He was so angry when he saw me through the gap in the door. The security chain snapped like it was made of cheap plastic.
“You weren’t supposed to be here.”
The look in his eyes…it was the same one Papa would get when I refused to bring him another beer. Or when he would hit Mama.
With a shudder, I pull myself from the memory. “Focus, Domina. Distractions are dangerous.”
I’d been distracted when I’d heard the doorknob rattling. All I’d wanted was a brief respite from my work. Five minutes out on the patio in the fresh air. The presidential election is only a week away, and Vice President Cortez has his final rally on Thursday. I need to finish writing his speech.
Shit. My notes. They are still scattered all over the couch.
Backing away from the intruder, I sweep my legal pad and wad of Post-its into my briefcase and fasten the buckle.
Once I tuck the leather bag next to the couch, I blow out a breath. Cortez would not be happy if he found out I letanyonesee the speech ahead of time.
The man lying against the wall stirs, a weak grunt escaping his lips. The sound increases my panic by a thousand. I take aim with the pepper spray, but his eyelids only flutter for a moment.
Just as I get myself under control, the faint sounds of a football match trickle through the wall. From Leo’s apartment.
“You know where I’ll be…”
Maybe I shouldn’t have kicked him out. Hedidleap onto my balcony like some sort of grizzled action hero. But my attacker is still mostly unconscious, tied up, and has a face full of cactus needles. I will be fine.
I let out a huff. Why did his voice have to be so deep that I cannot get it out of my head? The first time we passed in the halls, I noticed him. The silver in his chestnut hair. The neatly trimmed beard. The studs in his ears. And his limp. A recent injury? Or an old one?
“He is not thinking about you. Stop thinking about him,” I mutter.
If only I could. He put himself in danger for me. And I thanked him by telling him to leave.
You did the right thing. You do not need a man to solve all your problems. You can handle this on your own.
But my cheek aches more and more with each breath, and I brush my fingers over the tender skin.
“Put some ice on that bruise.”
Even after I was rude to him, he still tried to help me. And he was right. I need to stop the swelling or I won’t be able to sleep tonight.
Do I dare turn my back on the man tied up on the floor long enough to get an ice pack from my freezer? I don’t have much choice. But only two steps toward the kitchen, someone knocks. “Police! Open the door!”
Thank God. The officers will take this man away, and my life will go back to normal.
* * *
Two hours later,the ice pack cradled to my cheek, I trudge out onto the balcony. The officers just left, and I am not ready to be inside—alone—just yet. It’s peaceful out here, only a light hum of traffic from the causeway competing with the nightly birdsong.
The day started so well—a calm Sunday with nothing to do but work on Manuel’s speech—and I want to forget everything that happened once the man broke down my door. If not for the bruises around my throat, my swollen cheek, and my aching shoulder, maybe I could.
“Shit!” the man growls.
My head aches where it hit the wall. Dark brown eyes bore into me. He’s angry. Why?
“Let go of me!”
His free hand fists my hair, and I yelp. Fear wraps icy chains around me, and I can’t breathe.
“Domina?”
I drop the ice pack and spin toward the voice. My memories recede into the background, the intruder banished by the shock of realizing I am not alone. With my fingers curled around one of the wrought iron whorls of the divider, I peer over at Leo, sitting in a chair only a few feet away. “¡Ayala vida! How long have you been out here?”
