Page 275 of Vicious Temptation

I stare at her, knowing there’s nothing I can say she’ll believe. Not tonight, and maybe not ever.

When she opens her eyes again, her gaze finds mine. “So leave. And if you ever come back...” Her voice drops, but the hesitation is gone. “I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

This time, I believe her.

“I’ll kill you.”

Sixty-Seven

remi

Idon’t remember leaving the terrace. I don’t remember driving to the garage, taking off my makeup, or curling up on the couch. Yet somehow, the sun is up.

I squint against the light streaming through the windows, my head still pounding from all the fucking crying. The second I let myself think about why, more tears threaten, so I shove it all away before it can take hold.

I don’t want to remember.

Stop it, Remi.

My gaze lingers on the stripped frame of his truck.

The front fender still leans against the wall where I left it. The driver’s door sits on a stand, half-sanded and awaiting fresh paint. I’d spent hours repairing the bullet holes he took for me.

I’d planned to finish it today.

“Now what?”

I push myself off the couch and walk toward the truck. When I reach the open hood, I stare down at the engine, not registering a single thing in front of me.

Instead, I see Thiago throwing himself between me and a hail of gunfire. I remember him refusing to leave me behind and getting us out before the police arrived. He protected me from those men and then risked his career to keep me out of handcuffs.

My lungs constrict, and I press my lips together as my eyes burn again.

How am I supposed to reconcile that man with the one who lied to me from the start? How am I supposed to hate someone who put his own life on the line for mine?

Or was that a lie, too?

Before I can let myself go any further, my phone vibrates again.

It’s been going off ever since I texted my family to let them know I wouldn’t be coming to dinner. I told them I was fine and that I’d reach out later.

But they keep fucking calling.

“Leave me alone!” I roar, snatching the damn phone off my workbench. “Why don’t you get that? Fuck!”

I hurl it across the garage, where it slams into my toolbox and shatters on impact.

A half-empty energy drink sits near my feet, so I kick the can hard enough that it skids across the concrete and crashes into one of the door panels, knocking it off its stand.

A small white square slips free as the panel hits the floor, landing near my boots.

I stare at it for a moment before bending to pick it up.

It’s a Polaroid of Thiago, Zara, and me.

We took it the day we went out for ice cream, using the little camera she’d gotten for her birthday. I’d stuck my tongue out for the picture, making her laugh so hard she’d nearly dropped it.

I never noticed until now that Thiago isn’t looking at the camera.