Page 142 of Vicious Temptation

“Do you?” I bite back.

“What’s his information?”

I turn toward Uncle Derek, who’s watching me with the same infuriating calm he wears whenever he’s about to ask for something he already expects to get.

“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intend, but I don’t take it back.

“I’m not giving you his information. Leave him out of this.”

I head for the door, desperate to end this conversation before they press any further. The worst part is that their questions make sense. If the situation were reversed, I’d probably be demanding the same answers. But I don’t want them digging through Thiago’s life, pulling apart every detail, and looking for reasons not to trust him.

Because I don’t want them to find one.

I want him to be the man I’ve come to know. The man who saved Zara, who showed up when I needed someone, and who somehow makes all the noise in my head fade away. It hasn’t been long enough for any of this to matter as much as it already does, but clearly no one bothered to tell my feelings that.

If Thiago isn’t who I think he is, it’s going to hurt.

No one tries to stop me as I open the door and leave.

The tears come before I make it halfway down the hall, which only pisses me off more. I swipe them away and keep walking until I nearly barrel into Gio.

“Whoa. Watch where you’re going.” His hands grip my shoulders, stopping me before I can take him down with me.

“Where are you off to like a fugitive?” he asks with a grin, clearly taking a jab at my recent run-in with the law. Normally, I’d have a dozen insults ready to go, but today, I don’t have it in me.

His smile crumples. “Rem?”

I look away, but he catches my chin and gently turns my face back toward him.

“What happened? Did they get on you about the arrest?”

“It’s nothing, Gio.” My voice cracks on the last word. “I’m fine.”

We both know that’s a pathetic lie.

“No, you’re not.”

Before I can argue, he pulls me against his chest, and whatever control I have left evaporates. I fist the back of his shirt and bury my face against him as quiet sobs shake my body.

“Hey,” he murmurs, cradling the back of my head in one hand. “I’ve got you.”

Those three words only make me cry even harder.

“I always fuck things up, don’t I?” I manage to say.

“That’s not true.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “It’s always been true.”

“Remi, I can agree with you if that’s what you want to hear, but I’d be lying.”

He pulls back to look at me.

“You’re the most annoying and aggravating sister I’ve ever had.”

I sniffle. “Wow. Thanks.”

“You filled my room with plastic scorpions when I was twelve.”