Page 100 of Forbidden Fate

“For now, we get clean clothes,” I say. “Señora will take care of that. She has all kinds of clothes here. Then we go to the embassy.”

“And after that?”

“After that, Robin, we see what’s left of both of us.”

Her face softens, but only for a second.

I think of the Ace of Hearts on the kitchen table and hate myself for remembering it.

I think of the Ace of Spades and hate myself for fearing it.

Then I look at Robin Bellamy, and I make myself a promise.

No card gets to decide her ending.

No crime lord does either.

Anyone who tries to end her will have to go through me.

31

ROBIN

After that, Robin, we see what’s left of both of us.

I stare at Cruz.

I should say something practical. Something about clothes, food, the embassy, transportation, how long we can reasonably stay here without getting Señora Valentina and the others killed. I should ask him if he knows anyone who can get us fake IDs. I should be thinking like a Bellamy.

I’m not thinking like a Bellamy.

I want to tell him I’ll use every option at my disposal to get him to Texas safely. I’ll talk to Hawk. I’ll talk to Vinnie. I’ll talk to every lawyer, fixer, former federal agent, rich family connection, and morally questionable person my family has ever dealt with.

I want to say I’ll marry you.

And it won’t be a marriage of convenience.

It will be real.

A marriage of truth.

Because for some unexplainable reason, I’m falling head over heels for Cruz Moreno. Even though I shouldn’t. Even though I should be getting as far away from him as humanly possible. Even though he’s the exact kind of man I know better than to want.

Forbidden fruit.

It’s true. Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

What if this man and I are fated to be together? Not forbidden fruit, but forbidden fate?

I almost laugh out loud because the thought is so dramatic I should be embarrassed by it. Forbidden fate? Please. It sounds like something written on the back of a paperback with a shirtless man and a stormy sky.

Except my heart doesn’t laugh.

Maybe there are some people you meet and your body knows before your brain does. Not safely. Not logically. But perfectly.

Cruz watches me from where he stands near the center of the room. His face is guarded but not cold. He never looks at me coldly. Not anymore.

That’s another problem.