When Lies Unfold

Chapter 33

The happiness etchedon my daughter’s face is unmatched by anythin’ I’ve ever experienced.

She’s set up the tea party along the side of the house a few meters away from her bedroom windows. This is the best section of the yard because it’s mostly shaded.

Not only that, but it’s the safest place outdoors for her since it’s bordered by jungle and overlookin’ a steep ravine. If somebody’s gonna breach this place, they’re gonna come at us from the other, easier angles.

Nobody in their right mind’s gonna brave the jungle at night and try to climb seventeen feet along a rock wall ravine.

And now that I know for sure a black panther’s nearby, I wouldn’t fuckin’ try it myself.

We’re seated on the large blanket beneath a shaded section. Alma pours the tea into our cups with such care, that furrow between her brow pronounced.

Javier delivered three slices of Torta Chilena and served them with an exaggerated bow to Alma, elicitin’ a giggle.

I keep hopin’ my girl will talk, but so far, nothin’. I’m jealous as hell that she talks to Lola and not me, but I get it. Lola’s got a way about her that has a person lowerin’ their defenses.

Fuck…look at how she won over my men in no time at all. Never before have they ever shown a sign of weakness—and certainly not over a woman.

Alma holds up her teacup with a smile, and Lola seems to have the ability to read my girl’s mind. “You want us to make a toast?”

Alma nods and peers at me expectantly. Unease and an unfamiliar hint of nervousness have me scrubbin’ a hand along my jaw. “Uh, you want me to make the toast?”

She nods again, and Lola’s eyes gleam with amusement.

I shift slightly before extendin’ my teacup. “To tea parties with my favorite girl.”

Alma’s expression grows troubled. Her eyes dart to Lola before widenin’ on me, as if promptin’ me to rephrase my toast.

Tippin’ my head to the side, I offer slowly, “To tea parties with my”—I cut a quick glance at Lola, who radiates a mix of amusement and discomfort while she avoids meetin’ my gaze—“favorite girls.”

Alma’s face lights up, and she gently clinks her cup to mine before doin’ the same with Lola’s. Lola’s eyes remain averted as my cup carefully connects with hers, and we all take a drink.

When the silence grows thicker, Lola rushes to fill it, informin’ me of what I already witnessed.

“Alma gave me the most beautiful card today.” When she fixes a smile on my daughter, I tug at the collar of my button-down. There’s a quality about Lola’s smile that causes a tightenin’ noose-like sensation around my neck.

It has me wonderin’ all sorts of things I have no business entertainin’. Like what it would take to get her to smile that way and how it would feel if she directed that smile at me.

Do I have to make her a homemade card to get that kind of smile? Shit. The idea’s beyond laughable.

And fuckin’ pathetic.

“Alma drew butterflies on the card.” Lola continues, oblivious to my inner thoughts, and beams with pride at my daughter. “And they looked exactly like the ones on my arm.”

Adoptin’ a hurt expression, I tease, “I didn’t get a card, Alma.”

My daughter’s expression drops. Lola tenses beside me, but Alma ducks her chin shyly before reachin’ behind her. When she holds out a folded card, similar lookin’ to the one she gave Lola, I go still.

“You made one for me?” I offer gently. Settin’ down my teacup, I accept the card from her.

She nods slowly before lowerin’ her eyes to the blanket. I’m not expectin’ a verbal response, so she shocks me when she whispers, “I didn’t think you’d like it, ’cause boys don’t like stuff like this.”

Emotion tightens my chest, and my mouth goes bone dry, ’cause my girl spoke to me—for the first time in far too long. I turn my attention to the card, inspectin’ it carefully.

On the front, she’s written,a mi papá,and drawn some guns beneath it. I’m not sure what to make of the fact that Lola got butterflies on hers and I got some guns, but I guess it fits.

When I open it and read what’s on the inside, though, every muscle in my body goes rigid. My throat feels like some asshole’s tryin’ to choke me out.

I love you more than the whole wide world because you saved me.

you probably wanted a boy instead of a girl, so I’m sorry. But can you please marry Lola so she can be my mom? I’ll do anything.

I love you, Daddy.

Love,

Alma

xoxo

My eyes lift to meet Alma’s wary gaze, and I close the card before Lola can see what it says.

Daddy. She’s never called me that before, least of all on paper. If I’m bein’ honest, I never considered it. Never thought of myself as a dad, but more of a caretaker.

