“Woman, stop. I’m not going to hurt you.” His words fell on deaf ears. She never ceased in her struggles to be free.
“Let me go,” the woman shouted.
Vincefroze. That voice. He knew it. That was why he knew that scent. Citrus. But she couldn’t be who he thought she was. She was supposed to be back home.Vinceturned the woman over. He cursed the fact that he hadn’t turned on any lights so he could see what his brain was trying to tell him. “Fiona?”
Chapter 2
Vincent handed her a mug of coffee and she wrapped her hands around it like it was a lifeline. After their confrontation upstairs, Vincent had ordered her to get dressed in real clothes and practically dragged her down to the kitchen. The only clothes she had were the ones she’d driven here from work in, which included a light blue blouse, a black pencil skirt that stopped just at the top of her knees, and a pair of flat shoes. She debated running again, but where would she go? She had hoped hiding at Joaquín’s would be the last place anyone would expect to find her. Her family treated her likeshe was an easily breakable piece of porcelain and incapable of making up her own mind.
She had fought her mother tooth and nail to not follow the family businessbut go into the medical field instead.All the women of her family either worked at the law firm or were housewives. That wasn’t the life Fiona wanted for herself. She enjoyed helping people with injuries, not suing people. She hated sitting behind a desk for hours at a time, staring at briefings until her eyes crossed and the words blurred.
The Congo expedition had come at a perfect opportunity. It had been meant to show her family she could do what she wanted, what she was passionate about. But after the skirmish with the local militia and Joaquíntelling her parents what had happened—the CliffsNotes version—they were even more protective now. Locking her in a gilded cage. Forbidding her to do medical work ever again. They might as well tell her to stop breathing. She had loved helping sick people. Assisting with surgeries. Knowing she was helping people in need, not those that were breaking the law.
Savannah, a woman who practically grew up in the Congo, had taken her under her wing and become close friends. She let Fiona be her own person. It had been so liberating. If only she hadn’t ruined it by freaking out so much when the militia kept attacking. Savannah had always kept a cool head. But not her. Fiona had clung to her brother like a leech.
She was tired of feeling like a victim. She’d taken a few self-defense classes, when she returned, which helped. It was better than the alternative. A therapist. She honestly didn’t want to talk about what happened. She’d rather forget it. Forget everything. The things that had happened before the Congo or even after. It didn’t matter anymore. She had run away from home and didn’t plan on going back. She couldn’t anymore. Not as long as she was in danger.
Now, she needed to figure out her next move. Obviously staying atJoaquín’s for a few days was now out of the question. Out of all the people to find her, why did it have to be Vincent? Looking at him hurt. His words from years ago still haunted her. She thought about asking him not to tellJoaquínshe was there and leave her alone, but she knew he was too loyal to do that. He would callJoaquínwithout hesitation. She felt guilty worrying her family, especiallyJoaquín, but she had to stay away.It was for their own safety.
Vincent sat down across from her, glaring daggers. She hid a smile behind her mug as she took a sip, seeing the bruise forming on his jaw. Good. He deserved it. What man stood over a woman’s bed with a knife and didn’t expect her to defend herself?
“Why are you here, Fiona?” he asked, sounding almost bored. Like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
Good, he could leave while she made a new plan. She could call Savannah; she would help her. Savannah lived here in San Antonio now; she wouldn’t turn her away. Maybe she could work at a hospital here. She liked Texas so far, all except Vincent. It would also put her close toJoaquín. Her parents would force him to check on her all the time. It would be no different than before. No, she needed to be away from family and friends. Someplace new. Somewhere she didn’t know anyone.
“Fiona,” Vincent snapped at her before wincing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled.”
Why was he apologizing?
“Why do you care?” she asked instead, keeping a stubborn tilt to her chin, not wanting to show him any weakness. She’d done enough of that in her life. She didn’t want to always be seen as the damsel in distress.
Vincent’s eyes widened, not expecting her response. She was not the shy, quiet girl he knew years ago. Hell, she wasn’t even the same woman she had been a few weeks ago. She liked the woman she was becoming. Stronger.Independent.All the bad that had happened in the Congo had helped her realize how dependent she was on others.She didn’t want to be that person anymore.
“I don’t. I mean…” he sputtered, trying to recover before taking a deep breath. “Your family is worried about you.”
Fiona did feel guilty about how she ran away without a word to her family or even a note, but she hadn’t known what else to do. “I’ll call them soon.” Once she figured out her next step.
“No,” Vincent said sternly, pulling out his cell phone and putting it on the table. “You’ll do it now.”
Fiona looked down at the phone, then back at Vincent. “You can’t tell me what to do.” She wouldn’t let him dictate her actions. He was nothing to her, and yet he tried commanding her like he was her father or brother. Euphoria coursed through her veins, seeing the power she had over this man. He was raging mad she wasn’t bowing over to obey his every command.
A tic worked in Vincent’s jaw. “Grow up. You sound like a toddler. What’s next? You’re not my father.” His voice turned into a higher, mocking pitch.
Fiona scowled. How dare he say she sounded like a child.
You’re too young for a man like me. You’re practically a baby begging for attention. You wouldn’t know how to please a man.
His words came back to haunt her, bringing tears to her eyes. No matter how much she thought she had moved on from him and that night, those words had changed her life forever. He could still cut her to the quick with only a sentence and suddenly she was transported back to that naïve twenty-year-old that thought Vincent was the most beautiful man in the world and could do no wrong. How wrong she had been.
She didn’t need to sit around and be berated by him. She could call Savannah and get her address. Fiona had stashed her car a block away in case she’d been followed.Savannah at least wouldn’t tellJoaquínwhere she was or mock her.
Fiona stood up ready to leave without a word. Vincent stood as well, looking imposing. She had no doubt he’d try to stop her.
“Where are you going?” he asked suspiciously.By the look in his eyes, he knew she was thinking about running again. She’d have to be sneaky to get away.
Where could she go in the house he wouldn’t follow? “I need to use the bathroom.” Her purse and things were still upstairs, but when he’d ordered her to get dressed, she had snuck some cash in her hide away pocket in her skirt. It wasn’t much but maybe enough to buy a cab ride or bus fare. Ortiz lived close to the city where transportation was easy to find. The bathroom on the main floor had a window and it would be easier to sneak out of than the two-story window. Once Fiona made it to Savannah’s she’d ask her to pick up her things.
Without another word, Fiona turned around and walked into the bathroom. She didn’t know if he believed her ploy, but she didn’t care. All she knew was that she had to get away from him now. As soon as the door was shut, she released the breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. She locked the door and climbed over the toilet to the window. As quietly as possible, she opened the window and peeked outside to make sure no one would see her. With the coast clear, she swung a leg over the sill, then the other before hopping down. It wasn’t the most graceful and she was sure if someone had been passing by, they knew exactly the color underwear she was wearing, but she didn’t have a choice, as long as the giant guard dog was still inJoaquín’s house.
