Chapter 18
I’m sitting on my bed, folding laundry and thinking about how a couple days ago, Rio dropped a fucking bomb, changed the entire shape of how I see him, and then made himself scarce.
If we’re trying to convince people we’re an item, we sure are two independent people.
I haven’t seen Rio properly since our moment in the kitchen. He’s probably buried in work but no matter how many hours tick by, I think about him obsessively.
You want vengeance, Princess? You got it.
Fuck me. Seeing his amber eyes trained on me, making the same promise I made to myself at twelve, was both emotional and intoxicating. The very first time my father allowed me to be beaten as atonement for his sins, I carried with me a burning need to deliver karma.
I wish I could say I was the forgiving type, but I’m not. Maybe I could be, if he were even a sliver of a man who deserved it.
Nobody’s ever promised to help me.
I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours replaying Rio’s words in my mind, the way they danced in his powerful gaze, the way I wanted to kiss his lips for saying them.
Which is why I’m keeping my distance and maybe why he’s keeping his.
Somehow, over the past couple of days, Rio has become the most attractive, alluring person I’ve ever seen. Ever been around. Even last night when he came home late from the office, I was in bed, but my heart leapt just knowing he was back in the house.
I stop folding my t-shirt and stare at my bedroom door.
I imagined him last night just across the hall. Taking off his clothes, stepping into the shower, all powerful and tattooed and… I don’t need a knight. I’m not a damsel in distress. I’ve never imagined calling on someone, and yet he’s exactly the kind of hero that belongs in my story.
Dark. Edgy. Imperfect.
A little like me.
I shake my head and let out a sharp breath that I refuse to call a sigh. I finish folding my last pair of socks.
I’ve never met anyone like him.
I start putting my scant wardrobe away.
It’s Friday. Tomorrow is Ava and Enzo’s engagement party.
They’ve been engaged for a while, but work and travel got in the way of the official celebration, according to Luis.
Rio failed to mention this engagement party. Either he failed to remember he has a fake girlfriend to invite, or the work is swallowing him whole. Both are forgivable.
When Luis mentioned it this morning at the stables, I had to act as though I’d always known.
But now I feel royally fucked, because I barely took more than a few shirts, an extra pair of jeans, and panties when I left my dad’s house—let alone something for a party like that.
I lift Tina from the floor and step into the walk-in closet where two of my t-shirts hang.
“Not much choice in here for a party, Teen.”
I haven’t even wanted to leave the ranch since getting here, not even in search of a thrift store.
In my wild imagination, Luther or my dad is always just on the other side of the gate, creases between their eyes, a straightjacket in hand. It’s safe here. I’m fed, watered, and I’ve been able to wash my clothes to stay clean.
But maybe I should see if there’s a shop in town where I can buy a dress?
I scratch between Tina’s ears.
Not that I want to spend any of my money on a dress right now. I need every penny I’ve saved to start a new life.
Just then, the cell Rio gave me rings.
I turn it over on the bed.
Security.
Instincts flare, and my body heats up. Why would they want me? Is someone here to see me? My dad?
No… he wouldn’t just rock up at the Monarch Hills gate.
Inhaling deeply, I cleanse myself of dark thoughts and answer.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Delilah. Vance here. We have some packages at the gate. We’re happy to bring them up, but I wanted to make sure we aren’t disturbing you first.”
My heart races. They found me. They’ve sent threats. Bombs. Anthrax.
“I’m not expecting anything,” I answer.
“Really? There’s enough here to fill the back of our vehicle.”
Confusion mixes with fear. What’s in them? Body parts? My mind races back to every thriller movie I’ve ever watched and the sick and twisted ways a man like my father could terrorize me.
I could ask security to check them, but at a place locked down like Monarch Hills, I’m sure they already ran preliminary checks, chemicals, metal. If I ask them to open them and there’s a message from Luther or my dad, I’m outing Rio.
I can’t do that to him so I need to open them myself.
“Sure. I’m here. Come on up.”
For the next few minutes, I pace, sweat, and consider whether to open them at least in front of the guards. How could Luther or my dad have traced me here? They couldn’t. I didn’t use my cell maps to get here. I was smart.
Shit.
No, I wasn’t.
I contacted Rio by cell.
Maybe Dad had my calls traced? Could he do that? No. It’s data-protected. Right?
The doorbell rings, and I nearly jump out of my skin. Tina runs ahead of me to the door. I compose myself and swing it open.
There are two guards with a mountain of packages piled up between them.
One of them pushes his Ray-Bans up into floppy, blond hair. “Should we bring them in?”
There are a hell of a lot of packages. I lean over the threshold to check the label on the top of the pyramid they built.
Vivienne Westwood?
I glance back up at the guard with the Ray-Bans as if he might be able to explain why this box is labeled with the name of my favorite designer.
But he just picks a couple of them up and asks, “Where would you like them?”
My gaze drops back to the boxes. Not just any brand. My brand. My rebellious, anti-establishment queen of fashion.
I step back and open the door wider. “Bedroom’s fine. Up the stairs, first door on the right.”
They carry everything in without question, stacking package after package until my bed disappears beneath white boxes with her signature orb and font.
When they’re done, the blond one glances at me. “Need anything else?”
“No.” I try to act as if I expected this. “Thanks.”
“We’ll see ourselves out.”
They clunk down the stairs in their combat boots and the door shuts in the distance.
Tina is on the bed before I move, her nose sniffing her the nearest box, tail flicking excitedly. My father liked to buy me things whenever he needed me to look a certain way. He clothed me in luxury to display his power, never for me.
I start to open the boxes one by one.
The room fills with that unmistakable scent of new fabric and leather heels, expensive and untouched.
This must all be from Rio?
Everything is stunning, and it isn’t just dresses. There’s a jacket. And some jeans. A gorgeous corset top.
Finally, I slide the lid off the first box. The dress I pull out takes my breath away.
I take the black crepe satin mini dress into my hands and lift it before me. Off-shoulder, fitted bodice. I turn it around to see the sculptural drape flowing down from the waist.
How could he know I adore Vivienne–
He paid attention.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my fingers tightening in the silk.
He paid attention.
A strange feeling twists in my chest, unfamiliar but welcome. I shouldn’t let myself feel this way. I shouldn’t let this mean anything other than the man has an eye for fashion and wants me to be presentable at his family’s party.
But I glance over the rest of the bed. More boxes. Different shapes. Different sizes. Shoes. Dresses. Options.
This must be the whole damn store, and God, I’ll never be able to choose…
A quiet breath leaves me as I set the first dress down carefully. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
My grip tightens slightly against the edge of the box as that thought settles in.
Men don't do things like this without a reason.
One dress would have been enough. Two even, if he wanted to give options. But this — this is something else.
I should be suspicious.
I look back down at the haul and wait for the doubt to arrive.
It doesn't.
What arrives instead is something I don't have a clean word for. Something warm and inconvenient that I can’t afford to feel for Rio Mendez but am apparently feeling anyway.
I need to get a grip.
"This isn't part of the deal," I murmur.
But even as the words leave my mouth, I'm not entirely sure if I'm talking about the dresses.
Or him.