“Hey,mudak,”Maxim shouts. “Get yourhands off my—”
With his free hand, Andres withdraws a gun from the inside of his dark suit jacket and aims it at my fiancé’s chest, his amber gaze not once leaving mine.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise. What the hell is Andres thinking? Does he have a death wish?
“Leticia Castro is not your anything.” He says the words to Maxim, but for some reason, I get the feeling that his words are also meant for me. “Not anymore.”
My heart races in my chest, and I don’t miss the look of determination in my former best friend's eyes.
Maxim stumbles back a step, hands jerking up in the air. “Woah. Woah! What the hell, man? Do you know whose club you’re in right now?”
If I weren’t so surprised by Andres’s sudden appearance, I’d smile.
He knows whoPassionbelongs to just like he knows whose territory he’s in right now, and it isn’t his. We all went to school together. Received the same education both in and out of the classroom. What Andres said just by walking into this club tonight is that he doesn’t care.
Idiot.
Andres DeAnde does what he wants to, when he wants to, and to hell with the consequences. He’s been like this for as long as I can remember, though I doubt there’s much else of the boy I knew left inside this hard shell of a man I’m looking down at now.
Everything changed the day he left. Andres changed most of all.
Andres inches his hand higher up my thigh before boldly stroking his thumb over my center.
My stomach tightens, and I bite the inside of my cheek, but I refuse to show him how much his touch affects me. Not after he abandoned me. He was my person. It was him and I against the world.
I thought it was real. That we’d somehow figure out a way to be together. That we could have our own forever. He made me believe I mattered to him and like a fool, I fell for each and every one of his lies. Hook, line, and sinker.
His touch should repulse me.Heshould repulse me.
But all I feel as he touches me now is white hot need coursing through my veins and liquid heat pooling between my thighs. This cannot be happening.
The day Andres took up the mantle as the head of the DeAnde family is the day he forgot I existed. And now, after nearly five years of silence, he dares to touch me.
I don’t think so.
Andres ignores Maxim’s remarks, and if I wasn’t so angry with him, I’d appreciate the fact that he’s made my fiancé stumble back in fear. It’s nice to see Maxim sweat for once, and it’s too bad I can’t give myself long to enjoy it.
Drawing on years of etiquette training, I wrap myself in indifference and stuff everything I ever felt for this man deep into the abyss of my soul.
“Passing through?” I raise a brow and shift my feet, desperate to put space between us.
Andres glides around the table, lithe like the predator he is. He easily maintains contact with me, his hand caressing my thigh while his other keeps his gun steady, his aim ever so slightly shifting as he keeps Maxim in his sights.
“I didn’t figure you for the type to enjoy Bratva clubs, but you should probably go now. You’re bringing down the vibe. ”
His eyes light up with amusement, and he opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off, remembering his words from a moment ago.
“And for the record, I’m not your anything either.” It’s best to make that clear now. I don’t know why he’s back. Hell, maybe he isn’t. His sudden appearance could very well be an unfortunate coincidence. But either way, I don’t want him to get the wrong idea, like I’m happy about his sudden appearance. Because I assure you, I am not.
His jaw clenches, highlighting the sharp structure of his face, and his nostrils flare. Looks like he still has that short temper of his.
Good.
A small thrill ripples through me. I can work with that.
“That’s where you’re wrong,princesa.” His smile is cold. Calculating. “I’ve decided your father and I need to come to an understanding where you’re concerned.”
His words take me by surprise, and for once, I don’t bother to hide it.
