Page 322 of Vicious Temptation

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Thiago says from behind me.

Whipping around, I throw myself into his arms. “Thank you. This is incredible.” I pull back to look at him. “You’re the best husband ever.”

“First day on the job and I’m already setting the bar pretty fucking high.”

We laugh, and I hook my arm around his neck, hauling him down to me for a kiss.

“Are you ready to go inside?” he whispers against my mouth.

I gasp softly and turn toward the doors again. I’ve spent my entire life hearing stories about what’s on the other side of them, and now I’m actually about to see it for myself.

“More than ready. But…can we? What about⁠—?”

“It’s vacant.”

Thiago grips the large iron handles and pushes the doors open.

I can barely breathe as I step inside, staring in awe at the grand foyer with its gleaming marble floors and a sweeping staircase that curves toward the second floor. Blinking back tears, I imagine the space furnished and the Montesinos family, my family, moving through it.

“She stood right here. They both did.”

Before Thiago can say anything, excitement spills out of me in a laugh, and I take off toward the staircase, gathering my dress as I climb.

“Chama, where are you going?”

With a huge smile, I glance back at him. “Everywhere!”

I hurry down the hall until I come to a stop in front of a pair of tall double doors left slightly ajar, and push them open, stepping into a massive bedroom. I know this room. I’ve seen it in old photographs. The tall windows, the carved fireplace, the balcony doors overlooking the grounds.

This was Mamá’s room.

I walk farther inside, turning slowly as I try to picture her as the girl she was then, before my father, before Gio and me, and long before she became the woman I’ve always known.

“She slept here,” I whisper.

Thiago appears in the doorway behind me. “Yeah.”

I smile at him, even as my vision blurs again.

“This window,” I say, trailing my fingertips along the ledge. “She snapped a photo from here.”

I look out across the courtyard and spot something that makes my heart stutter. “And over there⁠—”

“Her art studio,” he finishes.

I nod, lacing my fingers with his. “Come on!”

I drag him out of the room. We’re both running now, our laughter echoing off the empty walls and following us into the courtyard.

“Faster!” I shout, letting go of his hand and sprinting toward the studio.

Reaching the door, I grip the handle, hoping it isn’t locked. It turns easily, and I let out a breath as it creaks open. I step inside, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. Maybe it’s crazy, but I swear I can still smell the faint traces of oil paint and linseed oil lingering in the room.

Despite the decades that have passed, it feels as if I can reach back through time and find her here, where so much history lives within the walls, so much loss and love that somehow survived long after everyone left.

Thiago’s arms wrap around me from behind, and his lips brush my neck. I cover his arms with mine and lean against him.

“Minha chama, are you happy here?”