But now, that single word Alma neatly wrote has my throat growin’ impossibly tight.

I clear my throat and lean toward Alma, lowerin’ my voice. “This is the best card I’ve ever received.”

Her dark eyes crease at the edges with a smile, but when my expression goes stern, they widen with worry. “But you gotta know that I never wanted a boy.” I scowl in distaste. “I’ve got too many boys runnin’ around here as it is.”

Relief fills her brown eyes, urgin’ me to continue. “And I only like tea parties when they’re with you.”

She launches herself at me, barely grantin’ me time to prepare for it. Her small limbs curl around me, and for such a little thing, she threatens to squeeze all the breath out of me.

For some unexplained reason, my eyes collide with Lola’s. The affection swimmin’ in the depths of her gaze combined with the faint smile tuggin’ at her lips makes me feel like the time I first made a name for myself. When I started bein’ known as somebody to both fear and respect.

I’ve got a big fuckin’ problem on my hands, ’cause she shouldn’t have the power to make me feel this way with a mere look.

Alma leans back, grabs the card, and points at a specific line.

But can you please marry Lola so she can be my mom?

A surprised laugh falls outta me, and Lola’s expression turns curious with a hint of somethin’ else I’m unable to decipher.

Placin’ my lips near my daughter’s ear, I whisper quietly enough not to be overheard. “Can’t make any promises, sweetheart.”

Alma’s been whisked away to complete the rest of her scheduled private tutorin’, and Lola’s about to rush off now that our tea party’s convened.

I snag her wrist before she can escape. She freezes, her attention fallin’ to where my fingers cinch her. Her dark bangs shift with her What the fuck? expression.

“In such a hurry to get away from me, Miss Arias?” I don’t know why the hell it burns that she’s always runnin’ off, tryin’ to evade me. I know I’ve given her more reasons to flee than stay, but…fuck. Her reaction has my damn ego takin’ a colossal hit.

At her pointed look at where I’m still holdin’ her, I release her slowly.

She crosses her arms and lifts her chin in a stubborn way I’ve already become familiar with. “Is there something you need?”

“Where you off to?”

She adopts a nonchalant tone heavily laced with sarcasm. “Oh, I figured I’d get pampered at the spa while I wait for my nanny job to start once Alma’s done with her tutor.”

This woman’s got a mouth like no other. And fuck if I don’t like it.

Not that I’ll admit it.

“Yeah?” I step closer. “What you need pamperin’ for?”

Tippin’ her head to the side, she assesses me in a way that tells me I’m not gonna like whatever comes outta her mouth next. “For when I ask someone out on a date.”

Fierce possessiveness turns my tone dark and threatenin’. “When you what?”

As calm as can be, she repeats herself, enunciatin’ each word. “When I ask someone out on a date.”

I fold my arms across my chest, mimickin’ her pose. “And just who the fuck are you plannin’ to ask?”

She holds my gaze for a beat. “Luis.”

The hell? My hands drop to my sides, and I’m tempted as fuck to punch the side of the house with my bare fist.

My tone is flat. “You’re plannin’ to ask out Luis.”

“Yes.” She unfolds her arms and smooths a hand down her hair. “Is my hair okay? Because I want to look my?—”

In an instant, I’m in her face, loomin’ over her. “The fuck you wanna ask out Luis for?”

Her words emerge slowly, as if I don’t have a fully functionin’ brain. “Because he’s nice to me.”

“Nice.” The word tastes rancid on my tongue. “So, I haven’t been nice to you by lettin’ you live after what you witnessed?”

Her expression turns to fury. “That right there, is exactly what I mean. You think you’re being nice to me by letting me live, but I’m supposed to think that everything else that goes along with it—you terrorizing me at every damn turn—is nice, too?”

She lets out a disgruntled huff and shoves both hands against my chest. “You’re insane!”

I band an arm around her waist, and when she struggles to get free, I walk her backward until she’s trapped between me and the high railin’. Her eyes threaten to set me on fire with her anger, and I revel in it. She doesn’t cower to me.

I’m drawn to her—drawn to this woman who’s filled with so much emotion and liveliness. She’s smart as hell and braver than most men I’ve come across.

For a split second, I imagine havin’ someone like her by my side. Someone strong-willed and brave and who won’t be easily swayed by fear.

