I just need to get closer to her—see beneath this sad, misunderstood mask she likes to wear for sympathy to the conniving, selfish woman beneath. But I can’t do that from here, and certainly not with McCrae and Faith intervening at every turn.
Reaching for my bag, sweat slick between my fingers, I stand and exhale away my gathering anger and hesitation. I pat my back pocket, not pulling out the photo there but rememberingit all the same, and stride from the pungent, heat-filled room toward the house—dark in the late hour.
I could’ve come sooner—the air conditioner’s been out since this morning—but I wanted there to be no way for them to investigate until tomorrow. I couldn’t chance my opportunity to get into the house, to get close to Valentina while she sleeps.
I walk up to the door with sure steps, an act I’ve done in the darkness every night since moving here, only this time, I knock on the door instead of sneaking in. After several minutes, I think no one’s going to come, but then Valentina slowly opens the door, and if I didn’t hate her, I’d fall at her knees.
She’s a bitch that I hate.But she’s also the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Just thinking it makes me hate myself more—I’m a weak, selfish man.It should’ve been me who died.
I plaster on a sheepish smile and lean against the frame. Lifting the bag and motioning over my shoulder, I say, “Sorry, I know it’s late. The a/c went out in the bunkhouse, and even though I tried to sweat it out, I’m gonna die if I stay a second longer.”
Her eyes drop to the bag, and mine drop to the thin cream satin covering her chest, her nipples hard little points underneath. As I stare, I get a closer inspection of the piercings I caught glinting against her naked flesh only two days ago straining beneath the fabric of her top.
And because I enjoy torture, my gaze drifts farther south until I’m met with a thin strip of skin,her perfect stomach,hard and tan—exposed, with a thick layer of goosebumps. Below it, a matching pair of satin shorts are pulled tight over her rounded hips, plump enough to sink one’s teeth into, and the longest legs I’ve ever seen.
She’s clearly carved from hell—only the devil could grant such otherworldly, sinful looks to a mortal. What did she exchange to look like this? And then I remind myself:her soul.
“V, damn it! I said I’d get it,” McCrae barks over her shoulder, and she just keeps staring at me. My skin pricks, and I fight the need to squirm under her heated gaze.Can she read my thoughts?McCrae makes it to the doorway, looking out at me with so much disdain, I’d whither if I was a weaker man.
But I’m not. And I don’t.
“Santos was just coming in. I told you I could handle it.” Valentina backs up, bumping into McCrae to make room for me. I watch McCrae for signs she’s affecting him the way I know she always does, but all I see is shock and anger warring on his face.
He’s pissed, but something tells me he’s afraid too.Afraid of her? Or afraid of hurting her?
“Thanks.” I smile, holding my bag tightly as she closes the door behind me.
“Absolutely not,” McCrae hisses.
“I wasn’t asking you, McCrae. Last time I checked, I’m still your boss. Isn’t that what you keep reminding me?” Valentina glares at him, and to my shockand horror, he backs down, walking away without a backward glance.What does she have on him?
And what the fuck am I getting myself into?
“Theres an extra room down the left hall at the end. It has a bathroom. You know where the kitchen is.” It’s short and to the point, a small bite lacing the words. And then, Valentina turns on her heel and leaves the room. I stare after her, focusing on the hatred burning through my veins.
And not the way her ass looks so perfectly round beneath the thin satin of her shorts.
A few hours later, the night bleeding into early morning, the dark and quiet settling over the house like a blanket, I slinkinto Valentina’s room. She’s sprawled across the bed, the sheet pulled back, her body a dark shadow—she looks nearly velvet in this light, soft and supple, and my fingers twitch to touch her.
Shame fills me at the thought.Am I really so weak?Valentina’s a siren, and I’m a stupid, death-seeking sailor, tipping over my boat just to see how long I can float before she pulls me under.
I’m playing with fire being around her, having these thoughts. Valentina Reyes is fucking evil, and it’d do me good to remember that. She killed my brothers, for fuck’s sake!
Still, as I stare at her, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, one hand splayed over the silken skin of her stomach, I know I’ll never be able to kill her.
Not because she doesn’t deserve it, but because I’m better than that. Or, at least, I want to be.I have to believe I can be.
No, after seeing her bleed following the accident I caused, I’ve known I won’t be able to go through with killing her. Just seeing her hurt sent a wave of panic through me so deep, it gripped the core of who I am and twisted.
I’m not a killer. It’s why Marco and Javier were always so disappointed in me. I’ve never been able to take another life—no matter the cause.
But I can destroy one. I’ve got practice in that department. I’ve done well enough with blowing up my own life—destroying Valentina’s should be a piece of cake.
NINETEEN
RAFAEL SANTOS
