Page 149 of Vicious Temptation

“You can tell me to shut up,” she says softly. “You don’t have to answer if⁠—”

“I wish I remembered more about him.” I look at the photograph. “I wish I could remember all the stories my aunt used to tell me or what it felt like when he took me to the aquarium every weekend he had off because I loved watching the penguins and jellyfish.”

Remi gently brushes her fingertips along my jaw.

“I know Raymond Braga from newspaper articles and commendations. I know the decorated detective, the good cop everyone respected, but I barely remember what he was like as my father. Sometimes that fucking kills me.”

She tilts her face toward mine. “I’m sorry, Thiago.”

“He didn’t deserve to die, especially not that way.” Once I start, the words keep coming. “He wasn’t alone, though. According to the case reports, a woman who chose to remain anonymous stayed with him after he was shot. She held his hand and talked to him until he passed.”

Remi stops moving beside me. “That’s...” She swallows. “That’s a beautiful thing to do for someone.”

“Yeah.”

“Whenever I think about his last moments, that’s the part I hold on to,” I admit. “Someone cared enough to stay with him so he wouldn’t have to leave this world alone.”

Sadness crosses her face before she rests her head against my shoulder once more.

“I’m glad he had her.”

I look over at the photograph one more time. “So am I.”

With that thought, I feel a sudden urge to share a part of him with her that I rarely show anyone.

“Can I show you something?”

“Yeah.”

I take her bowl and set it on the coffee table beside mine, then help her off my lap and push myself to my feet.

She looks up at me with one eyebrow arched. “Where are we going?”

I hold out my hand. “Do you trust me?”

The question leaves my mouth before I can think better of it, and regret follows instantly. Trust is the one thing she shouldn’t give me. But Remi doesn’t hesitate. She slips her hand into mine and nods as if the answer is obvious, while guilt twists deeper inside me because I know exactly how undeserving I am of it.

I take her hand and lead her down the hall toward the room across from my bedroom. The door is already cracked open, so I push it the rest of the way and flip on the light.

Remi stops in the doorway.

Her gaze sweeps across the room, taking in the rows of vinyl lining the walls. I give her hand a gentle tug, and she follows me inside.

“You rob a record store I don’t know about?”

“Something like that,” I say with a chuckle. “You’re not the only one with secret rooms.”

She gives me a sideways look as her fingers trail along one of the sleeves. “You don’t seem like a vinyl guy. No offense.”

“I wasn’t.”

The words come out quieter than I intended, and Remi glances back at me. Talking about my father this much after years of keeping those memories tucked away has left me more emotional than I expected.

As if she senses it, she reaches out and squeezes my arm.

“They were my father’s,” I say. “My aunt gave them to me the first time I moved out.”

Remi’s gaze returns to the collection. “That’s a lot of records.”