases my hand and reaches for the bowl of sweets. The loss of his touch affects me more than I want to admit. How long has it been since anyone touched me like this? Four? Five years?
“Lucky for both of us,” Leo says with a lopsided smile. “The rental agent left me six of these—along with a bottle of sparkling wine—when I moved in. Took me a full week to find out where she got the damn things.”
