Page 49 of His Secret Wish

The knowing smirk on his face told her he knew exactly what she was doing. But, two could play these kinds of games.

She squeezed his thigh, and then slipped her hand up and over, so she was cupping his inner thigh. He sucked in a quick, quiet breath. Another inch and she’d be touching his cock. Which was so inappropriate in this setting, although she couldn’t deny the rush it caused.

He raised his eyebrows, almost like he was taunting her.

She did the same, more than content to play. She slid her hand higher, her fingers brushing the definite bulge in his pants.

“Thank you, everyone. For the first speaker, I’d like to invite Diego Gonzalez to the stage.”

She yanked her hand back at the announcement, her cheeks and tips of her ears burning. It was almost like being caught. Which was mortifying.

Owen quietly laughed, grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles.

She gave him the stink eye again and turned her attention to the stage. But not before she saw the promise in his gaze. The promise of later.

And she couldn’t deny, she found the idea far too appealing. Especially for someone who was supposed to be keeping things light. This weekend was fantasy. A bubble outside of time. The deal they’d made needed to be top of mind. On Tuesday, when they got home, everything would return to regular life, and not this fairytale.

She sighed quietly and focused on the speech her cousin Diego was giving. As always, it was filled with humor, and funny as hell. Too bad she didn’t feel like laughing.

Isabella took a sip of her prosecco, the bubbles fizzing on her tongue. It had been a lovely, albeit long, night. And she was ready for the party to end. She’d had enough of conversations that were pretty empty, and hearing stories she’d heard a thousand times. After this weekend, she wasn’t going to socialize with anyone for a long time.

“Mi tesoro.”

She turned to see Yaya beckoning her over to the cluster of chairs on the dais. Yaya had been the true center of attention tonight, as she should be, but getting to speak with her had been difficult. There always seemed to be a lineup of people waiting to snag her attention.

Isabella walked over and sat in the chair next to her great grandmother. Yaya looked tired, although happy, and it made Isabella’s heart hurt. She wasn’t sure if it was with sadness or happiness. Maybe a bit of both.

“Happy birthday, Yaya.” She leaned over and kissed Yaya’s cheek.

Yaya took Isabella’s face between her hands. “You are so beautiful, mi ángel.”

“Thank you.” Isabella’s cheeks prickled. She wasn’t used to compliments these days. Mostly because she was a hermit who was either at the diner or home.

“But so, so silly.” Yaya sighed, her lips tilting down.

The reprimand was so unexpected, Isabella was struck speechless. But only for a blink. “What? Why?”

“Oh, my girl. I know you’re hurting, I can see it in your eyes. And it’s the worst kind of hurt. The hurt of a broken heart.”

“I’m not... I mean, there’s nothing--”

Yaya grabbed her hands and gave a squeeze. “Don’t try to deny it, mi tesoro.”

Isabella pressed her lips together.

“I know you and Owen had problems. Heartbreaking ones. And for that I am sorry. If I could, I would change it for you, make everything right.”

Isabella’s eyes burned. She nodded, not daring to speak. She was afraid of what might come out if she opened her mouth.

“And I also know that things haven’t been going well between the two of you.”

“Who told you?” Isabella’s voice came out croaky.

Yaya shook her head. “No one. But I have eyes, and I know when you’re hurting. And when he’s hurting.” Yaya glanced over toward the crowd milling about. Isabella’s gaze followed hers.

Owen was at the food table, grabbing something small and popping it into his mouth. He made a face—he wasn’t a picky eater exactly, but he liked what he liked, and didn’t what he didn’t—and grabbed a beer from one of the big ice buckets, taking a sip to wash the taste down.

Someone called to him from across the tent, and he turned and headed in that direction.