“Let me go!” She attempts to break free of my hold, interruptin’ my stray thoughts.

Brown eyes flayin’ me to the bone, her lips are parted, and I give in to the craving to claim her. Fistin’ her hair in a captive grip, I fit my mouth to hers.

If I believed in witchcraft or voodoo shit, I’d be convinced she practices it. ’Cause every fuckin’ time I put my mouth on this woman, I’m an addict who needs even more.

It’s never been like this before and sure as shit never with Keyna.

I use my hold on her to tilt her head to take the kiss deeper, and she matches me with each stroke of our tongues. When her palms slip beneath my untucked shirt to flatten against my chest, my cock grows harder.

’Cause she’s sure as hell not pushin’ me away.

Not only that, but this isn’t some sweet kiss. It isn’t even a hot, passionate one. It’s a goddamn battle, each of us tryin’ to best the other. Tryin’ to throw the other further off-kilter. She gives as much as she gets, and fuck if I don’t love every second of it.

With her trapped against the railin’ and my legs between hers, I reach beneath the hem of her cotton sundress. When I slide my palm up her smooth thigh, her little moan is caught by my mouth, and lust whips through my veins.

Her fingers curl, her blunt fingernails diggin’ into my pecs. Those little sounds she makes in the back of her throat have my cock throbbin’.

I tuck my fingers beneath the edge of her panties, and she arches into my touch, pullin’ a groan from me. Christ Almighty, she’s like fuckin’ kryptonite. Dippin’ my finger inside her, I encounter nothin’ but searin’ wetness.

She rolls her hips, attemptin’ to push my finger deeper inside. I break the kiss to trail my mouth along her cheek until I reach the junction where her ear meets her jaw. Placin’ a kiss there, I smile when she shivers.

My voice is a low rumble while I work my finger in and out of her. “See? You don’t wanna date Luis.”

Obstinance colors her tone even while her voice is breathless. “Maybe I prefer a man without a tiny ponytail.”

A grunt of disbelief rumbles up my throat. “That so?” There’s no fuckin’ way my hair’s a turnoff for her, and we both fuckin’ know it.

“Uh-huh. I like men who are more clean cut.”

I almost laugh ’cause none of my men could be considered “clean cut.” She doesn’t realize Luis is covered with more tattoos than me, and that’s sayin’ a lot.

“You know…” Her voice is choppy, makin’ it clear she’s aroused, but she doesn’t back down. A part of me isn’t the least bit surprised. I’d be disappointed if she did. “I like men who don’t have girly hair.”

“Mm.” I raze my teeth along her neck, over her pulse, and leisurely pump my finger in and out of her. “And here I thought you liked my girly hair.” She coats me with more wetness. “At least one part of you likes me.”

“Maybe I’m wet because I’ve been thinking of Luis.”

Red flashes in my vision. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Damn, she’s a fuckin’ firecracker. “Mmhmm. Sure.” I add another finger inside her and revel in her sharp intake of breath.

Capturin’ her earlobe between my teeth, I give it a hard suck before releasin’ it. “What if I said I was gonna get on my knees right now and eat your sweet pussy?”

She clenches around my fingers in a way that has my dick throbbin’ harder, givin’ me all the answer I need. There’s no mistakin’ the smug satisfaction in my voice. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” she protests breathlessly.

“No?” I use the pad of my thumb to toy with her clit. “So, I should stop?”

“Yes.” Her immediate response, combined with how her hands tighten their grip on me, nearly makes me laugh. She’s so damn stubborn.

“All right, then.” I pull back a fraction to peer down at her and…fuck.

Those gorgeous, heavy-lidded eyes peer up at me, that hint of stubbornness still prominent through the haze of arousal. Her parted lips are damp from our kiss, and I know without a shadow of a doubt I’d fuckin’ kill any man who dared to touch her like this.

It’s like takin’ a bullet to the chest; it hits me that hard. I’m not just pissin’ a circle around her ’cause she’s a shiny new toy I want for myself. It isn’t me testin’ her loyalty, vettin’ her honesty.

It’s ’cause Lola Arias is the first woman I’ve encountered who could potentially fit into my world. Hell, she’s already shown she fits in my daughter’s world.

I may not trust her implicitly, but one thing’s certain.

She’s the first woman in over a decade who I’ve wanted to make mine.