After a moment, he says, “Interesting.”
I look at him through the steamy glass door of the shower. He hasn’t moved. “I know, right?”
“What did you two talk about?”
“Oh. Nothing, really. Basically just how much she loves Marco.”
“Hm.”
He doesn’t push me for further details as I shampoo my hair, condition it, wash off my makeup…it’s been at least fifteen minutes now, but he’s still standing in the door. Obviously, he’s not going anywhere. I turn off the water and push the shower door open. Armani wraps me in a towel.
“Thank you,” I say, not meeting his eyes.
“I’ll go get your robe.”
“I’m fine,” I say sharply.
Armani takes a deep breath, but he doesn’t move. And I can’t just run out of the bathroom. It’s a large enough space, but he’s standing right in front of me. Blocking me. When he raises his hand to touch my face, I instinctively flinch back.
“Hey. What’s wrong?”
“The wine. I have a headache.”
He snorts. “You have a headache? That’s your excuse?”
I look up with a glare, about to go off on him about how I don’t need an “excuse” to not want to be touched, but he’s on me in a millisecond, tugging my towel off, slipping his hand between my legs, his finger tracing the wet line of my pussy as his tongue laps the beads of water on my shoulder.
Gasping, I scramble for the towel and hold it over myself as I push past him. In the bedroom, I rifle through my drawers until I find a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, getting dressed as fast as I can, even though I’m still soaking wet from the shower. My hands are shaking, my breathing shallow and fast.
From behind me, I hear Armani say, “You don’t have to run away from me. I wasn’t trying to force you. That’s not my thing. If you don’t want to—”
“I do want to!” I yell, whirling to face him. “That’s the whole problem.”
“Then why are you so on edge?”
“Because I don’t feel safe,” I blurt, before I have time to consider my words.
His face changes, his eyes immediately darting to the window, the perimeter of the room, as if he’s expecting someone with a gun to leap from the shadows. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“I need to know, Candi. Was there someone outside? Did you see something? Hear something?”
“No.” Shaking my head, I whisper. “It’s you. I’m afraid ofyou.”
“Why? Did Karina say something?”
“No. It’s just—I can’t be feeling like this about you.” My lower lip trembles. Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back. “You’re not a good person.”
All the breath seems to go out of him. “That’s true. I know I’m not…good. But I’m the same person I’ve always been. What changed? I shouldn’t be any scarier to you now than I was yesterday.”
“You traffick women!”
His whole body goes rigid. “I dowhat?”
Searching his face, I try to determine if he’s just trying to play innocent, but I can’t tell. He looks genuinely shocked at my accusation, but he’s also the absolute king of poker face and deceit.
“I know all about it. I know what you and your brothers were planning that day at the docks, the day of the fire. You weren’t just exporting wine. Women were supposed to get added to the shipment.”
